#most of her somber personality stems from it

[nyamcot]

Margaret and sereniti shaking hands for both being yellow and going through it

[rivalry-trope-enjoyer]

An Unexpected Confession (Leviathan x Reader)

Summary: Leviathan has confided in you for as long as you could remember. It's been an equivalent exchange for the most part, until the topic of relationships come up...

Tags: Romantic confession, mutual nerdy pining, fluff, a dating sim get's a little too real

"Ugh, this lead doesn't like any of the gifts I give her!" Leviathan complains, begrudgingly handing the controller to you.

"The Childhood Friend doesn't like sweets anymore, Levi. You'd know this if you actually paid attention during the dialogue," you chuckle teasingly, giving the character a gift that made the video game character swoon.

"Urghhh I'm a failure of a pro-gamer..." Leviathan groans in annoyance, folding his arms as he watch you continue to play the game.

You and Leviathan started playing a dating sim that he failed miserably going in blind the first time. He hated to admit it, but considering the experience you've had with dating sims was a little bit more than him, he reluctantly asked you for your assistance.

All of this struggle towards trying to woo the video game character made a part of Leviathan feel a little bit somber. As you silently cheer after successfully raising the character's love meter, you could see the demon's mood progressively sour.

"Levi, what's wrong?" you ask reluctantly. "We don't have to keep playing if you want."

Leviathan look away from you, trying his best to mask the rock you feel sinking through your chest. It was inexplainable, but you were the last person he would want to bring up such a problem to.

"N-Nothing! We can keep playing, it's okay, we're almost at the first good ending," he denies, looking at the monitor of the paused game.

You frown at his response, clearly not buying his sad attempt at covering up his emotions. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" you put the controller down and shift to your side to face him. "So what's on your mind, Levi?"

Leviathan takes a long pause, his eyes shifting around the room, anywhere but meeting yours. He was having an internal dilemma as he opened his mouth to speak, but words continued to fail. He wanted to run out of his room then and there, but where would he go? Outside?! He'd rather die...

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he takes a deep breath and decides to let out what has been bothering him little by little. "You might think I'm a loser, o-or maybe you already think I'm a loser... but I don't have any experience at all when it comes to romance," he sighs out, his hands shaking slightly as he spoke.

You listen to him intently, but your gaze makes Leviathan much more nervous than he started out.

"I-I just wonder when I'm gonna be able to have an experience like this outside of 2D, y'know?" he continues, his head feeling light, like he could pass out at any second.

You took a pause before you could say anything to Leviathan, just beginning his messy ramble that stemmed from a bad ending of a video game...

"Ah, forget it... Y/N I don't know when it'll ever be my turn. Maybe I'm just unlovable. Like the no-good loser I've always been meant to be," Leviathan was slowly slipping from a stable state of mind and started to spiral into madness.

"Levi don't say that," you quickly prompt before his thoughts would get any worse, your own nerves settling in watching him talk down to himself like this.

"B-But what if it's true?" he panics.

"It's not," you respond quickly.

He senses a sudden urgency in your voice and quickly tries to stop himself from talking. "I'm so sorry, Y/N... I didn't mean to start acting like this," Leviathan quickly doubles down.

"It's okay," you reassure. "Sometimes I wonder the same for myself," you speak while letting out a soft chuckle.

Leviathan looks up at you in curiosity. "Y-You? A normie like you has to worry about that?" he asks in a state of bewilderment.

"Well, yeah I guess everyone does at some point in their lives." As you spoke, Leviathan's panic tones down slightly. "But it's what you decide to do about that. If you really think you're doomed to be alone, then I guess there's no harm in trying, right?"

"H-Huh?! Like a confession? I don't think I can do that...," Leviathan's constant stammers descends into an incoherent language.

You encourage him with a sweet smile on your face, scooting to him closer on the couch, making him nearly melt from the action.

"Would it help to lead by example then?" you ask in an innocent voice.

"I-I guess..." Leviathan closes his eyes and nods rapidly.

"Well," you begin, putting on a brave smile for the anxious demon in front of you, despite you feeling embarrassed from what you were about to say.

"Leviathan, I like you! How about a date to the arcade sometime?" you follow up with a wink, watching the demon's face turn into one of perpetual shock.

"Woah Y/N that almost sounded real... I-If I didn't know any better I'd say you were actually confessing to me! Haha...," he blurts out in a fit of anxiety, the palms of his hands sweating as he spoke. He wonders how it came out of your mouth so easily, was it so impossible to think of dating someone like him?!

"Oh that was an actual confession," you smile mischievously. "I really do like you Levi!"

*Leviathan.exe has stopped working.*

You watch him freeze in his spot, his entire body shutting down as you spoke, wondering if he was so consumed in digital media that he confused the art of dating sims for reality.

"Now your turn," you tease, anticipating for Leviathan's response.

You would not be able to get a response from Leviathan for at least minutes as he continues to recover. He has an internal battle of whether or not to say something, his words possibly being utter crap, or to sit there and look even more like an idiot in your eyes.

"C-Can I have some time...?" Leviathan pleads, hiding his face in his hands, close to tears over this reciprocation.

You nod in agreement. "Sure, but in the dating sim there would be a time limit~"

"This isn't that!" he retorts quickly, his voice muffled behind his hands.

Each word comes out of the shy demon's mouth slowly, but surely, a coherent sentence of "I like you, too" came to fruition. Despite being broken up by complaints of frustration and nerves rising to his throat, the message came across to you clean and simple.

[gingeredmink]

i don’t know if you’ve posted something like this before, but what are your general headcanons about ynfg protags? like their ages, personalities, etcetera. i really like hearing about other people’s interpretations ^^

thank you for giving me an excuse to use this again hehe

I've probably posted something like this in the past but honestly memory is so bad these days I've completely forgotten and as you said, it's fun hearing others interpretations and stuff!

Sorta umbrella generalization is I think most are quiet, shy, soft spoken people. Outside of a few exceptions [Uro for example, she just comes off as a more loud and vibrant kind of character]. Maybe it's the ambience or lack of dialogue but a lot of the games make me feel like the character has a more somber/quiet personality.

A lot also feel like the outcast, always in their head and not really paying much attention to the world around them [either something happened that made them want to shut outside out or they suffer from ostracization and it's a coping mechanism for loneliness]

More for individual characters under cause long

Mado's kinda the poster child for this. Think she's around 16 or so and she became a shut in due to a mix of depression in general and it being exacerbated by experiencing trauma that caused her to snap or distance herself from her remaining friends [Car accident, loss of a friend, something like that.] She grew up playing weird little collectathon/pixel games and she's more interested in funky sorta characters than usual normie stuff her peers prefer, so she doesn't really connect much to those around her and focuses on fantasy more than reality.

Urotsuki [really young adult, maybe around 23-25?] feels like the, "I don't have much in real life but I can be myself and have lots of friends online." sorta character. People aren't intentionally mean to her per say, but she's weird and often doesn't feel like she fits in. Parents are sort of the same in that their main problem is they were distant and not there for her when she needed them.

Admit I am a sucker for this sorta stuff, but adore the idea that she went through a rough patch of self-value issues [was put off from being herself due to being weird, doesn't fall into the conventionally attractive type and had issues with image due to it, ect] but eventually overcame them and is now one of those loud and proud to be herself and very aggressively supports other weirdos around her because she doesn't want others to go through that type of people. She still has her skeletons, having an on-off issue with substance abuse and tendency to get excited and overstep boundaries.

Fluorette [Young adult?] comes across as a sort of lost child that just wants to feel like she belong somewhere. She has personality and such but doesn't fit in with those around her, and her humor can sometimes make her come off as a delinquent which results in her feeling more out of place.

Sometsuki [16-ish?] feels really similar to Mado in that she doesn't really connect much to those around her and prefers to spend her time alone. Can't explain why but feel like she has a bit more of a pessimistic outlook stemming from anxiety [she's afraid of messing up and being looked down on so she's reluctant to try things due to feeling like she's already failed kinda deal.]

NEVER SEE HER MENTIONED ENOUGH BUT I feel like Yayoi from Nobetsu Maku Nashi would be one of the more chill, sort of calm happy dreamers. [i am so heartbroken that the dev deleted because god i wanted to learn more about her so bad.] Sonoko from -1 is similar, though with a bit more of a depressed undertone. Both also young adults.

[yeyinde]

HELLO! In 2021, I read your ao3 work, "baby, (dont) fear the reaper" for the first time. For 3 years since, i have been haunted. Occasionally i would go back and read your work front to back. Tbh, i didnt know much about dbd lore at the time. i read it bcs it has some vibes that im into, and boy oh boy, those vibes do not disappoint! Halfway through i realized that if your work was a novel, i would buy it 100%, no matter the cost. I fell in love with how the reader was portrayed, how such a somber and melancholic personality can be twisted into such a calculating, patient, and analytical character. Danny too, how the hell did you capture such a narcissist is beyond me. Reader's descend into revenge felt normal, a natural progression, like how a river flows into the sea. Though i never expected Reader to start hunting Danny back, i thought Reader will always be the prey, never the predator. Though, there are tells, from how the reader feels a bit detached (?) from their childhood, carrying heart scars from a toxic childhood friend, how Reader continues their friendship with the aforementioned toxic childhood best friend (a love for rebels, maybe? Or is it a want for the dark resulting in admiration, and then, love?) despite the harm it inflicts. (That flashback chapter to Reader's childhood will always be one of my favorite chapters!) Whatever it is, Danny is the nail in the coffin, pushing Reader into the cliff to freefall into madness. Danny is the real head scratcher, though. Even though there are whole chapters dedicated to Dannys's POV, i still cant understand why Danny is so enamored with Reader. Yes, Reader gets him in a way no one can, but what is it with Reader being a past victim of a homicide that attracts Danny so hard? He even lets his guard down around Reader-he invites her to his motel for god's sake! Albeit to craft alibi, of course, but still. There's a whole chapter on it, where Danny finds out about Reader's case, but i still cant wrap my head around it. As the author, would you mind delving into Danny's head again to explain why Reader has such a chokehold on Danny? (no pressure, of couse!)

-also sorry for bad English, love you! <3

i love talking about bdfr! it's my baby!! i still have the original Google Doc with all the chapters, the playlist, and the outline because it was one of those things i could never really part with. and i can't believe you've enjoyed it so much!!! i'm so thankful for that because this was really a labour of love. i left pieces of myself in it that i don't think i can ever get back, and i genuinely don't think i could ever write anything like it again. it was my lightning-in-a-bottle moment, for sure. and ahhhhhhhh, 2021??? has it really been that long?? it feels like it was only a few months ago that i was sitting in my car eating a lobster roll and writing out the "Home Depot" opener on my phone lmao

but Danny's obsession with their case stems largely from his own narcissism, really. it's also his eventual downfall. Danny (and most, if not all, of the Ghostface Killers) is canonically obsessed with horror. a very morbid fanboy. so him meeting a surviving victim of one spurns his curiosity but also, his competitiveness. Danny is the showstopper. everything he does is very theatrical. he can't help the nagging sense of inferiority whenever someone else comes along. so he's caught in a loop of comparing himself to this other person, and also angry that you let yourself get caught by someone so subpar.

eventually, Danny comes to the conclusion that you're supposed to be his Final Girl, but someone else got to you first. and it's the anger, the jealousy, the obsession that really kicks everything into motion between them. and the reason Danny comes to this conclusion is a bit of a misunderstanding in three parts. Cat and Mouse (killer versus spunky Everyman Journalist); the Perfect Victim (Final Girl Blueprint); and then Two Sides of the Same Coin (or: there was always supposed to be two Ghostface killers, right?). that's the outline i stuck to when writing their specific arc.

this got super long so i put my notes on all three arcs Danny goes through under the cut. i mapped this story out pretty meticulously, so i hope my initial outline sheds some light on the insanity that is Danny lmao

Cat and Mouse is just a manifestation of Danny's boredom. at this point in his life, he's pretty stagnant. this arc would be Halloween H20 for him. the Florida Murders haven't happened yet, but he's been all over the US and no one has come close to catching him. Jed is still a persona he can use without worry of being caught.

and then you come along, and you're immediately wary of Jed. this hasn't happened much for him. he's able to read people with a shocking amount of ease and knows how to tune himself to their personality. either being overly friendly (Leslie and Jed), flirtatious (Gemma and Jed), competitive (Colton and Jed), or extremely competent (Jonah and Jed), but you're the outlier. the one he can't read. he tunes himself into the Old You, but it obviously doesn't work anymore because that version of you is gone. he misreads you. this strikes a nerve. it's never happened before.

it's exacerbated by your wariness of Jed, too. the way you go out of your way to avoid him, despite how much he adjusts his supposedly infallible personality to match you, it never seems to work. you're always on edge. you never trust him.

and then you make the comment (to his face, no less) about him being a narcissist. and this shouldn't be as huge of a moment as it is. Danny's been doing this for a long time, and it's kinda crazy to assume no one has clocked his Ghostface persona. but it's the fact that you say this so openly. and given everything that's happened to you, it heightens the stakes for him. for the first time in a long time, Danny feels like he could (potentially) be cornered. he also feels seen. and for a narcissistic serial killer who craves attention and admiration and fear (as noted in his POV chap., song choices), this is straight dopamine for him. it's everything.

so, he tosses you into the role of his foil. the one who will chase him to the very brink. but he doesn't anticipate the fact that you'd almost willfully ignore the warning signs right in front of you just to remain inside this bracket of normalcy you're still desperately clinging to (which is your own narrative downfall). he goes out of his way to make you catch onto him, almost angry that you don't.

it then kicks off the second part. he starts to consider you HIS Final Girl. but there's a problem. you're not his. you'll never be his. for such an unrepentant narcissist, this is almost too much. he's bordering on the edge of utter fury and an almost noxious jealousy. he wants to be your demise so badly that it bleeds into just pure, unfettered want.

and then the final part of their story is Twisted Soulmates. it kinda struck me as odd that every single Scream film had TWO Ghostfaces. it's kind of the blueprint. but DBD does not. they just had Danny. so i started thinking about what would happen if there were always supposed to be two, and added elements of Danny's loneliness. he wants, desperately, to share his work with someone who understands but this sort of thing would never appeal to the general public that's he trapped inside. he also risks getting caught. it can never happen.

until you. your anger at the man who did this to you, who ruined your life, is as potent as his desire to kill. he can see it in you. this darkness. this shifting, ugly rage brimming just below the surface. it makes his hackles rise because you could be the perfect partner.

it's a big part of why he spends so much time trying to "show off." why he gets so jealous when you focus your attention on Michael Myers instead of him. and why he feels the need to get rid of Leslie. she's a moral obstacle in your way.

he wants your attention now. he wants your everything, but there are parts of you that he'll never have, and this loss is too great to ever let your relationship work in the "real" world. but in all honesty, he's fine with being your eventual demise if you decide not to go with him. being your FINAL killer is something he fantasises about a lot. he wants to kill you from the moment he sees your wariness over Jed to the very end when he makes you chase him all the way to Utah.

but then the Entity intervenes, and suddenly Danny has a way to have everything he wants. your death (over and over and over again), and you with him (forever, always, eternity). but his narcissism does not let him see the killer you're shaping into. and when you end up turning the plot on him, using your "friend" as bait to lure him in, Danny knows he's gravely misunderstood you. in fact, he's never really known the real you at all.

this, of course, just spurns the obsessiveness in him further, making it very unlikely that he'll ever let you go.

