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mcmansionhell · 3 years

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Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response.

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car.

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake.

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

“Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light.

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house.

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers.

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.”

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.”

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that.

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging.

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic.

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.”

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs.

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better.

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.

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1K notes · View notes

thexanwillshine · 3 years

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a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

#levihan #levi x hange #levihanweek 2021 #LHW 2021 #LHWeek Day 2

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antiporn-activist · 3 years

Text

The Children of Pornhub

Why does Canada allow this company to profit off videos of exploitation and assault?

By Nicholas Kristof, Opinion Columnist, Dec. 4, 2020, New York Times

This article contains descriptions of sexual assault. It’s also really long.

Pornhub prides itself on being the cheery, winking face of naughty, the website that buys a billboard in Times Square and provides snow plows to clear Boston streets. It donates to organizations fighting for racial equality and offers steamy content free to get people through Covid-19 shutdowns.

Yet there’s another side of the company: Its site is infested with rape videos. It monetizes child rapes, revenge pornography, spy cam videos of women showering, racist and misogynist content, and footage of women being asphyxiated in plastic bags. A search for “girls under18” (no space) or “14yo” leads in each case to more than 100,000 videos. Most aren’t of children being assaulted, but too many are.

After a 15-year-old girl went missing in Florida, her mother found her on Pornhub — in 58 sex videos. Sexual assaults on a 14-year-old California girl were posted on Pornhub and were reported to the authorities not by the company but by a classmate who saw the videos. In each case, offenders were arrested for the assaults, but Pornhub escaped responsibility for sharing the videos and profiting from them.

Pornhub is like YouTube in that it allows members of the public to post their own videos. A great majority of the 6.8 million new videos posted on the site each year probably involve consenting adults, but many depict child abuse and nonconsensual violence. Because it’s impossible to be sure whether a youth in a video is 14 or 18, neither Pornhub nor anyone else has a clear idea of how much content is illegal.

Unlike YouTube, Pornhub allows these videos to be downloaded directly from its website. So even if a rape video is removed at the request of the authorities, it may already be too late: The video lives on as it is shared with others or uploaded again and again.

“Pornhub became my trafficker,” a woman named Cali told me. She says she was adopted in the United States from China and then trafficked by her adoptive family and forced to appear in pornographic videos beginning when she was 9. Some videos of her being abused ended up on Pornhub and regularly reappear there, she said.

“I’m still getting sold, even though I’m five years out of that life,” Cali said. Now 23, she is studying in a university and hoping to become a lawyer — but those old videos hang over her.

“I may never be able to get away from this,” she said. “I may be 40 with eight kids, and people are still masturbating to my photos.”

“You type ‘Young Asian’ and you can probably find me,” she added.

Actually, maybe not. Pornhub recently was offering 26,000 videos in response to that search. That doesn’t count videos that show up under “related searches” that Pornhub suggests, including “young tiny teen,” “extra small petite teen,” “tiny Asian teen” or just “young girl.” Nor does it necessarily count videos on a Pornhub channel called “exploited teen Asia.”

I came across many videos on Pornhub that were recordings of assaults on unconscious women and girls. The rapists would open the eyelids of the victims and touch their eyeballs to show that they were nonresponsive.

Pornhub profited this fall from a video of a naked woman being tortured by a gang of men in China. It is monetizing video compilations with titles like “Screaming Teen,” “Degraded Teen” and “Extreme Choking.” Look at a choking video and it may suggest also searching for “She Can’t Breathe.”

It should be possible to be sex positive and Pornhub negative.

Pornhub declined to make executives available on the record, but it provided a statement. “Pornhub is unequivocally committed to combating child sexual abuse material, and has instituted a comprehensive, industry-leading trust and safety policy to identify and eradicate illegal material from our community,” it said. Pornhub added that any assertion that the company allows child videos on the site “is irresponsible and flagrantly untrue.”

II.

At 14, Serena K. Fleites was an A student in Bakersfield, Calif., who had never made out with a boy. But in the eighth grade she developed a crush on a boy a year older, and he asked her to take a naked video of herself. She sent it to him, and this changed her life.

He asked for another, then another; she was nervous but flattered. “That’s when I started getting strange looks in school,” she remembered. He had shared the videos with other boys, and someone posted them on Pornhub.

Fleites’s world imploded. It’s tough enough to be 14 without having your classmates entertain themselves by looking at you naked, and then mocking you as a slut. “People were texting me, if I didn’t send them a video, they were going to send them to my mom,” she said.

The boy was suspended, but Fleites began skipping class because she couldn’t bear the shame. Her mother persuaded Pornhub to remove the videos, and Fleites switched schools. But rumors reached the new school, and soon the videos were uploaded again to Pornhub and other websites.

Fleites quarreled with her mother and began cutting herself. Then one day she went to the medicine cabinet and took every antidepressant pill she could find.

Three days later, she woke up in the hospital, frustrated to be still alive. Next she hanged herself in the bathroom; her little sister found her, and medics revived her.

As Fleites spiraled downward, a friend introduced her to meth and opioids, and she became addicted to both. She dropped out of school and became homeless.

At 16, she advertised on Craigslist and began selling naked photos and videos of herself. It was a way to make a bit of money, and maybe also a way to punish herself. She thought, “I’m not worth anything any more because everybody has already seen my body,” she told me.

Those videos also ended up on Pornhub. Fleites would ask that they be removed. They usually would be, she says — but then would be uploaded again. One naked video of her at 14 had 400,000 views, she says, leaving her afraid to apply for fast-food jobs for fear that someone would recognize her.

So today Fleites, 19, off drugs for a year but unemployed and traumatized, is living in her car in Bakersfield, along with three dogs that have proved more loyal and loving than the human species. She dreams of becoming a vet technician but isn’t sure how to get there. “It’s kind of hard to go to school when you’re living in a car with dogs,” she said.

“I was dumb,” she acknowledged, noting that she had never imagined that the videos could be shared online. “It was one small thing that a teenager does, and it’s crazy how it turns into something so much bigger.

“A whole life can be changed because of one little mistake.”

III.

The problem goes far beyond one company. Indeed, a rival of Pornhub, XVideos, which arguably has even fewer scruples, may attract more visitors. Depictions of child abuse also appear on mainstream sites like Twitter, Reddit and Facebook. And Google supports the business models of companies that thrive on child molestation.

Google returns 920 million videos on a search for “young porn.” Top hits include a video of a naked “very young teen” engaging in sex acts on XVideo along with a video on Pornhub whose title is unprintable here.

I asked the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children to compile the number of images, videos and other content related to child sexual exploitation reported to it each year. In 2015, it received reports of 6.5 million videos or other files; in 2017, 20.6 million; and in 2019, 69.2 million.

Facebook removed 12.4 million images related to child exploitation in a three-month period this year. Twitter closed 264,000 accounts in six months last year for engaging in sexual exploitation of children. By contrast, Pornhub notes that the Internet Watch Foundation, an England-based nonprofit that combats child sexual abuse imagery, reported only 118 instances of child sexual abuse imagery on its site over almost three years, seemingly a negligible figure. “Eliminating illegal content is an ongoing battle for every modern content platform, and we are committed to remaining at the forefront,” Pornhub said in its statement.

The Internet Watch Foundation couldn’t explain why its figure for Pornhub is so low. Perhaps it’s because people on Pornhub are inured to the material and unlikely to report it. But if you know what to look for, it’s possible to find hundreds of apparent child sexual abuse videos on Pornhub in 30 minutes. Pornhub has recently offered playlists with names including “less than 18,” “the best collection of young boys” and “under- - age.”

Congress and successive presidents have done almost nothing as this problem has grown. The tech world that made it possible has been mostly passive, in a defensive crouch. But pioneering reporting in 2019 by my Times colleagues has prodded Congress to begin debating competing strategies to address child exploitation.

Concerns about Pornhub are bubbling up. A petition to shut the site down has received 2.1 million signatures. Senator Ben Sasse, a Nebraska Republican, called on the Justice Department to investigate Pornhub. PayPal cut off services for the company, and credit card companies have been asked to do the same. An organization called Traffickinghub, led by an activist named Laila Mickelwait, documents abuses and calls for the site to be shut down. Twenty members of Canada’s Parliament have called on their government to crack down on Pornhub, which is effectively based in Montreal.

“They made money off my pain and suffering,” an 18-year-old woman named Taylor told me. A boyfriend secretly made a video of her performing a sex act when she was 14, and it ended up on Pornhub, the police confirmed. “I went to school the next day and everybody was looking at their phones and me as I walked down the hall,” she added, weeping as she spoke. “They were laughing.”

Taylor said she has twice attempted suicide because of the humiliation and trauma. Like others quoted here, she agreed to tell her story and help document it because she thought it might help other girls avoid suffering as she did.

IV.

Pornhub is owned by Mindgeek, a private pornography conglomerate with more than 100 websites, production companies and brands. Its sites include Redtube, Youporn, XTube, SpankWire, ExtremeTube, Men.com, My Dirty Hobby, Thumbzilla, PornMD, Brazzers and GayTube. There are other major players in porn outside the Mindgeek umbrella, most notably XHamster and XVideos, but Mindgeek is a porn titan. If it operated in another industry, the Justice Department could be discussing an antitrust case against it.

Pornhub and Mindgeek also stand out because of their influence. One study this year by a digital marketing company concluded that Pornhub was the technology company with the third greatest-impact on society in the 21st century, after Facebook and Google but ahead of Microsoft, Apple and Amazon.

Nominally based in Luxembourg for tax reasons, Mindgeek is a private company run from Montreal. It does not disclose who owns it, but it is led by Feras Antoon and David Tassillo, both Canadians, who declined to be interviewed.

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau of Canada calls himself a feminist and has been proud of his government’s efforts to empower women worldwide. So a question for Trudeau and all Canadians: Why does Canada host a company that inflicts rape videos on the world?

Mindgeek’s moderators are charged with filtering out videos of children, but its business model profits from sex videos starring young people.

“The goal for a content moderator is to let as much content as possible go through,” a former Mindgeek employee told me. He said he believed that the top executives weren’t evil but were focused above all on maximizing revenue.

While Pornhub would not tell me how many moderators it employs, I interviewed one who said that there are about 80 worldwide who work on Mindgeek sites (by comparison, Facebook told me it has 15,000 moderators). With 1.36 million new hours of video uploaded a year to Pornhub, that means that each moderator would have to review hundreds of hours of content each week.

The moderators fast forward through videos, but it’s often difficult to assess whether a person is 14 or 18, or whether torture is real or fake. Most of the underage content involves teenagers, the moderator I spoke with said, but some comes from spy cams in toilets or changing rooms and shows children only 8 to 12.

“The job in itself is soul-destroying,” the moderator said.

Pornhub appears to be increasingly alarmed about civil or criminal liability. Lawyers are circling, and nine women sued the company in federal court after spy cam videos surfaced on Pornhub. The videos were shot in a locker room at Limestone College in South Carolina and showed women showering and changing clothes.

Executives of Pornhub appear in the past to have assumed that they enjoyed immunity under Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act, which protects internet platforms on which members of the public post content. But in 2018 Congress limited Section 230 so that it may not be enough to shield the company, leading Mindgeek to behave better.

It has doubled the number of moderators in the last couple of years, the moderator told me, and this year Pornhub began voluntarily reporting illegal material to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. After previously dragging its feet in removing videos of children and nonconsensual content, Pornhub now is responding more rapidly.

It has also compiled a list of banned content. I obtained a copy of this list, and it purports to bar videos with terms or themes like “rape,” “preteen,” “pedophilia” and “bestiality” (it helpfully clarifies that this “includes eels, fish, octopus, insects”). Diapers are OK “if no scatophilia.” Mutilation depends on context but “cannot depict severing parts of the body.”

So while it is now no longer possible to search on Pornhub in English using terms like “underage” or “rape,” the company hasn’t tried hard to eliminate such videos. A member called “13yoboyteen” is allowed to post videos. A search for “r*pe,” turns up 1,901 videos. “Girl with braces” turns up 1,913 videos and suggests also trying “exxxtra small teens.” A search for “13yo” generates 155,000 videos. To be clear, most aren’t of 13-year-olds, but the fact that they’re promoted with that language seems to reflect an effort to attract pedophiles.

Moreover, some videos seem at odds with the list of banned content. “Runaway Girl Gets Ultimatum, Anal or the Streets” is the title of one Pornhub video. Another user posts videos documenting sex with teenage girls as they weep, protest and cry out in pain.

While Pornhub is becoming more careful about videos of potentially litigious Americans, it remains cavalier about overseas victims. One Indonesian video is titled “Junior High School Girl After Class” and shows what appears to be a young teenager having sex. A Chinese sex video, just taken down, was labeled: “Beautiful High School Girl Is Tricked by Classmates and Taken to the Top of a Building Where She Is Insulted and Raped.”

“They’re making money off the worst moment in my life, off my body,” a Colombian teenager who asked to be called Xela, a nickname, told me. Two American men paid her when she was 16 for a sexual encounter that they filmed and then posted on Pornhub. She was one of several Pornhub survivors who told me they had thought of or attempted suicide.

In the last few days as I was completing this article, two new videos of prepubescent girls being assaulted were posted, along with a sex video of a 15-year-old girl who was suicidal after it went online. I don’t see how good-faith moderators could approve any of these videos.

“It’s always going to be online,” Nicole, a British woman who has had naked videos of herself posted and reposted on Pornhub, told me. “That’s my big fear of having kids, them seeing this.”

That’s a recurring theme among survivors: An assault eventually ends, but Pornhub renders the suffering interminable.

Naked videos of Nicole at 15 were posted on Pornhub. Now 19, she has been trying for two years to get them removed.

“Why do videos of me from when I was 15 years old and blackmailed, which is child porn, continuously [get] uploaded?” Nicole protested plaintively to Pornhub last year, in a message. “You really need a better system. … I tried to kill myself multiple times after finding myself reuploaded on your website.”

Nicole’s lawyer, Dani Pinter, says there are still at least three naked videos of Nicole at age 15 or 16 on Pornhub that they are trying to get removed.

“It’s never going to end,” Nicole said. “They’re getting so much money from our trauma.”

Pornhub has introduced software that supposedly can “fingerprint” rape videos and prevent them from being uploaded again. But Vice showed how this technology is easily circumvented on Pornhub.

One Pornhub scandal involved the Girls Do Porn production company, which recruited young women for clothed modeling gigs and then pushed them to perform in sex videos, claiming that the videos would be sold only as DVDs in other countries and would never go online. Reassured that no one would ever know, some of the women agreed — and then were shattered when the footage was aggressively marketed on Pornhub.

Girls Do Porn was prosecuted for sex trafficking and shut down. But those videos continue to surface and resurface on Pornhub; last time I checked, videos of six victims of Girls Do Porn were on Pornhub, which continues to profit from them.

One of the Girls Do Porn women I saw on Pornhub is now dead. She was murdered at 20, allegedly by an angry ex-boyfriend who is about to go on trial. I’m not disclosing her name because she should be remembered as a vibrant college athlete, and not for a sex video that represented her most mortifying moment.

VI.

So what’s the solution?

I had expected the survivors to want to shut down Pornhub and send its executives to prison. Some did, but others were more nuanced. Lydia, now 20, was trafficked as a child and had many rape videos posted on the site. “My stomach hurts all the time” from the tension, she told me, but she doesn’t want to come across as hostile to porn itself.

“I don’t want people to hear ‘No porn!’” Lydia told me. “It’s more like, ‘Stop hurting kids.’”

Susan Padron told me that she had assumed that pornography was consensual, until a boyfriend filmed her in a sex act when she was 15 and posted it on Pornhub. She has struggled since and believes that only people who have confirmed their identities should be allowed to post videos.

Jessica Shumway, who was trafficked and had a customer post a sex video on Pornhub, agrees: “They need to figure out who’s underage in the videos and that there’s consent from everybody in it.”

I asked Leo, 18, who had videos of himself posted on Pornhub when he was 14, what he suggested.

“That’s tough,” he said. “My solution would be to leave porn to professional production companies,” because they require proof of age and consent.

Right now, those companies can’t compete with mostly free sites like Pornhub and XVideos.

“Pornhub has already destroyed the business model for pay sites,” said Stoya, an adult film actress and writer. She, too, thinks all platforms — from YouTube to Pornhub — should require proof of consent to upload videos of private individuals.

Columnists are supposed to offer answers, but I struggle with solutions. If Pornhub curated videos more rigorously, the most offensive material might just move to the dark web or to websites in less regulated countries. Yet at least they would then not be normalized on a mainstream site.

More pressure and less impunity would help. We’re already seeing that limiting Section 230 immunity leads to better self-policing.

And call me a prude, but I don’t see why search engines, banks or credit card companies should bolster a company that monetizes sexual assaults on children or unconscious women. If PayPal can suspend cooperation with Pornhub, so can American Express, Mastercard and Visa.

I don’t see any neat solution. But aside from limiting immunity so that companies are incentivized to behave better, here are three steps that would help: 1.) Allow only verified users to post videos. 2.) Prohibit downloads. 3.) Increase moderation.

These measures wouldn’t kill porn or much bother consumers of it; YouTube thrives without downloads. Siri Dahl, a prominent porn star who does business with Pornhub, told me that my three proposals are “insanely reasonable.”

The world has often been oblivious to child sexual abuse, from the Catholic Church to the Boy Scouts. Too late, we prosecute individuals like Jeffrey Epstein or R. Kelly. But we should also stand up to corporations that systematically exploit children. With Pornhub, we have Jeffrey Epstein times 1,000.

#if you use pornhub you're complicit in this #sorry i don't make the rules

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spicynamericano · 3 years

Text

Perception. - mk lee

sypnosis: you meet a stranger in the park, who helps you prepare for your interview with renowned author, mark lee.

word count: 2.1k

genre: fluff, strangers to friends!au, author!mark x reporter!reader

a/n: i impulsively wrote this in the wee hours of the morning because i can't stop thinking about mark lee and his poems! btw, this is my first time posting an au on this platform, but i do have ongoing twitter fics (written in eng/fil)!

I had just finished my late night shift at the office and was on my way home from work. Being a field reporter is not an easy job. I have to work my butt off to always stay up to date on the latest news and make sure to grab even the rarest exclusives.

I have to travel to basically anywhere, just to gather the most accurate information for the daily primetime news. And even if work is done for the day, I would usually go overtime to make sure no single detail is left out for tomorrow’s reports.

My workplace isn’t that far from home, or what I call home now. Moving into my elder sister’s old apartment was not a hassle. It was actually quite a blessing since I always used to stay over whenever we visited the city. I really thank the heavens that her place was near my workplace. Imagine the struggle of moving in and out from scratch. Actually, I wouldn’t even dare to imagine.

I would usually ride my bike to and from the office, but since I was running a bit late earlier in the morning, I decided to take the bus. Convenience at its finest. But it’s late now. A fifteen minute walk back home won’t hurt, right? Besides, I needed a breather. A walk in the nearby park would suffice.

It’s midnight and of course, the park is empty. Although Seoul is alive 24/7, I really like how some areas still have that laid-back vibe. I walk to the swings and place my bag on the ground. I do wish someone would push me right now. I just wanna be free from all the hectic stuff I’ve been doing lately.

But no, the quick rest I thought of didn’t stop me from going over tomorrow’s duties. I scan my little, brown notepad and check the work I have yet to accomplish. I mostly finished them before I got off work, but there is one more that I needed to do for tomorrow: interview Mr. Mark Lee, the author of the best-selling Late Night Scribbles.

It’s a collection of poems and prose he’s written over the course of five years during his travels to different cities as a renowned travel writer. His travel reviews and recommendations were something I always looked forward to reading. Maybe someday I could go on a stress-free holiday trip thanks to his advice.

I have read his book. For someone who’s trained into more technical writing like me, I could still clearly resonate with most of the poems he’s written. Not too shallow, not too deep. Though you do need to have a sense of literature in order to understand more of his deeper works. He isn’t famous for nothing.

What appalled me though is that he never showed his face to anyone, not even once. Some say he’s actually the main rapper of the world-renowned boy group NCT, since they bear the same name. I think otherwise. Well, it could be, though. Rappers do make their own lines and tell their own stories.

But I don’t think that Mark Lee would be the same person I’d be interviewing tomorrow. It’s weird because I won’t be actually meeting him face to face. He said he’d rather converse through email. Works for me since I don’t have to travel tomorrow. Thank God.

Well, let me tell you a secret. The reason I don’t think author Mark Lee is singer Mark Lee is because singer Mark Lee is actually my childhood best friend. Crazy, huh? I used to live in Vancouver when I was young until my family and I moved back to Korea during my teen years.

I don’t think he remembers me, though. But I do remember him. Our moms were practically best friends. I couldn’t say the same to us, only if he still actually remembers me.

