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theji · 3 years

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我的世界守则 The Rules of My World: An Analysis

I came across this video while browsing Weibo last night. It was taken during Yibo's rehearsal for his 'The Rules of My World' performance. I've listened to the song countless times and I like it, the rhythm and all, and the dance. But as with many rap music, I don't pay attention to the lyrics. I suddenly realised I don't really know what the song is talking about, save for the few phrases that stood out. That sparked my interest and inspired today's post. I had previously done some analysis of Zhan's songs, so it's Yibo's turn.

Disclaimer: I am not a professional translator or lyricist. And obviously I'm not Yibo nor do I know him personally, so I can't say for sure what the song is really about. The following analysis is purely based on my personal interpretation. It has CPN components. Please skip if you don't believe that BJYXSZD.

'The Rules of My World' is the 2nd song that Yibo penned the lyrics to himself. The fact that he wrote the lyrics is significant and makes the song worth analysing. 2019's 'Wu Gan' was more 'inward-looking'; about Yibo expressing his own thoughts on navigating the entertainment industry. To me, 'The Rules of My World' is him making a statement, a stand, at the same time, he's sending a message to those he cares about - GG and his (real) fans. Yibo released this song on 30 Dec 2020. The timing is interesting cos it like he's summing up his sentiments based on the events that took place during the year. To outsiders, 2020 was a good year for Yibo. He had many endorsements, projects, high exposure, his commercial value rose. But in CPN reality, 2020 was terrible for so many reasons. GG's incident, him being overworked, crazy fan wars and antis etc etc..anyone who cares about Yibo would be delusional to think he had it good last year.

欢迎你们来加入我的世界 (You're welcome to join my world)

入场券上面有正义的光源 (There's a light of justice on the admission ticket)

DD is giving fans an open invitation to enter his world, to understand him as a person and not just an idol. And he also hopes that his world can bring some light to the fans' world, to bring some positivity, encouragement and guidance to them.

此生面对严厉又仁慈的一切 (In this life we'll face harshness but also kindness)

轻松一点，我们一起度过黑夜 (Just relax, together we'll overcome darkness)

In the entertainment world (or life in general), there will be ups and downs, criticisms and compliments. Regardless of what may come, we can overcome any challenges together. Darkness here could also refer to the antis who seem determined to bring GGDD down. This could be a message to fans - to tell them that they don't always have to rush to defend him, and they don't need to retaliate (aka fan wars). It could also be a message to GG, to make a stand of solidarity and to reassure GG that DD will face any challenges alongside him.

新的征途 (A new journey)

愚蠢的，不好相处 (These fools, they aren't easy to get along with)

愚蠢的，不会打住 (These fools, they won't stop)

但衬托明天更耀眼的路 (But they will set off a brighter path for tomorrow)

It was said that DD matured considerably after the 2*7 incident. Took up more responsibility, became more focused on his career and mindful of future advancements etc. Started to take on more serious acting projects and to shift his career trajectory towards something more sustainable and less 'idol'. The new journey could be a reference to this new path. The fools - the antis, those against GGDD - may have caused damage but their actions have also sparked off DD's desire to do better and to find his footing in the entertainment industry. He now has a clearer view of what he wants, the path he wants to take.

我是我的样子 (This is how I am)

我生来就固执 (I was born stubborn)

讲自己的故事 (I'll tell my own story)

活独特的气质 (Living my unique self)

Follow me, 找到自己的价值 (Follow me, find your own value)

不去迎合别人活才会觉得有意思 (Life is interesting if you don't cater to others)

我的世界不退让 (It's my world I won't give in)

Here, DD is being assertive. This is me, I follow my own rules, I'll make my own decisions, I'll forge my own path, I won't be influenced, I won't give up on my beliefs. So antis, capitalists etc can f*ck off.

It could also be seen as an advice to his fans - to follow his lead and live their own lives. This is also something that GG has repeatedly said to fans - to focus on their own lives, personal relationships, studies, careers etc. Don't devote so much time on chasing idols, online fan wars etc.

阳光耀眼 (The sun is dazzling)

乐观地，走向前 (Just move forward with optimism)

阳光耀眼 (The sun is dazzling)

无所谓，多危险 (Doesn't matter how dangerous it is)

阳光耀眼 (The sun is dazzling)

这是我的世界 (This is my world)

我世界的守则，不许你诡辩 (These are the rules of my world, I won't allow any sophistry)

I see this as DD's words of encouragement, to himself and to GG. Despite all the challenges and hardship, darkness will pass and the sun will come out eventually. And it's shining brightly, there is hope left in this world, there's is much to look forward to. So don't fear, be brave and forge ahead.

Sophistry: the use of clever but false arguments, especially with the intention of deceiving

Poor DD is always hit with industry rumours, about him dating his co-stars etc. Last year, someone even made a false police report against him. Just look at the number of statements his company had to put out. There have also always been ongoing rumours about rivalry between GGDD, tales of backstabbing etc, especially in 2020 at the height of the incident. DD is saying that this is his life, his world. No one knows better than the both of them. So to those who don't know better but continue to spew nonsense about his life and relationships and spread hate, know that I don't care about your antics, they don't hurt me but I won't tolerate them as well.

在我世界行走 (Walking in my world)

什么人生主题你透露 (What kind of life theme do you envisage)

是胆大勇猛所向披靡 (Is it to be bold, courageous and invincible)

或胆小逃避钻进壳里 (Or to be timid and escape into your shell)

喧闹倾诉众人party (Is it to pour out your troubles at a rowdy party)

寂寞相思不停地哭泣 (Or to cry silently non-stop out of loneliness and love-sickness)

都欢迎你来我这里 (All are welcome)

只要跟从自己的内心 (So long as you follow your heart)

跟限制和噪音说一声 bang bang (I'll say 'Bang Bang' to restriction and noises)

怪兽都退散 (Monsters, be gone)

What kind of person am I in your eyes? The cool guy or soft sweet babie Yibo? Here, DD is acknowledging that the public has many different perceptions of him, and fans love different personas of him and he's ok with that. But if you love him, then let him be. Don't try to restrict him, don't quarrel or force him into a certain mould of your preference. He won't hesitate to shoot the haters (monsters) down.

迈出轻盈的步伐 (Take a light step forward)

一声令下 (With a single command)

来宣布告别孤勇 (To announce a farewell to having to fight alone)

On this new path, with a new-found realisation of what he wants, DD is clear of what he wants to achieve and he is no longer burdened by fear, uncertainties etc. Both GGDD now have each other by their sides, they share a common purpose as they navigate the intricacies of the entertainment industry together and work their way to the top. And I think this is something that we're seeing more in the fandom since end 2020 - GGDD seemingly becoming more bold in their actions and messages they put out (silent or otherwise).

想要做盘旋的龙 (Wanna be a hovering dragon)

还想做懒散的虫 (Or a lazy worm)

别打扰我走开没空 (Don't bother me, go away, I have no time for that)

In public, DD is that proud and confident king. He's not a pushover. But behind the cameras, he just wants to chill and relax (and play games). Please don't bother me, give me some privacy to lead my own life, don't tell me what I can or cannot do.

Cue DD's message. He meant it.

Follow me, 找到自己的价值 (Follow me, find your own value)

不去迎合别人活才会觉得有意思 (Life is interesting if you don't cater to others)

我们永远不退让 (We will never give in)

This is a repetition of the earlier verse but what has changed is the last 2 lines. From <It's my world I won't give in>, DD now says <We will never give in>. This was actually the first thing that sparked off my CPN, and hinted to me that this song concerns GG in some ways. Who's We? We all know how GGDD almost always use the word 'we' in their CQL promo interviews and bts, as though they come as a package and all views represent both of them as a entity. This also echoes the earlier sentiments - both of them, after the 2020 incident, have developed a steely resolve. They won't let the antis or challenges or societal views hold them back anymore. Their world, their rules. They will fight for their rights and what they believe in, and they are determined to reach their goals.

阳光耀眼 (The sun is dazzling)

乐观地走向前 (Just move forward with optimism)

阳光耀眼 (The sun is dazzling)

无所谓多危险 (Doesn't matter how dangerous it is)

阳光耀眼 (The sun is dazzling)

这是我的世界 (This is my world)

我们的世界不会被改变 (Our world will never be changed)

Again, similar to the above 'we' example. From this part of the song onwards, DD is referring to them both. The last line could also be viewed as an affirmation of GGDD's commitment to each other. Whatever is it, our relationship will not change. We will go through it all together.

Don‘t stop, get it, get it

Let me see you work up on it

Don’t stop, get it, get it

Let me see you all up on it

Let me see you work up on it

Don‘t stop, get it, get it

Don't stop

Hey

I interpret this as DD's words of encouragement to GG. Like don't stop fighting, continue to work hard towards your (our) goals. Go for it, you can do it!

在我的世界 (In my world)

本能很关键 (Instinct is the key)

坚持自己 (Stay true to yourself)

就是你们的世界 (It is your world)

DD's parting words to fans: to stay true to oneself, to build and enrich your own worlds, to fight for your goals, like how he is trying.

Well, I had fun working on this. Maybe I'll do Wu Gan another time. Reminded me of literature class during my schooling days, although I never did Chinese literature back then. Feel free to share your thoughts on the song with me. =D

#wang yibo #bjyx #bjyxszd #yizhan #the ji's song of the moment

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miraculousmarifan · 4 years

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Felinette Month 2020 - Day 12: Reunion

The prompts on @felinettenovember are gold and everyone should check out what the others are doing for this month!

Theirs are also most likely on time, and this one is only 3 minutes away from being posted on the wrong day... but it’s still the right day for me!