[the-owl-house-takes]

When I made the comparisons to ATLA and TOH i should have been more specific. I think I was the first anon to say it had an identity crisis. Here’s what we’re not gonna do. We’re not gonna ask a mod to stop posting criticisms that call out Dana for being racist. Some of those critiques stem from actual concerns and you sound like a white person who only cares about queer people. So, no to THAT suggestion. Moving on. I think when it comes to tone, I think it does a good job at conveying them at appropriate times. Unlike other shows that play goofy sound effects when the scene is meant to more somber. When it comes to the fighting scenes, it doesn’t make sense for witches, who primarily fight with magic and a human, who’s never done anything athletic in her life to suddenly move with finesse and dexterity. Hunter’s combat skills makes the most sense. That’s why I say the show has an identity crisis. That’s not to say that only soldiers are allowed to have those skills. I’m just saying just saying that it’s a bit unrealistic for almost everyone to have those skills, especially when there was no implication of training. And no, Grudgby and Flyer derby don’t cut it. Whenever you want to make a point, try dropping that “holier than thou” attitude. I care about LGBTQ+ shows and their success too. But I’m sure as heck not going to ignore shortcomings. And I’m definitely not going to ignore racism when I see it. So no. Absolutely not will try to police how someone mods. This blog indiscriminately posts and people feel safe here. I don’t just care about LGBTQ+ I AM THE L IN LGBTQ+ so miss me with that bs. And take your snobby attitude with you.

-

[nicks-disks]

** CHRISTMAS SPECIAL SPOILERS!!! **

honestly, I lowkey liked the ending of Ghosts. But like, lowkey, y'know? I do sort of mourn that we lost the chance to have an open ending, as I think it's under-utilised in shows and such a heartwarming, comforting and undramatic end for a series, but I definitely don't hate what we got given.

Is it perfect? No not really. Is it good? I mean yeah I think it is, I enjoyed it.

I see it as more of a showcase to display how much all the characters have grown, as they all act in ways that would be insanely out of character and unbelievable if they had done so in season one.

My main gripes with it are really kind of petty and very subjective and based on personal opinion, so literally, genuinely take them with a grain of salt.

It was a bit too dramatic for me, Ghosts has always been one for realistic dramatics, the type of stuff that's not a huge display but so immeasurably important and I feel like this Christmas special deviates a little from that. I was hoping for something more standard and something that felt a bit less, like, "the end" y'know? But also I think that stems from me not wanting the show to end while also not being too fond of the "found family splits" trope, so it doesn't quite hold up lol

I thought the semi-B-plot with Mikes's mum felt a bit off for some reason, a bit shoehorned in at times. I do like Mike's mum, and I thought her thinking the house was haunted and bringing in a priest was funny as shit, but it did drag slightly. This with the more dramatic, somber tone made it feel like a bit of a downer not really the pacing you want for a finale. Again though, this is exactly how Mike and Alison were feeling, so it deffo helped me empathise and understand why they chose to move out, it's very smart filmmaking just not what I personally prefer for the finale.

However, I actually do like the whole idea of the Christmas special. I think it's very mature, I think it's pretty realistic, and also I think it's kind of for the better for Alison and Mike. They have their daughter, Mia, and fortunately and unfortunately she will need to be the most important thing in their lives as she grows up. They just can't afford to live in Button house, both figuratively and literally.

But I think the best way to have fully realised this idea and plot would be to have made it another season!!! It feels a bit rushed and underbaked just being one episode, but imagine it being fully explored and developed over let's say 5 episodes, a miniseries. For example, a very vague overview that I'm gonna pull out of my ass on the spot,

Episode 1: Essentially the Christmas special. Mia is brought home, Mike's mum is being a bit overbearing, and everyone is kind of miserable. All of the same events play out, the Ghosts are all in a funny mood because of the new edition and Alison has to tell Mike's mum she needs to take a step back, yada yada. Then, like the Christmas special, the Ghosts make the speech that Alison needs to leave and she agrees, it's heartfelt and meaningful. However, something that's said is that Mike and Alison can handle taking care of Mia all on their own, and that they'll be absolutely great parents.

Episode 2: The Ghosts begin regretting their decision. They start to fear their afterlives will return back to how it was before Alison came into the picture, and while they want to beg her to stay like they have so many times in the past, they also try to convince themselves that Alison, Mike and Mia's wellbeing is the most important thing, and that they shouldn't get in the way. The episode ends with the Ghosts understanding that they're allowed to be upset at Alison leaving, they're allowed to say that they're going to miss her, and they have permission to mourn the loss of this live they've grown to love. However, it's also okay to let these feelings sit and experience them while also letting Alison go. It's a miracle that as Ghosts, they can feel at all, and honestly the fact they have Alison to miss is better than decades of boredom.

Episode 3: After having briefly contacted the contractors off-screen, it fully sets in for Alison what it means to the ghosts that she's leaving Button House. As a way to subside her guilt while also trying to ensure they continue to have the best possible afterlife with her out of Button House, she says that she'll try and get it so the golf hotel thing will have a request from each of the ghosts. They all put in their wants, like Pat wants a movie night and some clubs, Robin wants a pilates class, the plague ghosts want the basement revamped (the idea of a sauna would eventually be put forward by the contractors), so on and so forth. However, Alison promises this before the possibility is even finalised, so she spends the whole episode running around and nagging the contractors to allow her to add these things, in the end basically saying "you might be buying this land and house off me, but it's mine. It has stayed in my family for decades, and I've housed so many friends and memories. I would like to have a say in what happens to it, even after I leave it behind." and after a bit of debate, it's allowed.

Episode 4: Over the course of these episodes, Alison and Mike have been trying their absolute best with trying to take care of Mia between the ghosts, dealing with contractors and selling Button house, but it is so so, so difficult. The plot in this episode is putting that as the centre, with Alison and Mike struggling to keep up with all the demands of being a parent. As Alison runs around, she pushes the ghosts aside and gets annoyed at them, and while the ghosts have come to terms with her leaving, they still want to spend as much time as possible with her before it's too late. However, them being so insistent makes Alison even more irritated, and this episode ends with Alison snapping at the ghosts due to her exhaustion and frustration. That's it. This episode ends on a bummer.

Episode 5: This episode is a continuation of being a bit of a joykill. The ghosts try to completely stay out of Alison's way, not wanting to further add to her stress again, and Alison feels incredibly guilty. Eventually she voices her fears to Mike, wondering if they'd be good enough parents to raise Mia (mirroring the parental freak out Mike had in series 5, honestly all parents go through it and it's so valid). Alison confesses that if they leave Button House and still can't take care of Mia, what would it be for? Would it be a mistake? How can they be so responsible when they're really, truly not? Mike tries to comfort her, but he's having the dame doubts and fears too. Remember how in episode 1 they said they'd be able to raise Mia without any help? Yeah that's bullshit, all parents need and deserve help to raise a kid because it's such an immensely fucking gigantic task and no two people should feel they have to tackle it alone. While they're both scared that asking Mike's mum will result in her being overbearing again, they give her a call and she comes over. She gives them both a heartfelt pep talk and remembers to not be too pushy, but her assistance allows Alison and Mike to have the first good sleep they've had in months. The ghosts, also having heard Mike's Mum soothing Alisons fears, give her the lecture on confidence she needs, saying that both her and Mike will be incredible parents, they already are in Button House and they might even get better once they leave (*cue snarky yet fond smiles*). Then, cue the end of the original Christmas special where Mike and Alison drive off, saying goodbye to the ghosts while they follow the car. And also the final scene when Alison and Mike are old and grey, and they check into the golf-hotel thing and it's all so so sweet and lovely.

And that's it, that's the end! I tried to basically make it how I'd see the team expand the story, keeping in all story beats and ideas that I'm personally not fond of but still think they're interesting and worth keeping in. But like, isn't it kind of better now that all the ideas presented get expanded on?? I feel like the awkward pacing in the Christmas Special was just because they had so much to say and no time to say it.

I'm so sorry for the absolute goliath of a post and I'm sorry if it's all over the place, I wrote this on the spot so it's sort of just rambling but I hope it sort of explains why while I do have some complaints, overall I did like the Christmas special, I just think it would've been better fully realised as multiple episodes instead of one

If you have any thoughts or ideas I'd lovveeee to hear them! I know the Christmas special is CRAZY divisive and I completely understand why but I'd like to hear your reasons too <3 let's just try and be respectful to the Ghosts team while we air our opinions though, at the end of the day this is their show and it honestly probably means more to them than it does to us.

Plus bfr I know we're all hurting, but it's honestly not that bad. It's not the way we wanted or expected it to go, but it's a great piece of television and it's their piece of television

Edit: Also I'm stupid but a bit of closure for the ghosts and Alison between them leaving and the final geriatric scene would be nice, but I guess it's not necessary. Like how it's stated before that the ghosts would have been miserable with Button House being a hotel, please show why it's perhaps less miserable than anticipated. The plague ghosts were a great example, but the upstairs ghosts probably get the brunt of the hotel life so seeing how they'd grow accustomed to it would be super interesting. Honestly, the only thing us fans want is to see the ghosts happy because it makes us happy, and admittedly it's a bit parasitic but we have grown to care for their wellbeing. Plus, showing a few cute hijinks would be, well, cute. Perhaps instead of a full episode where it intrudes on the pacing, it could be done as a separate short.

People say Alison would be miserable because she can't find a house without ghosts but that's not true, there's newer houses with less history with no ghosts, she just didn't like it because it was too quiet. Now I don't actually think this is a bad thing, it's just something that she has to adjust too. Also it's probably going to be less quiet now with Mia, so that issue is half solved. Honestly, now they have the money to chose a piece of land that has no ghosts and build their perfect dream house, so finding a suitable property probably isn't going to be that hard.

Of course she's gonna miss the ghosts and vice versa, but just because an ending is bittersweet and has some changes that everyone has to get used to doesn't mean it's a miserable disaster.

[writer59january13]

The emotional, mental and spiritual fallout courtesy Colt Gray

Apalachee High School,

located in Winder, Georgia

witnessed an active shooter, whereby the alleged lone gunman (actually just a teenager of fourteen years) killed four people and injured nine more the latter hospitalized with injuries after a shooting Wednesday (June 4th, 2024) morning.

His (the lad who pulled the trigger on the firearm – an AR platform-style gun) father and mother must be held culpable,

and similar to the slain victims surviving kith and kin probably experience immense grief (at least I would hope). Yours truly (me), a married sexagenarian and proud papa, whose two grown daughters;

a twenty five old, lives in Bend, Oregon and eldest - almost twenty six months her kid sister's senior resides within bucolic Ithaca, New York, whereby he himself dwells at Highland Manor Apartments smack dab within the heart of

Perkiomen Valley, Pennsylvania nestled here within suburban southeastern Montgomery County

deeply affected by the tragedy

(as well as most previous occurring violent, nasty, and brutish bloody crimes.

The Second Amendment of the United States Constitution protects the right of Americans to keep and bear arms. The original text of the Second Amendment is:

“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed”. The Second Amendment was ratified on December 15, 1791. Its origins can be traced back to ancient Roman and Florentine times, and to the late 16th century in England when Queen Elizabeth I required all classes of people to take part in a national militia. I (a slight baby boomer at approximately seventy inches tall from stem to stern

targeted as "scapegoat" during boyhood),

no longer a ticking time bomb harboring

rage against the machine,

would never buy nor use a weapon intended to fire rapidly loosing countless bullets, nevertheless writer of these words empathizes, sympathizes and telepathizes third-person singular simple present indicative forms of empathize, sympathize, and telepathize respectively

with the predictable cited suspect, who frequently trends toward being a quiet natured, nerdy lad at the receiving end of verbal and physical harassment.

Still back in the day mean kids indiscriminately name called me attendant with closed fists mere inches from my face - both boys and girls made a point to assail introspective severely shy Matthew Scott Harris

pleading with cruel, fiendish, imps - of the pervert please don't hurt me and repeated the following saying: sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me (or so the playground adage wants us to believe). Words do hurt and the shame

those words can instill in us

have a way of instigating and perpetuating inferiority complex

in our minds and our bodies.

Easy access to high powered military grade sophisticated woud find blunderbuss quaint.

More often than not such brutal and nasty (short lived) nefarious schemes directed at humble lettered people (like those comprising my home town of Lake Woebegone) minding their own p's and q's, when out of the blue a sudden bitta bing bitta bang rings the terrorist catcall followed by red tide and river of blood. Thus occurs yet another staccato sinister sonic soundcloud boom across the pearl gray slate of some formerly anonymous place-name. which blitzkrieg of shells shattering (at shutterfly speed) the democratic rubric of society with senseless slaughter, whereat somber silence echoes the wails of agony.

This epidemic re: murderous love affair with gruesome morbid fixation allowing, enable and providing the terrifying trappings for angry person to maniacally gun down (in slo mo) a milling crowdsource (perhaps pathetic plan premeditated) employing coterie of odious loading incendiary fiery clips.

Suicide bombardier seeks to slake thirst to take aim with deadly precision, and spray with pump posse city, a congregated engaged group of people), with egregious fulfillment to mow down slew unsuspecting victims, which bring revulsion to this American citizen.

Death be not proud, nor ought airtime allocated to these heinous cavalier avengers. Foe tee eight hour special proffers especial easy access to sophisticated high caliber compact offspring of rapaciously lethal gimcrackery cutlasses. Sorrow soulful songs sung by the likes of death cab for cutie in tandem with foo fighting beastie boys pay homilies and homage to grateful dead. Fetishistic martyrs wannabe set sights of sister and brothers of their same simian species.

Once target(s) locked and stocked per skull and cross bones, the ammunition barrels at greased lightning speed dead set upon unaware persons. the final minutes/seconds of various lives instantaneously cut short, when instagram cross hairs seal the fate upon avast group of happy go lucky men and women. Instantaneous re: within the blink and/or flickr of and eye, the gallivanting live capital one progressive pinterest-ting human hulu hooping unwittingly accompany the grim reaper as riders to final resting place. Ribald exhortations and allegiance gifted from he/she who ushered in bereavement, where grief experiences a field day, whence pandora gorges philabundance like, as incalculable forsaken emptiness doles bleakness upon a grim outlook brought about per spilt blood, sweat and tears tallying the cost.

Mortal kombat rues unfathomable payless priceline, which induces adrenaline to course thru the melee, where survivors sprint non selfie ish lee to a safer outlook, where moments before the collective asylum seekers indulged in a joyus fancy feast per vanity fair, whence diehard fanatic (attired inconspicuously like some dishabille schlepper of an outlier) pulled the trigger releasing high powered voluminous ammunition loaded murderous mass homicidal instrument.

Netzero escape for those unfairly killed in ceaseless undeclared warfare, whereby killer (ofttimes a pissant punk) cooly unleashes fearsome fusillade from out the barrel per his/her lethal methodological munitions.

[existentialmagazine]

Review: julip’s debut single ‘Ectothermic’ explores a bittersweet breakup, reminiscing on a lover turned cold with a soft glowing sound to match

The San Francisco-based artist julip has just unleashed her debut riveting pop-rock anthem ‘Ectothermic’, paying homage to contemporary indie luminaries like Alvvays, Phoebe Bridgers, and Clairo. As she finds herself taking inspiration from her education, as well as the desire to masterfully balance raw emotion with catchy, sing-along melodies, julip is certainly one to watch with this exceptional first offering to her name.