I stretch my arms up high and bend it side to side. God, I need a massage asap. I was about to pick up my bag when a basketball rolled over and hit the tip of my loafers. A man dressed in black waves from the court, signaling to toss the ball to his direction.

I would toss it if I could but I walk over instead. Blame my poor strength and reflexes. And I obviously do not want to embarrass myself. A rough day’s a rough day. I don’t want an addition.

“Uhm, are you looking for this?” I ask the guy, tossing the ball mid-air.

“Yes, thank you…” he pauses. “uh…”

“Oh, it’s (y/n).” I introduced myself, “And you are?”

“Minhyung.”

“Well, you’re welcome, Minhyung. Good luck with your basketball practice!” I gave him a nod before finally turning back to go home.

“Wait!” he calls out. “Do you maybe wanna have a cup of coffee? There’s a nearby convenience store still open. I figured you might need it.”

Was it that obvious? I can’t imagine how stressed I look right now! He has probably seen the dark circles under my eyes. Gross.

I finally turn around and give him a smile, “You know, maybe I do need it. Let’s go?”

This man and I walk to the nearby convenience store just a few meters away from the court. It’s midnight and not many people are here. Well, just exactly like how I want it. The park can actually become full, even until 10 pm. But I guess these people also need some shut-eye. I’m actually surprised this man right here still has some energy left.

I wait outside and sit at the nearest gazebo while he buys instant coffee for the both of us. He arrives with three in hand. Does he like coffee that much?

“You’re really gonna drink two?” I ask him curiously.

“It’s actually for you,” he says as he hands me one of the cups. “I feel like you’re going to be staying up late tonight.”

Well, he’s right. I am gonna be staying up late. I still need to prepare questions for tomorrow’s, or later, rather, interview. I really won’t be getting some sleep tonight. I also need to do research on him too.

“Well, I do have an interview for tomorrow. I still need to prepare as it’s a very important one.”

“With whom, may I ask?”

“Mark Lee, the author. Not the singer.”

“Oh,” he lets out a soft sigh that can be heard, even through his mask. Is he offended that I don’t think author Mark Lee and singer Mark Lee are the same?

“Why do you sound so disappointed?”

“Uh, nothing. I just remembered the book he recently released. Have you read it?”

“Late Night Scribbles?”

“Yes, that!” he answered enthusiastically. Wow, I guess I found a fan right here. He might actually help me with my interview later. I need to grab this chance.

“Do you mind helping me? I’m actually going to interview him about it tomorrow.” I gave him the widest smile, hoping he’d say yes. I normally wouldn’t do this to strangers, especially at night. But I really just need to get this over with.

“Well, as someone who’s a fan of his works. I’d like to give it a try and interpret it,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Just imagine I’m Mark Lee. Shoot your questions.”

“Hmm, I can’t be answering personal questions since you’re not Mark Lee.” I scratch my head. Damn, I can’t think of anything. My brain is not working right now! “But if you were Mark Lee, what would you want to be asked?”

“If I were Mark Lee? Well, rather than asking what my inspiration was behind the works I’ve made, I’d rather be asked on how I tried to convey my thoughts and feelings to this piece of work,” he explained, staring at the night sky.

I followed the direction of his gaze, and he’s looking at Orion, one of the brightest constellations out there. I gaze at it too while waiting for him to continue explaining.

“But isn’t it basically the same as drawing inspiration from something?” I ask profoundly.

“Not really. You can draw inspiration from anything. And you can come up with different outputs based on one inspiration. What’s important is how you’re able to connect the context of what you’re writing to the feelings you want to draw out,” he continues.

“With a single inspiration, I can come up with two completely different works based on how it’s written. The idea may be the same but the context is not.”

“Hmm, care to explain a little further?” I ask politely.

“We can use Black Socks as an example.”

Black socks are underrated

The way they connect the bottom sleeves of

my black sweatpants to my black sneakers

is just perfect

Pleasure from perfect alignment

That also goes for the ability to be parallel

with my thoughts and actions

I try to live out what’s in my mind, and keep

it consistent even when forgotten like a

working habit

A moment to think twice about what

seemed unimportant

Black socks have been making my day

these days and I knew I had to return the

favor by acknowledging them

I throw you in the bin only so that you can

be renewed again

“Black socks, literally an ordinary object that is tossed to the bin right after use. But what caught my eye is his appreciation for this mundane thing.”

“Through his words, you can tell black socks gave him comfort. He used a simple subject to convey his inner thoughts of how every little thing we don’t really recognize can actually be part of our routine, our life,” he said, looking me in the eye seriously.

“He found comfort in the most ordinary things no ordinary person would take notice of.”

Minhyung stands up and stretches his arms. He then continues, “It’s actually cool he shared this piece with us. If I were him, I’d go on and ramble how black socks could ruin my laundry.”

We both chuckle at the thought. It’s true. I hate how some of my black socks actually ruin my laundry. I dread the thought.

“It’s only a matter of perception, (y/n). Sometimes, you have to open your eyes and see, not look. Listen, not hear. Savor, not taste. Feel, not touch.”

“You know, you could actually be Mark Lee himself,” I tease him, “You do know your literature.”

I know he smiled at my remark. I can see his cheekbones rise from the edges of his mask.

“Sometimes, you just have to ask the right questions in order to get the answers you want,” he said teasingly. “You can’t get what you want if you don’t know what you want.”

For a stranger, he’s indeed a good talker. I actually learned so much from our talk tonight.

“Thanks for tonight, Minhyung. I really learned a lot.” I thank him before gulping down the last cup of coffee he bought me. “And thanks for the coffee, by the way! I now have energy to prepare for my interview later.”

“No problem. I’m just glad that I was able to help.”

I stood up from my seat and we both started walking away from the park.

“It’s 1 am. How are you gonna get home, (y/n)?” Minhyung asks worriedly. Yeah, it is pretty late. It’s a good thing I just live near.

“My apartment’s just two blocks away. I can manage,” I say with a smile, a genuine one at that. “How about you?”

“I’ll just grab a cab. Do you mind if I walk you home?” I don’t know why but I felt flustered for a moment. Surprisingly though, I just nodded my head, giving him permission to accompany me home.

We both arrive at the entrance of my apartment building and we say our last goodbyes.

“For a stranger, you really do know how to make people comfy,” I say, crossing my arms and giving him a stare, brows furrowed to tease him.

“Well, that’s just how I am,” he says while giving me a wink. Okay, now he’s flirting. Someone stop him, please. Just kidding.

“By the way, you haven’t taken your mask off the entire time except when drinking coffee. I couldn’t get a good glimpse at you since it was dark,” I explain. It’s true. Add the fact that I’m barely keeping myself awake the whole time. “I might’ve actually thought you’re an idol of some sort. Perhaps, maybe you are Mark Lee.”

“What?” he asks, puzzled and clearly taken aback. “Why’d you think so?”

“Because you share the same name with him.”

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

Text

The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 3

Summary: During a trivia game, Adelaide impresses people with her knowledge.

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 3.5k

Warnings: None

A/N: For the people who have send in character asks and I haven’t answered it yet: I’m working on it 🤗 Because of school, I haven’t gotten to it yet. But somewhere this week I’ll answer them. Also: I love the responses to this fic. I want to let you know that these comments make my day 💕 Also, did I use the twitter accounts from the characters of my other fics for the tweets at the end? Yes, I did.

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Why am I in bed?

I look around and see that I’m in the middle of the bed that Henry and I share back on the show, but the improvised wall between us is gone.

Back when I was growing up, we had one bedroom and one bed, where we had to squeeze in if we happened to be all home. That rarely happened. It was usually just me, or later on my dad joined, when he got back from work. On mom’s days off, she’d be in bed all day, resting from all those hard days at work. Sharing beds isn’t something that I really mind, even if the person I’m sharing with, is Henry Cavill.

‘You’re awake,’ I hear Henry’s deep voice and I look to my left, to see him standing up from a chair. He sits on the edge of the mattress, sinking into the soft material. ‘How are you?’

‘I don’t know,’ I mumble, pushing myself up straight. I’m not in the muddy clothes anymore and I look at Henry again, slightly worried and ashamed. Did he undress me?

‘Don’t worry,’ he calmly says, ‘Jennifer went with us. She changed you.’

I clear my throat, as I start fidgeting my hands, one of the many nervous ticks I have. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why?’ Henry asks.

‘We were leading and then…’ I sigh deeply, trying not to think about what happened to me. I never learned how to swim, but I always avoided waters like the plague. During my acting career, I only had to swim once, but I was with David Castañeda, who played my love interest. I let him know that I was scared of water. He promised me he wouldn’t let go and the director actually loved the twist we gave to that swimming pool scene.

However, David knew I was scared of water, but didn’t know I couldn’t swim. Now I told Henry and in a matter of days, the rest of the world will know too, when this episode will air.

Henry doesn’t say anything. I bet he is mad, I think to myself. Fuck, I really let him down, didn’t I?

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, ‘that I let you down.’

His gaze softens. ‘You didn’t,’ he tells me. ‘I shouldn’t have pushed. I should’ve calmed you down. It was obvious that it really scared you.’ Henry sighs deeply. ‘But Adelaide… Why can’t you swim?’ he asks.

I could tell him. The whole world will know I can’t swim in the near future, why not tell them the entire story? ‘We didn’t have the money back when I was younger to go for swimming lessons,’ I say. ‘And I haven’t had the chance to do it now.’

Henry nods. ‘There is a pool in the backyard,’ he says, a telling smile toying on his face. ‘How about, over the course of these two weeks, you and I try it. It’s not deep and I’m there with you every second.’

‘Why?’

He shrugs, as if he is a little embarrassed that he offered, but he shouldn’t be. It’s just that I’m surprised, because the last time someone offered something like that to me… That was so long ago. I think it was when I still lived at home. I always do everything myself and people on set know that I tend to be very independent, so they don’t try. But Henry doesn’t ask or offer, he just does it. In the days that I’ve come to know him, he has been nothing but a gentleman. He made me breakfast and when we were cooking dinner, the oil was splashing over the pan. Before I could step aside, Henry grabbed another pan to shield me from the hot oil. The way he lifted me up during the obstacle course when I couldn’t reach the bars and how he caught me when I fell.

‘Well,’ he says, ‘because I think everyone should know how to swim.’

I smile and say: ‘Well, let’s consider it,’ I say. ‘We finished last, didn’t we?’

‘Yeah, we did,’ he says. ‘But don’t apologize for it, please. I don’t want you to feel bad about it. We were really great during this first challenge, so we’ll climb our way back to the top.’ Henry sends me a dashing smile and I can’t help but blush a little bit. ‘How about you get ready for tonight, then I’ll go and make you something to eat.’

‘Ready for tonight?’

‘Trivia night,’ he says.

I nod. I can’t seem to tear my eyes from him, as I look into his soft eyes. When I first met him, I thought he had that stern look in his face and I still did think that from time to time, but in those days that we spend together, it never looked like this. ‘Right, I’ll get myself ready.’

After a fifteen minute shower, I get dressed in a jeans skirt, with a simple black shirt that I tugged in. I paired it with the same white sneakers I wore the first day. I keep my hair and make-up pretty simple.

Henry made some sandwiches. I never knew that I thought it was attractive that a man could cook, but I sure do know now. Come to think of this, I never really thought about what I wanted for traits in a man.

My parents were happy with one another, but I feared that one day, I ended up like them. Poor, overworked, with two kids and a husband, who maybe felt—just like my dad—that he had to take care of us. Besides, I never experienced love. I never fallen in love, I only had on stage kisses and sex scenes. It was never real.

Maybe I’m way ahead of myself, but I feel something. I feel cared for. I feel noticed. I feel appreciated. Like I’m worth it. And that’s all thanks to Henry Cavill.

◎ ◎ ◎

Everyone seems concerned about me, but after I reassure everyone I am okay, we take place at three different tables, one for each duo. I take a seat on the chair. It’s a little colder than I imagined and I curse myself for not bring a jacket with me. I rub my upper arms as the crew is setting everything up, checking if our mics are working well enough, making sure the screen works.

Henry stands up as he wiggles out of his cosy vest, before placing it without a word on my shoulders.

‘Oh, that’s not necess— uh… needed,’ I say to him.

‘I’m not cold,’ he tells me, as he sits down next to me again. I want to stop my smile, but I can’t help it.

‘Thank you, Henry,’ I say in a soft tone, as if I don’t want him to hear me, but seeing how the corners of his mouth curl up, I know that he heard me.

The game is pretty simple: there is a host who asks a question and you have to answer it. It’s fairly easy and I almost feel like they are taking it easier because of me.

Every team has a button in front of them and ours meows like a cat.

‘What country won the first FIFA World Cup in 1930?’ the hosts asks.

Meow. ‘Uruguay,’ I answer, as I retract my hand from the button. .

Even the host seems impressed. ‘That is correct.’ On the screen behind him, I see that we are actually first now, with only one point, but it feels nice to be ahead of someone else, because of what I did. ‘Okay, next question. Which boxer was known as “the Great—’

Meow. That is not because of me, but because Henry slammed the button a little harder. Guess he doesn’t know how strong he is. ‘Muhammed Ali,’ he answers.

‘Correct.’ Why does the host not seem impressed now? Okay, this is nothing to be surprised about, so I should stop letting the subtle differences in reaction get to my head. It’s true, I’m pretty stupid according to the public.

And besides, we only had two questions and I had one right.

‘What animals have the longest gestation period?’

No one presses the button and I tap Henry on his leg. He looks at me and I usher him closer. ‘What is a gestation period?’

‘Pregnancy,’ he whispers, his hot breath against my lips, that start to tingle as a response. I shouldn’t get distracted because of that.

Meow. ‘An African Elephant,’ I answer.

We are ahead now with three points. I can’t help but beam with pride. Maybe the public will think a little more highly of me now.

‘What does HTTP stand for?’

Meow. ‘HyperText Transfer Protocol,’ Henry says with a smile.

‘What year was the first model of the iPhone released?’

Meow. ‘2007,’ Henry answers with ease.

He knows a lot, I think to myself. I look to the side for a second and I wonder what goes on in his head, right now and basically every single time we’re just alone. He can look at me in a way that I can’t explain and I don’t even understand why he looks at me like that.

We continue to answer multiple questions correctly and the meow is one of the only sounds that we hear. By the time we reached ten points, I discovered that Charlie and Jennifer’s sound is a bark and when we reached fifteen points, I found out that the Biebers’ sound was a chicken.

Who were the founders of Adidas? (Rudolf and Adolf Dassler—I knew this one.) Some Greek mythology questions that I knew nothing about, but Henry did and he seemed so giddy to explain it all to us, though no one seemed cared, besides me probably, because I could listen to this man for days on end. Together we knew the seven world wonders, who the Danish author was who wrote many fairy tales and they even asked us what Superman’s birth name was…

While Superman is in the room.

We are way ahead of everyone with twenty points, Charlie and Jennifer have ten (who knew that babies weren’t born with kneecaps—for knowing that alone I feel like they should win) and Justin and Hailey have nine. But the next question we can think about for a few seconds and it’s worth fifteen points. So we either become second or first, depends on how well we do.

‘Name these chemical elements of the periodic table. Ge, Sn, Rf, K and Ba.’

Henry places his arm on the back of my chair and leans over. Gosh, he is really close. Not that I’m complaining, but feeling his body heat so close to mine and it’s not even acting… Why does that make me feel all sorts of things?

‘Ge is Geranium,’ he whispers, ‘and Ba and Barium.’

‘K is Potassium,’ I say in a soft tone. ‘So we only have Sn and Rf left. Sn is Tin.’

‘You know a lot,’ he says with a smile.

Does he mean that? Did he just say I know a lot? Me, the Hollywood ditz? ‘Rf is Rutherfordium,’ I whisper.

Meow. Henry presses the button and he looks at me, non verbally asking me if I want to answer this, but I simply shake my head. He names them in order and everyone seems impressed, but before they can give him a compliment (I know the host is desperate to call him ‘Handsome Henry with a Brain’ again. He did it seven times already and it was annoying the first time, let alone the seventh time), Henry says: ‘I only knew Geranium and Barium. Adelaide is the real genius here.’

◎ ◎ ◎

It’s twelve ‘o clock when Henry and I are in bed, both staring at the ceiling. Normally I’m in bed long before he is, but today we’re awake in the bed together. The only reason why I get into bed early, is that I hope I can fall asleep before he gets in.

But not today.

‘I have something I want to ask you,’ Henry says. ‘I’ve been thinking about this for awhile.’

‘Okay?’

‘Are you dyslexic?’

He could’ve given me a slap across my face and that wouldn’t have shocked me as much as this question. I push myself up, so I’m sitting. ‘Why?’

‘Just wondering.’

I simply shrug. ‘I don’t know. I never got tested back in school.’

‘Why not?’ Henry sits up straight as well and from the corners of my eyes, I see him placing his pillow on the headboard. That one curl covers part of his forehead and it’s almost a signature look when we are in the cottage.

‘The teachers didn’t care and we didn’t have a lot of money,’ I explain. It feels weird and uncomfortable to open up to him, however on the other hand, it feels right to have this out in the open. ‘And I don’t want to get tested now,’ I whisper. ‘I’m an adult, I can manage.’ I finally force myself to look over my shoulders, only to see that same soft look in his eyes, that I almost grown accustomed to. ‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ he whispers. ‘I just want to say to you that I underestimated you and—’

I can’t help but chuckle. ‘You are not the only one,’ I interrupt him. ‘It’s okay.’

‘No, Adelaide, it’s not okay.’

The sternness in his voice, make me turn around on the mattress completely, so I can look at him. ‘I did it myself, Henry. Really, it’s okay, don’t worry about it.’

Henry moistens his lips, before he clears his throat. ‘Then I won’t worry about it. Just know that I—now—think very highly of you.’

‘You don’t need to,’ I say as a frown appears between my brows. ‘Henry, what is really the case?’

He rubs his face, resists even and he actually looks really frustrated. ‘It’s just that I’m trying to figure you out, but I can’t seem to actually get to know you.’

‘There is not much to know,’ I say, but he shakes his head and says: ‘There is. You are so intriguing, Adelaide, you don’t even know it.’

I don’t really know what to say. He thinks there is much to know about me and that I’m intriguing? ‘Oh.’

‘And I get that it can be hard to open up, truly, I know, but… We have to work together. Wouldn’t it be better if we knew something about each other?’

Okay, that’s a fair point. ‘You tell me something first,’ I say to him.

‘Like what?’ he says, genuinely looking relieved that I’m going along with it.

I tilt my head as I look in his eyes as I take in the brown spot on his left eye, that is surrounded by a beautiful blue. ‘You want to win?’

Henry frowns, probably confused by my question, but when he sees I’m dead serious, he nods. ‘Of course,’ he says, ‘I’m competitive. Why was that your question?’

‘Because now I know that I have to work extra hard not to let you down. It doesn’t really matter to me if I win or not.’

‘You won’t let me down, Adelaide.’

‘I did already,’ I say, ‘and don’t try to convince me otherwise. Now, what do you want to know about me?’

He tilts his head and says: ‘You have a nickname?’

And he thought my question was a bit weird? I snort. ‘My parents called me Dasom. That’s my Korean name.’

‘Really?’ he asks. ‘I didn’t know that.’

No one knows that. ‘But other than that I don’t really have a nickname. People call me Park every now and then, but that’s it.’

‘What does Dasom mean?’

‘Love,’ I whisper. ‘Because, as my parents always say: I was born out of pure love.’ I roll my eyes, because I hate the cliché, but thankfully I was born out of love. It meant that I was welcomed in their lives, though they were poor and barely had anything.

‘That’s sweet,’ he says. ‘So, no one called you Addy for example?’

‘Come to think of it, Keanu Reeves called me Addy every now and then. Especially when we were doing stunts for the movie and he had to encourage me.’

‘Can I call you Addy?’

The fact that he asks me if he can call me Addy, shows me that he is so much more than the news outlets let him to be. Of course, he is handsome, but there is more than just looks. He is intelligent, caring and a real gentleman. Though he can look slightly intimidating, he is a big softie. ‘I would like that, Henry.’

As much as I want to sleep, I can’t. I’m too awake for that, maybe because of the thrill that we are actually ahead of the others now. Who knows how long that will last…

‘You want to do something?’ Henry suggests. ‘I’m not as tired as I figured I would be.’

‘Like what?’

‘You want to swim?’

◎ ◎ ◎

Henry is already swimming laps in the pool, as I try to build up the courage to actually walk out of the door to the pool. I have a large towel wrapped around me, to hide my red and white striped bathing suit.

I can do this, I think to myself. I wore a skimpy bikini for a movie, I’ve been naked on sets with the crew around me. This isn’t too hard.

I walk out of the cottage and see that Henry leans with his under arms on the edge of the pool, placing his chin on one of them. ‘There you are,’ he says with a smile.