Approximately 3100 words of absolute Lila salt. Her character is poorly enough written in the show that I had to make her villainy almost cartoonish to a certain degree.

Also before anyone takes my word for it at the silk part, just know I have the bare minimum of knowledge about the intricacies of fabric as I’m just a data analyst. I did however read a really interesting article earlier this year discussing the difference in modern and ancient forms of fabrics (it was specifically discussing cotton, if I remember correctly) and how industrialization of fabric production had drastically reduced both the initial quality of the fabric and the durability. Which they were using as an explanation of why it’s still possible to find cloth artifacts in archeology, whereas it’s suspected that the “same” fabric now wouldn’t have survived due to the poorer quality. So I willy-nilly applied this logic to silk weaving. If you are an expert in this stuff and want to pass along actual knowledge, I’d love to hear about it.

Marinette had found that going to university for fashion design was both easier and harder than it had been doing it during school. There were similarities with the existence of homework and specific class times to schedule around. Working at a smaller fashion house had been another beast entirely. Marinette had been offered a 5 year contract as the only pupil to the head designer, working both with the team of designers and working apart from them. Her ideas first needed to gain the approval from the head designer before she could put them through peer review with the team. She was required to have her designs be closer to a final product before she would get approval to proceed to peer review than the designs of many designers on the team had after multiple reviews. Marinette kept her head high, as her designs often went through fewer changes in the review stage as a result of this additional standard.

However with less than 10 designers doing all stages of the process, from researching ideas and sketching to actually assembling the final product and altering them for the models that would wear it, they were always busy. As a result, Marinette found herself more devoted to work outside of their standard hours, sketching variations on most outfits for potential changes she thought may be suggested while she sat at home.

At 25, Marinette found herself married to her career, with only two nights per week that she had set aside for her friends and her family and refused to budge on that time. This had left dating relatively untouched outside of some short high school relationships and a few first dates that never went further.

Alya never could understand why Marinette was so content on her own. She married Nino at 22 and had been happy in her marriage, but she was able to have her career and her relationship. Sometimes her journalism interfered but often she would just finish typing up any articles or notes she had while home and returned her attention to Nino.

Marinette often didn't disconnect from her sketchpad until late in the evening and then she simply wanted to eat, relax a little, and sleep. Dating required too much effort and time during the week and she only had so much time on the weekends, especially because of the occasional work event on a Saturday night.

This Saturday was one such event, a black tie party in a ballroom, where many designers were getting together under the pretext of a party, however most realized it was an important networking event. Designers would be discussing the styles that were in currently, some boasting about what they expected the next trend to be, and many would try to woo the various models in attendance to sign on for a certain number of shoots or shows in the upcoming seasons.

Marinette knew that she had to show her best at this, as she was entering the fifth year of her contract and would need to get her options in order. She was determined to have at least one outside offer waiting at the end of her contract, so she felt more free to decide if her current company was the best fit.

She had invited Alya over before to help her solidify her outfit by reassuring her choice in dress and accessories, as well as providing suggestions with make-up choices as requested. Marinette really needed a hype woman to get her in the right mindset for dealing with pretentious models and designers for her entire evening.

The ballroom hosting this event was as decedent as Marinette had anticipated and each designer eyed the others' appearance critically. Many of the compliments bestowed on others were backhanded, in the most subtle manner possible. The more inexperienced often missed the jabs but Marinette had expected them. Her mentor had arrived shortly before her and gestured for her to join his conversation upon seeing her entrance.

For nearly an hour, her mentor paraded her around, introducing her to each designer he personally knew and discussing with them her strengths. She was grateful for his support when he could have easily left her to flounder. The designers that had taken a liking to her brought others to meet her the moment he left her side to fetch a new drink. After dealing with their undivided attention for a while, she tried to find a polite way to excuse herself so she could breathe and let her face rest a moment.

The opportunity to slip away came when Gabriel Agreste entered, accompanied by his assistant and three others. The designers commented on his boldness to bring three young models and speculation started about which of the blond men was Gabriel's heir and if they knew the woman with them. He had brought Lila, Adrien, and Felix. She should’ve expected to see at least two of those three here. Time had allowed her to forget about their presence in this world.

Marinette murmured to the closest person that she was going to grab herself a beverage, then quietly slipped away while the designers speculated amongst themselves. She wouldn't contribute with an explanation of any person in that group, let alone bring an opportunity for her past relationships with them to come up.

She instead had snuck around, hiding amongst the various crowds filling the room to get to the hallway where the bathrooms were located. Rather than going into the bathroom, she walked around a turn in the hallway past them and stopped, leaning against the wall to take some deep breaths and think.

If Lila was here, she was definitely still employed with Gabriel and in good standing. She had cut contact with Alya and Nino after the graduation day incident so Marinette hadn't heard much about her since then. Luka didn't talk much about Juleka outside of their time together at the houseboat or in Kitty Section, but Marinette was sure he wouldn’t have let any news of her reach Marinette anyway. Mr. "High-road" Agreste was here so she would likely need to stay hidden or leave so he didn't try to be overly friendly with her. She didn't want to deal with his attempts to catch up and accusations about not staying in touch, even though he hadn't been a great friend of hers after trying to convince her to be a doormat, even if it nearly got her akumatized. Ice King Felix was a wild card. In school he had been a strange mixture of harsh and quietly supportive (primarily in dealing with Lila or Chloe). If Marinette had to deal with any of those three, he would be her preferred. He had potential to be on her side simply on the conditions that Lila still despised her and that Felix still disliked Lila or/and Adrien. Regardless, Marinette preferred if she could just make it through the night without needing to speak with any of them. Slowly she was considering going back to attempt navigating the party. Pushing herself off the wall, she took one more deep breath with her eyes shut.

And promptly fell to the floor due to the unexpected force of something ramming into her. Her head bounced off the carpeted floor and she felt like her brain was trying to restart.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t see you around the corner and ran into you. Are you alright?” The man leaned down next to her, while Marinette blinked a few times, trying to get her bearings. Then she slowly started to sit up. He spoke again, “Do you need to have your head examined? It looks like you may have bumped it and messed up your hair.”

Her hand came up and ran across the back of her head, over the hair, still blinking as her brain started running again. She turned to look at him and felt a little bit of dismay.

“Felix. I’m okay. My head is just pounding a little bit. I should really check to see what I need to do to make myself presentable again,” Marinette slowly moved towards getting up, hand reaching out to the wall. Felix took her hand and offered his other for more support. She took it without thinking, balancing herself as she stood. Then she turned her body, releasing his hands, and leaned against the wall again. “Thanks. It is Felix right?” Maybe if I play my cards right, he won’t recognize me and will think I just know from his ads.

“Yes Marinette. One and the same,” he smirked at her efforts and she groaned inside. “Did you know that you’re the hot topic in that room? Well actually you’re right behind whether Adrien or I will inherit Gabriel. As if the man is even considering retiring at this point.” Felix leaned one shoulder against the wall next to her, grinning like a cat.

“It seems that you made a splash socially, then disappeared right as Gabriel Agreste showed up. They’re speculating and Lila seems to have convinced enough of them that the two of you are friends. She’s so sure you have a surprise planned for her, even if she hasn’t figured out that you’re the same person yet. That only brought more speculation as to why you aren’t working at Gabriel. ‘Is it perhaps because she has an indecent relationship with an heir? Or is she the victim of nepotism?’ If you don’t make an appearance again soon, these rumors may live on past the evening.” His eyes had narrowed slightly as he brought up Lila and the rumors starting around her, trying to read the slightest reaction. Marinette just deflated. She had just been ready to go back before their collision and now she just wanted to curl up in a ball. With this last statement, she let out a little sound of exhaustion.

“Why did she have to be here? And how is it that even the people that are used to dealing with snakes don’t recognize her as one?” she groaned out, hands pressing her eyes. After a moment she straightened her back against the wall, breathed deeply and sighed. “Alright. We’re adults. Might as well act like it.”

“You’re going back now?” Felix stood, sounding more curious than before. Marinette had stood straight up, and was taking a step from the wall to walk back into the main hallway and looking at Felix as she replied.

“Of course I’m going to go back. I’m a professional that doesn’t lie and pretend to get places. I do the hard things and succeed--” she raised her eyebrows and smirked back at him “--Of course I need to fix my hair first, since you messed it up. Are you going to hide here longer?”

Felix faintly blushed at her expression as she told him he messed her hair up and thought about another way he could mess it up. As she slowly walked he turned to follow her. “Did you have a companion with you tonight? It’s not uncommon for designers to bring one…”

“I did not. I have been networking. Why do you ask?” Marinette slowly stepped towards the restroom door, nearly laughing at his stalling tactics.

“Would you like one when you’re finished fixing yourself up?” Marinette couldn’t believe how warm he was being with her, even with his mocking way of warning her what she was walking into. Is this really the Ice King I knew in school?

“I guess you’ll have to wait if you want to see…” Marinette pushed into the bathroom, walking up to a mirror. Luckily my hair wasn’t too extravagant and the back is just a little messed up. With a little bit of water on her fingers and some adjustments of her bobby pins, her hair looking untouched and she was exiting the bathroom.

Felix had moved to stand against the wall near the bathroom, and straightened to join her. Marinette liked the way he was acting with her now and made a split second decision that at worst, she didn’t need to keep him around if he changed his tune. She could push him back out of her life. She reached a hand out to beckon him and he offered her an arm. Their strides matched as they walked back to the party.

Whispers started in the groups closest to the door as they saw their up-and-coming sunshine designer enter on the arm of the model known for his aloofness and cold professionalism. Felix’s face slipped back into it’s icy indifference, looking harshly at specific individuals that dared to make too inappropriate of a comment in his earshot. Marinette smiled and nodded at different individuals that she hadn’t spoken enough with at length. A small squeeze to his arm and twist of her head had the pair walking towards one of Marinette’s first choices for her next employer.