A dreamy haze of sound commences the glowing two minute journey of ‘Ectothermic’, soft and radiant all at once just like the most mesmerising of pink-tinted sunsets. Lulling you into subdued electric guitar strums and floaty vocals alone, there’s a vast sense of the soundscape established immediately, intimate and echoey like the emptiness of an open, unfilled hall. A rising drawn-out synth note begins to fade in as julip introduces more instrumental nods, wrapping a blanket of steady drums and this continued lingering key amidst the minimal sound, an embodiment of the track’s inability to let go. As the pre-chorus shifts, ‘Ectothermic’ falls into scattered electronic beats, loose guitar strums and julip’s heavenly vocals with haunting backing layers that add an emphasis to her every line before a paired-back but insanely catchy chorus finds itself front and centre. From just tenderly strummed guitar and whimsical synth whirs in the chorus, julip’s personal but snappy lyrical releasing is one that’ll have you loudly singing along to every word as it becomes centre stage of the sentimental moment. Soon re-adding clashing drums and more prominent strums, ‘Ectothermic’ climbs into more of an emotional outburst of sorts, expressing all the built-up emotion through its more strengthened performance and closing bridge before blissfully fading out with one final simmering towards closure.

Matching her more somber sound, julip carefully entangles a narrative of a former relationship turned sour, delving into the bitterness of their parting alongside the tether between them that still resides within. From the opening line ‘I would count the freckles on your forehead, to try to make the seconds pass even slower’, julip seems to immediately acknowledge the beauty of what they once shared, reminiscing and perhaps alluding to a yearning to relive these simple moments once again. But reality seeps between these reckless thoughts and wishes, reminding ‘now your name is starting to taste foul’ , recognising that the joy once carried for their presence has been forever tainted and cannot be changed no matter how much she desires to redo things. As julip sings ‘looking into the static for signs this isn’t through yet’, she finds herself unafraid to speak of the complexities that come with love and heartbreak, knowing she deserves more and yet emotionally still finds herself caught up on this ex regardless. Tying in her STEM education, julip infuses her lyricism with a unique blend of scientific references, touching on the term "ectothermic” that is typically associated with the cold-blooded and temperature-fluctuating nature of reptiles and insects. Turning this animalistic expression into one representative of her former lover, julip’s poignant lines ring out with a mass of unearthed depth: ‘the fact you don’t wanna talk is really getting me off, I want to keep you burning, but you’re so ectothermic.’ Suggesting inconsistency, cruelty and a coldness while she pleads to relight their flame, this poetic comparison is one that seems almost desperate to find an expression for her suffering, feeling as though this once treasured person has become distant and unknown as they morph and shift into another species entirely. Though she notes ‘you’re in my rearview’ as though this person remains in her past, there’s a definite hung-up lingering on this relationship she can’t find herself letting go of, an unfortunate and unsurprising consequence of the many unanswered questions and betrayal through their actions that brings such an immense lack of closure.

Check out ‘Ectothermic’ for yourself here to delve deeper into the poetical lyricism of julip and the more intimate sound to match.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

[1025cherrystreet]

funeral

y/n attends a funeral and feels hopeless after losing her best friend until she meets her late bsf's cousin Harry.

a/n: this is for @harrystylescherry​ Playlist Fic Challenge!!! this is inspired by the song Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers. i used the name Phoebe in the story but i wasn't picturing Phoebe Bridgers when I was writing that character, i just liked the name and decided to go with it! but, y'all can picture her however y'all like lol. i went from loving this story to hating it, but i hope y'all like it! any feedback is appreciated!! <3

**despite it being surrounded by depressing matters, it's actually a cute and fluffy story lol! just wanted to point that out because i, myself, kinda avoid reading sad stories

warnings: a LOT of talk about death and dying and funerals, mentions depression/depressive episode?, mentions drugs and alcohol, swearing. i'm ceo of rushing the ending, soz <3 (also, gave up on proofreading lmao)

word count: 8k+ (this is the longest piece i've ever written lol)

Y/N has this dream. Where she's screaming underwater while her friends are waving at her from the shore. She's desperately calling for them, hoping and waiting for them to help, but, seemingly, her friends can't hear... and can't help. Submerged beneath the thrashing waters, her wails fall silent; her familiars deaf to her pleads. The more she struggles to get to the surface for air, the deeper she sinks. Her friends just waving at her as she drifts to the bottom. Every time she jolts awake from these dreams in a sweat stained bed and sticky clothes, she decides to brush it off. Not wanting to think about the problems she needs to face or what she needs to work on. Always concluding that she doesn't need anyone to tell her what it means or overanalyze her life through misplaced visions. Deciding to not believe assumptions made from vague, painful pictures.

As the familiar sinking feeling in her chest starts yet again, Y/N snaps her eyes up at the casket as the sound of her best friend's mother releasing a heart wrenching sob catches her focus.

The contrast of the white roses that lay on top of Phoebe's mahogany stained casket almost glow in the evening light, seeming like a mock to such a somber evening. The way the living looks so effervescent and bright, casting shadows on the less fortunate. The dead never celebrated in such light but rather mourned in dim grief and sadness.

Y/N doesn't like funerals, and not just because her best friend of 10 years is the recipient of this one. She's never cared for them. Believing they're just an excuse to get over the one they are to be honoring, they carry a stigma that everyone in attendance has to cry or you're seen as heartless, while the people who were never close to the deceased are presumed fake for showing emotion. Y/N thinks they're a big joke... with a cruel, cruel punchline.

The sound of despondent music playing and cries ring throughout the cemetery as Phoebe's casket is lowered six feet into the ground. The unchecked emotions start to boil inside of Y/N. Anger boiling deep inside of her quickly reaching its point, anger that stems from betrayal, that stems from hurt, that stems from...loss. She quietly scoffs, shaking her head with a stone cold look, before quickly getting up and walking away from the ceremony as her late friend's uncle, Bill, wraps up his poor excuse of a eulogy.

Phoebe wouldn't have wanted this. She wouldn't have wanted people to cry over her casket, stuck laying in a padded box while people who don't even know the real her, speak of her existence like they were the best of friends. They weren't. She was. Y/N was her best friend. These people don't... didn't know her like Y/N does. It's all bullshit.

In Y/N's quick pace away from the tent around the damp open ground, she spots a bigger gravestone with a stone bench built into it and takes a seat.

She inhales deeply, taking a moment to herself to look up at the sky. The clouds that overcast part of the blue sky drifting farther away from the graveyard as the sun starts making its way to set. She breathes in, the delightful scent of honeysuckle and dewy grass filling her nose before it's tainted by fumes of petrol from the road just on the other side of the cemetery gates behind her. It's so unfair; why of all people did Phoebe have to-

"It's all a joke," A deep accent says to her left.

She almost jumps out of her seat when she turns to the man who took the empty spot next to her. Jesus Christ, where the fuck did he come from? she thinks to herself. He had brown curly hair and green eyes (well, thinking green from what she can gather staring at the side of his face), wearing a black suit with a black button up shirt underneath. Rings clad his fingers and the sunset gleam shines off his cross necklace. She stares wide-eyed at him for a few moments before shaking her head to get out of her daze.

"Huh?" She says when she realizes he had spoken before.

"It's all a big joke," He repeats himself, the British accent more noticeable this time around. His head faced towards the funeral, having not spared a glance at her once this whole time.

She settles back into her seat, shifting her gaze to match his with the group of mourning people in the distance.

"Yeah." Y/N sighs in agreement.

The two of them sit in silence for a moment before Y/N decides to speak. Thinking to herself that if anyone would listen to her thoughts, a man who's also ditching the shitty eulogy would be her best bet.

"They all talk about her as if she was God." She chuckles humorlessly.

He scoffs with a small smirk, "Far from it."

Another wave of silence crashes over them, before Y/N breaks it once again.

"She would've hated this," She whispers, "People she barely even knows crying over her like they had any significance in her life. She probably only talked to five people here. She didn't even like her uncle." She laughs, referencing the man who gave the half-assed eulogy about how Phoebe being such an innocent, bright young girl.

"They're grieving her loss instead of celebrating her life, it's all fucked," He clears his throat before continuing, "Funerals are for the living."

"I hate funerals..." She says in reply.

Glancing at the boy beside her when she hears him digging through his jacket pocket, pulling out a flask.  He takes a sip, and another, before gesturing it to her. Not overthinking it too much, she takes the cool metal bottle and takes a big gulp. Tasting the burn of vodka in her throat and mint from what she supposes is the mysterious strangers mouth.

Handing the flask back she says, "She would've wanted a party. Something where everyone was having fun in her honor, not some substandard funeral full of random people and careless words."

This time he's the one who chuckles humorlessly, "Yeah, she would've wanted everyone t'take shots and dress up in fancy clothes n' wreak havoc on this fucking town,"

Y/N smiles at this because Phoebe really would. Phoebe was the type of person who everyone wanted to be friends with, but also who everyone was scared of. She was mysterious and intimidating (a bit like the man next to her, Y/N thinks). Phoebe was a master at persuasion and could get almost anyone to go on crazy fucking adventures with her. One of Y/N's favorite memories with Phoebe was when they dressed up in wedding dresses they had gotten from a second-hand store and walked down the street yelling random things at strangers, taking turns drinking tequila from a metal water bottle.

"She really was something else, huh?" Y/N says a bit somberly, reminiscing on her late best friend.

"Definitely, a know-it-all," He laughs, bringing the flask up to his mouth.

"Oh, of course, she always thought she was right." She smirks.

"I mean, most of the time she was." He shrugs.  

"Yeah, how did she always know everything?" The two of you laugh, taking turns drinking from the flask.

He shakes his head in disbelief, silence settling over the pair again.

"How did you know her?" He asks, still staring at the gathering of people in the distance.

"...She was my best friend," Y/N responds quietly, still staring out at the sunset.

He hums in return, "You?" She asks as she hands the flask over.

"Her cousin." His rough voice speaks out.

"You're Harry?" She says, less as a question and more in disbelief. Phoebe always mentioned her cousin Harry from England, always telling Y/N of stories they had together getting into reckless shit.

She turns her head to look at him just as he does, "And you're Y/N."

He offers a soft, knowing smile, both having heard countless stories of one another from Phoebe. He leans back and extends his arm on the top of the bench behind her, feeling the warmth of his body radiate off of him.

"I wonder what she'd say to me now. Sitting on a random gravestone in our hometown, drinking out of her cousin's flask, ditching what's supposed to be her remembrance." Y/N says, leaning back on the bench too.

"She would've said, 'quit y'crying, it's a sign of the times' and then would drag your arse t'the nearest pub." He laughs.

She joins in on the soft laughter, shaking her head because she knows that's exactly what she would've said. Phoebe was such a joy to be around, her presence unmatched.

"You know, she always talked about wanting to leave a legacy behind. Most of the time, I just laughed at her, thinking it was just another bizarre thing to come out of her mouth. But, she was always saying she wanted to be remembered as some enigma when she dies..." Y/N recalls the many memories of her and Phoebe staying up til 4am talking. Chills suddenly covering her body, not only from the cool Winter air but because of how Phoebe had talked about her death and now she's actually...dead.

She turns her head to look at Harry and he has a bittersweet smile on his face.

"I think she's accomplished that quite well, hasn't she?" He replies.

"How?" She questions softly with furrowed brows.

"Well, f'starters, her funeral is full of people who never even knew her, or frankly even cared about her, while two emotionless people just got up and stormed away from it t'drink vodka out of a flask on some random person's gravestone." He laughs before tacking on, "Trust me, the people over there are wondering who the hell she was and who she knew, right about now."

She turns her head from the (quite pretty, she thinks) boy to her left, looking at the wake, only to be met with a few people staring back at them.

"Well, I'll be damned," She scoffs. "Of course, the bitch did it." A smile bright on her face, probably the only real grin she's pulled since Phoebe's passing. Her best friends wishes coming true makes her heart warm just a tad, a relief to how cold losing her best friend made it.

"Always able t'make her life seem like an episode of Pretty Little Liars." He says shaking his head with a knowing smirk.

This comment makes Y/N laugh quite loudly, drawing a few — what she could only think were glares — back at her. Wiping a stray tear from her face that fell due to her laughing. The sweet sound coming from her lips only tacking on Harry to join her.

"Oh my god, she practically lived in an indie movie, always the role of the mysterious main character!" She chuckled out, creases forming at the corners of her eyes that Harry has taken a liking to.

As both of their laughter slowly dies out, another silence comes over them; only this time it's almost deafening. It's like the weight of the matter finally settled in.

Harry lets out a deep sigh, staring out at the never ending field of stone. Flowers accompany very few of the many graves; some wilted, some looking fresh, some long gone by now. Name placards littering the ground, all of these lost and forgotten people just decomposing underneath them. People coming and going to visit, only to be forgotten as time goes by, memories fading from their loved ones' mind. He wonders if he could ever forget Phoebe. No, I could never, he thinks to himself. He could never forget the only person that ever truly believed in him and embraced him for being himself.

Deciding he doesn't want to give anymore thought to the painful insight that one day he might forget Phoebe, he asks Y/N something instead.

"Y'wanna get out of here? M'starvin'."

The quiet girl next to him looks his way, his green eyes meeting her's that shine in the last few minutes of orange sunlight. Her eyes are so pretty, he tries to mentally shake that thought out of his head. He can't be hitting on his late cousin's best friend at her funeral, for fuck's sake.

Y/N only nods in response, gathering her bag and phone before standing from the bench. Harry towers over her when he gets up and the observation of how tall her his makes Y/N feel all giddy inside for some reason. Placing the flask back in his suit jacket pocket, he leads the way to a small restaurant nearby. She walks beside him the whole way there, the two of them just quietly observing everything around them.

***

The crisp, cool air passes through, goosebumps creeping up their arms as they sit in the outside seating of a small restaurant. Comfortable silence wraps them up and spits them out as their minds explore all the vast depths of their troubled minds, giving them time for their treacherous thoughts to eat at their sanity bit by bit.

"Phoebe told me once," Y/N cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the scratchy feeling from not using it. Harry's green eyes moved to her from his observance of the lonely street they're next to as she spoke softly. "She told me the only time she truly felt alive was when she made decisions that were reckless and spontaneous. She said living her life precariously was the only reason for her happiness, claiming that the perfect life is just an illusion. That dreaming of labor should not be the goal, but instead becoming your authentic self and living with no regrets..."

Harry stays quiet, reflection in his eyes as he stares at her from across the table, chewing the food in his mouth. Y/N plays around with the food on her plate with her fork and waits for his acknowledgment (although, she doesn't even know if he would say or do anything -- she doesn't know why she decided to tell him that)

"I mean, she's right, righ'? I never understood when people would ask what your 'dream job' is from a young age. No one's dream is t'work everyday 'til they die. They have to, t'make a living and survive, but what's the point in living if you aren't enjoyin' it. But, if y'workin' all the time, how do you make the time to really live?" He says, furrowing his brows as he talks.

Y/N takes in his words. The moonlight and street lamps casting a soft glow on his face, his carved features looking even more beautiful at night.

"Yeah... I guess, I guess I just envy how she viewed life, ya know?" She states, looking at the cars drive by as she tries to explain how she feels. "Always saying things to make you rethink your existence and purpose..." She looks back at Harry and whispers, "...She talked about life so much like she knew she was going to die."

"Well, we're all gonna die eventually." Harry rests his arms on the table with a quiet sigh, his features passive, but his mind is thinking of how he just wants to hug her and tell her everything is going to be alright.

"Yeah, but she just...she talked about it like she knew all the answers. She knew exactly what to say, when to say it. Sometimes, I feel like she was telling everyone around her how to live in complete happiness because she knew she didn't have much of her own, despite convincing everyone she was carefree and unbothered." Y/N shrugs and watches as they fall into a short silence.

"...I miss her." Harry breathes out after a moment, reaching his hand across the table to hold hers. Her skin is soft against his as he rubs his thumb against her hand in an attempt to comfort both of them.

Her eyes soaking in his softened expression, her cherry tinted lips whispering, "Me too."

They eat the rest of their dinner in silence, the only sounds reverberating from the road with the occasional car or pedestrian. Harry pays for the food, but not without many protests from Y/N.