I dip my toe in the water and start to shiver, goosebumps appearing on my entire body. ‘It’s cold,’ I mumble. ‘And it looks too deep.’

‘It’s not. It’s only one meter sixty.’

‘I’m one fifty,’ I retort. ‘What if I drown?’

‘I’m not letting that happen,’ he says. ‘I promise you, Addy.’

The use of that nickname, makes my feel all sorts of things. Normally I’m not too keen on nicknames, but I could get used to this.

I fold the towel, before I place it on the floor and I sit on the edge of the pool, as my legs dangle in the cold water. Henry bumps his elbow against the side of my thigh and he asks: ‘Ready?’

Maybe it’s because of the dim lighting of the lanterns outside, or the reflection of the water, but he looks even more ethereal than other times. My eyes fall on his beautifully formed lips, that curl up in a smile.

‘I am,’ I say.

He stands in front of me and I place my hands on his broad and tight shoulders. I shimmy myself off the edge, into the cold water. Despite the fact that his large hands in the dips of my waist, makes me all warm from the inside, the water is really cold. Henry starts to laugh, probably because I scrunch up my entire face like I’m a Sharpei dog. ‘Maybe you should keep breathing, because I can’t have it that you pass out on me twice within one week.’

‘Shut up,’ I shiver, as I hold on tightly to his shoulders. ‘You’re not going to let me go, right?’ I ask, just in case.

‘Of course not,’ he whispers.

For a second I envision we’re having a moment together, but then I realize that’s not the case, because he takes a step backwards and we are further away from the edge. I can still reach over to my left, so I’m directly at the other edge, but it does terrify me a bit.

‘Henry,’ I say.

‘Yes?’

‘I’m scared.’

‘I know,’ he tells me, squeezing my waist to let me know that he is there. ‘But there is no need for you to be scared. You just have to grow comfortable in the water and that takes time.’ Henry’s voice is soft and I have to take a deep breath. ‘You’re doing great.’ He slowly takes more steps backwards and smiles at me, as if he knows that that comforts me.

After two laps of him walking backwards and me moving my legs (I don’t know why I do that, but it just happens), I feel more and more accustomed to the water. Still, I don’t want to let go of Henry for one single second, because the fear that I might drown is still there. For the other two laps, he wraps his arm around my waist, as I hold onto the edge and my other arm around his shoulder.

Henry lifts me on the edge, before he hoists himself next to me. He reaches behind him to grab my towel and wrap it securely around my shoulders. ‘How was it?’ he asks.

‘It was good,’ I admit. ‘I mean, I still don’t want to swim myself, but it’s not that scary anymore.’ I look to the side, only to discover that he was already looking at me. From the looks of it, he is looking at my lips, but I must’ve hallucinated that. ‘Thank you,’ I say, to break the silence between us.

‘You’re welcome,’ he says, his voice low.

I smile, before I stand up and hurry back inside. I was making that up, wasn’t I? He wasn’t totally staring at my lips?

Or was he?

◎ ◎ ◎

After the first episode was aired, showing the first few days of the duos together, these were the favorite tweets of the producers of ‘the Celebrity Project’

Taglist: @thelastsock // @jolly-polly // @henrythickcavill // @maan24 // @diegos-butt / @agniavateira // @onlyhenrys // @turkish276 //

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #the alluring charm of henry cavill #henry cavill x actress #henry cavill x adelaide park

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lilydalexf · 3 years

Photo

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Sophia Jirafe

Seven of Sophia Jirafe’s fics are at Gossamer, but more of her X-Files stories are at AO3 (as sophiahelix). I’ve recced some of my favorites of her stories here before, including Stones and Bones. She was active in the fandom during the show’s run and has never strayed far from fandom in general. She co-founded Glass Onion, a great multi-fandom mailing list that now has nearly 1,000 fics from 100 fandoms at AO3. Big thanks to Sophia Jirafe for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

It did initially, but so many old shows are on streaming now and getting discovered by new people, it makes sense.

I did get a comment from someone who said my first story under this name, posted in early 2000 when I was a college freshman, was older than her by a couple of months, and THAT took me aback.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

It was my first fandom, discovered when I was 17 and searching for info about the show on the school library computer, and it really shaped my whole life! I met a lot of people I still know today (mostly in non-fannish venues like FB, though I do still have some connections in fandom), and learned a lot about writing and just life generally, since I was younger than most of fandom at the time.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I started off on a tiny forum at a website called Squirrel’s Nest, but I kept seeing people thanking Scullyfic in fic headers and eventually I was able to join the mailing list (which was capped to 500 members). Scullyfic was everything to me — I made friends, betas, discussed the show, learned about all kinds of things on Off-Topic Fridays, etc. A lot of those friends, I would email with or more often chat on AIM (individual or these sprawling group chats that would go on all day), and then at the end of 2001 we started migrating to Livejournal. I was getting into Buffy more by then, but it was still mostly the same crowd of people I knew from Scullyfic.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

I feel like it started me on a whole life path really — finding that my deep obsession with fiction could be channeled like that and shared with other people, as well as deepening my writing. Online fandom has been a major part of my social life for over 20 years now, and I love the mix of getting excited about things with friends and also the creative outlet.

My corner of X-Files fandom in particular was just very calm and enjoyable for the most part, full of older professional women who were happy to be friends and give me advice about all kinds of things, and it really set the bar for me with my online interactions. Now I’m almost 40 and trying to be that person for my younger friends, as well as having no patience for toxicity and in-fighting in my fandom spaces.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

A combination of the creepy conspiracy angle and just adoring Scully. I remember how mysterious and fascinating the show seemed when I discovered it right before S5, and there was no way to find out more except to keep watching and hoping they explained. Scully was so smart and tough and beautiful and interesting, and as a teen I was just captivated by her (and the UST, though I didn’t care about Mulder as much).

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I ran across it a couple times early on but felt embarrassed by the concept, but then I read the first in Karen Rasch’s Words series and suddenly it clicked for me. After a while I started daydreaming my own conversations between them, very similar to what happens to me now when I’m getting into a new pairing, so after reading tons of recommended fic by big authors, I started writing my own (the 3-4 stories I posted in high school are all wiped from the internet now, though).

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Good memories, though because it was my senior year of high school and college, I know a lot of it is just tied to that time in my life, and also being in my very first fandom. I will rewatch episodes from time to time, but I basically never revisit former fandoms because they’re kind of like exes, even if I finished on a good note. I also think my taste in fic has changed (and there isn’t the same novelty of “characters I like getting together omg!”)

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

So many! None of them had quite the same combination of excellent central architecture (especially pre-AO3) and a really high level of discussion and friendliness without being enormous, but I’ve loved them all in their own ways. I’ve done fandom on LJ/DW, Tumblr, Discord, and now on Twitter, and I think I miss the mailing list days the most. You didn’t have to repeat yourself so much in multiple conversations, you weren’t character limited, and the discussion was all in one place, with personal stuff more confined to your side conversations. Discord is a little like that, but it moves too fast and there’s too much noise for my taste.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Heh, after X-Files I went through a whole phase of faves in the Scully vein — Buffy, Aeryn Sun, Kara Thrace, etc. Like many people I’ve shifted primarily into m/m in the last decade (Sherlock, YOI, and recently The Untamed have been my major fictional fandoms, along with a lot of sports RPF), but for non-fannish shows I’m always looking for awesome new female characters, like Elizabeth on the Americans, Peggy on Mad Men, Nadja on What We Do in the Shadows, etc. And I do LOVE Killing Eve and have written a little f/f over there.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I’ll rewatch favorite episodes occasionally, and I keep thinking about a full rewatch but it takes so much time! I never saw the second movie, and I didn’t finish the first of the new seasons because I was hating it, so it’s a little hard for me to think fannishly about them when I disliked basically everything after “Je Souhaite” so much (as far as I’m concerned the show ends there).

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

X-Files no, but yeah I’m still very active in fandoms.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I lost all my saved fic several computers ago, but I recall loving “Blue Christmas” by Plausible Deniability and “Diamonds and Rust” by MustangSally (obviously everything she wrote was great).

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Looking at my X-Files fic, I can’t believe how short it is and how comparatively little of it there is (I have lost track of a few ficlets). It felt like such a big deal to finish anything back then! I think my favorite remains Alphabetum, which involved a tricky structure and 5 elements given by people as part of the Scullyfic Improv challenge, where you had a week to write a story around those elements.

My favorite of my recent fic in fictional fandoms is probably the GoT/YOI crossover novel I wrote a couple years ago, for a completely opposite experience to this (and proof you can grow as a writer with a lot of effort!)

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

It’s honestly hard to imagine going back (like I said, I usually don’t), but I guess I could get inspired by something.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I certainly still write, and I do have to give credit to XF fandom and Scullyfic in particular for giving me the start I got, where I really wanted to be writing good fiction. The few things I wrote in high school were just me jamming out romantic cliches, but the people I was lucky to know in XF fandom showed me that “just” fanfic can still aspire to be high quality. I am a much, much better and more disciplined writer than I was back then, but I might never have started on this path without fandom friends encouraging me.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Usually just daydreaming about emotional dynamics between characters/people, but sometimes something specific in canon or real life (I write a lot of RPF) gets me going, or maybe something I read.

What's the story behind your pen name?

When I wrote for X-Files, I picked “Sophia Jirafe” combining my favorite first name with a fancy spelling for my favorite animal (I was 18! Don’t judge!) Over on Livejournal, my friend Jintian and I initially shared an account with the same name as our website, double_helix, and when she got her own account I changed to sophia_helix, which is now sophiahelix just about everywhere. A little clunky, but I like the continuity (and I do run across old friends who remember the name).

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

The friends I’ve known for a very long time know about it, but we have never talked about it in depth. My husband, who I met not long after getting into fandom, also knows about it, and he’s encouraging and also a writer so we talk all the time. I told my mom in college and she was pretty dismissive, so we haven’t talked about it since (but my younger sister knows and is cool about it).

When I was younger, it was something I shared readily (I bonded with a new friend in law school I saw looking at LJ), but now I don’t really bring it up with new acquaintances.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

I just made a Carrd the other day with all my various fannish addresses (Twitter, locked fannish Twitter, AO3, Tumblr)

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Just that it really was a high quality fandom — so much excellent long casefic, so many cool down to earth people, just generally a great launching place for a young fan. The friendships I made with older people were really important to me, and it makes me sad to see a lot of younger people now getting upset about the idea of anyone over a certain age being in their fandom spaces. I hope someday fandom can get back to appreciating that people of all ages can be the fandom type, and that everyone brings something different to the community.

(Posted by Lilydale on December 1, 2020)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #sophia jirafe

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latenightsleuth · 3 years

Text

Column: Tyesha Bell is finally found, but not the way loved ones had prayed for

(Image from Tyisha's Twitter page.)

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

“Until I get a knock at my door and police tell me they have found my daughter’s remains, I will continue to think of her as alive.”

I ended a column written eight years ago with that quote from Lorna Smith, whose 22-year-old daughter Tyesha Bell went missing in May of 2003.

I begin today’s with that same haunting statement because the hopes of that grieving mom were dashed forever this week when police identified the remains of Tyesha, a young mom of two small children who mysteriously walked out of her Aurora apartment one day, leaving behind her money, her purse and the two small children she adored.

Tyesha Bell’s disappearance did not get the high profile treatment as another missing Aurora person, Timmothy Pitzen, who was last seen in May of 2011. We covered her case locally over the years. But on a grander scale it did not get near the exhaustive coverage as other white young women who suddenly vanished, including Plainfield mom Lisa Stebic, or Laci Peterson or Natalee Holloway.

The only real national news Tyesha’s story got was when ABC featured it on a show about how the cases of non-white people who are missing get slighted by the media.

But over the years, Lorna Smith made it a point of contacting our newsroom on every anniversary of her daughter’s disappearance because she knew it was up to her to keep Tyesha’s name in the public eye.

And in all those interviews, Smith never lost hope.

That was especially true on the 10th anniversary of Tyesha’s disappearance in May of 2013 when national headlines that same month declared three women in Cleveland had been found alive after being held for nearly a decade in the home of a monster who eventually killed himself in prison.

A year later, Smith talked to me again about how she hangs on to optimism after receiving a series of strange hang-up calls, from Ohio of all places.

She was so hopeful those calls – at times the other person would stay on the line until she said her daughter’s name – that she even attached Tyesha’s name to the number.

Likely it was a prank, the cruelest kind of “joke” as it raised false hopes for this family that not only included Smith but Tyesha’s two daughters she was raising.

They were just 2 and 5 when their mom went missing, which means both are young women now. But throughout their childhoods they made scrapbooks and wrote beautiful poems about their mother who they knew would never have left them of her own free will.

Police always suspected foul play because of the way Tyesha vanished. Her sister, also her roommate in their apartment in the 800 block of North Randall Road, had heard her talking on the phone early the morning of May 10 and later heard her leave the apartment, never to be heard from again.

An exhaustive police investigation, including airplane and dog searches, as well as drilling holes in the floor of the home of a person of interest, had not produced any clues. Nor did a $10,000 reward Smith raised.

She’d long suspected a man who had last talked to Tyesha on the day she disappeared. But over the years, Smith told me in 2014, she let that anger and suspicions go as she relied heavily on her Christian faith to come to a place of peace.

Peace with hope.

Until now.

When I heard on Tuesday morning that there would be a press conference regarding a high-profile missing person’s case in Aurora, the first name that came to mind was Pitzen, the 6-year-old boy who has been missing since May of 2011 when his mother took him from his kindergarten class and then killed herself, leaving behind a note saying her son was safe and with people who loved him but would never be found.

Had Tuesday’s press conference been about his case, which has been featured on countless national TV shows and will again be featured on HBO, likely around the 10th anniversary, the national media would have descended on the Aurora Police Station like ants on a PB&J. There was hardly that level of attention on Tuesday, and some journalists seemed to know little about Tyesha or had files on her disappearance.

But if this past year has been a national lesson about Black Lives Matter, that certainly must include young Black women who go missing. And hopefully the press that comes with this APD announcement will bring in those tips desperately needed to make an arrest in a very old case that is now a full-fledged murder investigation.

Because the family – there were about 20 who attended Tuesday’s press conference – only recently learned Tyesha’s remains had been found in a shallow grave in a wooded area of Kane County in December, asked for privacy as they came to terms with this news. So I can’t close with a statement from Smith, but I can tell you one thing for sure.

This mother may have lost the hope she’s been holding onto these past 18 years that her daughter was still alive. But she still needs some sort of closure.

And so I will end this column not with a new quote from Lorna Smith but the phone number of the dedicated tip line for the case, 630-256-5517, and with the words of the head of the Aurora Police Department’s Bureau of Investigative Services.

“Our detectives continue to have working theories in Tyesha’s case, but we need more information before criminal charges can be authorized,” said Aurora Police Cmdr. Jack Fichtel. “We implore anyone who may have information to please come forward.”

[email protected]

By DENISE CROSBY

AURORA BEACON-NEWS | MAR 16, 2021 AT 6:11 PM

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psycho-slytherin · 4 years

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Strangers ch. 42

Yoongi confronts your attacker, and you awaken from one nightmare into another.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Genre: fluff, angst, idfk

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

“What? Who the fuck are you? Get out of my house before I call the police!” The redhead reaches for the door in an attempt to close it, but Yoongi’s hold is too strong. He’s been waiting for this moment for two weeks– and he won’t let the opportunity slip away.

“You don’t know me, Seoyeon? And here I thought you were a fan.” With his free hand, Yoongi reaches up and pulls down his mask. Seoyeon’s sneer falls in an instant, replaced with the look of utter shock and adoration that Yoongi knows so well.

“Yoon-Suga? Wait, oh- oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my-” Seoyeon’s eyes roll up into her head and she keels over backwards, hitting the floor with a heavy thump.

Well, that was quick. Y/n fainted too, Yoongi remembers, when she first saw him. Looking at the fallen girl, part of Yoongi wants to feel sympathy for her. After all, she’s a fan.

But then he remembers Y/n shaking as she told Yoongi what the woman in front of him had done to her. He remembers every time he saw his friend flinch at a light breeze, the tremor in her voice when she explained that scar on her leg, and his own fear at finding Y/n’s bloody coat in the river.

All because of her. And so Yoongi lets himself into the house, quietly closing the door behind him as he waits for her to wake up.

It had taken D two weeks to find Kang Seoyeon’s name and address from nothing more than the photo Yoongi had gotten off of Lisa’s laptop. Only now, as he stares at the woman’s motionless frame, Yoongi wonders if she really could have been capable of hurting Y/n like that. She’s pretty, petite, and vaguely reminds Yoongi of a pixie.

Another minute passes before Seoyeon begins to shift groggily. “Wha…”

“I’m not helping you up,” Yoongi says shortly.

Seoyeon’s head snaps up, her piercing eyes capturing Yoongi’s own. “Suga. Suga! It really wasn’t a dream?” She scrambles to her feet, reaching forward, and Yoongi suddenly feels as though he’s about to be eaten alive.

“I knew it,” Seoyeon whispers reverently. “Cap said you’d come to me. We’re meant to be.”

Y/n’s right– she’s psycho.

Yoongi feels darkness pooling in his heart, and loathing bubbling to the surface. “I don’t care what you think is meant to be. But there’s someone I do care about– and you deserve to rot in prison for what you did to her.”

“I- what… oh!” Seoyeon lowers her arms, an eerie smile growing on her face, much too wide to seem genuine. “You mean Y/n?”

Yoongi growls– a low, animalistic rumble– as he takes a step closer. “You tried to kill her.”

“But- ah,” Seoyeon seems to wince at the cold fury in his voice. Good. “I did it to protect you! Y/n thinks you belong to her, but you don’t!” Faster than Yoongi can react, Seoyeon’s hands shoot out and grab Yoongi’s shoulders with a grip forceful enough to hurt, the smile never leaving her face. “You belong to me, to us, Suga! To ARMYs!”

Shit. She’s stronger than he expected. But perhaps…

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Yoongi says, lacing a note of authority into his tone. Unbelievably, Seoyeon’s grip loosens, and Yoongi uses the opportunity to push her hands away from him.

I don’t belong to anyone,” Yoongi continues forcefully, watching Seoyeon seem to shrink before him. “And nothing gives you the right to hurt her!”

Seoyeon pauses, and the house is dead silent for an eternal minute. “Nothing?” She begins snickering– quietly at first, but soon enough she doubles over with laughter. “You really don’t know what’s going to happen to your pretty little girlfriend, do you?”

It’s as though Yoongi’s blood has turned to ice. “What?”

“Ooh, you don’t know! Well, Cap said not to say…” Seoyeon pretends to think.

Yoongi grinds his teeth together in frustration; he knows he’s being baited, but if Y/n’s in danger… “Tell me.”

Seoyeon’s eyes are blown out as she stares at Yoongi, licking her lips. “I’d consider it a favor. I’d be willing to do you a lot of favors, you know. I’m… very good at favors.”

Yoongi’s stomach lurches. He doesn’t want to know what Seoyeon would do to him. “Don’t give me more reasons to call the cops. I could have you arrested.”

Seoyeon laughs again. “For what?”

“Attempted murder isn’t enough?” Yoongi fires back. “You nearly killed Y/n, you bi-”

“There’s no evidence. No one saw anything– I’m untouchable.” Seoyeon advances menacingly. “But you know who isn’t? Y/n.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to– he’s not sure; Question? Yell? Threaten?– when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He winces, unwilling to tear his eyes from the predator before him. Still, it could be Y/n– and Yoongi’s been worrying over her condition. He places himself between Seoyeon and the door before answering his phone, eyes never leaving hers.

“Yes?”

“Yo, Gloss, that girl you got me tracking down with the shitty dye job?”

Oh, it’s just his old friend. “D, I’m busy, let me call you later.”

“Nah, man, you gotta hear this. You’re gonna like it.”

Seoyeon stands motionless before him. Yoongi’s time before his driver bursts in is almost up and he hasn’t gotten a confession. “Fine. What is it?”

“Remember that photo of you and your girl that went viral a while back?”

How could he forget? The infamous picture from that night got him and Y/n into the whole publicity mess and changed their relationship forever.

“I was tracking Seoyeon’s IP address and digging through her socials… dude, the original photo came from one of her accounts.”

Yoongi’s blood turns to ice as D continues: “A bunch of these ARMY girls have backup accounts, and this one’s hers. You’ve got a stalker, my man.”

Could it be true? Had Kang Seoyeon followed Yoongi to the hospital and found Y/n? Were her injuries and trauma his fault?

Yoongi swallows, feeling the wave of anxiety almost drown him before he pushes it away. Not now.

“Thanks for letting me know,” he manages.