Other groups had taken notice of the pair, drawing more eyes, and conversations turned to theories about their relationship. The two ignored stares and managed to strike up a pleasant conversation with a woman that could drastically improve her prospects. With the increasing curiosity of most guests, one young woman noticed and began to formulate a plan.

“Marinette! Over here! It’s me! Why didn’t you tell your best friend that you were coming?” Lila loudly exclaimed as she began prancing across the room and waving a hand wildly like a child trying to catch attention. Her dramatics went unacknowledged as Felix used his most winning smile, describing Marinette’s designs throughout their school years and then drawing attention to the dress she was currently wearing. She couldn’t help but blush that he had recognized her craftsmanship even after years apart. The woman seemed to be swept up in the warmth and friendliness he was using, as well as the atmosphere those two formed around their group. Others paid particular attention to the hand Felix had rested on her side.

Marinette had been gaining attention up to this point, however the entire party noticed the atmosphere tense as Lila appeared to trip, right as she was about to reach the designer. Felix moved behind Marinette, having her twirl in front of him to show off the patterns embroidered into her dress, and felt the liquid on his back before Lila collided with him. Felix had made note of Lila as he was gesturing to Marinette’s dress and guessed at her plan with a fair bit of accuracy. Marinette was completely dry and far enough forward to avoid being bumped by Felix when the force from Lila’s impact pushed him. The icy glare returned to his face as he turned to deal with her.

A few men from nearby moved over to help Lila, who faked a sob story about how clumsy she was, because she was just so excited to see Marinette since “our schedules have just been so busy that we haven’t gotten to see each other!” when Felix interrupted her.

“Strange that you say that. I actually remember Marinette getting a restraining order on you after graduation, when you tried to poison her food. You claimed to be allergic to shellfish and said she was trying to slip clam broth into your food. However you had the broth container in your bag, it was slipped into her food, and according to her up-to-date school medical records, she’s severely allergic to mollusks so she wouldn’t come near the container. At the time, you were supposedly diagnosed with a disorder that causes you to compulsively lie. Regardless, the courts didn’t seem to believe that a disorder like that, which was unknown to and unheard of by medical professionals, wouldn’t have been grounds to explain trying to harm her and granted the order. Do you not remember that?” Felix recited the story almost impassively, as though it was simply a reminder of what she ate for breakfast, however he gave a mock confused look with his rhetorical question. The crowd had gathered around with her fall and were well within earshot as Felix described one of the worst incidents of Marinette’s life. The pale expression she wore and the Lila’s furious expression as he described it convinced even those that would’ve been inclined to side with Lila.

With one final look of distaste, Felix turned to Marinette and reached for her hand. The onlookers were surprised at the obvious tenderness as he spoke to her, “We should get you away from here. Do you want to stay at the party and talk to some more people or would you prefer I escort you home? We can see about getting some contact information before we leave, if you’d like.”

The room was deathly silent, even Lila having the sense to wait, in case she broke the tense quiet that had formed. After a deep breath and a shaky smile directed at Felix, Marinette turned back to the woman she had been speaking with before Lila’s act and politely said, “I enjoyed our conversation and hope we have the opportunity to speak again soon. I would love to hear more about your work to more effectively create silk patterns by hand. I know you said it before but hand weaved silk really is so much nicer than the machine weaved and I’ve read that it’s much more durable. Thank you for your time this evening!”

Felix moved to her side and Marinette slipped her hand into his before stepping towards the coat room. With coat in hand, the pair swept out of the ballroom to leave behind the drama of the evening.

Suddenly the room burst into chaos and Lila was escorted to a private room to wait for Gabriel to decide how to handle this revelation. He knew he would lose the respect of his peers if he kept a young woman on staff that they all knew had tried to murder another one. The cherry on that cake would be that the would-be victim is an up-and-coming designer that nearly all were considering making an offer to. It was clear to him that Ms. Rossi would be fired. Now it’s just a matter of the other clean up that would follow. Additionally, it seemed Ms. Dupain-Cheng also had a close relationship with his son, considering the show that he was putting on since they arrived. He would have to dig into his sons’ involvements with the designer's misfortunes, as that would impact how they looked to the public. There was one other aspect that Gabriel Agreste was rather certain of, one of his son’s was smitten with a good match and if they were happily married, it would help their careers immensely.

Marinette’s night out ended with a private car pulling up to her building, a kiss placed on Felix’s cheek, and her hand slipping a piece of paper with her phone number into his jacket pocket. She was pleased to find he messaged her immediately to make sure she made it into her apartment alright.

Felix was too lovestruck to sleep that night.

#felinette month 2020 #felinette month #lila salt #felinette #miraculous ladybug

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

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The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 5

Summary: After a short two day break, Adelaide finally comes back to the cottage. During their next challenge however, things don’t go to plan.

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 7.9k (I know, this is a lot, but I don’t know what happened to me

Warnings: Descriptions of a haunted house and what can be found in them.

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

I’ve been here in Italy for a week and a half now, but I have to take a small break, because the I had to travel to Switzerland. It was only for two days, to sign some papers and meet up with the director. The filming process isn’t starting for three more months, but it’s nice to know a bit more about it and to finally see the director in real life.

Plus it felt like I finally had time to breath, when I’m not being surrounded by camera’s. Henry and I prerecorded our challenges, so the schedule isn’t messed up.

Two days ago, the second episode aired and I actually liked the way people write about us and me. For once I’m not the ditz, but I’m the daredevil and actually quite smart.

I’m in the back of a taxi, as the driver soars over the roads. Thankfully he can’t hear me because of the plastic that separates us and from the looks of it, he doesn’t want to talk to me. That’s a good thing, because I see my dad wants to FaceTime me. ‘Hi,’ I say when I pick up.

Ever since I have been making a lot of money, he started to look even better and better. Not because I’m paying for his botox, but because he finally can relax. Years of overworking himself, stressing over me and my mom, it took a toll on him. Though he still works hard to make sure my mom is happy, it’s nothing compared to what he had to do.

The smile on my father’s face when he sees me is priceless. Even when I was younger, his entire face would light up when he saw me. I’m happy to know that I still have that effect on my dad, even when there is an ocean in between us and we’re on FaceTime. ‘You look so pretty,’ is the first thing he tells me.

He is an absolute sweetheart. ‘Thank you.’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m in a taxi, appa. I went to Switzerland for my new movie. Now I’m on my way back to Italy, to the cottage I’m staying at.’

‘Right,’ he says. He tilts his head. ‘You okay?’

‘I’m totally fine,’ I tell him. ‘Why? Don’t you like the show?’

He smiles, holding his phone very close to his face, as if he is closer to me then. ‘I do, but you look tired.’

I simply shrug. ‘I’m okay. How is eomma? She likes the show?’

Dad nods. ‘She is resting now, but she loves the show. Tell me, you like this Henry guy?’

Why am I blushing? What a way to give yourself away, Adelaide Park. ‘I like being around him, yes.’

‘Don’t lie,’ he says. ‘I taught you better than to lie to your appa. You like like him, right? I can tell, you know. Your smile when you’re with him tells me enough and you do that thing.’

My brows furrow together. ‘What thing?’

‘You touchy.’

‘That sounds perverted,’ I say. ‘And by the way, I’m not touchy.’

‘You are,’ dad tells me and this man is dead serious. ‘You touch his arm in your sleep. You always do that when you sleep, touch the other person. I remember when you were little girl, maybe five, and it was summer. It was very hot. Normally at that age, you always lay next to me, very close, because you were scared. But it was too hot, so you only placed your hand on my arm, because you couldn’t sleep without psychically knowing that I was there.’

I’m so grateful that there are no camera’s around, because this is one way to get exposed.

‘Also, you are happy around him. I haven’t seen you like that in a long time,’ he says with a smile.

I lean my head against the head rest. ‘I’m always happy,’ I tell him. ‘Not just because of him.’

He simply nods. ‘I see you don’t want to talk about it. That’s okay, I understand. You don’t want to talk about your love life with your appa.’

‘This is barely a love life,’ I chuckle.

‘It’s more than you have now.’

I purse my lips together, to not burst out into laughter. ‘Thanks for putting it into perspective.’

‘You take good care of yourself?’

‘Yes, dad.’

He nods. ‘I’m very proud of you,’ he says in all seriousness. ‘Only a daughter of mine eats fried spider like it’s nothing.’

I keep thinking about that challenge. It was disgusting, sure, but it’s true what I said: I can eat anything. One time, we didn’t have anything to eat and my dad was desperate. After spending an entire day at school, with only half an apple, I was starving and crying. It was pretty rough weather outside, so he couldn’t go on his usual round of finding food behind the restaurants, something he did when it was a situation like this. He went to the garden and found us some earthworms. My mom refused to eat it, after dad sort of made a meal out of it. She told him she wasn’t going to accept that we were that poor that we needed to eat earthworms.

What was next? He was going to snatch the snails out of the yard? He was going to catch a pigeon? Go fishing in the lake a few kilometers from our house?

They started fighting. My mom was mad at my dad, my dad thought she was being ungrateful. Just to stop them from fighting, I ate the fried earthworm and despite it being disgusting, I was too hungry and needed something in my stomach. It instantly stopped them from fighting and my dad was proud of me eating it. My mom even ate one, because she didn’t want me to think any less of her, she told me years later.