As the two walk side by side down the street, back to the cemetery to pick up their cars, Y/N suddenly falls anxious. She doesn't want to be alone tonight, scared of being alone with her thoughts when she goes back to stay in her childhood home. Her parents, still living in the house they lived in since her youth, had to drive up to another town for a few nights to stay with her cousins because they planned to go there before the news broke about Phoebe. Leaving Y/N alone in the empty house since there wasn't room for her at her cousins.

The black cemetery gates coming into view, eeriness and gloom becoming more apparent when the sun is down, Y/N and Harry can see their two cars sitting idly on the side of the road. Y/N fidgets with her fingers as they grow close to departure.

"D-do you, maybe, wanna hang out for a little while longer?" She turns to face him, looking up at him nervously. "I just don't want to be alone right now." She rushes out when he doesn't respond.

"Yeah, I didn't really want t'go home alone right now either." He offers a sliver of a smile before unlocking his car, grabbing two brown paper bags that look to hold bottles, and gesturing his head, "C'mon, we'll pick up my car later. Let's go celebrate Pheebz, yeah?" He grins.

She smiles at him, unlocking her own car and waiting for him to get in, putting on a playlist full of Phoebe's favorite songs. She drives through her hometown, memories stirring up of her and her best friend smoking weed in the park the summer before graduation and jumping in the lake naked in the middle of winter. The two end up at her house sitting in her abandoned driveway, both unbuckling but neither making the move to get out of the parked car, the engine still running as they sit listening to the melodies playing from the speaker.

Harry suddenly pulls out two bottles from the brown paper bags at his feet, one of vodka and the other tequila.

"Pick y'poison." He says with a smirk.

She picks the vodka and Harry mutters, "Good choice, tequila is more m'speed."

"Weren't you drinking vodka at the funeral?" She laughs, unscrewing the cap.

"Yeah, figured I'd drink Phoebe's favorite since it was her party." He chuckles.

"To Phoebe." Y/N says, sorrow lacing her voice as she turns in her seat to face Harry.

"To living your life precariously." He says before the two of them take a big gulp of the sharp liquid, starting what will only be the beginning of a long night.

***

Light shines through the white curtains, the room glowing bright in the soft, yellow sunlight. The white comforter tangled up in bodies as birds chirp in the morning tranquility. Y/N's eyes flutter open, immediately feeling sweaty and clammy. The headache that sets in reminds her of the amount of alcohol she consumed last night. Waking up in her childhood bed after blacking out in the backseat of her car the night before doing very little for her sanity.

As she lays in bed, groggy, she needs to pee. She moves to get up and walk to the bathroom connected to her room, only to freeze when an arm wraps around her and pulls her closer. Warm breathes pant at the back of her neck, unintelligible murmurs coming from the person behind her. Her eyes widen, realizing Harry is the one she is snuggling with in the early morning (afternoon?) light. Despite needing to pee really badly, she finds herself only melting into his touch. She can't remember the last time someone held her like this, can't remember the last time she felt this content. In fact, she thinks the last time she cuddled with someone was with Phoebe when she slept over in her room at their apartment... Well, just Y/N's apartment now.

Y/N and Phoebe would have movie nights in Y/N's room and in the midst of the fun, they would grow tired. Phoebe would never want to leave the comfort of Y/N's warm bed, so she always asked, sleepover?, with a wide grin. To which Y/N never refused and the two would put on The Notebook and fall asleep spooning one another. The first time it happened, when they were children having sleepovers, she tensed a bit; thinking it weird for her friend to cuddle her because no one had ever done that. But, as the years went by and their friendship grew stronger, knowing that despite both of them being bisexual it wasn't an act of intimacy, but one of platonic comfort.

So, Y/N figured (in her touch deprived mind) that this was just an act of friendly, platonic intimacy...nothing else. After coming to that conclusion, she let herself relax into his touch, his warm embrace nodding her off to sleep once again.

What wakes her up the second time is the sound of a gravelly voice groaning. The arm around her waist squeezes tightly before the body it's attached to tenses up. Harry tries to take in the position they're in -- his arm snuggling her close to his bare chest and legs intertwined with hers -- but his hangover headache clouds his mind too much to think about it. Only registering that he's never felt this comfortable with someone before, never felt someone so warm and cozy. He's cuddled lots of girls (and guys), has spent many mornings waking up in someones hold or holding someone in his, but they've never been as addicting as her. Never being so relaxing, so soft. He's about to just say, fuck it, and fall back asleep as to spend as much time with her in his clutch, but Y/N had stirred awake from his groaning and she really has to pee!

She slowly turns in his arms, their legs shifting apart, and is met with probably the cutest sight she's ever seen. His eyes are glassy and the green of his irises shine in the soft light. His lips pink and his face holding a hesitant look, like he thinks she might yell at him for accidentally ending up in his arms throughout the night, but she can also sense the underlying feeling of content reading on his face. The way his eyes soften when they meet hers and the way his hand involuntarily squeezes at her side. The serene feeling almost tangible as her childhood room becomes their own little world. All the responsibilities and pain of the outside fall ceased at the door decorated with heights of a growing Y/N.

"G'morning," His gravelly voice going straight to her heart, melting it at the beautiful sound.

"Good morning," She says in a raspy whisper, her throat dry from the alcohol and singing at the top of her lungs the night before.

She takes the quiet moment to look at his body, her gaze drifting from tattoo to tattoo, not realizing how many he has. She knew he had some from the ones on his hands yesterday, but she didn't know he had so many. His long sleeve button up had covered the view of the ones adorning his arms, but she looks at them now in awe, thinking how pretty they are.

She's about to tell him how much she likes the butterfly tattoo on his chest, when her bladder has other plans.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to pee," She bashfully smiles as she looks at him.

"Oh, m'sorry. Probably should've told ya' I'm a cuddler." He gives a small smile with embarrassment soaking his words, thinking he's made her uncomfortable.

"No need to apologize," Her eyes light up at his out of character shyness, "I am too, I just really have to go to the bathroom." The harmonious sound of her giggles soothing every worry in Harry's body.

He playfully sighs, "Fine, I guess I'll let y'go piss."

A smirk pulls at his lips as she rolls her eyes and gets up, but he can see the corners of her lips turn up.

She goes to the bathroom, doing her business and washing her hands. She takes the time to brush her teeth and wash her face, cringing when she looks in the mirror. She feels gross that she looked like this when Harry woke up with the resemblance of an angel.

When she's finished, she walks out back into her room, excited to get back into the warm bed (and hopefully cuddle with Harry some more, but she would never admit that out loud), but she's met with abandoned sheets and panic consumes her. Did he leave? Did I make him uncomfortable by waking up in his arms? He was the one to cuddle me and he joked about it! But maybe he was just trying to be nice so he could escape? Her mind starts to race a mile a minute of anxious thoughts before they're all suddenly wiped away at the smell of coffee wafting in from the open doorway.

She throws on a sweatshirt and socks and makes her way down the stairs of the familiar, yet foreign after spending so long away from home, house. Her sock clad feet pad on the hardwood floors as she walks into the kitchen, spotting Harry silently staring at a spot on the wall with a cup of coffee in his hand (he's using the same pink and green mug with a little ceramic pig sitting on the top of the handle that Phoebe would use every time she'd sleepover in high school).

She walks in quietly, coming up behind him and grabbing a cup of coffee for herself, noticing the two pain killers next to the pot (which made her heart swell if she's honest). He had heard her coming down the stairs, but despite her presence his focus is still on the spot on the wall. Taking a sip of her pick-me-up and swallowing the pills, she takes up space next to Harry, following his eyes that stare intently at a picture frame hanging up and her eyes immediately soften.

"That was freshman year," Y/N spoke delicately, staring at the picture herself, "We had both been asked to prom by these senior guys. I was ecstatic because no one had ever shown any liking to me, but Phoebe had played it cool, of course." Harry lets out a quiet breathy laugh because of course Phoebe didn't care.

"We spent weeks planning out how prom night would be. Imagining how the senior parties would be like and if the boys would kiss us by the end of the night or not. She came over at 9am the morning of the dance and we spent all day getting ready and laughing with each other. She had even done my makeup all pretty and I helped her get into her dress. I remember I laughed when she decided she was going to wear converse under her dress, and she almost convinced me to do it too because she said 'you're not gonna be the one laughing when we're at all the after parties and your feet are killing you'." A genuine smile forms on Y/N's face as she reminisces on the cherished moment.

"But, two hours before the dance, our dates cancelled on us and told us they were going with these senior girls." Harry scoffs bitterly, understanding how cruel teenage boys are.

"I remember I was so upset because the one time I thought someone actually liked me or thought I was pretty enough to go to prom with, had just made me a second choice..." She recalls to Harry, who is now looking at the side of her face as she looks at the picture of Phoebe carrying Y/N on her back, piggy-back style, in long prom dresses, dirty white converse peaking out from under both girls' dresses.

"So, she grabbed me by the arms and looked me in the eyes and said 'Y/N L/N, we are deserving of the love we wish for. No senior boys are going to make us doubt that. We are not little freshmen girls who can be seen as cheap thrills and easy hookups. We are women, who demand respect and complete infatuation.' Then she took the tickets that the boys had pre-purchased for us, took my hand, and dragged me to that dance. We had been each other's date and made prom our bitch. She even got us into a party afterward...And we had one hell of a night."

She smiles fondly at the sweet memory. Harry's eyes flutter between the picture and the beautiful girl next to him. How could she ever think of herself as a second choice?, is all he can wonder to himself.

Letting his gaze fall to the picture one last time, he mumbles, "Well, those boys missed out on the best thing t'ever happen t'them."

He doesn't catch Y/N's blush that creeps up on her cheeks as he turns around, taking a sip from his little pig mug.

She shakes her head as to get out of the crushing haze she falls into, turning and walking to the countertop, leaning against it as Harry stands in front of her on the other side.

"Thank you. F'letting me stay the night, last night." He speaks up.

Y/N notices how he's still lacking a shirt, making her mouth dry up just a little at the sight of how fit he is. The tattoos stretching across his tan skin so perfectly, the black ink creating such a beautiful contrast on his body. He catches onto the not-so-subtle gawking and smirks.

"Uh, yeah. It's really no problem. There's no way I'd have let you drive home intoxicated and it was the least I could do after I made you practically spend the day with me." She blushes.

"Y'didn't make me," He shakes his head gently with a smile.

Y/N doesn't know to feel about how her cheeks heat up at his remark, shyly looking away as the teasing gleam in his eyes might make her combust.

"O-okay. Good to know." She squeaks out, the action only fueling Harry's ego and playful mood.

"I should go get m'car from the cemetery before it gets towed," He says almost disappointedly, like he doesn't want to leave yet. If she's being honest, she doesn't want him to leave yet either.

"Yeah, that wouldn't be good. I'll give you a ride." She says, shaking off the saddened feeling of his departure.

"Oh, you don't have t'do tha'." He shakes his head but Y/N quickly shoots him down.

"Nonsense, I'll take you. It's no big deal."

He smiles at her objection, nodding, and going upstairs to grab the rest of his clothes, feeling uncomfortable in his dress pants from the funeral that he had put back on when he got up this morning, not wanting to make Y/N feel weird by staying in only his boxers.

***

Vodka Lover: hey... are you up?

She chews on the skin around her thumb, a nervous habit that Phoebe had always teased her about, as she sends the text to Harry (having exchanged numbers when she had dropped him off at his car at the cemetery). Phoebe had always said, 'You're not gonna have any thumb left to chew, babes, if you keep at it'. To which Y/N just rolled her eyes, but in the deafening silence of 4am, she wishes she cherished those moments with her best friend more. Wishing she didn't take for granted in those little encounters of Phoebe's care and concern with her well-being. Y/N would give anything to be able to spend one more minute with her.

Butterfly Boy: yeah, everything okay?

Vodka Lover: um, can i call you?

Suddenly, breaking the bitter quiet with a ringtone, her phone she holds in her palm lights up with Harry's contact. A tear falls from her face onto the screen and she has to wipe it away before she presses accept.

"Y/N?" Harry's deep voice rings out, laced in worry, from the other line.

She chokes out a sob, not being able to hold it back anymore. The floodgate of her emotions she has been trying to keep at bay suddenly burst. Salty tears fall onto the blue fluffy blanket from her senior year she's wrapped up in.

"Hey, hey, s'everythin' okay? What's wrong?" Harry says, more alert now that he hears her in such a fragile and frantic state.

Y/N just cries harder, desperately trying to catch her breath, she feels like she's suffocating.

"Hey, love, just breathe. Just breathe, Y/N." He tries to coax her down in a soothing voice.

A raggedy breath is heard on Harry's side, making the worry dissipate just a little now that he knows she's breathing. Harry sits up in his bed, calling out to Y/N, repeatedly telling her to just keep breathing. He can't get to what's wrong if she hyperventilates.

He was laying restless in his bed when she had texted, lost in thoughts of life and replaying memories with his cousin. Trying to grasp everything she's ever told him before, hoping that by watching the moments he spent with her like a film reel in his mind would help him not forget them.

"Love, can y'tell me what's got you so upset? Please," He asks softly when she calms down enough where her breathing is regular and not sporadic inhales gasping for air.

"I-I-I miss her," She cries out into the phone, the thought of embarrassing herself by breaking down to Harry not on her mind; the only thought she has is how empty she feels.

"I know, I know, love. I miss her, too," He sighs out sadly, wishing he could take away her pain, hating the way her voice quivers with every word. "Do you want t'talk about it?"

She wipes the tears that sting her eyes and cascade down her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. The one she wore when Harry slept over, smelling a little like him still from the car ride to his car that day, three days ago.

They had been texting each other and talking every day since then, usually about light topics like asking how their day's were or what they were doing. However, tonight (or early morning), everything felt like it was crashing down on her. Y/N's strong front she had put up since the funeral for Phoebe's family finally collapsed, and she's found herself stuck under the rubble. She was trying so hard to keep it in because she shouldn't be feeling sorry for herself when someone's kid is dead.

She had bored herself to tears, not knowing what to do. The only thing that seemed right was to call Harry.

"Talk to me, babe." He begs her, running a hand through his disheveled curls.

"I-" She sniffles, "I feel like I'm fucking drowning,"

He hates how defeated her voice sounds and he wishes he could just be there to hug her and tell her everything's going to be okay, eventually.

"It-it feels like my whole life is in ruins. Harry, I miss her." Her face scrunches up again as she starts to sob, "Sh-She was my best friend, I d-did everything with her. How am I s-supposed to do this without her? How am I supposed t-to live without her?"

"Oh, darling. I know, but you will..and you can." He frowns, racking his brain for the right thing to tell her, "You got t'live so you can experience all those ways of life she always talked about. Y'haven't experienced all those feelings Pheebz would mention when she would live her life precariously. Don't y'want to know how she felt when she would talk of such a beautiful life she lived, yeah?"

He hears a hiccup and a quiet, albeit breathy, yeah, from the other side of the call.

"You are so strong, Y/N. I don't know how y'made it this far without breaking down..." He tells her whole-heartedly.

"D-don't know how you haven't either," She gets out, realizing how selfish she's probably being, bothering Harry with her grief when he has his own to deal with.

"Honestly," He breathes out through a somber smile, "The only reason I haven't is because I have you, love."

Y/N's heart swells tenfold, she thinks. She didn't realize Harry needed her just as much as she needed him.

"...I'm sorry for calling you, I know it's late." She says through sniffles when she notices the time.

"There's no reason to apologize. It's okay, love. It's okay to hurt or be angry or upset. No one expects you to be perfect all the time." He pauses, listening to her breathing.