“No worries. Yo, what’s wrong? Are you-” Beep. Yoongi hangs up and shoves the phone into his pocket. “Now, where were we? Oh, right. You were going to tell me everything you know about Y/n and anyone that could hurt her.”

Seoyeon laughs, a pitched, wild noise. “Excuse me? Who said I’d tell you anything?”

Yoongi barely has to lean forward until he’s so close that Seoyeon needs to tilt her head up to look at him. “I did.”

Yoongi can hear her breath catch, practically seeing the wheels turning in her head. If she’s truly as obsessive as he thinks she is…

After a pause, Seoyeon grins. “Fine. Cap’s gonna hate me, but fine. I’ll tell you everything, and just in case you think I’m bullshitting, I’ll show you I mean business… for a price.”

Yoongi blinks. Is she bluffing? Could Y/n really be in danger? Am I in danger too?

“So? What’ll it be?”

Y/n. It’s for Y/n. But is it worth it?

~~~

“Help! Help me!” A garbled, genderless voice yells.

“I’m trying!” You cry, running through the empty streets. The voice echoes around every corner. “Tell me where you are! I don’t know how to help you!”Suddenly you trip, falling hard. The pavement has turned into your bed, your legs tangled in the sheets.

“No one needs help from a traitor,” the same voice says from inside your head. “A liar.”

You struggle to rise, but your mattress seems to envelop you, pulling you in, and instead of soft sheets and down you’re surrounded by ice, unable to find purchase.

“I’m not a liar!” You scream, scrabbling for grip as the ice rises past your shoulders. Goosebumps erupt on your flesh and you begin shivering violently, the only movement the ice will allow. “T-t-tell me ho-w to f-find you!”

“Find me?” The ice finishes swallowing you whole, the gaping chasm closing above your head. You know you shouldn’t be able to breathe but your chest still rises and falls with the desperate action. “All you have to do… is look in a mirror.” The ice beneath your feet disappears and you’re dropped into the yawning darkness. You blink and the area is suddenly flooded with light. You’re in a jail cell, empty except for a large mirror. You feel something dry and sweet in your mouth, and when you glance at the mirror…

Lisa stares back at you, a pastry between her teeth. You spit it out, reaching forward. Lisa mirrors you, her hand outstretched.

“Where are you?” You murmur, watching as your words escape Lisa’s mouth. Suddenly her lips in the mirror curl into a smirk.

“I’m right in front of you. I always have been.”

“No!” Your eyes fly open, your heart thundering. You clutch at your chest, feeling as though the hand is holding your very being from falling to pieces. Fumbling for your phone, you wince at the bright screen before noticing the time. 4:00– well, it’s longer than you’ve managed to sleep all week. You groan at yet another nightmare, falling back onto your pillow with a sense of defeat. You hate this fear within you, but what can you do? Lisa’s gone and the redhead may have gotten to her. The detective told you not to worry, but how can you not worry? And now your mom is cutting you off, and you might have to drop out, and Lisa is gone, and it seems like the only constant left in your life is Yoongi.

Yoongi. You chuckle hollowly, falling back onto your pillow. He’s the least consistent person you know, but at least he’s always been there for you.

Ignoring your stomach’s rumbling protests, you close your eyes and turn over, praying sleep takes you again.

And take you it does– sweet, dreamless sleep captures you and when you blearily awake again it’s with sunlight streaming through your windows. It must be late in the morning already. Your phone buzzes obnoxiously with what sound like dozens of notifications.

Maybe I should just delete Twitter, you muse defeatedly as you flip over your phone, scrolling mindlessly through your mentions. Right away, you notice something strange:

@bangtan_thotyeondan: yo I hated on @yourname at first but tbh that was a brutal move by #SUGA :(

@armyteez23: I told @queerqueen this would happen! @yourname deserves better umu

@captainkookie21: I told you @BTS_twt @yourname

@dduddudude: Y’all feeling bad for @yourname when the bitch had it coming all along

@bangtan-news: (1/3)BREAKING! #SUGA announces the relationship with @yourname is OVER! A thread:

@bangtan-news: (2/3)In an exclusive interview, #SUGA discussed the break from @yourname and his new girlfriend, @seoyeonnie-loves-bts!

@bangtan-news: (3/3) @yourname has not released a statement on the situation. Stay tuned!

Your jaw drops. The relationship is over? New girlfriend? What... what happened? You click on the linked profile and check @seoyeonnie-loves-bts’s most recent post– it’s just a photo with a heart caption.

You suddenly feel sick. The- it- it’s…

“You.” You whisper, all blood draining from your face. “You. And…”

The photo is of a beautiful redheaded girl. Her. She’s beaming, fingers interlaced with those of a very familiar man.

You stare into Yoongi’s eyes in the photo, trying desperately to see something that isn’t there. You struggle for a second to form words, barely able to breathe. “You.”

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spookyboogie3 · 4 years

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MY FAVORITE AH MOMENTS W/O R*an H*yw**d

Also keep in mind some of these moments i picked Bitch Face r*an may have been present for but this aint about his stupid ass.

The straw bit on Off Topic

Fiona and Trevor’s “Look at us” “Look at us” “Look at us” in TTT

Drunk Jeremy inhaling helium, followed by Jack and Trevor on Off Topic

“Krusty KrAYAYAB!!!” TTT

Jeremy trying to slam his face through a table, followed by Michael doing the same thing

“my god…… the munchdew” “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!” Minecraft: Skyfactory

Actually all of Simple Farmer Geoff from Skyfactory

Whatever those sounds were that Jack was making in the beginning of GTA video

Alfredo screaming as he continues to fall down a steep tube in a GTA race

DESTROYING THEIR OFFICE DEAR LORD

“How did he drown though?” “UNDERWATER, MATT!”

Anytime Fiona starts to RAGE in TTT (bonus if others join in)

The time Gav was the phantom in TTT and he kept dying and being brought back and Jack spitting water and then trying to catch it

Alfredo’s Magoo moments in Minecraft

Geoff laughing in the background of a video hes not in

Lindsay fucking around with Chef Mike on Harecore Minigolf

Lindsay fucking around in general

Gavin and Fiona playing Animal Crossing and laughing at the stupidest shit

The Fish Tempura incident on Wheel of Fortune

Lindsay’s reasoning for why her and Michael should have 4 kids

Geoff’s fucking ad reads (my favorite is 23&Me)

The whole thing during Push the Button where everyone especially Michael gets mad at Fiona because she said the best candy to get while trick or treating was lollipops

Matt’s fucking desk in the corner of the room

Anytime Millie is in a video

Everyone falling off the pink ladder during TTT and dying repeatedly because of it

Alfredo “the two-time champ” Diaz dying very early in YDYD 3

Gavin and Michael fucking up almost every game they play on Play Pals

RAY OR NO and then RAY OR NAY on Off Topic

Reddit Roasts Geoff

Gavin asking if someone could kill 20 cows with their bare hands and the proceeding so say he could rip out a cow’s veins by reaching into its neck

Ify’s narration during Let’s Roll Ave Caesar

The internet losing its shit when Jeremy shaved his head years ago

“We need a knife” Gavin comes back with a hammer

Griffin chain sawing the Off Topic table up

“How do I put the boat in the water??” “Right click you animal”

As of 2020, 8 years of playing Minecraft, certain people still do not know how to play the basics of this fucking game.

Honestly it took over 200 episodes for some of them to figure out how the compass worked. You know after they decided that the sun was setting in the wrong direction. (this was in 2016??)

Flynt coal still is a joke they make

So is Day 2

Whatever happened in that GTA lets play where someone called a mugger or a hit on someone and the game glitched and 50 guys showed up and lined up on the street below from where they were playing

Anytime Gavin gets mugged, it’s an old running gag but it’s a classic

The time a mugger fucking started driving the fire truck away after mugging Gavin with Michael and Jeremy still in the truck thinking the other is driving and it takes them like 2 minutes to realize what happened while Gavin’s yelling “come back”

They got a water jug and immediately started water boarding each other

“It pinged and went dingle”

“Hey Trey-Boi” “Hey Gay-Boi” Immediately realizes what he has said

Jeremy’s website puns

(OLD) Ray jerking off in the corner during a let’s play

(OLD) the world in Minecraft never loading and everyone screaming about as Geoff says its fine for him

Jeremy’s “I AM MONSTER TRUCK”

Jack taking AH to Disney……in Minecraft

On Twitter, Gavin asked about recommendations for a computer mouse and Fiona starts sending him pictures of actual mice.

“Its not ghey, if its on the moon”

Literally anything Fiona does as Po

Jeremy saying the heterosexual flag is boring

UNO THE MOVIE!

Geoff fucking cackling the whole time.

“here’s looking at you kid”

the video was almost 3 hours long

“you know what my favorite color is? blue” “oh really? You know what my favorite hand is? Yours

They all want it to end but no one wants to lose and so they fuck each other and that prolongs the game. Also they put on more rules, so they just keep getting more cards if they don’t have a card to match the previous

Alfredo saying he won’t participate in ghost hunter because he knows what happens to people of color in horror movies

Fiona walking in on Off Topic with a protein shake and Gavin asks if shes drinking milk and she says without missing a beat “ah no that’s cum” and everyone laughed not expecting the answer

(OLD) “SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKER” *falls in hole*

(OLD) Ray and Gav running in a panel dressed as X-Ray and Vav and Ray running the whole way around the room before he got to the stage

Duck taping Jeremy to the wall

(OLD) All of Minecraft Episode 3 Plan G (This was the very first AH video I watch and why I know who they are)

Geoff and Gav creating Achievement City and giving everyone houses just to prank Jack into burning house down with lava.

Ray’s house is a dirt block with no furniture and single torch

Geoff’s giant ass house next to Ray’s tiny house

Jack tries to destroy everything with lava throughout the episode

“lets be honest, I realistically didn’t lose anything”

Michael stealing art from Gav’s house “NOO! I want nice things”

The sign to Michael’s says “Awaiting Approval, Awaiting Approval, Awaiting Approval” he runs into house and say “I’m home”

Ray also steals this sign at some point

Plan G – The failsafe.

“Oh whats this? Is this a button? Whats this? (pushes button) Yeah it was a button”

“Did you push the button?”

“Yeah”

“okay”

“wh-what does it do?”

“uh…”

Cue Achievement City beginning to explode as Michael starts screaming

Rays reaction “NO, MY SHITTY HOUSE JUST GOT EVEN SHITTIER!”

Not something funny but something VERY IMPORTANT. AH admitting that they all fucked up and how shitty their behavior was when dealing with harassment in the fanbase. People were racist, sexist, homophobic, misogynistic, and just downright horrible to a lot of the employees at RT and AH. This came up after Mica Burton left the company and talked about it publicly and how nothing was done about it. Fiona who also experiences these same things, along with Lindsay and other employees, but Fiona took the charge on the Off Topic talking about people can’t continue to get away with that behavior. She got to sound off her feelings to a group of white men who all respected her and LISTENED to what was saying and how she felt. She cried; Geoff cried. They all want to do more, so this doesn’t happen in the future and they’re not tolerating the racist and horrible comments. AH taking a mature moment to talk about how they failed to stop these comments and Geoff was right when he said the company has a long way to go.

Outside of AH each member has more to them than just all of the comedy and laughs and dumb shit they do

Geoff helped found Roosterteeth and Achievement Hunter. He has a beautiful daughter in Millie who is awesome in her own right. He’s a recovering alcoholic. Currently doing F**k Face podcasts. Was in the fucking army. Takes accountability for every mistake he makes.

Jack also helped start Achievement Hunter. He does so much work for charity. His twitter is full of things to help people go vote. He’s like the dad to AH, especially Fiona. He’s happily married to his wife Caiti.

Michael was an electrician and has a lot of handy man experience. He made a few videos online about him raging at games and that got the attention of RT. He’s currently married to Lindsay who he met because of RT. They have two kids together.

Gavin is an expert at high speed filmmaking and know how use and edit footage from a slow-motion camera. He has worked on actual films. One of the creators of the Slow Mo Guys. Worked his ass off to get to work for RT. Currently dating model and cosplayer Meg Turney

Lindsay flips between being the mom of the group and a complete chaos queen and we all love her for it. She started as an editor for the RT podcast and then AH stuff. She is an incredible voice actor, most known for Ruby Rose (RWBY), Space Kid (Camp Camp), Hilda (Xray & Vav) just to name a few. She also has a degree in finance

Jeremy started as a fan who made videos on the community page. He took over Ray’s place after Ray left to do Twitch full time. He is a self-published author and a skilled rapper and singer. He’s currently married to his wife, Kat.

Matt also started as a fan making videos on the community page. He actually interacted and made stuff for the guys in really early Minecraft episodes. Seriously this guy is like king of Minecraft. He has a degree in electrical engineering. He also has pretty decent singing voice.

Trevor is THE BOSS. Has a degree in aero-space engineering and is getting paid to babysit AH. Currently dating Barbara Dunkelman, RTs queen of puns.

Alfredo worked at IGN before RT and is a well-known streamer. He is the best when it comes to first person shooter games. He and Trevor look so similar.

Fiona. Po. Her majesty. Host of This Just Internet. A Twitch streamer. Baby of the bunch. Grew up in Europe. Her and Gav act like a pair of siblings. She has stated and showed time and time again she will fight for people to have safe spaces for anyone who needs them.

Ify, our new guy. He is wonderful and I want to stay forever. He’s a comedian, a writer, and an actor. Co hosts F-ing Around with Fiona. Has his own film podcast, Who Shot Ya? I look forward to more content with him in it, cause everything he’s been in so far has been great.

Were all hurting but well make it through this

We have all these wonderful moments and a lot more that I didn’t list and this incredible team of personalities with their own accomplishments and achievements. Not to mention old team members who were also great additions and the entire crew behind the scenes editing and making videos look the best that they can.

Here’s to Achievement Hunter and to this community. We need to be here for each other in times like these.

@theonyxranger gave me the idea for this based on their own post they made about the fans giving their favorite moments without bitch face and there were just too many. Oop.

#Achievement Hunter #Jack Pattillo #Gavin Free #geoff ramsey #michael jones #lindsay jones #alfredo diaz #trevor collins #fiona nova #jeremy dooley #matt bragg #ify nwadiwe #roosterteeth #yes im calling him bitch face now

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mouthtrashworld · 4 years

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HEAR ME OUT: PARIS HILTON INSPIRED ME TO GO TO ART SCHOOL

HEAR ME OUT: PARIS HILTON INSPIRED ME TO GO TO ART SCHOOL AND BECOME A FILMMAKER.

My sister and I played it cool until my parents dark purple grand caravan left the driveway. We knew we had to conceal our excitement of being home alone for a few hours in order to not seem suspicious. It was our chance to watch whatever trash was on television that day without the normal censorship our parents had set on us. My mother strived to win the gold medal for being a helicopter parent and my dad just agreed with whatever she said. Somehow we were always a step ahead of them. There was a vast lack of communication within my household which lead me to crave answers and sneak around to get them.

We really made a day of it. We pulled our big fluffy comforters off our beds and brought them to the couch, gathered every unhealthy snack from our cabinet (which was difficult as my mother kept a strict, low carb, low sodium, no sugar menu to chose from in our house) and hung heavy blankets over the windows to block out the glare on the 30 inch Panasonic VHS combo unit. My older sister, Cate, had control over the remote, she knew which channel number MTV played on and she memorized the Parental Control Password that was set on various channels that aired the exact rubbish it was to protect us from, but quickly became our favorite shows. At the time I didn’t even really know how Cate found out these shows existed. Our amount of media consumption was little to none. Living in a tiny town in Pennsylvania, attending private Christian school and hardly having a social life; our only connection to whats out there

would be the local blockbuster that my mother skirted us in and then quickly out of after renting wholesome family movies. I remember slipping away from my moms watch just long enough to find the “1 Night in Paris” sex tape DVD that was made in 2004 with Rick Salomon (who by the way has been married to Pamela Anderson TWICE!) and Paris Hilton as the star. A few years later, The Simple Life, featuring Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie became a huge success for Fox and was later taken over by E! network. The glimpse of the DVD cover was so scandalous I felt guilty just for looking at it. We were a few years late, really just catching the reruns of the show that E!, MTV or VH1 would play during the middle of the day, but we ate it up nonetheless.

The first episode I ever watched was on Season 5. The two girls become camp counselors and every week a different theme and set of campers come in to encounter their shenanigans. This episode was “Fat Camp” and the first order of business was for Paris and Nicole to give the campers enema’s before they start their week of dieting and exercise. It was absolutely ridiculous. I felt bad that these campers who fell victim to their bratty comments, yet my sister and I couldn’t take our eyes off it. Reality TV works in that way you know, where you feel bad, but not bad enough because its not your life.

Soon Cate and I started adding other reality shows to our pallet of rebellion. The Girls Next Door, a reality show about Hugh Hefner’s girlfriends living in the Playboy Mansion. Real World Cancun, AKA Jersey Shore before there was Jersey Shore. And of course The Hills where Lauren Conrad and Heidi Montag live it up in Orange County, a place I

thought was made up until I visited there in 2014. But the Simple Life remained my favorite of them all. But Paris Hilton was my first glimpse of glamour, so she always remained my favorite. Granted, Kim Kardashian has seemed to surpass her on many levels after starting out as her intern. And sure maybe Paris is an heiress who will never run out of money or resources and people behind her, producing her, but Miss Hilton found a savvy way to brand herself right at the pinnicale of the internet and she still had to work for it. As a filmmaker I am hyper aware of the way we consume media, which is why I’ve taken such an interest to Paris and this manipulation she had turned into an art form.

Before we go on, in case you don’t know how Paris got famous, I’m here to give you a brief backstory. Paris Hilton, heiress to the Hilton Hotels empire, was actually raised a lot like me. Her parents were strict. She wasn’t allowed to wear makeup or have much of a social life. I believe her parents knew what kind of name she bared and the harsh reality that could come with it, so they kept her on a tight leash. Despite their efforts to keep her tame she slipped away, out into the world long enough to meet famous photographer David LaChapelle, who became enamored with Paris and her sister Nicky, and insisting he take their photo. She knew it was highly against her parents rules to engage in that kind of activity but she went for it. He designed an elaborate set and costumes for them and they went ahead naively thinking the photos would be just for them to admire in private but were later were published in a 2001 Vanity Fair issue, getting her in a whole lot of trouble. She later had to turn down and offer to do Playboy because her parents would disinherit her. By the time she was 18 her career as a model

and professional partier could really take off. Paris became absolutely obsessed with fame. She came up with a formulated routine on how to grab the paparazzi’s attention. She would find all the places photographers would be hanging out that day and go to every single location just to be seen and her plan really seemed to work. She was the bright and shining star of every tabloid in America. She describes in the documentary film, “American Meme” how desperate she was, spending hours searching for a place with someone, anyone to take her picture no matter what it took. Her paparazzi access seemed responsible for Paris to become a household name. — add on?

We have to remember that this time, 2007-2009, was a turning point, as smart phones and blackberries were now in almost every American’s pocket and we were craving the tea more than ever. Tabloids started working around the clock to deliver us the latest scoop at the now possible all hours of the day; i.e. the tragedies of Amy Whinehouse, LiLo and her drug escapades, Britney Spears and her hairless melt down, the list goes on. We asked for it, we got it and kept asking for more. After Paris sought out these outlets, the offers poured in. Her own show, movie roles, modeling for brand name designers, she became a DJ, became an author, a business woman, a fashion designer she owns hotels in Dubai and is currently carrying a hefty 10.5 million instagram follower count.

I know what you’re thinking, like okay so who cares about this rich “bimbo” (dubbed courtesy of a New York Post article circa 2007) but just hear me out. Most of us can relate to her story and if not, at least to some of her tactics. What I grew to realize after becoming social media obsessed (possibly because I was deprived as a child) is that

no matter how information changes or what new technology comes to pass it along to us, we will always be doing it in the same way. I watched Myspace come and pass, seeing thousands of singers, bands and actresses get discovered through that site, even some playmates in Playboy magazine. I saw Facebook allow us to put every single thing about our lives on blast at any minute of the day. Twitter allows us to barf our thoughts up in once 180, now 280 characters, Vine stars made 6 seconds videos and now make 6 figures from their fame and last but not least Instagram, and trust me when I say I cringe having to say this, “influencers” sell to us with every photo or video they post. Whether that be a lifestyle, a product or just themselves as a person. A vast majority of us have to admit that we are drinking the juice. We ourselves are partaking in marketing our “best life” being lived via Instagram. So ask yourself, what is the difference between what we are doing on the Gram versus what Paris was doing in 2006, showcasing her persona to the media in the only way it was accessible at the time? Why not manipulate it the same way it manipulates us? Find out where the quote on quote Paparazzi are and market yourself the same way reality stars did.

Not that I have the intention to come up in the same way some of these heiresses who’s names are already famous or these vine stars or twitter comedians did but I have the power to show a portion of the world who I am and what I can do to earn my career as a filmmaker and communicator via social media.

I realized that what I was doing as a little kid, waiting for my parents to leave to seek a world outside my own is exactly what Paris did. She took the risk and got the answers.