We talk for a bit and then he has to hang up, since he needs to do some groceries. I stare at the picture he send me yesterday. We don’t have many pictures of us from when I was younger, but he actually found the only one we have of the three of us. It was during Christmas. Both him and my mom were home when I was seven and the neighbor came over with her polaroid camera. She made a picture of us and during a clean up session, my dad found it again.

I remember what he texted with the picture: I loved you when you were born, I loved you when you were my little princess and I still love you now you are my hardworking princess. I’m so proud of you.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts, when I see that Henry wants to FaceTime. I answer the call and see his handsome face appear on my screen. ‘There you are,’ he says, a grin spread across his face. ‘Are you almost home?’

Home. I never had a place that I called home. It was always the people that made a place home. My parents were my home and since I moved out for my career in the acting industry, I have an apartment where I stay, but it’s never a home. I can’t seem to turn it into a home.

But staying in this cottage with Henry, felt homey, but I didn’t dare to call it a home, not wanting to come across weird or desperate.

However Henry does it now and it makes my heart skip a beat.

I look at the navigation screen and say: ‘Forty minutes.’

‘I miss you,’ he admits.

This shouldn’t make me blush like it does right now. I can’t stop my smile. ‘You miss me?’ I teasingly ask.

‘A whole lot, Addy. The place is so quiet without you here.’ He flashes me a dashing smile and sits outside on the doorstep, in the nice evening sun. ‘How was Switzerland?’

‘It was okay,’ I tell him. ‘The place where we are going to shoot is beautiful.’

‘Did the director have someone in mind for the love interest?’

I nod. ‘Yes, he is thinking about asking David Castañeda again. We also starred in another movie together and he liked our chemistry.’

When I told Henry about what the movie was about, he simply raised his eyebrows. It’s about a woman who goes to Switzerland, she is a journalist and needs to write a story about a mysterious man who owns way too many dogs and no one seems to understand him.

I don’t really need to explain how the rest of the movie will go, since it’s still a romantic comedy, thus pretty self explanatory what is going to happen.

‘But if David says no…?’

‘We’re back at square one,’ I say. ‘You sure I can’t pursue you?’

‘You, Addy, can pursue me any day.’ He winks at me, but I don’t understand the joke. ‘I think you wanted to persuade me, not pursue me.’

Oh shit, this is embarrassing. I’m tempted to open the car door while we’re going this fast, simply to throw myself out. ‘Yeah, I meant persuade. Sorry, English is hard.’

Henry smiles, but it disappears when he looks at me on his screen and he tilts his head in the process. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You have watery eyes.’

I clear my throat, before I blink away the tears in my eyes, because I indeed have watery eyes. ‘Really, it’s fine.’

‘Sure?’

Though I want to tell him a bit more about my private life, the words never roll out of my mouth. Like something is physically stopping me. However, now I say: ‘My dad called me. Just wanted to know how I was.’

Henry nods. ‘When was the last time you saw him?’

‘Think eight months ago. I just miss him a lot, just like I miss my mom.’

‘Understandably so.’ He leans against the doorframe, while he simply stares at his screen. ‘What did they think of the show?’

‘They liked it, but they like every single thing I’m in. They rewatch interviews, movies and episodes of Remembering High School when they miss me.’ I smile, thinking about the millions of videos that my dad send me of them rewatching episodes. He would film himself and say sweet things about how his daughter is the most talented one on the screen, or that his daughter is the prettiest. I know that he sends those videos to me, but he also sends them to friends. ‘I think I just realized now how much I miss them.’

‘That’s totally understandable,’ Henry says. ‘Are you going to visit them once this is over?’

‘I think so.’

Henry smiles. ‘Well, they can be proud of you and they should be. I am proud of you too,’ he says. ‘I mean, you totally put me to shame with that food challenge. I even got a message from Angela Bassett, saying how you are by far the coolest and that I’m a wimp.’

I chuckle. ‘That’s sweet and she is right.’

We talk for a while and those forty minutes fly by. The taxi stops in front of the cottage and Henry stands up with a bright smile. He always looks so happy to see me. The chauffeur hands me my bag and after I thanked him, he gets in again and drives off. Henry walks over to me and snakes his arms around my waist, lifting me up after he pulled me close to his body. ‘I’m happy to know that you aren’t going to leave me here again in this cottage,’ he says. ‘It felt like every second went by at least seven times.’

Sure, what he said was sweet, but I can’t seem to focus on those words, since this is the tightest hug someone has given me, apart from my parents of course. This is actually the first time he is hugging me. I press my nose in his shoulder, taking in his familiar scent and I close my eyes.

I’m really home now.

He lets go of me way too quickly. ‘I made you dinner.’

‘Really?’ I ask. ‘What did you make me?’

‘Pasta bolognese. When in Rome, right?’ He points a daring finger at me and says: ‘Don’t you dare say we aren’t in Rome.’

‘I wouldn’t dare,’ I chuckle. He holds out his hand and I give him my bag, before we walk into the cottage. During dinner, I tell him more about the movie and how beautiful the little town was where we’re going to film.

‘Isn’t it tiring, though?’ Henry asks. ‘To constantly play in romantic comedies?’

He asked me this before, but I didn’t know him that well to answer truthfully. Now I do know him well enough, to at least be sort of honest, without sounding like an ungrateful bitch. I simply shrug. ‘Sometimes I wished I would get other offers, but I guess I just have the face for romantic comedies.’

‘What kind of genre would you like to play in?’

‘Like a thriller or an action movie,’ I say. ‘More serious, you know? Maybe even Lara Croft one day. That would be amazing.’

‘You would nail Lara Croft,’ he says. ‘I feel like you have a lot of potential to play in tons of different movies. You would do great in a drama too, but a thriller is something I would like you to star in. Really different from what you do now.’

‘Don’t you ever want to play in a romantic comedy or something really serious?’ I ask him. ‘A drama for example?’

‘I would like to try it out one day,’ he says.

‘I think you would be great in a romantic comedy. You have that charm that women fall for.’

Henry cocks an eyebrow. ‘A charm you say?’

‘Yeah, exactly.’ I smile at him, stirring through my pasta. ‘What is a role you really want to portray one day? I mean, you already played Superman, that was pretty awesome.’

He nods. ‘Maybe James Bond one day.’

‘Why would you want to do that?’

‘I mean… It’s James Bond. That’s almost every men’s dream.’ Henry takes a sip of his water, as he clearly is studying my face. ‘Why? Don’t you like James Bond?’

I shake my head. ‘My mom hated the movies with a passion when I was growing up. It’s kind of sexist, really. I feel like, if you should ever play a movie with something like that, you should look into a movie where they create a whole new legendary character. Just like Keanu Reeves is the start of a John Wick legacy, you could be the start of something else.’ I smile at him, before adding: ‘You deserve better than to portray James Bond, Henry.’

He plays with his food for a second, before he looks at me again. ‘You think so?’

I nod. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you.’

Henry smiles. ‘Well, I’ll consider it.’

After we finish our dinner, I take a shower and get dressed in my pajamas. Despite the fact that I only drove back to the cottage today from Switzerland, I am really tired. Before I would go to bed early, simply to avoid falling in sleep in front of him, but now we usually get in bed together. We talk about tons of stuff before we actually fall asleep, still with the wall of pillows between us.

My mind is nearly in Dreamland already. I turn on my side and wrap my leg and arm around the pillows, my fingertips accidentally caressing his soft skin. ‘You don’t mind me doing this?’ I groggily whisper, still remembering my dad’s words that I’m apparently doing that thing.

‘I don’t,’ Henry says. ‘I think it’s sweet.’

I open my eyes for a brief second and I see him already looking at me, a smile toying on his face.

‘Go to sleep, Addy. Tomorrow you and I go swimming in the morning, remember?’

‘Oh right,’ I yawn, closing my eyes again. Somehow my hand finds his and I hesitate for a second. Should I pull my hand back or just leave it here? Thankfully I don’t have to think about that, because Henry wraps his fingers through mine and whispers: ‘Good night, Adelaide.’

‘Good night,’ I mumble, slowly drifting off to sleep.

◎ ◎ ◎

The next morning, I’m back in the insanely cold pool again with Henry. We’ve done this two times before now, but I still don’t trust myself enough to do something alone in the water. Even if it’s just holding the edge, as I’m sort of swimming by myself, Henry close by. I know that even if I do that, he wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

‘No, no, no,’ I quickly say, when he suggests that same idea, for the second time this morning. ‘Don’t let go of me, please.’

‘Addy, have I ever let go of you, when you didn’t want me to?’ he asks me. He decides to answer his own question. ‘No, I have never done that, so I’m not going to do that now. I’m just going to remove one hand from your waist to hold your hand, okay?’

‘No,’ I whine.

Henry starts to chuckle. ‘What’s up with you today?’ he asks. ‘You’re shaking. Is the water that cold or are you scared?’

‘I’m scared,’ I admit. ‘I know that I have to do it myself one day and at least try a bit alone, but not today. Please.’

‘Okay, not today,’ he assures me. ‘You seem a bit tense. Is everything okay?’

I sigh. ‘I just got a text from my dad this morning,’ I whisper, but loud enough for him to hear it, maybe not loud enough for the “hidden” camera’s that are stationed in the garden to pick up. ‘It’s just that my mom has a cold and that always worries me.’

‘Why?’ he asks, as he stops walking in the water.

I don’t want to tell him, but I know that I eventually will. My arms are wrapped around his shoulders, while his fingers are circling on my skin. It’s such a small, yet caring gesture from his side. ‘My mom is paralyzed from the waist down,’ I tell him. ‘But… She… After she got paralyzed, she never got back to her old health, if that makes sense. She is very prone to colds and a simply cold can turn into a nasty flu and that can result into her needing to go to the hospital. She ended up in the emergency room a few times and each time I wasn’t home. My dad always tells me not to worry about her, just like my mom tells me not to worry, but it’s hard. I worry a lot about them all the time, especially when she’s sick.’