"Ya know, one day, it won't hurt this much. One day, you'll be able t'look back at this moment and it won't break y'heart as much as it does now. You're just in the thick of it right now, pretty girl. But, the light's coming soon, I promise." He continues and Y/N feels her heart beat faster at the pet name.

"You promise?" Her voice barely above a whisper and Harry thinks his heart just broke at the sound.

"Promise." He says, wiping the stray tears rolling down his cheeks, "Phoebe wouldn't want y'to be this upset. She would want you to keep living your life and find out the ways to how she was so in love with it. If not for yourself, love, then for her...F'me."

She nods, despite knowing he can't see. Silence falls over the pair, only the sound of bated breaths assuring the other one is there.

"One summer," He speaks up, "One summer, my family had come t'visit them, partly because of the lake near her house. It was after we had moved t'the States from Cheshire, and Phoebe and I would go walk to the little pond near the park,"

"The one near Hope?" She asks quietly if they had gone to the park she had always played at as a little girl.

"Mhm. We would walk there in the blistering sun and when we got there she tried to convince me how fairies were real." He said in a calm voice.

He hears an airy puff of breath escape her mouth, which he takes as a small giggle -- making him want to continue his story as it's helping her cheer up, and because he'd probably do anything to hear her that sound from her.

"Yeah, fairies. She told me that they live at the pond and t'see them, I would have to find a pretty flower and then jump in the water with it in only m'underwear." He breathes out a laugh.

Y/N gasps, trying to keep quiet but fails when she lets out a loud laugh.

"Oh my, did you do it?" She asks bewildered, laying down so her head rests against the pillow.

"So, I told Phoebe 'no way', yeah? But, then she said she can't just tell me about them and not follow through with seeing them. Convinced me that it would bring bad luck." He scoffs, remembering the memory vividly.

"Bad luck, indeed." She giggles and it brings the dimple out on Harry's face.

"Yeah, so of course, me being like 8 or sum', I stripped down to m'pants in the middle of the day and jumped in the water." He smiles when he hears her laughing, even if it's at his expense. "Y'laughing, but I think I got ringworm after tha'!"

"I can't believe she got you to do that! I wish I'd been there." Y/N says, out of breath from laughing.

"Scarred me of ponds for the rest of m'life." He chuckles and a pause takes them both over as they settle back down. 

"...Thank you, H." She whispers into the phone, adoration taking up all her features.

“F’what?”

“For being you, for being here. Just...Thank you.” She sighs. 

They get lost in recalling stories of their loved one for the rest of the night, repainting her memories in gold. They laugh with each other until all the pain seems to disappear. The weight, of what felt like the world, lifting off of both their shoulders. Finally being able to breathe after days of endless battles of trying to stay strong for Phoebe's sake.

***

Days pass since the lonely 4am phone call and Y/N and Harry are still talking everyday.

She finds out he lives in her city, only a few blocks from her apartment she shared with Phoebe! She didn't believe him when he first told her, but he said he was always busy with college whenever Phoebe tried to meet up. Y/N's not going to lie, her heart picked up when she found out he'd be so close to her, wondering if he'd want to hang out with her when they leave her hometown.

Almost everyday of the last few days they have visiting, they've spent at Y/N's empty childhood home. Harry asking her to explain pictures and what she was like in high school, whenever he gets the chance. In turn, she's been picking his mind on what Holmes Chapel was like and how his family was growing up. She found out that he lived with his sister, Gemma, and his mom, Anne. They talked about everything, from their favorite things to every pet they've ever had (Y/N, particularly, falling in love with the pictures of his cat, Evie).

Just as the last few days have been spent, they are spending Y/N's last day in her hometown together before she goes back. Harry told her he had to stay a couple more nights with his family before he could leave, assuring her he would've gone back with her if he could've. That comment made her blush and she had to pray the butterflies growing in her tummy to relax.

That's another thing. Y/N had stopped lying to herself and denying the ache in her chest that would form when she was away from Harry, growing very fond of him since their first encounter at the headstone bench.

Harry, also, couldn't deny any longer the way his heart would flutter at every little thing she did. Just wondering to himself how everything about her was just so pretty. He loved the way her eyes would light up every time she saw him and how he would catch her checking him out whenever he took off his shirt.

He especially loved the way she let him sleepover a few times and how they would end up cuddling into the late hours of the morning. Both parties not minding one bit, the comfort and warmth actually preferred than sending Harry home to sleep in his own bed.

"Bet I can reach that branch right there," Harry shouts with a gleeful tone, a bit out of breath as he tries to stretch his legs far enough so his shoe brushes against the leaf on the end of the tree branch.

The two of them decided to go to Hope park, where they both held fond childhood memories at. They settled at the swingset, calm swaying in the seats quickly turning into a competition of who could swing the highest. Harry won of course, his legs being much longer than hers giving him the advantage. Playful giggles and sweet conversations of things occurring in that moment help distract them from both Phoebe and the fact that Y/N is leaving.

Y/N is distracting herself from worrying about if Harry will reach out to her when they get back to the city, if he even wants to talk to her again after this weekend or if this was all just out of politeness.

Harry, on the other hand, is distracting himself from wondering if she fancies him. He wonders if the cuddles and small touches meant as much to her as they did him, if after this weekend she would want to hang out again or if she was just being nice because he knows what she's going through.

"Bet I can reach it before you!" She giggles as her hair whips around in the wind she's created. Pumping her legs back and forth, desperately trying to get higher so she can beat Harry in her made up competition.

"Now, love, not everything has to be a competition," He huffs, really reaching out this time, "But, I wanna win, if we're playing a game, I wanna win." He grins, the cute dimple that Y/N has fallen for making an appearance on his face.

The two try their hardest to be the first ones to touch the tree branch hanging not too far from their swinging feet at their highest point. Harry, however, attempts a little too hard and flies off the swing when he lifted up his leg to make the two inch gap he was short of.

Tumbling to the woodchip covered ground, he ends up laying on his back. Groans spill out of his mouth and Y/N's eyes go wide with concern. She slows herself down just enough to safely jump off the swingset, rushing to Harry's side.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" She asks worriedly, trying to hold back the laugh that's trying to bust out. Crouching down to him, she runs her hand over his arm that's grabbing his leg.

He rubs his knee with a pained smile, "Yeah, just peachy, pet."

"Is anything hurting? Bruised?" She questions with a loving smile.

"Just my ego," He chuckles, looking up at her and admiring her caring nature.

She can't hold it in anymore, she laughs loudly at his comment, her carefree happiness making Harry's ears perk up and his heart warm.

"Yeah, love, just laugh at the crippled man." He jokes, smiling up at her happy face, wishing it could stay that way forever.

She lets out another laugh at his comment, delicately grabbing his arm to help him up, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It wasn't funny," She attempts to calm herself but fails, "Okay, it was a little bit funny!"

Giggles fall out of her mouth as Harry brushes off the mulch from his jeans, "See how much you're laughing when I push you out of the swing."

"I'm soo scared." She mocks fear.

"Oh, just wait, pet. You'll never be safe on another swing set again." He playfully grabs her sides to tickle her, but her fighting his tries just ends up bringing her closer in his hold.

Their laughs quickly die out when they realize he's holding her in his clutch, his hands at her waist, hers around his neck. Harry stares into her eyes as she stares back into his. The empty park is serene, no other noises besides the chirping of birds and the sounds of other animals sprawling about. The sweet moment causes Y/N's breath to hitch and her palms to sweat. They've only been this close when cuddling, she's never been this close to his face before. His features glow in the sunlight, his green irises complimenting the bounce of his skin and dark eyelashes. Her skin is soft and warm against his, and he just wants to lean in and-

Y/N's eyes flutter close as Harry's face comes closer, his lips meet hers in a gentle caress. With the sweet kiss, he takes note of how soft her lips are, how warm and fuzzy her intimate touch is making his head. While one hand is squeezing at her side, the other is brought up to cradle her face and she leans into his touch. Harry sucks on her bottom lip before peeling away so they can catch their breath.

Y/N lets out a whine at the loss of contact, her bottom lip jutting out as he pulls away.

"What are y'pouting for, pet? W-was that not okay? Should I not have done tha'?" The blood almost drains from his face at the pouty look on her beautiful face.

She shakes her head at him, "No, I liked it. I want more," She pants, pulling him by the collar of his shirt to bring him back to her lips.

He chuckles at her cute antics (and in relief of not fucking up his shot with her). He smiles against her lips as he melts back into her, her hand around his neck reaching up to tangle in his curly hair. He groans when her nimble fingers pull tenderly at the curls at the base of his neck, causing him to squeeze her side gently.

She breathlessly kissed him, slotting her lips between his and immediately opening her mouth in acceptance when he brushes his tongue against her bottom lip in a silent ask to take it further. As the kiss deepens, the need for air increases. They naturally separate, Harry sucking her bottom lip as he goes until it pops back.

Taking in her reddened swollen lips and her pretty flushed face, he presses one last chaste kiss on her lips, and one to her cheek and her nose.

A big, genuine grin adorns Y/N's face as she stares up at the man in front of her.

"Thank you f'letting me do tha'." He says with a gravelly voice.

"I've been thinking about you doing that since the first night you stayed at my house." She tells him bashfully.

"Me too, love. And it was better than I ever expected," He says whole-heartedly, leaning in to press one more quick kiss to her lips again.

"So, does this mean we're gonna hang out when we both go back home? Because I really want to do that again." Her glassy eyes blink at him with hope awaiting his answer.

He smiles and shakes his head, bewildered at how she could ever think that he could just ghost her after that, "I think Phoebe would come back just to slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her best friend and just never saw her again."

She chuckles at his comment, shyly looking down to her hand on his chest when he doesn't say anything else.

"Of course, I want to hang out when we get back. I want to take y'out on a real date, if you'd let me."  He looks at her all starry eyed, squeezing her waist.

"I think Phoebe would come back and slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her cousin and just never saw him again," This time he's the one that laughs.

"I'd love that very much, Harry." She beams up at him.

Going back home couldn't come sooner to the both of them.

******************

ahhh i hope y’all liked that, i’d love feedback :) i’m thinking of making a series out of it, but only if that’s something y’all would like! so, pls let me know if you enjoyed it or if i should make a part 2 ?? 

anyways, stay safe and much love <3

[yellowocaballero]

Hiiii i super enjoyed your fic! I love how subtly manipulative your protag was in the beginning lol. Also that part where she pondered about diamond/pearl oral traditions and how galaxy would likely record them with their own slanted perception was very sad to me :( and when she screamed at ingo abt how she'd never even Heard of the clans in the future that was super intriguing. I love how the protag has this slanted view of herself too, and how she'd like to be forgotten which probably stems from her home life, but she still wants to save her parent(s?)from the potential pain of losing her. I think that part where she wanted all her pokemon and closest friends together with no one abandoned was super telling. And when she thought she'd only ever get to have a pokemon as a helper :( her inner pov is very no nonsense and funny to me at times like when she apparently very sanely described how she would annihilate jubilife. It was also cute when she wrote that her mortality rate flying Graham was still 0 lol. How do you come up with these stories? And when you structure/map them out do you do it in bullet points or some other way? I always love your writing <3

YES HELLO THANK YOU.

I'm not much of a history person, I'm more soft STEM. But I recently wrote a book chapter summarizing the history of a civil rights movement, and it involved a loooot of oral history and taking down oral histories from people who are pretty old and aging. So much of what these really amazing old activists told me just were not written down anywhere! And there were so many amazing people and organizations that are either completely unknown or completely misunderstood, told by other viewpoints or influenced by media. It was a big honor to interview these amazing people, because otherwise what they did just wouldn't be remembered.

So that experienced influenced some of the story, haha. PLA has some really depressing implications :( One event has five different storytellers who will all tell it a different way which will all be a LITTLE wrong...but it's a huge damn shame that some of these voices will be lost. Protag wants to fix that. Kick off plot.

Re: MC: most of her characterization is done through how she interprets the world! I purposefully didn't go too deep into details and left it vague, so I'm seeing a lot of different interpretations of her character, which are all very fun and I won't deny any of them.

I think she has a stringent self-image of herself that is not very complimentary, and it's resilient against a lot of proof otherwise (Teens!). She doesn't like to inconvenience or take up space. She also did just never have an interest in becoming a battler or trainer - she grew up in the family business and expected to work there the rest of her life, and she never really stopped to wonder if she wanted something different. She's very serious and somber, but she is still a character who is written by me, so she is still funny ajlkdsf. I won't go too deep into psychoanalyzing her right now, so ask me again after the story's done!

How I came up with this story was...actually, it developed while I was playing the game, and then it got so big in my head like a rock that I had to write it just so it would go away. It's just a combination of a lot of different thoughts and a vague conviction that my MC would surely fix that terrible Diamond/Pearl situation. It is also a very affectionate homage towards all of the Pokemon fanfic I would read when I was, like, 13 - never naming her is actually a reference to my favorite fanfic when I was 13. (In retrospect, that story was BONKERS - Pedestal by DigitalSkitty? Anybody remember that one? What was UP with it?!)

How I get ideas in general is a different situation and hard to answer haha. There's always a lot of inspiration taken from a lot of different things I've read or watched, there's always a lot of joking with friends about really funny situations, and there is also a third thing that is just ??? brain go brrr I guess ????.

This 60k story was written in a week and it's a little obvious. I didn't plan or plot or anything. Very pantsed. I'm trying to remember if I even made like an outline and I don't think I did. Usually what happens is I get a certain amount in based solely on vibes, like 30 or 40 pages later I'm like 'oh this needs a plot huh', I type up like a '1-2-3' numbered outline of what happens next, I like 60% do that, and then I cut some stuff or add more scenes and then I'm done. If I'm actually "trying" with "effort" the outline is entirely written before the story, which is also '1a.->1b.->1c.->2a.' style.

Most of the outlining happens in my head, sadly. I know none of this is good advice or applicable to anybody. Sorry.

There is a nifty shortcut you can use in terms of story plotting, which is to just make your story structure extremely repetitive, so you don't have to plot a single thing. Life hacks!

Thank you for reading!!!

[dailytomlinson]

While many artists would jump at the chance to tell you how lockdown has been a fruitful opportunity for self-improvement, full of pseudo self-help books and pompous podcasts, former One Directioner Louis Tomlinson is adamant that he has done, well, nothing.

“I’ve just watched loads of s___ TV,” he says after a long pause. “The Undoing is decent, isn’t it?”

Twenty-eight--year-old Tomlinson from Doncaster was always the down-to-earth Directioner, frequently describing himself as fringe member who spent more time analysing the band’s contracts than singing solos, known for chain-smoking his way through several packs of cigarettes a day and swearing like a trooper. A rarity, these days, among millennials who’d rather suck on a stem of kale and tweet about their #blessings.

He's getting ready to rehearse an exciting one-off gig that will be live-streamed from a secret London location on December 12, announced today exclusively via the Telegraph. The proceeds of the night will be split across four charities: The Stagehand Covid-19 Crew Relief Fund and Crew Nation, Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and Marcus Rashford’s charity FareShare, to help end child poverty.

The gig means a great deal to Tomlinson, whose first ever tour as a solo artist, to promote his debut solo album WALLS, was cut short back in March after just two concerts in Spain and Mexico. It was an album he’d spent five years working on: a guitar-led project that ruptured with the preppy pop anthems of One Direction, inspired instead by Tomlinson’s love for Britpop.

No doubt he was anxious to get it right following a decade “grown in test tubes”, as Harry Styles once described the band’s formation on the X Factor, where they came third before going on to make a reported $280,000 a day as the most successful band in the world. The pressure, too, was intense: all four bandmates had already released their own solo debuts.

Was he left reeling, I ask, unable to perform at such a crucial moment?