Her obsession with fame coincided with my obsession with social media, to communicate and or get my work out there. I’m just trying to work system to brand myself. My research shows that the reality show we down load from an app store and place in our pockets has led me to some big wins. Upon getting hired for shoots or my work recognized in some way, I see there is a formula to the entire thing. When to post, how to post, who to follow, etc. I have no producers behind me to curate my Instagram, I have no connection to someone with a big name. All I have is myself to show for what I can do and if I keep going back to the place with the most access to the loudest voices , like Paris did I may have a shot at getting my own voice out there and I will say more important things than “thats hot�� I promise you.

In the end I think that the reason I clung to Paris and her story so deeply was because it was virtually first and foremost example I had and to as impressionable young woman, that kind of thing sticks. The definition of success and how to obtain it was taught to me was by sneaking her show on a Saturday afternoon while my parents when to Shop Rite without me. I’ve just stayed observing all the ways fame has developed via internet and can lead to success. But the beauty of the defying gravity factor is that this blond “bimbo” and many other “bimbos” like her have done the same thing, most without the Hilton name. All I did was think twice before I believed that reality television was just a trashy phase. Instead I realized that I, like many others, am still consuming similar content in 2009 now in 2019, the difference is its in the palm of my hand and I’m deciding to take advantage of it.

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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Have you ever started reading a book and wondered if you’d read it before? I don’t read all that often so no, I don’t usually feel as though I’m encountering a book for the second time. I do read a lot of wrestlers’ memoirs and sometimes I’ll come across the same story told from two different accounts, but for the most part I’m able to tell who wrote which.

What has been bothering you a lot lately? This new and major life change still, obviously. I had a beautiful, grand vision of graduating college with a significant other and building our future together and supporting each other in whatever path we take, so having to dismantle all of that against my will and calling it a ‘bother’ is definitely an understatement.

What (or who) have you been missing lately? Everything pre-September. My life has been going downhill ever since. I do try to make life a little better for myself everyday, but I’d be lying to myself if I say life has been the same.

Are you trustworthy? Yes.

Did your parents teach that white lies were ok? They never taught me this specifically, but I can imagine that my mom is more the type to tell me something like this should the need arise.

Have you ever hallucinated? I don’t think so. The closest thing to hallucinating I experienced was when I was 5. I had a high fever and kept having these awful nightmares, and I could barely tell the difference between being in the nightmare and real life. If I remember correctly, I had already woken up after my grandma shook me but I was still in the nightmare ~AU~ and still kept yelling things that were relevant in my nightmare.

Do you sleep with your door open or closed? OMG, closed all the way. It would bother me to no end if the door was open, to the point that I probably wouldn’t even be able to fall asleep.

What flags do you have in your room, if any? I used to have a Pride flag but that’s gone now cos it was too muddy and dirty anyway.

What (or who) is the best thing that ever happened to you? I can think of more than one, honestly. There’s Gabie, my college life, my college org, and my first job that I’m actually incredibly happy in. Past me just wanted a job that can let me earn on my own, so it’s such a fun bonus to be happy where I am.

What is the worst decision you ever made? Allowing myself to be treated like shit because “this person will change one day, I just have to wait.” Ugh, I really need to start being nicer to myself.

Do you miss college? Yeah but with this COVID thing I’m kinda glad I got out of there just in time. I probably would’ve missed college a lot more if life had remained normal, but with the new norm being online classes and asynchronous learning and never getting to be in campus...I preferably wouldn’t want to take part in these things.

Have you ever called a teacher “mom”? No.

What is your favorite arcade game? I just go for the basketball ones every time. The piano blocks game is also fun, as well as the arcade beer pong.

Do you feel neglected? Yeah. I don’t really have a choice, though. It’s something I’ve had to adjust to.

What school subject(s) are/were your best? For both high school and college, I got my best grades in history classes and electives. I’m one of the rare species who doesn’t have a problem with – and actually enjoys – memorization, lol. I also did well in English lit and biology.

Are you allergic to grass? I don’t believe I’m allergic but in my old school my legs used to get extremely irritated with the grass we have over there and it would itch like a bitch. It definitely could’ve be an allergy, but I only ever got such a reaction in that place and it’s never happened anywhere else.

Do you remember to water plants? My parents like to take care of that chore, so I don’t have to remember to do so.

What season is your birthday in? Uhhhh according to the Western calendar lol, I think it’s spring? We don’t have that here though, and we don’t follow ‘seasons’ in general except for dry and wet.

Name 3 creative people you know. Nina, Berns, Andi.

Name 3 YouTubers you aspire to be like. I don’t really aspire to be like any of them...I watch certain YouTube channels because I find them entertaining, not because I necessarily want to be them. One video creator I watch whose life seems to be so perfect and whose life I certainly wouldn’t complain about if I suddenly had it, though, is Andi Manzano. Heart Evangelista’s a good pick, too.

What color was your first car? It’s white.

What year did you graduate? I graduated high school in 2016 and college in 2020. < Found a twin.

When was the last time you saw the person you currently have feelings for? Early September.

Have you ever been scammed? Hmm, I don’t think so.

Are you allergic to pollen? Nope.

What style of wedding dress do you like best? Something lace, backless to an extent, and preferably body-hugging as I don’t like dresses that would appear too poofy on me. Think Kate Middleton’s wedding dress but just slightly less poof on the bottom part.

Are you over your first love? No.

Do you talk on the phone a lot? I used to. I don’t anymore.

Would you rather call or text? Text, but if I had to explain something or if something had to be explained to me, I don’t mind getting into a call as long as I’m briefed first.

Do you always answer your phone? I never do unless I recognize the number. If it’s an unknown contact, I’m hitting Reject immediately because decent people text first before calling.

When was the last time you went to a party? Late Feb. It was the same party for Hans and his friends’ small business that had hit its first year that I’ve mentioned several times on here, ugh. Haven’t really been to any gatherings since then.

What was the last thing you ate? A chocolate donut from J.Co.

What’s the last book you checked out from the library? It’s a book summarizing the Philippines’ entire history that I wish I had more time to read and appreciate.

Do you have a twitter? Yeah but since the pandemic hit my tweets have been a lot less fun for obvious reasons, so I haven’t been using it a lot.

If so, what was the last thing you tweeted? “the things i do for @Mythical aaaaaahhhhhh 1 AM-9 AM livestream later and I still have work from 9 AM-6 PM tomorrow” then the dizzy emoji copy-pasted six times. SERIOUSLY though, timezones suck and I shake my fist at LA for being 16 hours behind lmaaaao, jk. But Good Mythical Morning has never had an all-day livestream before and they never said anything about archiving it on their channel when it’s over, so I don’t want to miss out. It’s whatevs, I’ll just drink a shitload of coffee tomorrow for work.

Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? I think it was my mom, but it’s been a while since that call.

What’s the last thing you cooked on the stove? I was making a Monte Cristo but it was to cook the egg mixture that I had coated the sandwich in, not cook the sandwich itself.

What color is the cover of the last notebook you used? Green. It was a freebie from the old PR agency I interned at, so it’s a little funny I’m now using it to take notes at my present agency.

Who was the last person you know to have a birthday? Gab’s youngest sister.

Who sent the last e-mail you got? It’s from a workmate, and I just got CC’d so it wasn’t addressed directly to me.

What song is currently stuck in your head? For the whole afternoon it had been Look After You by The Fray, so let’s just go with that.

Do you have a favorite shape? No.

What color are the sheets on your bed? Blue with some yellow and gold prints.

What time do you usually go to bed? 10:30 is a safe bedtime.

Do you ever use coloring books? I’ve got loads of them but they have not been colored since early 2019 because I have yet to invest in a good set of coloring pencils.

Are you planning on watching the Olympics? No, it never appealed to me.

Do you pronounce the word “often” with or without a “t” in the middle? I never pronounce it with the t sound.

Have you ever been on a trapeze? Nope.

Do you enjoy popping bubble wrap? I was more obsessed with it as a kid and will hoard the bubble wrap I see at home. These days I’d still pop a good size of it, but it’s not like my life anymore.

Are there any waterfalls near where you live? There’s one in the city, but I wouldn’t say it’s near. I have to drive to the upper part of the city to get to the waterfalls which would probably take me around a half hour to do.

Do you like seafood? Oh for sure. My life pretty much runs on seafood.

Have you ever had to wear a uniform for anything? I wore a school uniform from kindergarten all the way through to high school.

If so, what did it look like? The blouse was white while the necktie and the skirt were plaid, mostly in red. We also had to wear black leather shoes with white socks.

Do you personally know anyone who is an author? My great-uncle wrote the said library book I checked out. I also had a number of professors who are established authors.

Do you own a Polaroid camera? Nah but I’ve always wanted one. Maybe now’s my chance to finally get my own.

Do you enjoy baking? It looks fun and is definitely something I’d want to try my hand on.

What’s your favorite type of flower? Peonies. < Agreed.

Last time (if ever) you were on an airplane, where were you going? I was headed back to Manila and unbeknownst to us at the time, that arrival would be known for the biggest family argument we have had thus far. I don’t want to go back to that place in my head again, so let’s just move on.

Do you know anyone who is left-handed? Mhm, like Aya.

What is something you think is underrated? Macarons do not get enough love for sure. It’s god-tier dessert.

Around what temperature do you consider it to be too hot outside? As soon as it hits 30ºC, I’m complaining.

In what ways do you expect your life to be different one year from now? Thanks to Gabie and the irreparable mess she has since caused, I’m too scared to think of the future now. I never want to predict or hope for things anymore, and I’d rather wing shit from now on and not expect certain things to happen.

How often do you travel outside of the state/province you live in? I live right on the border of two regions so I literally went out of my home city/region every day whenever I had to report to school. I will be doing the same once where allowed to report in the workplace.

What’s a hobby you used to have, but don’t anymore? Reading.

What has been your favorite job you’ve had so far? I’ve only had one but it’s been a blast so far and I don’t plan on shifting paths because this is where I’ve always planned to be in. That said, I love my job in PR and working with different clients.

What’s your favorite kind of salsa/dip to go with tortilla chips? Sour cream!

Do you wash your car by hand or drive through a car wash? My parents take turns washing it by hand.

Where is the farthest north you’ve traveled to? Jeju, South Korea.

Farthest south? Bali, Indonesia.

East? Idk...Fukuoka in Japan or some province in the Philippines? I’m not too sure which is east-er, lmao.

West? Malaysia. Would’ve been Thailand if we actually got to go there this year -__- but whatever.

How often do you run the dishwasher? We don’t have one.

Do you wash your face at the sink or in the shower? Eh, either is fine but I do it at the sink a little more often.

Name a stereotype about your gender that you don’t fit. I cannot for the life of me relate to makeup or skincare routines. I also never understood the appeal of Instagram and posing for photos in public and painstakingly editing them for likes.

Name a stereotype about your age that you don’t fit. ^ I think those still fit here, since people my age are into both.

Do you have any unusual decorations in your home? We have masquerade masks on our living room table and I don’t understand why my mom, queen of throwing things out, is not throwing them out. It’s such a random...addition and they don’t go with the vibe of the house at all. But they’ve been hanging out there for so long that my family doesn’t even notice anymore, and much less do they say anything about them.

Do you have any uncommon kitchen appliances, such as espresso machines, waffle irons, etc? We have a coffee maker, which is a bit of a unnecessary/luxury purchase where I live; I dunno if it’s the same for other countries. My dad’s a chef so he knows all the tips and hacks to be resourceful in the kitchen, and so he’s never felt the need to buy any other fancy shmancy kitchen stuff like air fryers or waffle irons or sandwich presses.

What did your parents major/minor in in college, if they went? They both took up hotel and restaurant management, just in different universities.

Has either of their careers influenced what career you chose or want to pursue? HAHAHAHA, not at all. People are often surprised when I tell them about what my parents do for living which is understandable, given that journalism and PR are such far cries from the hospitality industry as a whole.

What is the highest level math class you’ve completed? Trig and calc.

How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike? ...I’m still learning...

How old were you when you learned how to swim? Around 4 or 5. My parents liked taking us to this water park every weekend when my siblings and I were a lot younger, so I learned how to handle myself in the water from all those trips.

How do you react when someone is rude to you? If it’s someone I know and am close with, I just tell them directly that they’re having a bit of an attitude with me. If it’s anyone else, my reaction depends on my mood: if I’m feeling nice I just simply counter the rudeness with kindness, but sometimes I’ll be just as big of a bitch, just subtle.

Have you ever had a friend who was too clingy? Yes, back in middle school. I feel bad now, because I kind of just ditched her, but at the time I felt like it was my only option. < I remember being like this with someone Gab and I tried to be friends with back in Grade 7. Sofie was also a little clingy, but in a way that I never minded it because I actually enjoyed her company.

What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Typhoons, definitely.

Why is your least favorite season your least favorite? The dry season, because I hate the sun.

Do you have a Netflix account? We have a family bundle and I have my own account on that. But yeah, I don’t pay for it.

Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? We don’t have an attic but there was one time a stray cat got into the house and it took forever to get it back out, lol. It was feisty so we couldn’t just pick it up. The cat also ended up scratching some of our curtains.

Where is your favorite place to go on vacation? Anywhere new, man. My only traveling rule is to not repeat destinations, at least not within 5-7 years. I’m open to exploring any town or city or country I’ve never been to.

How long does it take to get there? -

When was the last time you started a “new chapter” of your life? It was a new chapter last August when I graduated college, but I had to very hurriedly turn the page into a new chapter when I got my internship - that would eventually lead to my first job - and went through a breakup last September.

What room in your home do you spend the least amount of time in? I rarely go inside my sister’s room, just because there’s never really any reason to be there unless I’m borrowing something from her.

What is the last random act of kindness you did? Gave a small tip to the nice man who helped me get out of my parking spot when I went to the bank yesterday. Loiterers are common in public areas and they’ll usually help out people exiting from their parking, so I usually give whatever I can to help them get by.

Do you do anything to reduce the amount of electricity you use? My bedroom light is never turned on, but I don’t really do it specifically to reduce my electricity usage. I just don’t like my personal space to be too bright, and it’s just a nice bonus to be able to save on electricity while doing so.

Are you usually open to trying a new food that you aren’t familiar with? Typically, yes, although I do have certain foods that I have no interest in trying. < Yep. I’m open to absolutely anything but if a meal has something I already don’t like, like fruits or raisins, then I shy away from those.

Do you listen to Panic! At The Disco? Not as often as I used to, but I definitely still have soft spots for A Fever, Pretty. Odd., and Vices & Virtues. As for the newer music, I don’t tune in to the albums themselves and listen to the entire tracklists but I wouldn’t skip a P!ATD single if it came on the radio.

Have you ever had a kinky dream about a celebrity? I probably have but they’ve all been forgettable.

Is there a song you can’t stop listening to atm? Not really. I’ll listen to Hayley here and there, but that’s it.

Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you couldn’t say it back? Yes. This has been the case with my mom for around 6-7 years now. I guess there was just one point in our relationship where she got too mad, I got too traumatized, and it has since kept me from saying it back.

If your Facebook status doesn’t get any likes/comments, does it bother you? Yeah, especially if I shared something deeply personal and important to me, like a life achievement. Of all social media, people are always most likely to react on Facebook (relatives in particular would like or heart anything I post lmao) so a post that would go completely ignored would be confusing but would also sting.

Which friend do you confide in most? Used to be Gabie but now it’s either Anj or Andi.

Do you wear a cross? No.

What is your opinion on Arby’s? THIS IS SUCH A LONG SURVEY, AAAHHHHHHHH. Anyway, never had it. I have heard Arby’s is one of the rather mid-tier restaurants in the US, like it’s not trash but it’s no In-N-Out...I’d still love to try it though. Aren’t they known for like roast beef sandwiches or something? Those sound delightful.

When you have your own kitchen, how will it be done? I just want it to be idiot-proof because I can get pretty dumb in the kitchen.

What is your favorite doughnut? Chocolate glazed with sprinkles. Will always be a kid at heart when it comes to donuts.

Do you have a hot tub? If so, where is it located? We don’t have one.

Did you read the Twilight series, or jump on the bandwagon after the movie? I jumped on the bandwagon once the first movie came out, which was still pretty early on in the whole Twilight craze tbh. I started in 2009 when I was able to read all the books and watch New Moon in the cinema, then I proceeded to catch the midnight screenings for all the movies that came after that.

What is your favorite party game? Pinoy Henyo is a big favorite. It’s basically a Filipino version of Heads-Up, just ever so slightly better and more chaotic, which makes it funnier.

Do you or your parents rake your yard? My mom sweeps, not rakes.

Were you pro-Obama? I think ‘pro’ is too strong a stance. I like remaining neutral and cautious when it comes to US presidents especially considering the US’ history of imperialism in and overall relationship with my country but like, I don’t hate Obama. My vote, if I ever was eligible, would still go to him, but of course it’s best to remain wary and critical of his moves.

What is your favorite scent from Bath & Body Works? I don’t really have one. I don’t do much shopping there. < Same.

What was the last illegal thing you did? Probably speeding. My lunch break ends at 1 PM but I was still at the bank by like 12:50 yesterday, so I had to drive like a maniac to get home on time lmao.

Who did you last go to the movies with? Gabie.

What color was the last vehicle you were in? White.

Do you have any family members in the military right now? As far as I know, no.

Is there a ceiling fan in the room you’re in? Nope, no ceiling fans in the house in general.

When was the last time you wished time would move faster? Today. I love my work, but it can get tiring too and I also find myself occasionally wishing the day was over already.

Are there any owls in your room (as decor, of course)? Nopes. But I do remember when owls were a popular hipster design and everyone had like owl necklaces and shit. What a time.

Have you ever heard voices? Like other voices in my head? No.

Do you believe in angels and demons? Nope.

Who is the worst neighbor you have ever had? It wasn’t my neighbors per se but the helpers of my neighbors used to play cheesy 80s and 90s hits obnoxiously loud every morning and it woke me up every time and I didn’t really have a choice but wait for their stupid listening session to end. I’m so glad they since stopped, but it was my own little piece of hell back then.

Did your Barbies go on dates? [continued from last night] I didn’t do much with my Barbies, honestly. I was mostly curious about their production and liked taking off their clothes to see how the toy company dealt with their private areas lmao. I think my sister and I also drew and doodled on a bunch of our dolls.

If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? I didn’t really do any coming out. One day I just acknowledged my attraction towards Gabie with myself, and when I started dating her I just let everyone figure it out for themselves. I’ve never felt like I had an orientation anyway, so I never felt the need to come out.

Where did you meet your first crush? School, back in kindergarten. But we didn’t formally meet until the end of grade school.

Do you remember the first time your first crush ever said hi to you? Not at all. I remember the people who introduced us, but not our first meeting itself.

Do you ever go places with wet hair? On some days back in college, when there was no traffic going to school I would end up arriving with my hair still kind of wet. This is also the case with Sunday mass (when we could still attend), since we usually headed out as soon as we had taken a shower.

Who is your favorite little girl? I’m a sucker for my friends’ little sisters, like Gabie’s and Athenna’s. I also never got to have a lot of female cousins, so I cherish the few ones I have - Maggie, Bree, and Sam - who are all considerably younger than me.

What do you want the most in life? Contentment. Wherever place I ultimately end up in, I hope to find satisfaction and contentment in it.

What is a decision you’ve made that changed your entire life? Choosing to say ‘fuck it, what do I have to lose’ and send a letter of interest for my present company, who didn’t even have any job openings at the time I sent it out. If I shied away from the lack of openings and never sent out that letter, I never would have been offered an internship, and without taking that internship I never would have been offered a job after a couple of months. So I have to say that’s a pretty fucking solid move of mine.

Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you? Sigh. I avoid this exact thought all the time because of how sad it’s able to make me.

When you’re home alone, do you still shower with the bathroom door closed? Yup, it’s just habit.

If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? I’d pick Billie Eilish’s insane ability to hold very soft/quiet notes (ugh, she’s grown on me), Hayley Williams’ range, and Beyoncé’s stamina.