Henry doesn’t say anything, he simply studies my face. ‘I had no idea,’ he tells me. ‘Come here.’ He pulls me towards his body and I nuzzle my face in his neck. ‘I’m so sorry, Addy. I understand you worry a lot about them, but… I just have to ask: why don’t you tone it down with the movies, so you can be with them?’

I pull back and say: ‘Because… I want to provide for them.’

‘Why?’ His blue eyes almost look innocent. I have to hold myself in, not to brush the wet curls out of his face, not to press my nose against his cheek, to kiss his jaw, feeling the short hairs puncture my lips. I can’t stop myself falling in love with him. He is everything that I was apparently looking for in a man. He is kind, he is patient and he is caring. He knows how to cook, he can read me like the back of his hand and yesterday, the way he held my hand when I went to sleep, is making me feel all sorts of things.

But there is one thing that I know: if he ever becomes a bigger part of my life, he should know more about me. I have been dodging it for too long now, but I should tell him. And even if we don’t become an item, I know that we will end up as friends. I know that after the Celebrity Project ends, I don’t ever want him out of my life again.

‘When I grew up, we were very poor,’ I say. ‘Like, my dad had to work long hours in a factory, my mom became a live in nanny and I had to raise myself. My dad barely ate after a long day of work, so mom and I could have most of it, when my mom would be home to eat it. I went to one of the only schools that was close by and was free. It wasn’t a great school, I don’t even think my teachers remember me at all. We couldn’t afford testing for me, something that my parents didn’t even know about, because they couldn’t miss a day at their jobs and I did my own parent teacher meetings.’

‘Geez, Adelaide,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry.’

I clear my throat, because I don’t want to cry. ‘When I was nineteen, I was working at a diner, to help meet ends back at home, since I couldn’t go to college, my mom was hit by a car and left paralyzed. The medical bills were out of the roof and she needed physical therapy, but we couldn’t afford it. And that’s the whole reason I started acting in ‘Remembering High School’. I had zero acting experience, but I needed the money. After I made that money and my year on the show was up, I got offered two different movies. A romantic comedy or a thriller, but from the looks of it, the romantic comedy would definitely make more. Thankfully I chose that movie, because the thriller was a big flop. Every penny I earned from that movie and a few after that, went to my parents, for their bills.’

Henry nods and removes his hand from my waist, so he can wipe the tears of my cheeks. Not that it helps, since his hand is still wet from the water. ‘You are amazing,’ he says. ‘I think you are by far the most amazing woman on this earth. Do you still do that? Give your money to your parents?’

I nod. ‘I don’t really know what I should do with it and my parents worked so hard for me. This is my way of thanking them.’

Henry pulls me closer to him, his arms around my body and I let out a tiny sob that I was holding in, when I bury my face in his strong shoulder. ‘It’s okay,’ he whispers. ‘If you want to go home, you just go home, okay? I totally understand. Your family is more important than this show.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.’

‘No, no, no, don’t say something like that. I understand. It’s very personal and this isn’t something that you just tell people. You are amazing, Addy, please remember that, okay?’

I nod, before slowly pulling back, so I can look at him again. Henry is smiling. ‘What?’ I ask.

‘You just keep on surprising,’ he says. ‘And in these days that I’m spending time with you, I’ve gotten to know you in a way that I never thought would be possible. Angela spoke so highly of you, though she barely knew you. Now I know you quite well and I can’t speak anything but highly of you.’

I let out a nervous chuckle. ‘You don’t have to.’

‘But I will anyways,’ he smiles. ‘Let’s get out of the pool now, you are freezing.’ We go to the edge and when I climbed out, I grab my towel and wrap it around me. Henry’s perfectly shaped body, with the right hip-shoulder ratio… I can’t help but look.

‘Henry,’ I say, causing him to look up. ‘Thank you.’

He chuckles. ‘Not a single problem, Adelaide.’

◎ ◎ ◎

Dad: No need to worry. Eomma will make it, it’s a tiny flu.

Adelaide: Sure?

Dad: More than sure. Enjoy your time.

Dad: I love you 😘

Adelaide: I love you too 😘

I keep thinking about my dad’s texts. I mean, he tells me that it will be alright and I should believe him. Back in the day, he was always right and that shouldn’t change now.

After our little swimming adventure, Henry and I got ready for the day and now we’re standing in front of a haunted house, waiting for the host of today to get ready. What exactly the challenge is for today, I don’t know, but I’m not looking forward to it at all.

The rest on the other hand seem to be totally fine. Henry places both of his hands on my shoulders and I look back, placing the top of my head against his chest. Even upside down, he is beautiful looking. I bet I look like a moron. ‘Are you okay?’ he quietly asks.

‘I’m fine.’ Thankfully over the course of the years, I have become a better liar, which I think is a skill thanks to my acting career. I have always been a master at hiding my emotions, but when people get closer to me (just my parents, but nowadays Henry too), it’s harder, because they see right through me.

And right now, I’m not fine. My mom is sick and I don’t know how she is doing as we speak. We have to go through the haunted house and I’m afraid that they are going to make us go individually. I really want to go with Henry, because then I can just hop on his back, bury my face in his neck and not look.

However, this show is the stupidest thing I’ve ever participated in, because we have to go through the haunted house all by ourselves, while even doing some challenges while we’re inside.

My heart is racing and I can’t even look at the big screen outside of the house, without jumping. Henry is still standing behind me, with his hands still on my shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the tight muscles to make them less tense. ‘Relax,’ he whispers, when someone else is going inside. ‘You’re going to be fine.’

But I can’t believe him. I’m not going to be fine. Justin screams his lungs out when someone pops up in front of him, as he is trying to solve a Rubik’s cube. Jennifer is hiding in a corner, while she is singing one of her own songs. And when it’s Henry’s turn, he has to solve a sudoku, but he jumps at every little sound and that is really not easing my mind. If a man like him, who nearly tripped over his own feet because I moved the fried tarantula in his face, screams like this when he hears water drip on the floor, how the hell am I supposed to do this?

After watching everyone else go, it’s time for me. I feel like my petite frame reminds them of a kindergartner, because they all wish me extra good luck. Jennifer even pulls me into a motherly hug and whispers that I’ve got this.

But do I have it in me to finish this?

I push open the door and I step into the house of horrors. I could eat the most disgusting looking snacks and people called me a daredevil. I can manage this. This isn’t that terrifying. It’s just fake, it’s like acting.

Only this set looks scary as hell and there is no one out here to say cut.

The lights start to flicker, something they didn’t do before. How am I supposed to read and answer eventual questions if I have to do that? I take a step forward, but my heart is pounding so loud, that my eardrums hurt.

The steps are minuscule, but at least I’m taking steps forward. Every door, every corner, every closed window… It makes me hesitant, but so far, nothing has happened. Maybe the actors that work here feel sorry for me.

I could crawl over the floor, I think to myself. Maybe that would be—

Something falls down from the ceiling and bounces on the floor. I jump backwards, letting out a scream that is more a high whistle note. When I finally can open my eyes again, I notice it’s a head and just a head. ‘It’s fake,’ I tell myself out loud. ‘It’s fake.

But then the head starts to scream, causing me to scream and a tiny sob escapes my lips. No, no, no, this can’t be happening.

I quickly jump over it and hurry myself through the rest of the hall.

Because I’m simply just walking and not paying attention, I bump into a wall and I go left, but someone with a fucking knife comes out of the door and I stumble backwards. Thankfully this person keeps standing in the doorframe and I crawl past them, but he or she keeps standing in the doorway, not attacking me. ‘Thank you,’ I squeak, my throat tightening, almost like someone is physically choking me.

Okay, I managed this and I see a clipboard with some questions on a table. I press my back against the wall, so I can see everyone.

What is the capital of Russia? Easy peasy, lemon squeezy, I think to myself. If these are the questions, I’m out of here within a minute.

I hear footsteps and the light that was flickering two seconds ago, is completely out. It’s dark. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

I can’t see anything, but I hear screams and dark voices. I try to catch my breath, when the light come back on and I’m surrounded by a bloody nurse, a creepy clown and oh my, is that not one, but three zombies? They are really close to me and I can’t help up but scream bloody murder, as I hide my face behind the clipboard. ‘No, go away, go away!’

Is that a fucking chainsaw?

I open my eyes for a second, only to see that someone who looks like Chucky is really close now with a chainsaw. This doesn’t seem fake anymore. This seems way too real and my brain is going crazy. What is happening? Am I dying?

I start to cough, as the tears run over my cheeks. ‘No, stop, please!’

I hear something, but the pounding of my heart is too hard for me to hear what is happening. All I can do is cry, shake and cough as the tears nearly make me choke.

‘Addy, I’m here,’ I hear a voice say, but I keep hiding my face in my face, kicking my feet and I hit something. ‘Ouch, no, no, it’s me, Henry. Don’t worry, it’s all over.’

I peek through my fingers, to see the lights are on and all the scary people that cornered me, are gone. The only one I see now, is Henry. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes hurt from crying. I try to say something, but my breathing is all over the place.

Henry holds my hands and places one on my own chest and the other on his. ‘Try to breath with me, Adelaide,’ he says to me. ‘Now breath in deeply.’ He takes a deep breath, holds it for a second, before slowly breathing out. I try to copy him, but my breathing is too erratic. It takes at least ten times before I’m finally sort of managing. ‘Very good,’ he says in a soft tone. ‘Very good.’

‘Is it over?’ I whimper.