“The thing that I always enjoyed the most about One Direction was playing the shows, so my master plan, when I realised I was going to do a solo career, was always my first tour. It’s something I’ve been looking forward to for the best part of five years now. I got so close, I got a taste for it, and it’s affected me like everyone else, but I’m forever an optimist,” he says down the phone, with what I can only imagine to be a rather phlegmatic shrug.

Sure, I say, but the last year can’t have been easy. Didn’t he feel like his purpose had popped?

“You know what,” he says, reflecting, “maybe because I’ve had real dark moments in my life, they’ve given me scope for optimism. In the grand scheme of things, of what I’ve experienced, these everyday problems...they don’t seem so bad.”

Tomlinson is referring to losing his 43-year-old mother, a midwife, to leukemia in 2016, and his 18-year-old sister Felicite, a model, to an accidental drug overdose in 2018. The double tragedy is something he has been open about on his own terms, dedicating his single, Two of Us, from WALLS, to his mother Johannah, while often checking in with fans who have lost members of their own family.

It’s not unusual for Tomlinson to ask his 34.9 million followers if they’re doing alright, receiving hundreds of thousands of personal replies. It’s not something he will discuss in interviews, however, after he slammed BBC Breakfast for shamelessly probing his trauma in February this year. “Never going back there again,” he tweeted after coming off the show.

“Social media is a ruthless, toxic place, so I don’t like to spend much time there,” says Tomlinson, “but because of experiencing such light and shade all while I was famous, I have a very deep connection with my fans. They’ve always been there for me.”

In return, Tomlinson is good to them. Last month he even promised some new music, saying that he’d written four songs in four days. Does this mean that a second album is on the way?

“Yeah, definitely,” he says. “I’m very, very excited. I had basically penciled down a plan before corona took over our lives. And now it's kind of given me a little bit of time to really get into what I want to say and what I want things to sound like. Because, you know, I was really proud of my first record, but there were moments that I felt were truer to me than others. I think that there were some songs where I took slightly more risk and owned what I love, saying, ‘This is who I want to be’. So I want to take a leaf out of their book.”

Fans might think he’s referring to writing more heartfelt autobiographical content such as Two of Us, but in fact, he’s referring specifically to rock-inspired Kill My Mind, he says, the first song on WALLS. “There’s a certain energy in that song, in its delivery, in its attitude, that I want to recreate. People are struggling at the moment, so I want to create a raucous, exciting atmosphere in my live show, not a somber, thoughtful one.”

He sighs, trying to articulate something that’s clearly been playing on his mind for a while. “You know, because of my story, my album was a little heavy at times and a little somber. And as I'm sure you're aware, from talking to me, now, that isn't who I am.”

It must be draining, I say, the weight of expectation in both the media and across his fanbase, to be a spokesperson for grief and hardship. To have tragedy prelude everything he does and says.

“Honestly, it’s part of being from Doncaster as well, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. That’s the last thing I want.”

Too many incredible memories to mention but not a day goes by that I don't think about how amazing it was. @NiallOfficial @Harry_Styles @LiamPayne @zaynmalik . So proud of you all individually.

The problem is, says Tomlinson, he doesn’t have the best imagination. “I have interesting things to say musically, but what’s challenging from a writing perspective is that I write from the heart, and I can’t really get into someone else’s story. And right now, being stuck at home, you have so little experience to draw from. It’s actually quite hard to write these positive, uplifting songs, because actually, the experiences that you're going through on a day to day basis, you know, you they don't have that same flavour.”

There is something that’s helping, though: a secret spot near Los Angeles, where he divides his time. “It’s remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it. I found it via a YouTube video. It’s got some very interesting locals who live there, it’s sort of backwards when it comes to technology. It feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there. But I don’t want to give it away.”

Another source of inspiration for his second album is the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ back catalogue. “I grew up on their album Bytheway. And during lockdown I've been knee deep in their stuff. I’ve watched every documentary, every video. And I find their lead guitarist John Frusciante just fascinating.”

Has he spoken to Frusicante?

“I f______ wish,” snorts Tomlinson.

Surely someone as well-known as Tomlinson could easily get in touch?

“No, honestly, I think he’s too cool for that. He’s not into that kind of thing.”

Tomlinson’s passion for all things rock is also spurring on a side hustle he picked up as a judge on the X Factor in 2018: managing an all-female rock band via his own imprint on Simon Cowell’s Syco label. While the group disbanded before releasing their first single, and Tomlinson split from Syco earlier this year, the singer is keen to nurture some more talent.

“I'm not gonna lie, my process with my imprint through Syco, it became challenging and it became frustrating at times,” Tomlinson says a little wearily. “The kind of artists that I was interested in developing – because I genuinely feel through my experience in One Direction, you know, one of the biggest f______ bands, I feel like I've learned a lot about the industry – they weren’t ready-made. So I had lots of artists that I took through the door that were rough and ready, but major labels want to see something that works straight away. I found that a little bit demotivating. I love her and she's an incredible artist, but not everyone is a Taylor Swift.”

Tomlinson spends much of his free time scouting new talent either on YouTube, Reddit or BBC Introducing – he’s currently a huge fan of indie Brighton band, Fickle Friends. His dream is to manage an all-female band playing instruments. “Because there's no one in that space. And I know eventually if I don't do it, someone else will!”

Before he drives off to rehearsals, we chatter about how much he's been practising his guitar playing, and how he can't wait to take the whole team working at his favourite grassroots venue, The Dome in Doncaster, out ice-skating after he performs there on his rescheduled tour. “Because I've got skills,” he says, and I can hear his chest puff.

And then I ask the question every retired member of One Direction has been batting off ever since they broke up in 2015, after Zayn Malik quit. Rumours that his bandmates saw him as a Judas went wild after some eagle eyes fans noticed they’d unfollowed him on Instagram. Payne, Tomlinson, Horan and Styles have barely mentioned him since. Recently, however, they re-followed him, and Payne has teased that a One Direction reunion is on the cards.

So: might 2021 be the year of resurrection?

“I thought you were going to ask something juicier!” say Tomlinson witheringly. “Look, I f______ love One Direction. I'm sure we're going to come back together one day, and I'll be doing a couple of One Direction songs in my gig. I always do that, so that's not alluding to any reunion or anything. But, I mean, look, I'm sure one day we'll get back together, because, you know, we were f______ great.”

[uomo-accattivante]

Great article about Paul Schrader’s The Card Counter - a poker movie that’s not really a poker movie...

Some filmmakers write a hit movie and spend the ensuing years trying to escape its shadow. Paul Schrader never flinched. Forty-five years after his “Taxi Driver” script put him on the map, the writer-director has developed a body of work loaded with alienated anti-heroes compelled to violent and reckless extremes for the sake of a higher calling.

That includes “The Card Counter,” in which Oscar Isaac plays guilt-stricken Abu Ghraib vet William Tell, a man with a gambling addiction compelled to help the revenge-seeking son (Tye Sheridan) of a former colleague. Taking justice into his own hands, Isaac’s William Tell slithers through the Vegas strip in search of questionable salvation, not unlike a certain Vietnam vet named Travis Bickle did from the driver’s seat. As if to cement the comparisons, “The Card Counter” features Martin Scorsese as an executive producer, marking the first time the two men share a credit since 1999’s “Bringing Out the Dead.”

For Schrader, “Taxi Driver” comparisons are inevitable in all his work. “My tendency is to look for interesting occupational metaphors,” Schrader said in a recent interview. “‘Taxi Driver’ hit the bull’s eye of the zeitgeist and it doesn’t die. There’s no way I could’ve planned for that, but it does inform the stories I tell.”

At 75, Schrader continues to churn out movies much like his compatriot Scorsese, albeit on a much smaller scale. “The Card Counter” is the latest illustration of the secularized Christian dogma percolating through his work. “Our society doesn’t like to take responsibility for anything,” he said. “But I come from a culture where you’re responsible for everything. You come into the world soaked with guilt and you just get guiltier.” In his own prickly fashion, Schrader makes movies steeped in empathy for lost souls in search of redemption despite the daunting odds. “We’re all certainly capable of forgiveness,” he said, and chuckled. “Anyone who says otherwise is wrong.”

The “Taxi Driver” dilemma looms large in nearly all of Schrader’s work, from the dazzling high-stakes activism of “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters” all the way through Ethan Hawke’s eco-conscious priest in “First Reformed.” While the latter, Oscar-nominated effort brought Schrader new fans, “The Card Counter” is an even more precise distillation of his aesthetic — a moody, philosophical drama about the vanity of the personal crusade.

Schrader, who has labeled his homegrown character studies as “man in the room” dramas, embraces the parallels as usual. “There is this kind of myth that the taxi driver was this friendly, joking kind of guy who was a character actor in movies,” he said. “But the reality is that it’s a very lonely job, and you’re trapped in a box for 60 hours a week.” He saw the same logic with gambling, a wayward profession generally depicted in the movies in the context of escapist romps, rather than the somber rituals that afflict most players. “I thought about the essence of playing cards every day, or sitting in front of a slot machine. It’s kind of zombie-like,” Schrader said. “You see commercials of people in casinos laughing. But it’s a pretty glum place. Today with slots you don’t even have to pull the lever. You just sit there and let the numbers roll.”

The gambling figure led Schrader to the bigger picture of his character’s conundrum. “I was wondering why someone would choose to live in that sort of purgatory,” he said. “He doesn’t want to be alive, but he can’t really be dead, either. What could cause that? It can’t be a simple crime, murder, or a family dispute. It has to be something unforgivable. And that was Abu Ghraib.”

After the fallout of that debacle, William did time in a military prison, and reenters society before the movie begins. That was a world the filmmaker wanted to understand in clearer terms. Though Schrader has received blowback for his controversial Facebook posts in the past, in this case, the platform was an asset: He used it to track down soldiers who had done time in the United States Penitentiary in Leavenworth, the only military prison in the U.S., to better understand the initial claustrophobic world that Tell endures, as well as the conflict between the justice he’s received and what he deserves. “This man has been punished by his government, set free, and paid his due, but he doesn’t feel that,” Schrader said. “What does he do then? How does he fill his time? That’s how it all began.”

Schrader himself toyed with gambling when he lived in Los Angeles early in his career, but soon gave it up. “I very quickly realized I was only interested in gambling if it was really dangerous and I didn’t want to expose myself to that kind of danger,” he said. Years later, though, the experience helped inform his story. “There is this whole fantasy of gambling movies from ‘The Cincinnati Kid’ to ‘California Split,’” Schrader said. “But poker is all about waiting. People will play 10 to 12 hours a day and two to three times a day, a hand will happen where two players both have chips. Now you’ve got a face-off. But that doesn’t happen very often. Most guys who are there are running the numbers, the probability.”

He envisioned “The Card Counter” as a repudiation of the traditional poker movie, which builds to the giddy release of a final tournament. When that moment arrives in the movie, Schrader takes the movie in a bleak, shocking new direction. “It’s not really a poker movie — that’s a red herring,” he said.

William is immersed in his casino journey when he encounters Cirk (Sheridan), the crazy-eyed son of another Abu Ghraib soldier who committed suicide. Cirk blames the soldiers’ former commander (Willem Dafoe), and hopes to loop William into the plan. Instead, the older man decides to take Cirk under his wing to talk him out of the act, which doesn’t prove so easy. In the process, the gambler forms a curious bond with La Linda (Tiffany Haddish), a gambling agent and pimp whose icy, relentless drive to make the most out of the poker circuit brings William some measure of companionship on his wayward journey.

It should come as no surprise that the “Girls Trip” breakout is nearly unrecognizable in the role of the calculated La Linda, which is also a distinctly Schraderish touch: From his work with Richard Pryor in 1978’s “Blue Collar” all the way through Cedric the Entertainer’s supporting turn in “First Reformed,” Schrader has made a habit of seeking out comedic actors willing to play against type. That’s partly opportunistic on his part. “They’re eager to do it because they want to expand their palette, so you can get them for a price,” Schrader said, chuckling again. “That’s necessary, given the kind of films I make.” But that’s not all: “They will always find a way to be interesting, even when they’re not getting a laugh.”

Which is not to say that the process comes easily to them. Haddish recently told the New York Times that Schrader had to coach her out of speaking in a comedic sing-song. The filmmaker put it in blunter terms. “On the first reading of the script we had, frankly, she wasn’t very good,” he said. “I told her to go back and read every single line without emotion. Then I said, ‘You’re not going to do that in front of the camera, but you can’t hit every line either. So let’s pick five or six lines you can hit where you get a smile or reaction.’ Quickly she got that it was a different rhythm.”

As for Isaac, whose disquieting turn suggests a maniac lingering just beneath the surface, Schrader once again turned to metaphor. “I told him to imagine himself on a rocky coast in the ocean,” Schrader said. “Waves are going to come up and get you all day every day. They’re going to try to batter you. Let them. The waves will go away. You’ll still be there. Don’t compete. In the end, the rocks will win. You have to learn to trust that the way these things are put together has more power than the individual movement.”

William’s routine includes an odd ritual in which he covers all the furniture in his various Vegas hotel rooms with white paper. While the motivation is never explained, Schrader said it stemmed from an experience with production designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti on the set of 1982’s “Cat People,” when Schrader realized the man was doing the same thing. “He said, quite simply, ‘I have to live here surrounded by these ugly hotel furnishings,’” Schrader recalled. The concept inspired the new movie’s most compelling visual motif. “Casinos are very ugly places. There are no exceptions,” Schrader said. “Often you aspire to finding pockets of beauty and there weren’t really any here except the only place he could control, which was his hotel rooms, where he could privatize his visions. I came up with this ritual for him to control those visuals.”

At a certain point, Schrader himself couldn’t control the visuals of “The Card Counter” for more prosaic reasons: After an extra tested positive for COVID-19, the production shut down last March, with five days of shooting left, and couldn’t resume until July. Though Schrader initially took to Facebook to fume at his producers, the pause eventually opened up an opportunity to tweak his vision. “I edited the film and put in placeholders for the five or six scenes of consequence that I hadn’t shot,” he said. “I didn’t have a fully finished film but I could screen it for people. Normally you only get that privilege if you have a big-budget film and you’re allowed reshoots.” The early audience included Scorsese, who provided a crucial note. “I asked Marty, ‘What am I missing?’ He said to me that the relationship with Tiffany and Oscar was too thin. So I rewrote those scenes.”

Schrader asked Scorsese to take on the executive producer credit as a favor. “I said, ‘Marty, wouldn’t it be nice to share a card again? I thought it would help sell the film but it would also be a cool thing to do after all these years,’” Schrader said. “Then a couple of weeks later his agent called wanting to work out a deal. What deal? I asked Marty and he said yes. That’s the deal!” Now, the pair are trying to collaborate on a new long-form TV series based on the Bible, though the timing has been delayed by production on Scorsese’s upcoming “Killers of the Flower Moon.”

In the meantime, Schrader has been mulling over the way “Taxi Driver” not only continues to inform his storytelling but the world at large. “Hardly a week goes by that I don’t notice or hear some reference to it,” he said. “But I don’t know how you’d tell such a story today. A number of writers have tried and I don’t think they’ve succeeded because it has to come out of a certain place and time. We have plenty of these incels around, but they’re not as original or revealing as they were 45 years ago when that character came on the scene. I wouldn’t know how to write about it.”

Instead, his next project is a love triangle called “Master Gardener,” which he hopes to shoot in Louisiana before the end of the year. He has several other potential scripts ready to go after that. And while he has expressed trepidation about the future of cinema in the past, he’s not convinced that audiences have given up on it yet. He recalled a conversation he had with Cedric the Entertainer when “First Reformed” made the rounds. “He said off-handedly to me, ‘You know, I didn’t realize there were so many people who liked serious movies,’” Schrader said, and chuckled once more. “Well, yeah, there are.”