What are your top 3 favorite genres of music? Synth pop, indie rock, R&B.

Where did you buy your dishes from? My mom bought our newest set from...probably a department store. Idk, I wasn’t there with her when she got it a few weeks ago.

Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime? There’ll be advancements in this lifetime for sure, but we’ve got a long way to go before colonization is even remotely feasible.

What’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought that turned out to be a waste of money? Maybe all the shit I bought Gabie throughout the six years, most of them I had to skip meals for? Lmao just kidding, I’m not that kind of ex. I got her a lot of useful stuff, like a Hydroflask, and I mean I don’t completely regret buying them. As long as she still uses them and as long as those things still help in making life easier for her, then the purchases are still worth it.

What’s something you’ve bought that turned out to be way more useful than you anticipated? My cross stitch kit that I thought I was never going to learn. I am now realizing how fun it is and will probably buy a shit ton of kits for myself once Christmas season is over.

Have you ever been on a ship? Yes. My dad gave me a cruise trip for my 18th birthday, and it ended up being really fun :)

Do you ever take intentional breaks from checking/posting on social media? Yeah, I go on detoxes 1-2 times a year where I deactivate all my accounts and am only reachable through text. It usually happens every Christmas season, but sometimes I’ll go through a particularly low point where I’d feel the need to go on a social media break.

Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? I don’t listen to Van Halen.

Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes? Any character from BoJack Horseman. What’s a class you did not take in school, but now wish you had? I wasn’t required to take foreign language electives in college like other courses, so I really wish I got to take them :( I can’t imagine how fun it would’ve been to go to class for the sole purpose of learning Spanish or Korean or Italian. Also, even though I took like 5-6 history electives, I still wish I had the chance to take all the other history offerings.

Have you ever been to either of your parents’ workplaces? I have been in the general vicinity of both – my mom works in a hotel and we’ve booked rooms there several times, while my cruise took place in the liner my dad works in. But I’ve only ever been to my dad’s workplace, when he took some time out of his day to show me his kitchen and let me have some of the escargot before they went out to guests :)

What do you think of the ‘Healthy At Every Size’ movement/philosophy? I quickly looked it up and I don’t disagree with its thesis.

Have you ever been bitten so hard that their teeth marks were there after? I used to be like this with Gab, but with me...hmm, my mom liked biting us as kids, and sometimes she’d go pretty hard, yeah. It was never out of anger, of course.

Ever been given a hickey? (Love bite) Yes.

Ever gave one? Anddddd yes.

Are you more of an outgoing type or shy type? Shy if a situation is overall unfamiliar, but I can be outgoing once I start to warm up.

Do you think it’s weird if guys wear make-up like eyeliner? Nope.

Are you self conscious? If so what are you self conscious about? Having been unceremoniously dumped, I’m self-conscious about a million things rn. It’ll take a while for things to be back on track again, self-esteem-wise.

Are you flirty at all? No.

Are you racist at all? I don’t particularly like the Chinese because of the way they treat Filipinos and how most of them behave in my country, like that one asshat who was caught shitting in a local tourist spot here. It gets too tiring to keep on forgiving them at some point.

Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) I don’t see a reason why I wouldn’t.

If you found a baby randomly by itself what would you do? If they were distressed, I’d take them to the nearest security guard and ask for help in looking for their parents. I honestly have no clue how I’d deal with a kid who was otherwise bubbly and doing okay by themselves because I might just look like a kidnapper if I went near them lol.

Would you rather adopt or have your own child? Have my own.

What would you class as cheating on someone? If you’re doing something that requires you to be too close with another person to the point that you have to acknowledge that your partner is not aware of what you’re up to/they don’t have to know what you’re up to. Once that acknowledgment is out of the bag, it’s cheating for me.

Do you try to be politically correct? Yeah.

What’s your favorite kind of sea critter? Dolphins.

Have you ever tasted locally-made honey before? I don’t think so.

As far as earrings go, would you rather wear hoops or studs? Hoops for days.

Do you find P.E. humiliating, or think schools shouldn’t teach it? I think it’s vital to have PE in an education system that requires students to be mostly on their butts. A lot of people hate getting physical and active, and that’s exactly the reason why PE should be around.

Do you recycle? I try to, whenever I can.

Are you interested in current world issues? Yep yep, very.

Do you think you are mature, or immature? I can definitely be petty at times, but I think I mostly act maturely and that those who know me can back me up on it.

What kind of career are you interested in? Public relations, which is under the umbrella of media and communications. I like not being tied to one product, and it’s always awesome to see campaigns that I help with for various big brands come to life.

Do you own a pair of sunglasses? Nah. I was never into them.

Do you use bobby pins, hair clips, or elastic hair ties? Which? I use a hair tie on a daily basis and bobby pins for formal events where I need my hair to be pristinely neat. I nevr use hair clips.

How badly do you get acne? (If at all) Oh god. I got two pimples in between my eyes right now, and it’s the first time I’ve gotten acne since...a year and a half, maybe? My acne isn’t bad at all and it’s never been an issue, so I always panic on the extremely rare occasions I see one or two pop up on my face.

What’s the best way to cope with a breakup? I should be the one asking that! Tips are always welcome, you guys.

If someone dislikes you, what is most likely to be the reason? I probably came off as aloof, which is a fairly common observation.

How many text messages do you have in your inbox at the moment? I don’t delete messages and my phone doesn’t provide me with the total, so suffice it to say there are probably thousands of texts currently in my phone.

When was the last time you had a difficult decision to make? I’m still deciding if I want to keep Gabie around. She honestly doesn’t deserve it, but she’s also my best friend in the world, so idk.

In school, what subjects do/did you find the most difficult? Chemistry, trigonometry, calculus. Physics was hard in high school but became easier in college, and I believe it boils down to the teachers who taught them.

Do you still speak to the person you had your first kiss with? Yes.

Where did you meet the last person you swapped numbers with? I haven’t done that in a while.

Who was the last person to add you as a friend on Facebook? I think it was one of my cousins, Maggie. I don’t remember. But it was probably her.

Who was the last person that asked if you were okay? Maybe Andi? I haven’t had anyone ask me that for a while now.

What does your handwriting look like? I’m the go-to person whenever neat handwriting is needed on a document or something, so I guess that must mean my handwriting is decent. The biggest comment that I get, though, is that my letters are too tiny hahaha.

Do you use any products on your hair, other than shampoo and conditioner? Sometimes I’ll use hair gel for important events because I have the most annoying baby hairs, but otherwise those two are pretty much all I use.

Who were your best friends in primary school? Angela, Pia, Tammy, Marielle, Pam, Gaille, Nina.

Do you still speak to any of them? I only ever actively speak with Angela; she’s still my best friend. Pia and I are mutuals on social media and we’ll sometimes keep the other up to speed with the latest gossip lolol, but I wouldn’t call her my best friend. I lost contact with Tammy, Nina, and Pam after high school, and Gaille when she migrated. I cut Marielle out of my life after she did something shitty that broke my trust.

What was the last thing you bought from a vending machine? A bottle of water, I think.

What color hair did your first crush have? Black.

What type of shoes do you find the most comfortable? Sneakersssssss.

Are you more masculine or feminine? More feminine, definitely.

If you could design your own mug, what would you put on it? I don’t know how to...design things on my own lol, but I’d love a Friends-themed mug, or maybe even a GMM-themed one :)

What is the best beach you’ve been to? Palawan felt almost unreal with how breathtaking it was. I really felt at peace there.

What is one thing you physically can’t do? Lift a water container.

Have you ever been to a funeral? Not a funeral, but I’ve been to several wakes.

Have you ever visited your state’s capitol building? I don’t think we have those.

Have you ever visited your nation’s capitol building? Again, we don’t have those.

Do/did you have a favorite seat in church? My mom, in what really shouldn’t come as a shock, has always liked for us to be in the front row. I’m SO glad we don’t have to physically attend mass anymore; I always felt like I was being burned alive whenever I entered a church lol

What is your favorite park? I wish I had an answer for this but we don’t have any public parks because Philippines.

Have you ever felt an earthquake? Yeah, it happens prrrrretty often, at least once every few months. There was one just last week.

Do you chew gum regularly? Nah but this did made me think of JM, who always had a pack of gum with him without fail everyday.

Where did you go on your first train ride? It was headed to Manila, but my destination was Pasay.

Do you know anyone with a dual citizenship? It’s possible. I went to high school with people who were half-German and half-Swiss, and I’m guessing they held dual citizenships.

What sports teams do you root for, if any? (Extra points for Boston fans.) I don’t really root for any other than my college’s team.

Do you dunk your cookies in milk? If there’s milk around, sure.

What is something you are confident about? I don’t know. I haven’t felt that at all lately.

Have you ever been physically addicted to a substance? What? Nope.

How do you feel about needles? Can’t do shots, blood tests, and IV without freaking out and/or feeling faint. But I can handle sewing needles apparently, judging from how I was able to do cross-stitching last week. As for tattoos, still unsure if I can handle getting one even though I already have a couple of designs in mind.

What is your favorite accent to listen to? That British accent that sounds super posh lol, the one Florence Pugh and Hugh Grant have. Idk what it’s called.

What was the reason you last got dressed up? Job interview.

Have you ever been the subject of cruel rumors? I was the subject of a rumor once, but I didn’t and don’t find it cruel. It was a typical middle school rumor.

^ What were they? That I was dating my friend Andi and was bisexual. The one with Andi I can kind of understand, since I did have a bit of a crush on her then; I just didn’t know I was bad at hiding it. But for people to go as far as telling others I was bisexual was a little surprising.

Do you prefer loose or form-fitting clothing? Form-fitting. I never liked loose clothing on me.

^ What about on your preferred gender? I don’t have a preferred gender, and I think it really depends per person.

What do you do when you are really, really mad? I isolate myself so that I don’t have to explode on anyone.

Would you rather go naked than wear fur? Is it real fur? I’d go naked.

Do you put a line through your 7’s? Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.

^ What about your Z’s? ^ Same answer. I like keeping things different, hahaha.

What is one thing that someone could do to you that is unforgivable? Break my self-esteem. Constructive criticism is fine, of course, but it’ll be very hard to forgive people who make it their lives to point out my flaws or carelessly hurl hurtful words/insults at me, aka my mom. I’ve never forgiven her about it and it’s the main reason why I’ve since been unable to say “I love you” back whenever she says it.

Are you able to forgive and forget? No. That’s not my preferred route; I’ve always been the grudge-y kind of person.

Do you like cold pizza? Yesssssss. I don’t have a preference between hot or cold, but I have never complained about cold pizza for sure. I ate a slice of pizza right out of the fridge just yesterday.

What is your favorite fruit? Eh.

What about your favorite fruit juice, if it differs from solid fruit? I don’t really have one. I guess orange, as long as it’s not too sour - so basically not pure orange juice lol.

Do you like broccoli and cheese? Haven’t tried it but the pairing sounds *chef’s kiss*

What about potatoes and cheese? Yum.

Have you written a letter by hand, lately? To whom? Not lately, but I plan to.

Toaster or toaster oven? Toaster oven, since we’ve actually had that. We’ve never needed a toaster.

What are you most known for? It depends on who you’re talking to, I’d say. I think different people know me by different things.

Do you have any reputations? What are they? I’m never comfortable claiming things like this, because there’s always the possibility that who I think I am to other people might be far from the truth. Overall, I just try to be myself and still remain nice to everyone while doing so so that I don’t develop a strong reputation for anything.

Do you wear band shirts? Not really.

^ What band was on the last one you wore? I don’t wear them.

Do you own any hats? Describe them. I have a white sunhat that I never got to wear because I’ve always found it too big and flashy and I never wanna draw attention to myself when outside, which it definitely would’ve done for me.

What about masks, you got any? Describe those. I just wear the basic blue surgical face masks.

What was the last thing to leave you speechless? Hearing the amount of money GMM raised for their livestream earlier today, and basically seeing just how insanely successful the livestream in general was.

Do your parents like your friends? If they don’t, why not? My parents never got to know my college friends so they don’t have an opinion on them; they’re still pretty attached to my group in high school hahaha so like Gab, Angela, Athenna, Chelsea, etc, who they all still love and occasionally ask about.

Have you been called a bad influence? Idk, maybe, out of earshot.

Describe your favorite pair of socks. I don’t have any.

Have you experienced any life-changing news, events, etc, lately? First real job and the breakup of a long-term relationship that I had initially finally stopped having doubts about.

Have any self-done piercings? OMG I can finally see the end of this survey holy shit. It took me two damn days, ughhhhhh. Anyway, hell no. I’d injure myself so badly.

Ever pierced someone else? Most definitely not.

Do you get distracted easily? It depends on how much I actually care about whatever it is I’m doing. < Agree. My focus is unpredictable.

Is talking to strangers enjoyable for you, or stressful? Stressful. No matter how pleasant they or the conversation turns out to be, I’m always more stressed than anything else and I let out a sigh of relief as soon as it’s over.

How do you feel about getting new neighbors? It’d be super refreshing, considering the houses on our left and right were literally just built, but never actually inhabited.

How many ceiling fans are in your home? We don’t have any. Do you tweet your life away? Not anymore. I used to tweet my entire life back in high school, but when I realized literally none of my classmates were the same and that I looked so lonely doing it, I made an effort to lessen the tweets and eventually the new habit caught on.

How do you feel about shameless self promoting? I don’t think much of it.

When reading words. like. this. do. you always pause after the periods? Haha, yeah.

What about screaming when reading something IN ALL CAPS? Not always. Soooo many people like typing in all caps anyway, so this has been more normalized to me lately.

#surveys #survey #fucking finally

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bouvillea · 4 years

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a dense G24 Part 2 Essay

Here is my Part 1 Essay. Like before, I would like to talk about some parts of G24 Part 2 that I found interesting first. Feel free to skip ahead to around the fourth paragraph my discussion of the plot. Spoilers ahead.

The atmosphere is very similar to G20. I don't know about how others felt when they played through G20, but the uncertainty about who you could trust (Talvish...) was emphasized to the point where I, the player, couldn't make a sound decision either. G24 Part 2 revolved a lot around the fact that the Milletian and those that help the Milletian couldn't parse why and what was happening in Erinn. There was just a constant stream of dread and bitterness and an uncertainty about the Milletian themselves; the replies we were allowed to choose reflects that. Is the Milletian really good for the sake of Erinn's future? More on this later.

Part 2 opens with Hunter being, for once, very vulnerable to the Aces and the Milletian. He reveals to us his nightmares about his past and Fodla's past. We continue to see these bonding moments between the Aces, the Expeditionary Force, and the Milletian.* Starlet plays a bigger role now as a counterpoint to Fodla. One moves minds and hearts with persuasion and charisma, the other directly manipulates memories and emotions. The Aces clearly serve as the opposing undercurrent to Vayne's prediction at the end of Part 1. The Milletian will always have friends and supporters that cherishes them. Whether or not that is enough to stop the Milletian from spiraling into angst is another story.

*The Milletian really needs some after care...no one asks how the Milletian is feeling after all of this...

Ultimately, a lot of loose ends and story plots were tied up in Part 2, most of them very bittersweet and only vaguely hopeful at best. These back stories served to make us sympathize with the antagonists and make their motives understandable.

For that reason, I cannot come to hate Fodla. She had a very contrived method of protecting Hunter--her little brother. In a pact she made with Hymerark, Hunter's memories of her and his past were mostly sealed away. To make up for the fact that her little sister, Eriu, was sacrificed and succumbed to the curse, Fodla took in Deirbhile. She was a substitute that Fodla loved, but even in her last moments, Fodla wanted her real sibling. Deirbhile is truly a tragic character. She is a personality made and shaped by Fodla. Whoever she was before is probably buried deep in the recesses of her mind. Judging by the last scenes, Deirbhile cannot exist or function normally without Fodla.

Speaking of which, did Deirbhile make an oath with Hymerark, too? What for? We won't know unless we knew who she was before she met Fodla...

Thanks to Merlin, we now know that a Geas is a pact with a god, a pact that cannot be broken easily. If, in Part 1, the Milletian seeks out Vayne in Bangor and speaks to him wearing one of the Geas armors, he speaks about the dangers of being bound under a Geas: "You become bathed in the absolute authority of his will, which grants tremendous gifts and metes out terrible punishments".* Going against the orders of Hymerark will invoke a punishment. And so Vayne insinuates that he still needs to pay for abandoning his duties on the first night to hang out with the Milletian, and the Incubus King does his best to subvert the Geas in order to help.

*Thank you to Mita on twitter for supplying me with the extra dialogue I missed.

Speaking of which, the Incubus King really went full on angst and drama when he had to separate from his wife and Eiren, huh? He gave away his powers, haphazardly made a deal with Hymerark so he could have a dark, gloomy sarcophagus to dream about his time with his wife and child. Even Eiren made an off-handed remark about how lame it all was. It feels like the developers and writers realized that his motivations were very tropey so they decided to make fun of it. And then Eiren followed up with "he sort of...melted away into the darkness like summer snow". Oh. Okay. Goodbye, papa.

I'm going to continue off-tangent here and talk about Manannan, too. He comes back, all salty that the Milletian is busting into his temple uninvited (he does say another uninvited visitor, so was there someone before the Milletian?). But Manannan is so Cat Mom to the Far Darrigs that he can't maintain his pompous god-like demeanor in front of them and the Milletian. He can't bear to frighten the squishy Far Darrigs. It's nice to see that the Far Darrig's love and trust of Manannan isn't misplaced and is reciprocated. I don't think the Far Darrigs were there when Manannan met Scathach, so did he pick them up when he was heartbroken over her? Pure speculation, but that would be really something... Manannan tries to exit the conversation with the Milletian gracefully but then the Far Darrigs ruin it by letting us know that he's going to play with them. Hah. Glad to see his character getting fleshed out like this.

The Far Darrigs also "uwu" at me so there was that. Okay, back to critical analysis.

Human* greed and corruption is a repeating theme for the gods. Manannan said it in regards to the Fairy Queen's reason for leaving, and Vayne, a former Evil God, said the same to the Milletian during their fight. Even Morrighan and Talvish accused the Milletian of claiming powers out of greed and selfishness. The Milletian is a god-like being with human needs and motivations. They see the world in a much smaller frame than the gods do, but possess powers to rival the lowest gods. Make a mistake as a Milletian, and you might as well make a mistake for the whole world. And yet, the Milletian is not recognized as a deity by the gods, and not as a human by the mortals. They're an outsider.

*I will be using human synonymously for "mortal" since there are multiple races in Erinn

And being an outsider is a vexation for the Milletian brought to the front of the mind during this arc. They are always reminded that they are not one of them, that they are a special existence. Vayne's words wheedle into the mind every time they help someone out of kindness. Admiration will turn to fear, fear will turn to hate. The elves and giants forgetting the Milletian and blaming them, albeit artificially stimulated, was a taste of that. Fodla's nightmarish illusion also put the Milletian in the state of being a stranger. They stand at a distance, listening in on a conversation they aren't a part of. And when they are noticed, there is nothing they can do to deter the hate, or prevent the blood on their hands. The worst part was that the Milletian's friends do zero damage to them. It was a cruel, one-sided fight.

But maybe this is all a trial for the Milletian, too. To steel their heart and understand who are really their friends and what role they play in Erinn. Piran said that Hymerark's trials for the people of Erinn have gotten more out of hand since Hymerark recognized the Milletian's existence. Then, perhaps, the Milletian isn't an outsider anymore. The trials are meant to be completed with the Milletian's help accounted for. These trials will unify the people of Erinn against the Order of the Black Moon.

Which, when you think about it, is not very dissimilar to Talvish's idea to unify the people against a common cause. You'll also have to admit that Vayne's/Hymerark's plan is a lot better than Talvish's. Piran also mentioned that Aton Cimeni and Talvish both condone chaos, so it explains why Talvish hasn't popped out to help the Milletian yet, or to defend them from a very persistent Vayne. He tried helping a little in G22 and then again during G23 but it seems like he got told off and instead sent Merlin to protect Erinn and protect the Milletian. Talvish is definitely on the Milletian's side though, and is probably hoping that they stay true to themselves and continue to help others.