Henry nods, holding my hand tightly in his. ‘It’s all over. I’m so sorry that this happened to you and I’m sorry I didn’t come in here way sooner. I should’ve noticed that this was too much.’

‘Did we lose?’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he says sternly. ‘You shouldn’t worry about that.’ Henry stands up and pulls me with him, but my legs feel like jello and simply give out, because of all the adrenaline that is breaking down. I cling onto his shirt, as he holds me up by my waist.

‘I can’t anymore,’ I cry, as I bury my face into his shirt, not caring about wiping my tears on the fabric. ‘I’m so scared.’

‘I know,’ he sighs. ‘Fuck, I know.’ He hoists me up in his arms, guiding me into wrapping my legs around his waist. ‘Don’t look,’ he tells me.

I don’t even want to look at this awful, awful place anymore, so I bury my face into his neck, as he walks out of the haunted house. He places me on the soft grass and he runs his fingers through my disheveled hair. ‘Addy, listen to me,’ he says, ‘you’re breathing is good, but you need to make sure that it stays like this okay?’

I simply nod. ‘I’m just so embarrassed.’

‘There is absolutely no need to be embarrassed,’ he tells me. ‘You can stop with this program if you want. I mean, I totally understand that you want to quit.’

‘I think I just want tomorrow off,’ I whisper. ‘And do nothing.’

‘I understand,’ he says. ‘You want to go home?’

Home. ‘As long as you are there.’

Henry smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘I’m not leaving you, Addy. Not after this.’

◎ ◎ ◎

When Henry and I are home, I feel disgusting. I could actually use a shower, but I’m too afraid of standing in the shower cabin by myself and I don’t want to shower with Henry (our friendship is too fragile for that), so a simple washing cloth should do the trick.

The producers of the Celebrity Project gave me the next day off and depending on how I feel after tomorrow, I will decide whether or not I’m staying here. I don’t want to give up and I think I can overcome this.

Henry sits next to me on the couch, as we both stare at the television. We have been watching Mamma Mia, simply because of the ABBA songs and the story line is predictable and predictability is exactly what I need right now. ‘You want something to drink?’ he asks me, when the credits are rolling on the screen.

I shake my head. ‘No, thank you.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘I don’t know,’ I whisper.

‘Do you want to go to bed?’ he suggests. ‘We could do that. I bet you are tired.’

I am tired and the fact that he said that we could do that, must indicate that he is going to stay with me, right? I simply nod and he says he is going to close off. To be alone is not what I want right now, so I follow him around the cottage like a puppy.

When we’re in bed, I ask him if he wants to leave the light on his nightstand on. I still sit up straight in bed, my arms wrapped around my knees. Henry places a hand on my back.

‘I’m scared,’ I whisper, as I feel my heart pounding painfully in my chest.

He sighs deeply. ‘I know. Is there anything I can do for you?’

I turn my head to the side, so I can look at him. ‘Can… Can you… Can you hold me, please?’ Tears burn in my eyes. ‘I’m so scared, Henry.’

He throws the pillows from the bed, before I crawl into his inviting arms. I place my head on his chest, my arm wrapped around his waist. ‘Breath, Addy,’ he whispers. ‘It’s all okay now, I’m right here with you. Nothing can happen to you now.’

However, the tears come again and they aren’t stopping. His large hand cups my cheek, his thumb caressing the skin right underneath my eye. He lets me cry, even though I have been crying a lot for the past few hours.

I force myself to stop, because I’m out of breath and I’m just too tired to cry anymore. Henry pulls me closer to his broad and heavy frame.

‘There, there,’ he says in a soft tone. ‘You are all okay now.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I whisper.

‘No need to be sorry, Addy. You just try and go to sleep, because you are really tired and after this day… You should just sleep, okay?’

During the night, I wake up a few times, but every single time I’m closely tugged into Henry’s protective arms. Sometimes he is behind me, his face buried in my neck or my hair, our hands linked. Sometimes I have my head on his shoulder and then my face is nuzzled in his neck. But every time I wake up, he is still awake. ‘Go back to sleep,’ he whispers, his fingers drawing soothing circles on my skin.

And as if his voice is working like hypnosis, I drift off right back to sleep.

◎ ◎ ◎

The next day, Henry has been nothing but a sweetheart to me and halfway through the day, I feel a whole lot better and decide to stay here and finish the competition. I don’t care that we are last and that we are probably going to lose anyways.

The two of us decide to take a walk through a large orchard, with trees filled with apples and oranges. We end up on a lovely field and I plop down in the grass. The sun is burning on my skin, but I chose a spot near a tree, so we can alternate between sitting in the sun and the shadows.

Henry and I lean against the tree when the sun is too hot for us to sit in, as we stare ahead of us. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘I was wondering something.’

‘Tell me.’

‘You kept your personal life very private over the course of the years. Why was that?’

‘I thought it wasn’t anyones business.’ I look to the side and chuckle. ‘That’s the I try to be really tough-answer, but the truth is: I was embarrassed. No one at school knew about my situation at home and I certainly didn’t want the entire world to know.’

‘You didn’t have any friends?’

I shake my head. ‘Yet again: I was too embarrassed to share this with anyone. Besides, I was the weird girl who wore the same clothes for three days on end.’

‘Kids can be cruel,’ he says, referring to his own past.

I wrap my arms around his strong one, pressing my cheek against his bicep. ‘They can.’

‘Can I ask something else?’

‘You can.’

��Have you ever dated?’

I place my chin on his arm, so I can actually look at him again. ‘No, I have never.’

‘You have played alongside quite a few single guys. Was there not a spark in real life?’

‘Goodness gracious, Henry, you sound like you’re in a retirement home. A spark in real life? Really?’

He chuckles. ‘You get what I’m saying.’

‘I do,’ I say with a smile. ‘But to answer your question, no, there wasn’t. I mean, I remain in contact with some of them and we’re still friendly, but I never let them in. Not like how I’m with you.’ I place my cheek against his bicep again, but one of my hands slides down his arm. He intertwines his fingers with mine and his thumb draws soft figures on my skin.

Henry nods. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘you are really one of a kind.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you do something that no one else does. You haven’t mentioned my appearance once since we are here.’

‘Really?’ I ask frowning. ‘I thought about your appearance quite a few times.’

He smiles. ‘But you never voiced it. You know, it’s flattering that people comment about my appearance, but you don’t do that. You comment about my personality traits and I don’t want to become all sappy, but… It means a lot.’

‘You are sappy,’ I mumble, causing him to laugh. ‘But since we are being sappy with one another, I should tell you that… You are one of a kind too. You give me a chance. I remember one of the first times I was having issues with speaking and you didn’t fill in the rest. You just waited till I could finish my sentence. That means… a lot. Also, Henry, you… You ran into the haunted house for me.’

‘How…’

‘I saw the footage,’ I say with a smile, remembering what I saw this morning.

He was standing outside, his arms crossed in front of his chest, a deep frown between his brows. ‘Can you just leave the lights on?’ he asked. ‘Flickering lights make it harder for Adelaide to concentrate.’

But there was no response. He shook his head, clenched his jaw and eventually he simply walked away. He went in the haunted house, pressed the “Stop” button, before rushing towards me, pulling some of the actors away. ‘It’s over,’ he told them. ‘Get the fuck out of here.’

After seeing the footage, it made my heart swell like crazy. ‘Quite romantic, really,’ I chuckle.

He laughs, but it sounds more nervous this time. ‘Well… It was nothing.’

‘It meant the world to me,’ I retort. And because of that, I think I’m even more in love with you than I already was. However it doesn’t leave my lips. I don’t want to scare him off.

‘This never happened to me before,’ Henry says. ‘Feeling about someone like this.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like how I feel about you.’ He squeezes my hand, before continuing by saying: ‘I care so much about you, Adelaide. Before you told me about your life, after you told me about your life. Even if we don’t win this contest, I did win something else. I won the privilege to get to know you.’

‘You care for me,’ I repeat, letting those words process for a bit. But that’s not falling in love with me.

‘And,’ he continues, ‘I’m slowly falling for you too.’

I resit, so I don’t strain my neck when I look at him. ‘What?’

He holds my hand tightly in his, as if he is afraid that I might slip away. ‘I’m falling in love with you, Adelaide Park.’

I bite my lip. ‘You are?’

‘I am,’ he confirms. ‘Even if we don’t win this show, I want to figure out how we can manage after this. Maybe you can even tone it down with your movies.’

I chuckle, hiding my face in my hand. ‘Maybe I can do that.’ I look at our linked hands and I whisper: ‘I’m falling love with you too, Henry Cavill.’

‘You are?’ he asks with a smile. ‘Lucky me.’

We don’t say anything. I just look into his eyes, trying to figure out what he is thinking. I can see him staring at my lips, before he moistens his own. ‘When I kiss you,’ he says, ‘there is one problem. I fear that I can’t stop then, but I also want us to remain a little secret. For time being of course.’

I nod. ‘Then you don’t kiss me.’

‘But I want to,’ he chuckles.

‘You have to pick one of the options.’

‘What do you want?’

‘I mean…’ I purse my lips together. ‘I wouldn’t mind if we kissed.’

Henry pulls me closer by my hand. I lose a bit of my balance, so I fall against his chest. ‘Careful now, Addy,’ he chuckles. ‘We don’t want any injuries, now do we?’

‘Shut up.’ I finally place my hand on his cheek and as my thumb is slowly caressing his soft skin, I accidentally graze over his velvety lips. He turns his head, to kiss the palm of my hand.

‘Can I kiss you?’ he asks against my skin, as he places his hand on mine, so he can press another, but more firm kiss on the inside of my hand. ‘You can say no.’