“The Card Counter” premieres next week at the Venice Film Festival. Focus Features releases on September 10, 2021.

###

[priscilla9993]

Killian Jones and Alcoholism

This is mainly a summary of things relating Killian/Hook to alcohol/rum. It was done for a college paper and is very long, therefore it’s under the break. To warn you, it is going to be mainly Wish Hook based since I needed to narrow it down and it was easier to show how he handled alcohol as a recovering alcoholic. Enjoy!

The character in question for this case study is Killian Jones, well known by his more colorful moniker of Captain Hook, as portrayed from the ABC TV show Once Upon A Time. He lives in a region of a fantasy realm known as the Enchanted Forest. He used to be a Royal Navy Lieutenant with his older brother Liam, straight-laced on being good and not getting into trouble in any way, especially after getting somewhere in life and no longer subjected to being an indentured deckhand like when their father abandoned them as kids. During a daring quest to Neverland to find some medicine for the king, Peter Pan said they had been tricked to bring back a poisonous plant called Dreamshade, meant to be used as a weapon against unsuspecting enemies. Killian was wary, ready to denounce his service to the king, but his brother was willing to have faith in a noble king and country. With one swift motion of the plant’s prick hoping to prove otherwise, Liam began dying and realized his mistake. Recruiting the help of Pan and some magical water, Liam was cured but soon died in Killian’s arms on the voyage back to the king, the price of the magic being death if Liam ever left Neverland with the water running through his veins. His brother’s death made Killian vengeful at his king and country as his brother had been noble until the very end and everyone else was corrupt, playing noble, proving to him that the world was at fault. From that day on, he took over the ship and decided to be a pirate named Captain Jones, pursuing freedom, and throwing away all he’s ever known because being noble didn’t serve justice. This starts his life of thievery, promiscuity, and never-ending drinking. His coping solutions to deal with his emotional pain only gets worse when he loses his hand, first love of his life, Milah, and his honor after losing a duel against Rumplestiltskin, a coward turned into a powerful Dark One; which leads him on a path of revenge to kill the Rumplestiltskin, “the crocodile”, to avenge Milah and his pride. This leads him to makeshift a hook for a hand and him going by the nickname of Captain Hook, leaving the last piece of his past behind and never letting himself be vulnerable again.

Throughout the series, whenever he or someone in his vicinity is having a rough time, his solution is to pour out some alcohol and drink his feelings away, acting like an egotistical flirt rather than expressing himself and wallowing in misery. His choice of alcohol happens to be rum, a hard liquor. The acute symptoms he has in the show are the loss of judgment, a reddened face, confusion, potentially heightened sexual desire, and sometimes blackouts/unconsciousness. There are multiple times where he’s in a tavern, pouring doubloons into drinks for his crew, rum for himself, and flirting with women/barmaids to have a nightcap with. From here on, I will refer to him as Hook unless stated otherwise. On one occasion of his usual proclivities displaying or implying such symptoms, Hook tries to seduce a woman named Emma. She manages to use his habit of drinking to her advantage, making him jolly and willing to take her back to his ship for the said nightcap; her actual objective was being a distraction while his future self did recon for info on how to get back to their timeline in a Back to the Future sort of way. He continues heavily drinking on the way back with Emma without a care for his health. As soon as the plan goes awry with Hook seeing double, Emma not realizing Future Hook was still doing recon, he gets knocked out for good measure and partial jealousy. Future Hook justifies this, saying his past self was “asking to be knocked out, will wake up upset, and blame the rum.” The lines construe how frequent the drinking was for his future self to determine Hook’s ill-mannered disposition while drunk. 

Eventually, in a parallel way that stems from drunk Hook, is a feeble and spent pirate coined as “Wish Hook”. I have and will be focusing on this iteration for the whole of the paper, but what was written before was his younger self’s background. Wish Hook is the same guy as Hook, but years older down the line, differing paths from Future Hook as he never found love again with someone like Emma and had let his grief and alcohol from more recent negative events consume him. Wish Hook had lived out most of his lifespan, having been a sober father, but cursed to be poisoned any time he drew near his daughter after a witch encounter. Haunted by his regrets and somber circumstances, he turned back to an alcoholic, spending his days eased by rum. His body and actions in this form show the physical and mental effects of chronic alcohol consumption. About ten years or less had passed between his younger self and he had become an experienced middle-aged man with a complicated history, yet he looked far older than his years and decrepit. Without a doubt, by looking at him, people could assume he was an old drunk, his liver and heart having gotten fatty and overworked from the alcohol catching up to him. His belly was rotund, his hair disheveled and gray with streaks of white, his stance crumbling to nearly falling over with each step, and clothes dirtied with filth and old rum stains. Wish Hook still had a flirty and dramatic personality to cheer himself up and mask his turmoil, rum making him courageous and numb, while his actions told another story. He didn’t have sexual desires or try to provoke anyone by that point, just wanted to drown himself in alcohol. His words typically came out slurred, his movements sluggish and unrefined, and he had low problem-solving skills when it came to formulating a plan based on anything other than motive.

In the Enchanted Forest, alcohol like rum is not hard to come by as long as money is involved. Killian Jones/Captain Hook as a pirate drinking rum all the time did not affect him negatively socially or career-wise. If anything, it boosted his status and reputation. For him to be mingling in bars asking for expensive hard liquor and fine women to spend time with was a pleasantry. Bar owners got money, the crew got free alcohol, the women got paid, and he got to immerse himself in pleasure rather than thinking about trivial or serious things. Hook was the life of the party as a pirate captain, seen as a person with good tastes and great to have a fun time with when it came to alcohol. However, when it came to settling down and being a father later on in his life, Wish Hook reserved himself back to his more vulnerable side, caring about how his alcoholism could affect his parenting or child’s perspective. There are moments like that where he’s introspective and wants to do better by others that look up to him or who he cares about. In the show, when he is parenting, there is never a time where he has a bottle or flask of rum stashed nearby or is drinking. Wish Hook deems alcohol as the problem when it affects his judgment or his perceptions on how he could hurt the way people he loves view him. Love in any form brings him back to his core of being the best person he can be.

Killian Jones’s problem originates in nurture rather than nature because his alcohol problems started after he needed a reliable coping mechanism to lean on to deal with grief and anger. Although both nature and nurture influence him, for argument’s sake, nurture has the upper hand. Growing up, his father was a person he looked up to and wanted to be like, but that changed when he found out his father was a criminal who sold him and Liam to pay a route for a selfish escape. What little of his parents shown on-screen left betrayal or sadness in him, not the desire to drink. His parents weren’t clear on alcoholics or drug users as far as it goes. The only things he inherited from nature were probably his mischievous personality, temper, looks, and a high tolerance for alcohol. Living on a ship and being a poor deckhand, Killian didn’t seem to be the kind of guy to squander his savings on alcohol or other frivolous means. However, he would be on a ship constantly surrounded by adults who drank with a captain who cared more about money rather than morals, feeling squandered by his oppressed freedom and building resentment for authority. Without his brother steering him on track, Killian was no more than a young man with impulsive rebellious nature. When Liam went to get them navy papers to earn them their freedom from Captain Silver, it took Killian an offer of temptations from Silver, as much alcohol as he could drink and a bet on his money, for him to fall hook, line, and sinker; no pun intended. Alcohol and gambling meant a reprieve from thoughts, a chance at earning more than what he had before, and the same social standing as the other men aboard the ship. Perhaps, as much as he wanted to be strong as his brother, one good force cannot shield against all of the negative parts of society and adulthood. From Captain Silver, Killian got his first taste of alcohol and his desires did the rest, leaving him blackout drunk and penniless for Liam to find. As he grew older and slowly became Captain Hook, there was nothing about pirate life, being an adult, or people to keep him from drinking. He needed people to talk to, who supported him and he could feel vulnerable in front of, but the few people he trusted in his life were dead. As anyone knows, pirates steal treasure, so they’re not exactly the forgiving or down-to-earth types. Instead, rum became the solution to drown or fuel his emotions, being the substance of celebration and de-stressor.  

Hook’s rum/alcohol addiction would fall more on the dependence spectrum rather than abuse. What had started as a small reprieve to the woes of life became a daily saving grace when he was wracked with loneliness or anger. He depended on the rum to mask his disposition of physical pain from his missing limb as well as emotional pain having experienced love and loss. Abusing alcohol meant that it would put him into dangerous scenarios, have little to no commitment to change his habits to improve his health, and he’d put off important social aspects. If it was alcohol abuse, Hook wouldn’t try changing his habits when he sees it affects others or his relationship with those he loves. Sure, he spends most of his life binge drinking and making merry with the tides of life, but when given the chance and support to abstain from alcohol, he takes it in a heartbeat. For Wish Hook, the thought of being a father who abandons his child or messes up under hazy judgment didn’t add up to him. With the birth of his daughter, Alice, he made a vow to stay with her as long as he could and to be the person he thought she could be proud of. Nevertheless, when he had lost purpose in life by something he had no control over (via death, distance, or curse), his first reaction was to either turn back to alcohol or solve his problems. Sadly, after he had spent a couple of years looking for a cure for his poison heart curse, he gave up hope and chose to go from sobriety back to alcoholism, into a form of regrettable self-destruction. Hook knew that it was not the way to go about life but he felt he had no other choice and had nothing left to lose, leading him to further prioritize and depend on rum to continue living. He built a tolerance to it, needing a copious amount to get drunk, and potentially suffering withdrawals from it after getting in too deep. From the state he was in by the time he gets old and portly, being a nearly homeless drunkard, it can be assumed that he spent most of his days looking for money to acquire more alcohol so he could feel okay.  

Finally, by the end of the series, Killian Jones had managed to go through all the stages in the Stages of Change Model. He was in the Precontemplation stage as a pirate and Captain Hook as he didn’t see a problem in his daily rum and alcohol festivities, making no commitment to change his ways. By the time he gets to be Wish Hook and becomes a father, hesitant about settling down, he could be in the Contemplation stage. He’d want to do something about his alcohol problem and not be stuck relying on it but doesn’t know how to go about it or why he should, therefore staying stagnant to change. When he has his daughter, Alice, in his arms for the first time, we see him in the Preparation stage, planning to give up his ship, sea life, status, and most importantly, rum. Hook gives himself time to think of why he would do so and how he’d commit to it, eventually telling his crew the news. By the time he is taking care of her, he has already taken the actions needed to wean himself off alcohol and apply himself towards abstinence, taking him through the Action and Maintenance stages. There is a relapse back to the Contemplation stage in the paragraph before when he becomes poisoned and loses hope. Even so, the silver lining is that he had made the hard journey back into the Maintenance stage with the help of Ariel detoxing him and others giving him a magical second chance of bodily time renewal, sparking the hope to reunite with Alice and find a cure for his poisoned heart.  

Plans go awry on this end as we get to his final iteration as he is teleported and cursed into our modern day and age as Detective Rogers. Although his memories of what happened in the past as this persona are fuzzy, he is shown to stick to his renewed alcohol abstinence and maintains that in many ways, just like when he was Wish Hook. His habits become integrated as a function rather than a hindrance as part of the Maintenance stage. As Rogers, we can see him frequent bars such as Roni’s or Flynn’s Barcade when he is invited out with others. He is shown to let others know what to get him, as a regular or not, something non-alcoholic. This usually shows up as sparkling water or regular water with a lemon slice in it. His friends and work partner continue to support his sobriety through friendly acceptance and never forcing him to drink alcohol along with them. Rogers is tempted by alcohol again when he believes a missing girl from a cold case, one he was responsible for since he was drinking on the night she went missing, is dead. He sits on a park bench alone grieving, a full bottle of rum next to him, ready to drink. As Rogers gives it a whiff, he is disgusted at himself for getting back to this state again and slams the bottle down on the bench in frustration, not even having taken a sip. He came too far that doing so again would be meaningless and would get him nowhere. Even though he is in situations full of temptation, he makes huge strides to not relapse and maintain his sobriety, with the hopes that it will eventually lead him back on the right path of happiness and belonging. Fortunately, his actions have positive consequences that ring true when the curse breaks and he gets reunited with his daughter and has the strong support of friends and family. In conclusion, Hook is a flawed human being that is more complex and his struggle with alcohol/rum is just a part of him, one he will never lose but continues living with.

[louistomlinsoncouk]

While many artists would jump at the chance to tell you how lockdown has been a fruitful opportunity for self-improvement, full of pseudo self-help books and pompous podcasts, former One Directioner Louis Tomlinson is adamant that he has done, well, nothing.

“I’ve just watched loads of s___ TV,” he says after a long pause. “The Undoing is decent, isn’t it?”

Twenty-eight--year-old Tomlinson from Doncaster was always the down-to-earth Directioner, frequently describing himself as fringe member who spent more time analysing the band’s contracts than singing solos, known for chain-smoking his way through several packs of cigarettes a day and swearing like a trooper. A rarity, these days, among millennials who’d rather suck on a stem of kale and tweet about their #blessings.

Far from aimless, however, today the singer is full of beans, cheerily shushing his barking dog as he potters about his North London home where he lives with his best friend from home, Oli, and his girlfriend, the model Eleanor Calder.

He's getting ready to rehearse an exciting one-off gig that will be live-streamed from a secret London location on December 12, announced today exclusively via the Telegraph. The proceeds of the night will be split across four charities: The Stagehand Covid-19 Crew Relief Fund and Crew Nation, Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and Marcus Rashford’s charity FareShare, to help end child poverty.

The gig means a great deal to Tomlinson, whose first ever tour as a solo artist, to promote his debut solo album WALLS, was cut short back in March after just two concerts in Spain and Mexico. It was an album he’d spent five years working on: a guitar-led project that ruptured with the preppy pop anthems of One Direction, inspired instead by Tomlinson’s love for Britpop.

No doubt he was anxious to get it right following a decade “grown in test tubes”, as Harry Styles once described the band’s formation on the X Factor, where they came third before going on to make a reported $280,000 a day as the most successful band in the world. The pressure, too, was intense: all four bandmates had already released their own solo debuts.

Was he left reeling, I ask, unable to perform at such a crucial moment?

“The thing that I always enjoyed the most about One Direction was playing the shows, so my master plan, when I realised I was going to do a solo career, was always my first tour. It’s something I’ve been looking forward to for the best part of five years now. I got so close, I got a taste for it, and it’s affected me like everyone else, but I’m forever an optimist,” he says down the phone, with what I can only imagine to be a rather phlegmatic shrug.

Sure, I say, but the last year can’t have been easy. Didn’t he feel like his purpose had popped?

“You know what,” he says, reflecting, “maybe because I’ve had real dark moments in my life, they’ve given me scope for optimism. In the grand scheme of things, of what I’ve experienced, these everyday problems...they don’t seem so bad.”

Tomlinson is referring to losing his 43-year-old mother, a midwife, to leukemia in 2016, and his 18-year-old sister Felicite, a model, to an accidental drug overdose in 2018. The double tragedy is something he has been open about on his own terms, dedicating his single, Two of Us, from WALLS, to his mother Johannah, while often checking in with fans who have lost members of their own family.

It’s not unusual for Tomlinson to ask his 34.9 million followers if they’re doing alright, receiving hundreds of thousands of personal replies. It’s not something he will discuss in interviews, however, after he slammed BBC Breakfast for shamelessly probing his trauma in February this year. “Never going back there again,” he tweeted after coming off the show.

“Social media is a ruthless, toxic place, so I don’t like to spend much time there,” says Tomlinson, “but because of experiencing such light and shade all while I was famous, I have a very deep connection with my fans. They’ve always been there for me.”