If the goal of Hymerark was to make the Milletian to feel as helpless as possible and then chase them out of Erinn, he wouldn't need to go through such lengths. He could simply pop the Milletian into the Soul Stream and get rid of them there. Cichol did it, I don't see why one of the Three Gods couldn't. Or perhaps Hymerark's original plan was to get rid of the Milletian, but Vayne's oath with him prevented that. Vayne would want trials for the Milletian to overcome so they would become strong enough to defeat him. On the same note, since the trials are getting more intense due to the Milletian (different, I would say, than the trials are happening because of the Milletian), is the Milletian really good for the future of Erinn? I imagine the turmoil the Milletian is going through has something to do with this. Would the trials have been easier if the Milletian wasn't there? Would less people have died and gotten hurt if they did not step into Erinn?

Very briefly, on Cethlenn and Marleid. I had an inkling for a while that they knew each other (thank you, KR Twitter) but due to circumstances, they had forgotten one another. Marleid took on his name, and Cethlenn isn't his real name. So...did he pick "Cethlenn" or did someone name him that? Or did he just switch names with "Marleid"? If Vayne named him Cethlenn...well then. That's the name of Mythological Figure Balor's wife so...writers what are you thinking? (Or, more likely, Fodla named him to change him and meeting his childhood friend with his old name was the biggest trigger to disrupt her abilities.)

Anyway, things aren't looking good for Cethlenn. Or Tani. Tani's last letter to the Milletian had Morse code that vaguely translated to "please letmeout".* Upsetting, especially now that it's implied that Hymerark will use her body to descend to the mortal world. I'm just waiting for Aton Cimeni to pop into the Milletian's body to tell everyone to stop it and shut up.

*Other interesting implications regarding how Milletians work. They can sleep, but do not dream. Nao remembers every Milletian and they can chose to leave whenever or never return.

After all that has happened in G24, I hope we can get some good closure. And I hope the Milletian gets a nice break.

#mabinogi #mabinogi g24 #mabinogi g24 part 2 #long post #bouvillea speaks #spoilers

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crispyimagines17 · 5 years

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“GOSSIP GIRL: New York, New York“ (Chapter 1).

Summary: Gossip Girl, your one and only social media source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s Elite. Things begin to stagger at the Upper East Side with the return of Alana Howarth and the unexpected arrival of Timothée Chalamet, a European handsome boy and rising ruler who has come for Alana; ignoring that NYC already has an heir and prince in its realm, Tom Holland. Secrets, romance, drama and lots of champagne are our daily bread. You know you love me, XOXO.

Originally based on: R’s & CrispyImagines writers’ idea.

Written by: @crispyimagines17

CAST:

Tom Holland

Timothée Chalamet

Disclaimer: This fiction is set on our days (2019). Gossip Girl is now all over social media, Twitter and Instagram being the best sites to find hot tea. Also, for those who may ask what happens with Serena, Blair, Chuck, Dan, Nate and the original cast, they’re now grownups who set the reign and have left it for new generations.

Author’s Note: Well, I’m really really excited for this. A huge sorry for those who’ve been waiting an eternity; college and our sense of perfection got in the way. But now here it is. Hope you love it as much as we do and enjoy every word <3 (also hope this feels like watching a Gossip Girl episode).

Further author's note: So this me from the future haha I was reading this chapter and holy crap! I needed an editor for this, it's good but some scenes are garbage and just make the chapter really REALLY long. Please new reader, give my series a chance. I promise the 2nd chapter is better (check it on the masterpost). Way better. Also, I'll try to re-write this chapter to take away that shit. In the meantime, please try to enjoy my efforts.

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

Hey Upper East Siders. Gossip Girl here… And I have the biggest news ever. One of my many sources – jessica97 – sends us this;

Spotted at JFK International Airport, bags in hand: Alana Howarth. Was it only a year ago our It-Girl mysteriously disappeared for, quote, ‘boarding school’? And just as suddenly she’s back.

You don’t believe me? See it for yourselves. Thanks for the photo, Jess.

Wonder what Tom Holland thinks about her return? Not much, I guess. Manhattan’s elite prince himself was caught low-key undercover at a downtown Starbucks.

But she’s not the only surprise that comes up with foreign winds. Fresh meat sent from overseas, girls. A foreign handsome boy chatted with our Lana before taking his own way. New snack, huh?

Enjoy your mocha latte, Tom; you’re gonna need it. And welcome back, Alana.

The flight 0159 London-New York City had arrived at its destiny. And Alana Howarth breathed for the first time in a long time the air of her city. Maybe it was good to be back at home. The airport was somehow peaceful, at least.

Geoffrey, the family butler, was waiting for her in the same place as usual; near the candy shop where 7-year-old Alana loved to buy chocolates after a long journey.

“Geof!”, she took her Prada pale gold sunglasses up to her hair to glance at her old friend better.

“Miss Howarth”, the 50-year-old man who might be easily confused with Alfred Pennyworth showed her a bright smile.

“Oh, c’mon. I brought you something.”

“You’re so kind, miss Howarth. Let me take your luggage and…” Geoffrey went silent and only made a gesture with his eyebrows for Miss Howarth to turn her face behind her.

A young handsome man was decidedly walking towards her. By the Louis Vuitton travel pillow around his neck, one could say his flight had just landed too.

“Surprise!”, he shouted while shaking his hands as magicians do.

“Timothée?”, but Alana’s reaction wasn’t reciprocal. She frowned and narrowed her eyes, completely confused. “Wha- How?”

“I was on the same flight, London-New York. Literally crossed the sea to see you again.”

“But I never saw you on First Class boarding line”

“Ran late.” Before she could argue something else, he added “And asked for a seat far from yours, I didn’t want you to see me.”

“Wow… Why?”

Both youngsters were looking right into each other’s eyes; Timothée’s with a flash of hope and Alana’s were almost watery.

“I just couldn’t let you go so easily”

The following silence allowed Geoffrey to help her and cleared his throat loudly, bursting their bubble.

“Miss Howarth, your mother gave instructions to have you at the penthouse at 2 p.m.”

The clock read 1:40 p.m. Saved by the bell.

“Sure, she did. Thank you, Geof.”

“Go, go. I’ll send you a DM”, Timothée nodded and made a gesture with his hand for her to enter the limo.

They shared a brief eye contact once more before the handsome man turned back and walked away.

Overwhelmed, Alana was about to step into the limo when she heard a female known voice.

“Alana?”

“Marva?”, a brunette typical-Upper-East-Side-girl approached her with eyes wide open and eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Oh God, you’re back!”

Both girls shared a courtesy hug. Though, Alana was clearly tired.

“And… how you’ve been?”

“Cool. My cousin Jessica arrives today”, Marva answered as opened her purse to take out her cell phone and unblock it. “Well, I guess everyone knows you’re back now. It’s all over Gossip Girl”.

“Wait, what?”, Alana asked with a frown while trying to see Marva’s phone screen, but before she could read anything Marva kept it back into her purse.

“Gotta go, A. See you.”

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

Oh, A. New York has never been peaceful at all. You should know that more than anyone. Our princess is back, but apparently her crown has lost one diamond; what did she do last summer? And why did she return?

Down at Starbucks in the Upper East Side, Tom Holland had his phone on Do Not Disturb mode. He preferred it that way. His mother had announced him Alana’s arrival at breakfast, and he wanted to take a breath before seeing her. The last time both had spoken left a weird feeling down his chest, so he better be prepared.

Tom plopped down on his Jaguar’s leather back seats with a sigh, leaned against his back and sip his cappuccino. His mother words echoed on his mind over and over again.

“Our dear Alana comes back today, Tom. Please, don’t forget the party Margot and I have prepared for her at the Palace.”

Our dear Alana. Another sigh escaped through his mouth as he smoothed his hair back with one hand. But he had a special ringtone for Gossip Girl and its sound interrupted his thoughts, couldn’t helping himself on unblocking his device and check out the latest news.

Tom tightened his grip on his phone as his eyes read the lines about a foreign handsome man. In a single move, he dialed a number and approached it to his ear with pursed lips.

“Evan. Tom Holland here. Tell me everything you know about this man, I’ll send you his picture.”

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

Timothée looked through the polarized windows with his eyes fixed on New York City. It was very American, not a single glimpse of Europe, indeed. His phone vibrated under his right pocket and as soon as he read the name on the screen, he answered.

“How was your flight, Timmy?”, a soft female voice asked on the other line.

“Good, mom.”

“Fine. Your father wondered where the private jet was.”

“Father… Asking for the jet instead of his son”, Timothée gritted his teeth and nodded ironically.

“Are you…?”

But he anticipated to her words and answered right away.

“Yeah, I’m on my way to uncle Chuck’s. Call you later… Love you too, bye.”

Chuck Bass, his mother’s millionaire cousin. They were related by Chuck’s mother, but her death didn’t make them close. Though, family is family and the Chalamet were always invited to every Bass event. But Timothée hadn’t seen him in years, he barely remembered Bart Bass’ funeral or more so, Chuck’s wedding with Blair Waldorf.

But he knew one thing for sure; his uncle had been the king of the Upper East Side, and now that he’s not a youngster then his place must be someone else’s.

With a frown and pursed lips only a true Slytherin could do, Timothée opened his Twitter and typed “Gossip Girl”, being immediately presented to an account describing;

Gossip Girl, your one and only social media source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s Elite.

He smirked.

“Time to catch up.”

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

February 16th, 2018. One year ago.

The sun drew a soft orange-blue in the sky, ready to let the night its way. Her Louis Vuitton luggage set laid behind her, up in an airport cart.

“Bye, daddy”, Alana kissed her father’s cheek and embraced him as a couple of teardrops fell over his shoulder.

“Take care, sweetheart”, Dr. Howarth’s nose huffed in an effort not to cry.

“Bye, Geof”, she embraced her old friend. The butler took his hat off and smiled at the Howarth girl he had served since her very first day.

“Bye, mom”, Alana kissed her mother. Though their adieu was shorter than her father’s.

A male voice echoed in every corner of the Airport, announcing the boarding room for flight 912 New York-London. Alana took a deep breath before nodding an airport butler for him to drive the cart along her side.

And without further goodbye, she walked towards the VIP boarding line.

***

Once on her seat, she asked the stewardess for a glass of water and an Aspirin. This was more than she can handle. Though, they say it’s better to tear it from the root. So, she typed the well-known user on her Instagram and found right-away the latest hit she had read a couple of days before.

In fairy tales, Cinderella danced until midnight with her Prince Charming. But on the Upper East Side, our Cinderalana ran away before dancing with our Prince T and, instead of a crystal slipper, left a whole crowd open-mouthed. Sorry T, but you had to read the tale first; Cinderella didn’t kiss the Prince on Valentine’s Day ball while he was under vodka’s spell.

Her eyes went watery and bit her tongue to hold her feelings inside. Gossip Girl having perfect timing for dropping bombs. Suddenly, Alana felt the chills running down her spine as she remembered Tom’s closeness and everybody’s eyes on them with their phones out ready to snap the moment.

And it made her sick. She shut her eyes as she leaned against her back on the comfortable seat with a sigh. This had to end, now. But gossips would always be around, and people have no mercy. That’s why she had to leave.

In a movement worthy of dramatic film scenes, Alana looked out through the plane’s window and saw New York City lights vanish before her eyes. Then, she brought her attention back to her phone screen still on Gossip Girl and decidedly clicked ‘Unfollow’.

A new beginning, far far away.

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

May 2019. Present Day NYC - Howarth’s penthouse.

“What do you mean dad is not at home?”

Alana frowned at the woman standing behind a desk with her glasses in the middle of her nose, focused on the golden MacBook screen.

“Well, hospitals demand a lot of him these days. And it certainly did not help the fact he had to deal with the Foundation too when his daughter left.” Margot, Alana’s mother, answered throwing a reproach glance in her daughter’s direction while interlacing her fingers to rest her chin on top.

“But I’m back now.”

“He said he’d be here as soon as his meeting with the board finishes. Maybe you can re-join your place as ‘Charity and Foundation leader’.”

“I’d love that, truly.” Alana said as a warm smile covered her face. If one thing she had missed was the Foundation and all its activities; see children’s faces when they were told their surgeries would be free.

“By the way, the Holland’s organized an evening party at the Palace in honor of your return.” Margot added, bringing her attention back to the MacBoook screen and typing fast over the keyboard.

“Oh mom…”, the prodigal daughter rolled her eyes. Margot being Margot Howarth and the socialite.

“You know they’re very fond of you. Besides, Tom and you have always been close, like cousins.” Alana’s mom took her glasses off to fix her eyes on her daughter as she shrugged. “And when Elizabeth told me about her idea, well, I thought it was hilarious.”

“Hilarious for you.”

“Alana please don’t act like a chi…”

“I’ll be on my room!”, she shouted already on her way towards the stairs. “Until I move again somewhere else”, this last muttered under her breath.

***

As soon as her foot stepped into her room, a kind of relief relaxed every muscle of her body, plopping down over her big bed. After a few seconds, the whole world fell under her chest.

“Fuck”

The very one thing she wasn’t ready to face, and her mother arranges everything as always for it to happen. Alana could’ve continued regretting her bad luck, but jetlag dominated her will and a couple of minutes later, fell deeply asleep.

***

It wasn’t until Dr. Howarth kissed her forehead that her eyes opened, and she slowly got up, still under the sleep’s stupor.

“Morning, sunshine”

“God, what time is it?”

“Six.” He answered calmly as he lend her a glass of cold water. “So, how was Europe?”

After drinking the last drop, she placed the empty glass on the bedside table and fixed her eyes into her father’s.

“Great. Thanks for… everything. Spending my Senior high school year there was the best I could’ve ever done, thank you for supporting that.”

Dr. Marcus Howarth sat up on her bed with his lips pursed in an apologizing manner.

“I’m sorry we had to leave so soon on your Graduation Day, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay. You were there, that’s all that matters.”

“You know I’m so thrilled you’re back, and more so behaving like an adult. What happened to my naughty teenager?”

Both shared a laugh. Her father had always been honest with her and knew exactly when to act as a friend or as a parent.

“She grew up.”

Marcus nodded with a proud smile on his face.

“Yeah, she did.”

A brief silence floated in the room. Dr. Howarth was about to stood up when Alana asked.

“Dad?”

He looked at Alana with a slight frown.

“I met someone”

His father’s blissful aura faded and narrowed his eyes, ready to hear the story his daughter was about to tell.

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

February 17th, 2018. London City.

Alana closed the door as soon as the last worker left the last suitcase and stood before the mess, but a genuine smile covered her face making it almost shine.

There she was in her new, and so far craziest, adventure: living alone. After enjoying a few minutes of peace, Alana began unpacking. It’d be a long night and she had to hurry.

Tomorrow was her first day at Woldingham School for Girls in Surrey, only 35 minutes away from her location; her father alleged she should study somewhere in London, but her mother decided that, if her daughter was studying in the UK, then she’d do it at the same school she once did. At least Gossip Girl’s realm didn’t get that far.

The bell rang, bringing her back to Earth; approached to the micro near the button instalment that controlled the gate.

“Who is it?”

Her favorite female voice answered.

“It’s me. Blair.”

“Come up!”

A couple of minutes later, godmother and goddaughter were embraced with big smiles.

“Goodness, you’re here!”

“Chuck’s waiting outside, I just wanted to see the place you… chose to live”, Blair Waldorf glanced with a frown every corner of the floor as if looking a horror show. “Seriously, Lana, you should stay at my house here, nobody’s living there. And I’ve heard Benedict Cumberbatch lives a couple of houses from it.”

“I’d like to give this place a try. But thank you.”

Blair hold her goddaughter’s hands and showed her a sincere encouraging smile.

“And remember, no matter if your last name is Howarth, you’ve always been a Waldorf.”

***

The subway ride hadn’t been as bad as she imagined. But living in London with less privileges than in New York felt good.

Alana was about to step outside the principal’s office.

“Here”, the principal handed her a bunch of papers. “Your first class had just begun a couple of minutes ago. ‘Art History’, you better hurry up.”

“Thank you for receiving me, Principal Martha.”

Both women shook hands and shared polite smiles.

“You’re welcome, Alana. It was a pleasure.”

Once on the aisle, she inspected the papers content and between them found a map of the whole campus.

“Not even Harry Potter’s Hogwarts map was that difficult.” Alana muttered under her breath with her eyes locked in the drawings of aisles and buildings.

Apparently, this boarding school was only for girls but was related to the boys’ boarding one next to this, and so, some classes were shared; such as Art History.

When she finally figured out where the hell her room was, it had already begun as the principal warned her. She was standing near the door with her eyes trying to see through the little windows.

“Maybe it’s almost finishing”

But before she decided to leave, a boy with wavy hair and indie aspect cleared his throat and touched her back with his finger. He had drops of sweat running around his face, he ran late too.

“Excuse me uh, are you coming inside?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Seems the class is interesting, I’ll interrupt the professor’s speech, maybe.”

“Mr. Blackwood’s? He doesn’t mind.”

“Really?”

His aura was full of electricity and calm at the same time. And his eyes made Alana’s impression to sound reasonable; both eyeballs were surrounded by a smoldering green.

“Yeah. Besides, if you come in with me, he won’t get mad. Trust me”

“Alright”, she answered doubtfully.

Though his charisma convinced her about the professor’s behavior, this was the first time she trusted someone who had just met.

“I’m Timothée, by the way.” He stretched out his hand to shake it with hers, something not commonly used among youngsters.

“Alana.”

Timothée gently smiled at her as he made a gesture with his hand to let her walk inside first.

“Nice to meet you, Alana. Shall we?”

***

April (one week before Summer) 2018. Woldingham Boarding School.

A couple of months were enough for Alana to feel like a Londoner. She might not know the city by heart but had connected to it in a way she never had with New York. And she barely remembered Gossip Girl or the Valentine’s ball incident.

Mr. Blackwood was in front of the whole class pointing something on the projector’s screen. ‘Modern Art’ era and music was the main subject of the day.

“So, as many of you may know or even have the honor of meeting, Hans Zimmer did change the way film music was recorded…”

The boarding school, despite what her mother commented her, had rich kids from several Western Europe countries. Perhaps Margot referred to the fact most were new monied instead of old monied as in Constance, her former high school in New York.

Timothée was sitting next to her in the middle row.

“He’s getting sentimental.” He turned his head and whispered near her ear.

“Shh.” Alana giggled.

“He is. Jesus, I told him to follow his dream, get his butt to Hollywood and ‘boom’ the Oscar goes to Joe Blackwood for Best Original Score”

Blackwood crossed his legs as he leaned his arms over the desk behind his back.

“Alexandre Desplat finally received his Oscar, but… Alright, back to topic, please eyes on the screen.”

Everyone did as told. Unlike other classes, this one gave them the opportunity to flirt, so in exchange they obeyed the young and cool professor Joe.

“The following video reflects what we’ve been talking these weeks; the power of music.”

Letters – Abel Korzeniowski

Lights had been turned down, leaving the room in complete darkness until two dancers appeared on screen. Their performance was so beyond perfect it almost made her wince.

Once the lights were on again, Mr. Blackwood’s excitement filled his face and voice.

“You see? Every note was sintonized with every movement. Did you feel the passion?”

A moment of silence between the students reigned in the room, until Timothée broke it and everyone’s heads turned in his direction.

“Indeed, Mr. Blackwood. The sequence of the young man reading his lover’s letter reflects pure desperation and pain. Ballet is quite misunderstood sometimes, just bodies moving doesn’t make any sense… But when music accompanies this, it’s… Art.”

His velvety voice was casting a hypnotizing shadow on his very feature. Everyone’s eyes were glued on him. However, it wasn’t interest what she saw reflected on them but a weird mix of respect and fear? She wasn’t sure.

And when he finished his comment, Mr. Blackwood cleared his throat bringing the class’ attention back to the desk where he had been without moving, also spelled by Timothée’s charm.

“That’s art, ladies and gentlemen. Your final Project is about this video, I want an essay on my desk by the end of the week.”

***

Ten minutes later, Timothée and Alana were walking down the aisle in silence.

“What are your plans for this summer?”

She glanced at him with a slight frown as she let out a chuckle. That was unexpected.

“Head back to New York, maybe.”

His eyes were fixed on her, ready to perceive any reaction on her feature while both kept walking.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

Suddenly, her face changed to a completely speechless expression. So, he decided to add more and ease her a bit.

“Yeah, road tripping all over Europe. Or at least Western Europe before senior year.”

Nothing. Her eyes were blank.

“Don’t tell me Summer at the Hamptons sounds better.”

Two blinks. And seconds later, a smile.

“No… Uhm, you know what? I’d like a road trip… Very much.”

It was true, another summer listening to her mother’s speech was the last she wanted to do. Or facing what she left.

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

May 2019. Present Day

***

Spotted: The airport handsome young man stepping into the Empire Hotel. There are only two reasons a stranger would walk in with such determination; he’s a guest in a hurry or he’s visiting our former prince Chuck Bass.

***

NYC – Bass’ penthouse.

The elevator door opened and Timothée walked into his uncle’s penthouse. He had his hands inside his pocket as he stared the whole place; it must be the biggest penthouse in New York.

Chuck Bass appeared in a blue suit, holding a glass of whisky on his right hand.

“Timmy, long time no see!”

Bass handed him the glass as he approached to his mini-bar and served a drink for himself.

“Indeed, uncle.”

“Your mother?”

“She’s fine but couldn’t come. You know, Europe is-“

“Her home. That’s what she always told me when we were kids.”

His uncle made a slight gesture for him to seat over the couch.

“And your father?”

“Business.”