‘I want to kiss you,’ I hoarsely whisper. ‘Badly so.’

‘Badly so,’ he repeats with a self fulfilled grin on his face. He leans in closer to me and teasingly kisses my cheek, the tip of my nose and even my forehead. ‘Where?’ he whispers. ‘Where do you want me to kiss you?’

‘Right here,’ I whisper, before pressing my lips on his. They fit perfectly on each other. I cradle his face in my hands, as he pulls me closer to his body, though my legs are in the way. Without even thinking about it, I sit on his lap, causing him to smile underneath the kiss.

‘Badly so it was,’ he mumbles against my lips, his hands slipping underneath my shirt. He opens his mouth and carefully his tongue invades my mouth. I whimper, as his fingers dig into my back, his thumbs softly circling my stomach.

How many on screen kisses have I done?

Billions.

How many felt like this?

None.

I pull back, so I can catch my breath, but he is not giving me a break. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, pressing wet kisses on my delicate skin. ‘Can we stay here forever?’ he asks against my collarbone. ‘I don’t want to go back to the camera’s.’

‘Me neither,’ I whisper. I place my pointer finger underneath his chin, lifting his face. ‘How are we going to do this back at the cottage?’

‘Well,’ he chuckles, ‘we are already behaving like a cute couple, so we don’t have to change a lot about that. Just have to hold back the kisses.’

My fingers run through his curls, messing them up a little, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Henry simply smiles at me. ‘I think we can manage that,’ I say, smiling back at him.

‘Can I have another kiss?’ he asks.

‘You can,’ I whisper, before he captures my lips again. This kiss is even more intense and my fingers toy with the buttons of his shirt, when we hear someone clear their throat. We look up, to see a little boy staring at us, while his grandmother is screaming something in the back. ‘Maybe we should find another place,’ I suggest, stepping off his lap.

‘Yeah,’ Henry says, ‘maybe we should.’

◎ ◎ ◎

Adelaide: You were right.

Adelaide: I like Henry a lot

Dad: I’m always right

Adelaide: And I kissed him.

Dad: You didn’t?

Adelaide: I did, but please keep this a secret.

Dad: I can tell your eomma right?

Adelaide: Yes you can

Adelaide: I love you 😘

Dad: I love you too, future mrs. Cavill

Adelaide: Please, don’t.

◎ ◎ ◎

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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reversecreek · 3 years

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pops hip n winks at the dash. haaaaiiii. me again. i’ve honestly missed playing lana fr a while she’s one of. my most treasured muses bc she’s jst a silly n vivacious ball of sunshine or alternatively? a train wreck depending on which way u turn her in the light..... i actually hv two playlists made fr her n one is rly old bt it’s more like. songs that Remind me of her which u can find here n then here is more like. stuff u’ll most often catch her blasting on her record player as she dances around in her underwear w the curtains open. OH and here is her pinterest 🍓⚡

* kristine froseth, cis female + she/her | you know lana jameson, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, a few hours? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to play that funky music by wild cherry like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole cherry red gym socks worn with nothing else, doodling penises in the condensation of a stranger’s car window, a bumper sticker on the back of a convertible cadillac that says ‘scrappy doo is a filthy slut’ thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is june 2nd, so they’re a gemini, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt, she/her )

HISTORY:

lana grew up in a big house in albany, NY. i picture it w dark oak floors n lots of light furniture. albums framed on walls. mayb some rolling stone covers too frm way bk when of the bands her dad’s label signed. kind of like… a rock star palace w no evidence of children at all. i think i described it best in one of lana’s self paras once when i said the garden ws “as big as it was unloved”

lana’s mum victoria (vic) ws a music journalist w a pretty fruitful career ahead of her when she met lana’s dad richard (rich). his record label ws jst starting out, founded on the coattails of his wealthy best friend’s (jensen peters) investment w his other best friend (who he jst calls knoxville). it rocketed to success when they signed poppy injects, a rock band w an electric stage presence, n vic ws drawn to the glitz n glamour of a man tht ws at the helm of his aspiring industry. their love ws very impulsive, all or nothing right frm the start, n it ws almost like she ws mre in love w his accomplishments n what he represented than him.

(DRUGS TW) anyway so jameson records repped a few rock bands bk in the eighties, altho poppy injects r who they’re mostly known fr, namely bc of hw brightly they crashed n burned. they were a big chart success bt the lead singer hd quite an intense struggle w heroin (wsnt rly subtle abt it either while he ws in the public eye as u cn probably imagine frm such an on-the-nose band name) n he ws always in n out of the papers. it eventually brought down his career n it ws a big publicity nightmare

lana pretty much… grew up around figures like this throughout childhood. real characters who wld kind of… b extremely volatile n destructive abt their troubles. the jameson house was an open one as welcoming clients went n a lot of parties took place there. a lot of the time musicians wld b snorting lines in the kitchen when she wnted to grab a bowl of cereal fr breakfast n it was just. a very strange environment fr a child to grow up in. more zoo than home. more shaken snow globe than resting place. (END OF TW)

(ABORTION REFERENCE) her parents always kind of jst… didn’t like her much. her older brother caleb ws unplanned bt they sort of welcomed the surprise more bt… quickly realised they weren’t cut out fr parenthood n then when lana came as another surprise 3 yrs later they didn’t even try to hide their resentment abt the situation. her mum ws actually booked in to have an abortion bt cldnt go through with it at the last minute. once when lana ws a kid she asked her why she’s so cold towards her she jst turned her head frm her dresser, looked at her, told her abt this n said “idk why i didn’t go”. lana didn’t kno wht to say to tht so she jst left her room n closed the door (END OF REFERENCE)

(DISSOCIATION TW) bc of the intensity of her parents ignoring her growing up lana adopted this sense of like…. she didn’t rly kno what it ws bt it ws a delusion of sorts where she thought she ws a ghost bc she gt this strange outside feeling. she’d jst sort of… drift around the halls w no-one acknowledging her n sometimes she ws jst convinced she wsnt actually there or they cldnt see her n she ws jst haunting the house frm a previous family. (END OF TW) her imagination festered an explanation out of smthn she didn’t understand essentially. lana used her imagination to do this a lot growing up. it ws kind of like the band aid she slapped over everything. after all she wasn’t alone if she was sword fighting imaginary pirates dwn the hallway with a poker from the fireplace.

the one saving grace tho tht sort of?? gt her thru this n made her feel Seen ws caleb. lana quite genuinely hs always thought the sun shines out of her older brothers ass like she jst thinks. he’s the best person in the entire world. wld b rly bewildered if anyone questioned tht. he wld always look out for her n cut the crusts off her sandwiches (he’d cook fr them most of the time bc their parents were too busy/didn’t care to) n sometimes wld even sleep at the bottom of her bed curled up like a guard dog. it ws always lana n caleb n his best friend tommy against the world in tht house (tommy lived next door bt was always over bc he had very strict parents tht he found suffocating)

(ARMY MENTION) SO when tommy announced tht he’d signed up to the army (bc of pressures from tommy’s military dad to fulfil some kind of stupid “legacy” tommy didn’t even care abt) n caleb said he was going with him lana ws understandably…….. completely blindsided. she ws rly upset tht they were leaving n was kind of like “wtf why are u doing this like what do u even think this is gna solve” etc n begged caleb not to leave her there on her own n jst to not sign up in general bc tommy had to bt he didn’t listen.

ERM i won’t go into it but it didn’t turn out well as u can probably imagine bc the army is a terrible industry n caleb had to return home without tommy. he wasn’t the same after that. (END OF MENTION)

what’d been a rly close relationship before where he ws basically like a surrogate father figure to lana was Not there any more. he ws rly withdrawn n always pushing her away n snapping at her for the sake of getting her to leave him alone. on top of this lana had a lot of shit go down while he was away n rly just shouldn’t have been a kid alone in tht house. regardless lana thought if she kept grinning as wide as she cld she’d convince caleb to join in too. maybe if she seemed fine n happy he’d take the lead. maybe she’d believe it too n start to feel it n everything could go bk to how it was before her world became so different. lana liked the way the sky flipped when she tipped her head back on the swings bt this was different. everything was upside down bt this didn’t make her belly feel like she’d swallowed a butterfly and it wasn’t funny bt still, she kept laughing. always desperate to find something to laugh at n if she couldn’t find it she invented it. as long as ur laughing the world can’t b that bad.

she ws always well liked in school bc she jst tended to treat everyone like they were bffs no matter who like u cld have literally bumped shoulders w her once in the corridor n she’d be like OMG HAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII let’s kiss<3 n like she ws a huge notorious flirt w any n all as well as incredibly impulsive n jst. wild honestly to put it simply too bt things like. changed a bit frm 16 onwards. (HYPERSEXUALITY & IMPLIED TRAUMA TW) she jst became far more reckless honestly n like....... jst didn’t rly seem to care after a certain point abt herself too much.... got herself in a bunch of bad situations.......... kind of jst flung herself to the wolves numerous times without any caution abt the way they’d bite. formed a lot of self destructive habits one of which ws cruising craigslist personals fr random hook-ups n like. she literally cld have wound up in a ditch somewhere honestly it’s a shock she hasn’t. despite various dips n inclines in her journey navigating this side of her it’s very much still present in her life to this day n she struggles to kno hw to control herself at points. sometimes she feels like a melting candle tht needs moulding by thumbs until it can form a person again. sometimes she’s only sure she’s real when she’s being touched. (END OF TW)

ANYWAY. laughs nervously. went to college to study dance bc she’s always loved dance in general bt specifically ballet (despite definitely not hving the discipline for it) n honestly this was both good n bad fr her. had a whole string of terrible heartbreaking relationships bc she tends to fall into those hard n fast n they were w a lot of bad people fr like 98% of the time. she kind of learned more abt what love is during her time there tho which is a gd thing bt she still isn’t very good at knowing hw to believe she deserves it so it’s a process. she hd fun tho. threw 498572598475 outrageous n elaborately themed parties. ws friends w pretty much everyone on campus.

despite a strained relationship w her brother n having to go home to visit n check on him whenever he got rly bad it ws the first time it actually felt like she’d found a home in a lot of rly loving n genuine friendships n lana will never forget hw much that experience meant to her even if she definitely struggled there too. college felt like a place she belonged n then suddenly she couldn’t belong there any more n there was a big sense of floundering in that. like where do u go now when u’ve never known home elsewhere? how do u happily go out into the world if it means leaving ur world behind?

she applied to a dance company in LA n fell in w a pretentious art scene there full of wannabe andy warhols n the like. became a makeshift edie sedgwick to some guy w dyed white hair n the idea his every concept was revolutionary when rly he jst shot her dancing barely clothed splashing around in a random fountain in his friend’s mansion on an ancient film camera. she’d spend her days floating around on lilo’s and prancing in feather boas and racing with glitter leftover frm last night in her leotard w smudges of faint red lipstick to barely make her job on time. always a sexy train wreck bt this time? make it hollywood.