In return, Tomlinson is good to them. Last month he even promised some new music, saying that he’d written four songs in four days. Does this mean that a second album is on the way?

“Yeah, definitely,” he says. “I’m very, very excited. I had basically penciled down a plan before corona took over our lives. And now it's kind of given me a little bit of time to really get into what I want to say and what I want things to sound like. Because, you know, I was really proud of my first record, but there were moments that I felt were truer to me than others. I think that there were some songs where I took slightly more risk and owned what I love, saying, ‘This is who I want to be’. So I want to take a leaf out of their book.”

Fans might think he’s referring to writing more heartfelt autobiographical content such as Two of Us, but in fact, he’s referring specifically to rock-inspired Kill My Mind, he says, the first song on WALLS. “There’s a certain energy in that song, in its delivery, in its attitude, that I want to recreate. People are struggling at the moment, so I want to create a raucous, exciting atmosphere in my live show, not a somber, thoughtful one.”

He sighs, trying to articulate something that’s clearly been playing on his mind for a while. “You know, because of my story, my album was a little heavy at times and a little somber. And as I'm sure you're aware, from talking to me, now, that isn't who I am.”

It must be draining, I say, the weight of expectation in both the media and across his fanbase, to be a spokesperson for grief and hardship. To have tragedy prelude everything he does and says.

“Honestly, it’s part of being from Doncaster as well, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. That’s the last thing I want.”

The problem is, says Tomlinson, he doesn’t have the best imagination. “I have interesting things to say musically, but what’s challenging from a writing perspective is that I write from the heart, and I can’t really get into someone else’s story. And right now, being stuck at home, you have so little experience to draw from. It’s actually quite hard to write these positive, uplifting songs, because actually, the experiences that you're going through on a day to day basis, you know, you they don't have that same flavour.”

There is something that’s helping, though: a secret spot near Los Angeles, where he divides his time to see his four-year-old son, Freddie, whom he shares with his ex Briana Jungwirth, a stylist. “It’s remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it. I found it via a YouTube video. It’s got some very interesting locals who live there, it’s sort of backwards when it comes to technology. It feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there. But I don’t want to give it away.”

Another source of inspiration for his second album is the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ back catalogue. “I grew up on their album Bytheway. And during lockdown I've been knee deep in their stuff. I’ve watched every documentary, every video. And I find their lead guitarist John Frusciante just fascinating.”

Has he spoken to Frusicante?

“I f______ wish,” snorts Tomlinson.

Surely someone as well-known as Tomlinson could easily get in touch?

“No, honestly, I think he’s too cool for that. He’s not into that kind of thing.”

Tomlinson’s passion for all things rock is also spurring on a side hustle he picked up as a judge on the X Factor in 2018: managing an all-female rock band via his own imprint on Simon Cowell’s Syco label. While the group disbanded before releasing their first single, and Tomlinson split from Syco earlier this year, the singer is keen to nurture some more talent.

“I'm not gonna lie, my process with my imprint through Syco, it became challenging and it became frustrating at times,” Tomlinson says a little wearily. “The kind of artists that I was interested in developing – because I genuinely feel through my experience in One Direction, you know, one of the biggest f______ bands, I feel like I've learned a lot about the industry – they weren’t ready-made. So I had lots of artists that I took through the door that were rough and ready, but major labels want to see something that works straight away. I found that a little bit demotivating. I love her and she's an incredible artist, but not everyone is a Taylor Swift.”

Tomlinson spends much of his free time scouting new talent either on YouTube, Reddit or BBC Introducing – he’s currently a huge fan of indie Brighton band, Fickle Friends. His dream is to manage an all-female band playing instruments. “Because there's no one in that space. And I know eventually if I don't do it, someone else will!”

Before he drives off to rehearsals, we chatter about how much he's been practising his guitar playing, and how he can't wait to take the whole team working at his favourite grassroots venue, The Dome in Doncaster, out ice-skating after he performs there on his rescheduled tour. “Because I've got skills,” he says, and I can hear his chest puff.

And then I ask the question every retired member of One Direction has been batting off ever since they broke up in 2015, after Zayn Malik quit. Rumours that his bandmates saw him as a Judas went wild after some eagle eyes fans noticed they’d unfollowed him on Instagram. Payne, Tomlinson, Horan and Styles have barely mentioned him since. Recently, however, they re-followed him, and Payne has teased that a One Direction reunion is on the cards.

So: might 2021 be the year of resurrection?

“I thought you were going to ask something juicier!” say Tomlinson witheringly. “Look, I f______ love One Direction. I'm sure we're going to come back together one day, and I'll be doing a couple of One Direction songs in my gig. I always do that, so that's not alluding to any reunion or anything. But, I mean, look, I'm sure one day we'll get back together, because, you know, we were f______ great.”

[mushroom-daydreamer]

Massive Episode Prompto Analysis Part I/VI!

Final Fantasy XV is actually really good. I really liked the characters, their arcs, the lore, and the themes of friendship, different kinds of love, inheriting the consequences of your parent’s misdeeds, and ALSO acceptance of responsibility. Can you tell I really like this game? 

So I have a LOT of thoughts about Episode Prompto. He’s probably my favorite character in the game, and I think he really was explored as a character in his dlc in a way that I found really satisfying! So here we go. Buckle up, buttercup. 

Prompto Character Analysis

At the beginning of the game, Prompto is quickly established as the “funny” one in the group. He is constantly cracking jokes and breaking any attention that comes up in the group. He grew up as a commoner, and is really new to this whole Royal-Retinue-Bodyguard thing; he is inexperienced in fighting and expresses anxiety in tense situations. I didn’t initially think that I would like his character at all. I immediately pegged him as the annoying comic relief who would get shooed out of the plot as soon as things got serious. 

Boy, was I wrong about that! 

Very soon in the game, Prompto shows more depth than just being a flat comic relief character. When things get serious early on in the game, he is somber and actually acts very maturely, while still acting as the “heart” of the group. 

It becomes very apparent that interpersonal relationships are extremely important to Prompto. He’s insecure and likes frequent validation that yes, his friends like him. 

Prompto also isn’t actually as extraverted as he initially seems, and that’s something that I really like about how his character is portrayed. Just because a character is talkative around their friends doesn’t mean that they’re an extravert. In fact, I interpret Prompto’s personality as being very shy and introverted. Some introverts can be boisterous and chatty while with their small group of close friends, while also being painfully shy in other social situations. Take his crush on Cindy, for example. People often say, “she doesn’t even give him the time of day!” to which I raise, until the Hallowed Hill of Hammerhead tour, he hasn’t exchanged words with her onscreen. When he does have the chance to talk to her in the tour, he is shy and stammers his way through a conversation. Another example where it’s a little more obvious, is if you stay at the hotel in Old Lestallum, or at least I think it’s Old Lestallum. Prompto is having a chat with Noctis about how he feels inferior to the others in the group. He says he’s not good at cooking like Ignis, and also that he’s not good with people, like Gladio. Though Prompto has the potential to be friendly and outgoing when he’s in a good mood, there are times when he is very withdrawn and even morose. 

Sometimes as you’re wandering the map at sunset, he’ll sadly say “Something sad about sunsets” and it kind of baffles the others to hear him say something so melancholy. Which brings me to the next point. 

Prompto seems to be struggling with some degree of anxiety and depression. People who struggle with these mental health problems often have a bright, cheery side that looks out for their loved ones far more than they look out for or take care of themselves. This definitely fits Prompto, who spends all his energy making sure his friends are feeling good and laughing, then the second he’s alone he is quiet, introspective, and beating himself up. 

Most of his issues stem from the stress of hiding his origins and true nature as a clone, but he also just seems more naturally inclined toward anxiety and depressive feelings. This is due to his upbringing, feeling unwanted and neglected by his adopted parents, and also feeling like a social misfit due to his size as a child and his shy, introverted nature. It’s also just a sad fluke of brain chemistry. 

So those are some general thoughts on his personality and role in the group before I get into the really heavy stuff in part two.

[hlupdate]

While many artists would jump at the chance to tell you how lockdown has been a fruitful opportunity for self-improvement, full of pseudo self-help books and pompous podcasts, former One Directioner Louis Tomlinson is adamant that he has done, well, nothing.

“I’ve just watched loads of s___ TV,” he says after a long pause. “The Undoing is decent, isn’t it?”

Twenty-eight--year-old Tomlinson from Doncaster was always the down-to-earth Directioner, frequently describing himself as fringe member who spent more time analysing the band’s contracts than singing solos, known for chain-smoking his way through several packs of cigarettes a day and swearing like a trooper. A rarity, these days, among millennials who’d rather suck on a stem of kale and tweet about their #blessings.

Far from aimless, however, today the singer is full of beans, cheerily shushing his barking dog as he potters about his North London home where he lives with his best friend from home, Oli, [...].

He's getting ready to rehearse an exciting one-off gig that will be live-streamed from a secret London location on December 12, announced today exclusively via the Telegraph. The proceeds of the night will be split across four charities: The Stagehand Covid-19 Crew Relief Fund and Crew Nation, Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and Marcus Rashford’s charity FareShare, to help end child poverty.

The gig means a great deal to Tomlinson, whose first ever tour as a solo artist, to promote his debut solo album WALLS, was cut short back in March after just two concerts in Spain and Mexico. It was an album he’d spent five years working on: a guitar-led project that ruptured with the preppy pop anthems of One Direction, inspired instead by Tomlinson’s love for Britpop.

No doubt he was anxious to get it right following a decade “grown in test tubes”, as Harry Styles once described the band’s formation on the X Factor, where they came third before going on to make a reported $280,000 a day as the most successful band in the world. The pressure, too, was intense: all four bandmates had already released their own solo debuts.

Was he left reeling, I ask, unable to perform at such a crucial moment?

“The thing that I always enjoyed the most about One Direction was playing the shows, so my master plan, when I realised I was going to do a solo career, was always my first tour. It’s something I’ve been looking forward to for the best part of five years now. I got so close, I got a taste for it, and it’s affected me like everyone else, but I’m forever an optimist,” he says down the phone, with what I can only imagine to be a rather phlegmatic shrug.

Sure, I say, but the last year can’t have been easy. Didn’t he feel like his purpose had popped?

“You know what,” he says, reflecting, “maybe because I’ve had real dark moments in my life, they’ve given me scope for optimism. In the grand scheme of things, of what I’ve experienced, these everyday problems...they don’t seem so bad.”

Tomlinson is referring to losing his 43-year-old mother, a midwife, to leukemia in 2016, and his 18-year-old sister Felicite, a model, to an accidental drug overdose in 2018. The double tragedy is something he has been open about on his own terms, dedicating his single, Two of Us, from WALLS, to his mother Johannah, while often checking in with fans who have lost members of their own family.

It’s not unusual for Tomlinson to ask his 34.9 million followers if they’re doing alright, receiving hundreds of thousands of personal replies. It’s not something he will discuss in interviews, however, after he slammed BBC Breakfast for shamelessly probing his trauma in February this year. “Never going back there again,” he tweeted after coming off the show.

“Social media is a ruthless, toxic place, so I don’t like to spend much time there,” says Tomlinson, “but because of experiencing such light and shade all while I was famous, I have a very deep connection with my fans. They’ve always been there for me.”

In return, Tomlinson is good to them. Last month he even promised some new music, saying that he’d written four songs in four days. Does this mean that a second album is on the way?

“Yeah, definitely,” he says. “I’m very, very excited. I had basically penciled down a plan before corona took over our lives. And now it's kind of given me a little bit of time to really get into what I want to say and what I want things to sound like. Because, you know, I was really proud of my first record, but there were moments that I felt were truer to me than others. I think that there were some songs where I took slightly more risk and owned what I love, saying, ‘This is who I want to be’. So I want to take a leaf out of their book.”

Fans might think he’s referring to writing more heartfelt autobiographical content such as Two of Us, but in fact, he’s referring specifically to rock-inspired Kill My Mind, he says, the first song on WALLS. “There’s a certain energy in that song, in its delivery, in its attitude, that I want to recreate. People are struggling at the moment, so I want to create a raucous, exciting atmosphere in my live show, not a somber, thoughtful one.”

He sighs, trying to articulate something that’s clearly been playing on his mind for a while. “You know, because of my story, my album was a little heavy at times and a little somber. And as I'm sure you're aware, from talking to me, now, that isn't who I am.”

It must be draining, I say, the weight of expectation in both the media and across his fanbase, to be a spokesperson for grief and hardship. To have tragedy prelude everything he does and says.

“Honestly, it’s part of being from Doncaster as well, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. That’s the last thing I want.”

The problem is, says Tomlinson, he doesn’t have the best imagination. “I have interesting things to say musically, but what’s challenging from a writing perspective is that I write from the heart, and I can’t really get into someone else’s story. And right now, being stuck at home, you have so little experience to draw from. It’s actually quite hard to write these positive, uplifting songs, because actually, the experiences that you're going through on a day to day basis, you know, you they don't have that same flavour.”

There is something that’s helping, though: a secret spot near Los Angeles, [...] “It’s remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it. I found it via a YouTube video. It’s got some very interesting locals who live there, it’s sort of backwards when it comes to technology. It feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there. But I don’t want to give it away.”

Another source of inspiration for his second album is the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ back catalogue. “I grew up on their album Bytheway. And during lockdown I've been knee deep in their stuff. I’ve watched every documentary, every video. And I find their lead guitarist John Frusciante just fascinating.”

Has he spoken to Frusicante?

“I f______ wish,” snorts Tomlinson.

Surely someone as well-known as Tomlinson could easily get in touch?

“No, honestly, I think he’s too cool for that. He’s not into that kind of thing.”

Tomlinson’s passion for all things rock is also spurring on a side hustle he picked up as a judge on the X Factor in 2018: managing an all-female rock band via his own imprint on Simon Cowell’s Syco label. While the group disbanded before releasing their first single, and Tomlinson split from Syco earlier this year, the singer is keen to nurture some more talent.

“I'm not gonna lie, my process with my imprint through Syco, it became challenging and it became frustrating at times,” Tomlinson says a little wearily. “The kind of artists that I was interested in developing – because I genuinely feel through my experience in One Direction, you know, one of the biggest f______ bands, I feel like I've learned a lot about the industry – they weren’t ready-made. So I had lots of artists that I took through the door that were rough and ready, but major labels want to see something that works straight away. I found that a little bit demotivating. I love her and she's an incredible artist, but not everyone is a Taylor Swift.”

Tomlinson spends much of his free time scouting new talent either on YouTube, Reddit or BBC Introducing – he’s currently a huge fan of indie Brighton band, Fickle Friends. His dream is to manage an all-female band playing instruments. “Because there's no one in that space. And I know eventually if I don't do it, someone else will!”

Before he drives off to rehearsals, we chatter about how much he's been practising his guitar playing, and how he can't wait to take the whole team working at his favourite grassroots venue, The Dome in Doncaster, out ice-skating after he performs there on his rescheduled tour. “Because I've got skills,” he says, and I can hear his chest puff.

And then I ask the question every retired member of One Direction has been batting off ever since they broke up in 2015, after Zayn Malik quit. Rumours that his bandmates saw him as a Judas went wild after some eagle eyes fans noticed they’d unfollowed him on Instagram. Payne, Tomlinson, Horan and Styles have barely mentioned him since. Recently, however, they re-followed him, and Payne has teased that a One Direction reunion is on the cards.

So: might 2021 be the year of resurrection?

“I thought you were going to ask something juicier!” say Tomlinson witheringly. “Look, I f______ love One Direction. I'm sure we're going to come back together one day, and I'll be doing a couple of One Direction songs in my gig. I always do that, so that's not alluding to any reunion or anything. But, I mean, look, I'm sure one day we'll get back together, because, you know, we were f______ great.”