“Chalamet… Guess his new empire got him pretty busy.”

Timothée nodded before drinking a sip of whisky.

“I still remember when my father learned your mother was going to marry your father Domenico, a nobody, as he called him.” A hint of a playful grin showed over his face. “He surprised us all when suddenly bought your mother a mansion at Monte Carlo and had investors everywhere.”

A naughty smile covered Timothée’s face as a memory crossed over his mind at the mention of Monte Carlo.

“Oh, that mansion… Got some cool parties over there”

Chuck joined him with the same smile.

“You got that fun sense from your mother’s family side, particularly me.” Chuck blinked as he reminded himself the main subject of that chat.“But, what can I do for you, nephew?”

“Well, I’m pretending to stay here for a while. Yale haven’t accepted me, but Columbia already did and just wanted to let you know.”

“You already found where to live?”

“Yeah, they’re sending my luggage there.”

Again, the elevator doors opened but this time Serena van der Woodsen stepped inside, announcing her hurried way.

“Chuck it’s me! Just came for something Blair left and…”

She was open-mouthed for a splice of a second, before approaching to Chuck though not taking her eyes away from the young man sitting in front of him.

“Serena, this is my nephew Timothée Hal Chalamet.” Both stretched hands politely. “Timothée, this is Serena van der Woodsen, my wife’s best friend.”

“A pleasure.” Serena, despite the years, still glowed in beauty showing him her characteristic smile. “Maybe you’d like to join us tonight. It’s at the Palace, Blair and a friend organized a party to celebrate Alana Howarth’s return.”

“Come, Tim. Blair would be delighted to see you.”

The young man raised his eyebrows in surprise at the invitation. He pretended to be speechless for a few seconds just before a big smile wrote all over his face.

“I’d love to. Thank you so much”

Well, he had to admit it. That insane egocentric philosophy ‘The Universe conspires in your favor to achieve your purposes’ proved him wrong. Thank you, New York.

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

May 2019. Present Day

***

Spotted: A prince with bewilderment written all over his face. Poor T, here’s an advice; if you need help, don’t ask Cupid nor Saint Vodka.

***

NYC – Holland’s penthouse.

Tom was under a warm shower. As soon as he arrived, he locked his door and went straight to his bathroom in an attempt to slowly regain his senses and clarity. He later changed warm for cold water, running his fingers through his hair and sniffing loudly at the freezing touch.

A couple of months ago, he would do this same thing and more, and still say he deserved this pain for what he had done. But today, his mind had changed. Now, he did it as a knight would’ve prepared his horse and his best sword before battle.

Evan was fast, his best informer in fact. Tom was quite pleased by his efficiency; he still hadn’t reached the building when already had the file on his phone. It took his informer less than an hour to get everything about Timothée Hal Chalamet and gather it onto a file.

The first pages were enough for Holland to understand what this man was doing here. He felt blood running faster than ever through his veins, his breathing sped up, clenched his jaw hard and his body was almost trembling in rage. So, he got himself into the shower.

And there he was.

“I fucked up, Alana… I fucked up everything.” He shut his eyes, trying to hold tears inside. “And now this son of a bitch appears from Nowhere…”

Tom couldn’t blame him for the main title in the first page.

“Timothée ‘The King’ Chalamet”

He had laughed when he read it; only someone stupid would name himself a king and add it to his own name. But his smile faded as he kept analyzing and reading newspaper headers.

Chalamet had earned his nickname in late years, by heart. All over Europe, people recognized him as a nice charismatic and gentle young man when regarding adults. But among youngsters, a different story surrounded his name.

Not that he was terrifying or a murderer, a psycho or whatever. Not at all. He was more like a plague. A virus that entered through your ears and eyes.

Newspapers described him in few words as a promoter of good, mainly when he attended to hospitals or charity events. They ignored completely his scandalous life. Early on, his social status had remained low-key, almost nonexistent if not for a couple events his family attended hosted by the Bass family. His debut in true high society had been at the age of 11, when his family moved to Monte Carlo and since then have enjoyed a very wealthy life.

Though, he began building his realm in an Italian boarding school when he was 14; a professor was fired. Nobody really knew the reason; some said that had been because he had seduced her, others said that she scolded him after class for not delivering his homework on time and he turned things around until she cried, and others said she sneezed very close of him.

Later, at the age of 16, when his name was known in several Western Europe countries, he offered a party in Amsterdam. Some say celebrities such as The Weeknd and Cristiano Ronaldo were there. And more parties like that were hosted by him; it’s said Ed Sheeran got inspiration for a song that later became his hit ‘Shape of You’ while he attended one.

Although, when Chalamet turned 18 and moved to London, he settled down and devoted to Art in a calm boarding school.

“Months later, just after he decided to agree a kind of armistice with his realm, Alana comes to his life… And everything because of me.”

The water had ceased falling and Tom reached a towel, drying his face first and breathing deep while blaming himself.

“But this motherfucker is not in Europe. This is New York.”

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

Summer 2018

Seventy summer nights together. Perhaps Shakespeare, Nancy Meyers, and the whole bunch of screenwriters who wrote romcoms about summer loves were right. And she’d confirm it a thousand times… She hadn’t felt better in a long long time.

Alana chuckled and bit her lower lip from time to time as she reviewed her phone gallery with all her on-the-road memories.

He had told her this was his favorite, thus he set it as his lockscreen.

This was Paradise. Although the deal was road tripping, some luxury wouldn’t do any harm. She couldn’t even believe the beauty in the view their shared suite enjoyed.

The sound of the glass door from the shower made her immediately smile as the picture of Timothée with a towel wrapped around his waist filled her eyes.

He smiled at her too and turned around to open the mirrored cabinet and look for his Hugo Boss cologne. Once he found it, he poured some over his hand and dispersed it around his neck.

“Ready for your surprise?”

Alana smirked. Her eyes had been focused on his movements she didn’t expect that.

“What? You didn’t tell me”

“Oh, it’s true. I forgot to tell you about your surprise, maybe cause that’s what surprises are. A SECRET.”

“You’re a bad bad guy for not telling me.”

He walked towards her with a mischievous smile.

“But I’m YOUR bad guy.”

Timothée approached slowly and then captured her lips with his in a long and soft kiss. He cupped her face in his hands after pulling away.

“Go, babe. Get ready.”

Now was her turn to take a shower. Life couldn’t be better.

***

“Oh God. Timothée you didn’t…”

Alana was open-mouthed as she looked through the window how the limo drove them to the front door of the auditorium. A big poster announced tonight’s event: The 1975 in concert.

He rejoiced in his success for making her that happy.

“I did, darling. I did.”

“But- wh- how?”

“Let’s just say Matty Healy owed me a favor.”

“You know Matty Healy? Oh, dear heaven…”

Once inside the complex, another surprise came for her; Matty reserved them special seats in the front row. This had to be a fucking dream, one Alana wanted to never end.

The lights were all off, only a few white shadows were visible. Some guitar chords resonated. And suddenly, a blue neon light lit up the stage. Robbers characteristic sounds shouted making the whole crowd crazy and she couldn’t help herself but joining them.

Timothée just looked at her, at the shine in her eyes reflecting those lights and felt his heart melt. When he remembered the lyrics, he also joined the crowd and the woman next to him.

The group played a lot of songs more, connected, laughed and played with their audience. Matty even mentioned them:

“A few friends of mine are here tonight. Hope you’re enjoying this. ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS PEOPLE?”

As the end of the night came closer, the illumination changed slowly until a violet-pink light colored the stage and a kind of white smoke covered the arena. One more song and it’d be over.

It was ‘Somebody Else’. Alana’s favorite song from The 1975. Her eyes went watery as a soft smile wrote over her face.

He felt it too. Countless times he had told Matty this was their best song ever, so when it began playing Healy looked at him and blinked an eye before singing.

Timothée pressed his body against hers with her back touching his chest. He wondered if she could feel his fast heartbeats. Though she did nothing, but wince at his touch that only sent shivers down her spine.

He was a few inches taller, so his breath moved some strands of her hair. His hands ran down her arms until it reached hers and hold them as both crossed their fingers; hand to hand. Slowly, he led their arms to raise them above their heads and move with the music.

And if there’s a thought, it was a lie.

Two bodies, two souls, two hearts. Dancing together. Being one.

“Let’s keep dancing, let’s do it”.

Matty said to the audience, but Timothée felt the message had been more for him because he saw the way he danced with Alana. Yeah, he perfectly knew what Healy wondered and he was right; The King fell in love.

***

Backstage, Timothée introduced Alana to The 1975 members.

“You guys enjoyed the concert?” Matty asked as he grabbed a bottle of water.

“Hell yeah. It was amazing, you guys are AWESOME.”

Her smile was infinite. Almost nothing in the world would make it fade.

“Thank you, thank you. And what are you both doing? I mean, you wanna join us at the after-party?”

The couple looked at each other’s eyes and immediately knew the answer; they wanted to spend the night together at the hotel.

“Maybe next time, Matty. But thank you.” Timothée answered as he nodded to his friend.

“The King shall rest.”

The singer and Timothée shared a masculine hug before Alana took a picture of them with her Polaroid.

“Was a big pleasure seeing you, man. And hope to hear more from you, Alana; you gotta be The Queen.”

***

Alana stood before the mirror and started removing pins from her hair.

“What a night. I still cannot believe it.”

“Pure magic”, Timothée said standing behind her and slowly approaching to retake the same contact as in the concert.

Both looked at their reflection and stayed in silence for a minute before she turned her face to meet her lips with his in a soft kiss.

“Do you love me?”, she asked.

Instead of answering, he kissed her again but desperately this time. Her back hit the nearest wall as he deepened the kiss and unfastened her robe before kissing her neck.

But suddenly he stopped. The Killers Mr. Brightside’s chords coming from her purse interrupted the moment; her phone was ringing. She reached for it and her face paled when she saw the name flashing on the screen; Tom Holland.

She tried to collect herself, speechless as hesitance prevented her from making what her memory commanded her almost instinctively. Her thumb struggled between two choices; she answered, obeying her brain’s will.

“Alana?”

Alana winced at the sound of his voice, though she couldn’t utter a word. Timothée stood behind her as he smoothed his hair back with both hands, confused and frustrated.

“If you’re listening… Oh God, I-I-I don’t know what time is in your location, maybe it’s late or… not,” he began with jitters and hesitance cracking his voice. “Listen, it doesn’t matter if you’re a couple hundred miles from Japan… I was wondering if you have plans tonight.”

He made a pause, waiting for an answer or at least a reaction on the other line, but Alana kept frozen in her place, so he took a deep breath to encourage himself and continue.

“Maybe we could talk. Please, let me explain what-”

“Stop!” Alana exclaimed with an angry yet broken voice and hung up the phone.

She stood there for a couple of minutes more, with her eyes glued to the window view facing the darkness of the ocean at night. And when she finally faced Timothée, who had his eyes fixed on her, she swallowed hard. His eyes widened at the sight of her face, pale as ghost.

“I’d like to get some fresh air… Alone.”

He nodded with a slight worried frown. It was clear she had to make an effort to utter a word. He leaned against the couch, letting a sigh escape from his mouth.

The phone rang again. Mr. Brightside’s chords again over the bed.

Timothée answered.

“Alana? Please, listen to me. I-I-I’m so sorry.”

As soon as he heard a male voice, and even more after listening the weak apologize, his blood boiled.

Who the hell ever dared to hurt her?

He clenched his jaw when he read the name; Tom Holland.

***

When Alana crossed the door and entered their suite, a huge relief relaxed every muscle of Timothée’s body. A part of him told him not to, but he couldn’t help himself on pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Thank you.” She whispered over his shoulder before pulling away. “I’m sorry for leaving like that…”

His eyes were filled with tenderness for the woman standing face to face.

“No need to apologize, Alana.”

“Yes, I have to. We were having OUR moment and he suddenly calls with perfect timing and everything came back…”, a knot formed in her throat and her voice broke against her will.

Timothée immediately placed his hands over her shoulders, ready to pull her again and protect her. Only God knew what he was capable of if that man placed a finger on her without consent.

“What? He did something to you?”

Even though her voice was now recovered, he could tell it wasn’t easy for her to talk about it.

“Not exactly. There’s a stupid site called Gossip Girl that makes public everything that happens on the Upper E…”

Her lower lip trembled, perhaps as a sign for trying to keep the calm. So he made a decision; no more pain.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me right now if you don’t want to.” Alana fixed his eyes into his in utter silence. “This is your fresh start.”

“A fresh start.” She nodded.

“The past is on the past”, he gently grabbed her by the chin. “Don’t feel you gotta tell me everything that happened before we met… Let’s make a deal, okay? Like… Hakuna Matata.”

She chuckled. And this relieved him in more than one way.

“No worries, no bad experiences, just today. Present is all that matters.”

“That sounds promising”, she said with a soft smile spreading across her face.

His thumb caressed her chin while both stared straight into each other’s eyes.

“It does, yeah. So… deal?”

“Deal.”

Timothée holded her right hand and kissed it as he promised himself he would never let her go.

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

The Palace. Present Day.

The terrace was crowded by those distinguished guests who were, in Mrs. Howarth’s opinion, indispensable to celebrate her daughter’s return.

Tom had arrived earlier than everyone hoping she’d come with her mother. But she didn’t. People started arriving and there was no sight of her. He was sitting at the Palace hotel bar, taking a sip of scotch as he tried not to check his phone again. One hour. One hour late to her own party.

Just when he was about to believe she wouldn’t come; a waiter tinkled a glass to gain everyone’s attention and music stopped. His mother and Margot Howarth stood mid-stairs with a microphone each in their right hand.

“Good evening”, his mother said.

“Thank you for being here, it’s a pleasure for us to…”

Margot’s voice was in the background while Tom kept glancing in every direction to see if Alana was around. But the face he recognized from the pictures made him grip his scotch glass a little too tight; Timothée Chalamet. What was he doing here?

“Well, she doesn’t really need an introduction. Ladies and gentlemen, my daughter Alana Howarth.”

The words resonated in his ears as Tom instinctively turned his face at the stairs. Everyone clapped joyfully.

“Thank you, mom. And thank you, Mrs. Holland. I’m so glad for being here with all of you…”

Still not a minute went by when her voice seemed to have everyone under a spell, as always. Her charm to connect with people had always been her strongest gift.

“…hope to rejoin the Olivia Howarth Charity Foundation and serve our people as it’s meant to be”

More claps. People loved her benevolent soul.

As she walked down the stairs, Alana made eye contact with Tom, but she looked away almost immediately, paying attention to Blair Waldorf and the couple talking with her.

***

Wind wasn’t blowing in Tom’s favor.

Alana had done everything in her power to keep herself busy eating canapes and talking about the beautiful flowers or the dress of Mrs. Perkins with every guest. With this luck, the night would end before he could approach her.

The clock read 9:40 p.m; it was now or never. Tom walked towards Serena van der Woodsen who was standing with a group of people, however when she saw from the corner of her eye her godson, she excused herself and turned to meet him.

“Auntie, I need your help”, Tom said handing her a glass of champagne.

“What is it, Tommy?”

She stared at him with a worried look on her face.

“You see that guy over there?” He glanced at Timothée’s direction talking with Chuck Bass and a couple more businessman. “I need you to distract him so I can have a word with Alana.”

“Oh, I saw him today with Chuck Bass. He’s his nephew.”

“I know. Would you talk to him while I’m with her, please?”

“He’s not with Alana, why don’t you just simply ask her?”

His eyes traveled the whole room.

“It’s… complicated, auntie S.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll do it, but please Tom don’t make a scene”, Serena placed one hand over her godson’s elbow. “It’s classic of Gossip Girl haunting for something in parties like this one.”

He nodded as putting on a smile and taking a step back from her.

“Don’t worry, auntie S.”

Serena went to the canape table and grabbed two, one for Chuck and one for her, then she headed up to their direction. Timothée welcomed her.

Fortunately, Alana was with a group of women who appreciated him very much. Confident of himself, he took a deep encouraging breath and he took three long strides to stand before her.

“Good evening, ladies.”

A couple of them raised their eyebrows, but they welcomed him nicely.

“Oh Tom dear, we were just talking about high school.”

“Thank God we graduated”, he chuckled, and the group joined him in his polite laugh. His charm might not be as powerful as hers, but it worked, and he used it. After the laugh faded, he cleared his throat. “Alana may I have a word?”

He got her. Fuck. The only thing left for her was nod and force a smile.

“Excuse me.”

Tom led her to a balcony away from the party, not without looking around to make sure no one saw them. In the midst of nervousness and excitement, Tom missed a pair of green eyes watching from the other side of the terrace.

Once outside, Alana turned to face him; she wasn’t chickening out this time.

“Tom, please don’t do this.”

He raised his hands as an innocent man would do in front of a cop.

“I just have to say something, please”

Her eyes were locked on his while she shook her head as if begging him not to press his finger over the wound.

“Don’t, don’t go there.”

“You just need to hear it.” He took one step to be closer to her, and when his mouth opened his voice had a soft sound. “I’m sorry, Alana. For that night. I never wanted to disrespect you or make you feel so bad for you to leave the city and…”

“I didn’t leave because of that!”, she cut him off.

His lips parted, looking genuinely confused. She shut her eyes for a brief moment before letting go a tired sigh.

“Jesus! What happened was the drop that spilled the glass. One day I woke up and… I didn’t want my life to be the way it had been with Gossip Girl shouting every party I hosted or even if I sniffed.” Alana swallowed hard and prayed her courage wouldn’t let her voice fail. “I… thought it’d be enough if I just stayed at the edge, but on Valentine’s…”, a complex mixture of rage and sadness were threatening to crack her voice, but she collected herself before tears flood her eyes. “The very person I cared the most about… showed me this world wasn’t for me cause no one would be truly a friend.”

She let the words hit him as she bit her lower lip in a last attempt not to cry. It still hurt.

“And, you know the rest.”

Silence set between the two of them. Tom was shattered; she had trusted him, and he failed her. He failed. And her words explained a lot of things but one. Tom tried to swallow the knot that formed in his throat.

“So, why you came back?”

“My aunt Blair told me Gossip Girl’s gift for Upper East Side grads was a clean slate for college. That’s why I’m here. A new beginning in New York, with my family.”

“I called you a thousand times and you were mad with me.”

Alana exhaled loudly and her rage seemed to come back for a second.

“I was, right. I knew you had feelings for me, and that night I expected you’d do something. And you did, but under alcohol’s effect. In front of the whole class with their phones out.”

“And I would never forgive myself for that”

Once more, Alana shut her eyes trying to control herself. When she got it, her eyes opened with a calmer pace and saw a dark knight walking towards them. Tom had his back to him and didn’t feel him coming.

“The past is in the past, Tom. Wish you a good life.” She administered the coup de grâce.

“Alana, please…”

Tom lifted his right hand to caress her arm. But Timothée’s hand stepped in the way, pushing his hands away before he could touch her.

Alana rolled her eyes, tired of this drama. She glanced at both men and moved a strand of hair out of her face.

“My dad should be wondering where I am”, she said as she brushed past Timothée making his shoulder move.

As soon as she left, Tom pushed sharply away Timothée’s hand with pursed lips and clenched jaw.

“Who the fuck you think you are to interrupt us?”

Timothée stared at him with a quirked eyebrow, challenging him as a mocking smile threatened to set free at the corner of his lips.

“Would say it was over before I came.”

“Listen to me you…”

But his sarcastic feature changed in a blink of an eye into serious, taking a step closer to him.

“No, YOU listen to me; you got your opportunity and you lost it.”

“Use your words carefully, you’re not in Monte Carlo anymore”, Tom warned him.

“Yeah, that’s what Google Maps says”, Timothée raised his eyebrows as he nodded with a smile.

“Alana would’ve never trusted you if she knew every thing I know about you”, Holland furrowed his eyes while putting his hands inside his pocket.

“And you think she’d believe a word you say?”, Chalamet scoffed. “Wake up, Thomas. She’s not under your mercy anymore.” He enjoyed the face Holland made, speechless. “Do yourself a favor and move on.”

Though, the prince reminded himself his advantage.

“You don’t know her at all. No matter how much time you’ve spent together, the good stuff is on the details and that’s something you won’t get.”

This hit Chalamet hard.

“Are you threating me?”, the European king asked sounding annoyed.

“I’m warning you”, now Tom used Chalamet’s same attitude with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

The atmosphere got heavier as both young men stared at each other with rage overflowing from their auras. But before one could do anything else, Nate Archibald walked towards them with a drink in his right hand.

“Tom? Here you are. Serena’s been looking for you. She’s inside.”

Whether Serena was indeed looking for him or not, Nate prevented him from making a scene and so, Tom had nothing to do but walk away with Nate.

“Thanks”

Alone, Timothée stared at the amazing view.

“New York, New York”

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

The identity of the mysterious airport handsome man was revealed; Timothée Chalamet. But our prince is not delighted by his presence. Looks like Manhattan’s Elite might quake with their outstanding chemistry to light a bomb up.

Alana, you did have fun in your year out… Enjoy your clean slate. I know it won’t take much time for you to dirt them up.

You know you love me, XOXO

Gossip Girl.

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