(IMPLIED ALCOHOLISM TW) i won’t lie to u lana hs always partied way too hard bt then partying way too hard turned into slurping merlot thru a crazy straw shaped like a flamingo at 4 in the afternoon wearing penis novelty sunglasses n it wasn’t quite so much of a party when u were doing it on ur own. this rly snowballed into place in college bt carried on n wound up getting her fired from the dance company bc she turned up to rehearsals drunk one too many times n they didn’t allow fr sloppiness like tht. it was a “professional operation” that didn’t “accept that kind of behaviour” bt lana was jst like ummmmmmmmm that’s totally dramatic btw way to spank me in the town square like i’m gale w a raw ass n back in the hunger games bt ok sure i’m out ig. BOOP! (literally booped the director on the nose before leaving) (END OF TW)

honestly hd no idea what to do w herself after her job fell thru in LA n was pretty embarrassed actually upon sobering up the nxt day. cldn’t bring herself to tell her friends for a hot minute bc she felt like a failure or smthn n she was meant to be living this glamorous life out there being the classic wild n silly n fun Lana Jameson. cldn’t figure out how to repackage it into a funny story tht wouldn’t worry ppl. eventually wound up jst caving n telling her closest besties (shoutout freya n rosa) bc she ws hving a weird time dating losers n randomly living in LA even tho she didn’t kno why she was there any more after losing the job n they were jst like. fk it then. jst come here. we’re in irving. and so? mizz jameson packed her bags....

PERSONALITY:

always smells vaguely of wild cherries or strawberry starburst or jst the candy aisle in general. if she ws a vinyl record she’d b this one n she’d only play good vibrations by the beach boys, dancing on my own by robyn, play that funky music by wild cherry, femme fatale by the velvet underground n (i can’t get no) satisfaction by the rolling stones

the jameson family r pretty well off n bc of her relation to such a big music industry figure she’s hung out w a fair few relatively high rep ppl thru her teens. mostly kids of celebrities n stuff like tht. she amassed a bit of an instagram following #nepotism bt also fr her style (v penny lane-esque in some aspects. lots of fur cuff trimmed jackets bt then also jst…. a wild combination of everything honestly. pastel faux fur coats, seventies style platforms, bright red cowboy boots, pink fishnet tights, holographic stickers of planets on her cheek n glitter used like highlight, 90% of the time a red lip) n bc she’s not gna make ur eyes bleed to look at or anything let’s b real

growing up lana was always a huge social butterfly. knew everyone n everyone knew her. she ws one of those girls tht ws kind of impossible to ignore or forget. very animated, always made u feel like u were the centre of the universe whenever she spoke to u, always made it feel like u were best friends even if ud only spoken to her once.

deliberately puts on tht kind of Magnetic Alluring Act tht femme fatales wear in movies w most ppl. kind of…. is always playing A Role of the person tht she wants to b seen as. hates being sad n always wnts to be happy / making ppl happy. chameleons to situations. feels like she’s performed as the vivacious n fun loving Lana Jameson fr so long tht she doesn’t rly kno who she is beneath tht bt she isn’t too keen to find out. sometimes gets glimpses n feels the urge to close her eyes.

she’s always been rly spontaneous n adventurous. always doing something weird n wild every weekend. she has ten thousand ridiculously absurd n chaotic stories. she’s like oh ya this one time this guy made me ride him with a daddy saddle like i was woody and he was bullseye. he literally made me call him bullseye. or she’s like. oh ya once i had to run barefoot thru a cabbage patch bc this one farmer wanted to have a threeway w me n my friend tht we met off craigslist n every framed photo in his house was a pig dressed up in cosplay bt honestly they were kind of cute n he was sexy aside frm the murderous vibes n the fact he kept calling me babe which i’m pretty sure means he wanted to dress me up next bt like whatever honestly.... she tells jst the most batshit stuff n the person she’s telling it to is left blinking like. wtf.

uncontrollably flirty. insanely confident. cld make a joke out a paper bag n will try. she tends to laugh when she feels like crying n has a smile brighter than a ray of texas sunshine.

likes to roller skate n hs a red pair she’ll glide around in at night lit up by amber street lamps breath sticky w the taste of wine n lollipops probably heading to a random hookups. who needs ubers?

always dapples her fingers thru the breeze when she’s driving in a car w the window down. honestly likes dangling her whole body halfway out too. she almost always has some sort of sweet on her, whether it’s sour haribo cherries or strawberry lollipops.

luvs bowie (ONLY aesthetically) n prince (wholeheartedly) n madonna (completely) n anyone tht’s a vintage style icon w little care fr what ppl think.

daisies n poppies r her fav flowers bc daisies r wild n overlooked n poppies r the first thing u look at in a green field. she’s had like 8472493874 ‘relationships’ n none of them hav lasted beyond a month / hav been terrible / hav seen her being treated badly / she’s cheated on them. honestly it’s like a burning train wreck but u can’t quite tear ur eyes away. often the heart of many sordid gossip scandals.

PLOTS:

TBA bc she’s only jst arrived in town i won’t lie to u all but i’m gna whip things up on here anyway n link in chat w updates at some point........ that said? lana is insatiable n it isn’t rly unlikely tht she cld’ve bumped into ur muse in a grocery store aisle n somehow a wild spontaneous adventure spawned frm that alone.......... if u have any immediate ideas we can discuss 😋

#irvingintro #drugs tw #dissociation tw #hypersexuality tw #trauma tw #alcoholism tw #army mention tw #abortion mention tw #i won't lie to u all i like cleaned up this intro bt it's mostly old writing so forgive n overlook any rusty parts.......#it was a bit sickening hving to reread it bt. it does the job.

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dailytomlinson · 4 years

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When reflecting on music’s most influential artists, critics tend to use statistics to measure their legacy—whether it’s a band reaching #1 on the charts, multiple sold-out tours, or albums that represent a generation. Those types of accolades and praise are for bands that, typically, exist within rock with a predominantly sizeable male fanbase, like The Rolling Stones or The Beatles. For English-Irish boyband One Direction, who actually broke one of The Beatles biggest achievements by having five Top 10 debut tracks on the Hot 100 compared to The Beatles’ four, have sold out multiple tours and delivered five albums five years in a row, they have not been regarded as much of an influential force in the music industry as they should be.

Today—on July 23rd 2020—the band celebrates ten years since they first became a band, even if five years of that time was during a prolonged indefinite hiatus while each of the members pursued solo ventures. A decade marks ten years of One Direction and, for the fans, ten years of an impactful legacy the band, both together and apart, has had on their lives.

After being thrown together on The X-Factor back in July 2010, the band did more in five years than most bands do in their entire careers; they released five albums and sold more than 6.49 million copies in just America alone, filmed one concert documentary and one tour film, completed multiple world tours, and pursued philanthropic ventures. All of those things didn’t come without a price, though. Zayn Malik left the band in 2014 due to his mental health suffering. The band toured consistently every year with hardly ever having any personal time off, and add in an album release a year, they were extremely overworked.

There’s a belief boy bands have an expiry date, and it’s likely their management felt they needed to get as much out of the band while they believed they were still relevant. It’s likely that fans would’ve stuck around if the members took time between their albums and tours. In 2015, when the hiatus began, people wondered if One Direction really could ever come back and, if they did, would fans still really care about them?

“One Direction was one of the biggest and most successful bands,” said @TheHarryNews, a Twitter fan update account. “They achieved amazing things in the five years they were together, despite being overworked by putting out albums and touring every year, which isn’t normal.”

One specific thread that ties together every fans’ thoughts when they reflect on why they decided to become fans of the boys in the first place is the carefree and loving rapport the band has with one another. We’ve all seen The X Factor video diaries, laughed over their banter during interviews, and watched every live performance they did to look out for cute interactions between our favourite members. In their own unique way, One Direction helped defy traits typically associated with toxic masculinity; they didn’t shy away from their affection for one another and made that known in interviews and concerts. Their friendship set them apart, made them more real, and through them, we made friendships of our own.

When someone seeks out new friends, they go to where they feel safest: the communities of people who love the same things as they do. Social media not only propelled the band to international audiences, but it also helped many fans meet the people they now call their lifelong friends. “They have impacted my life in ways I never thought a ‘boyband’ could,” said Lauren, a fan from Buffalo, NY. “They gave me the best friends I could ever ask for, helped me when I was lost and thought I had no one. They ultimately helped me find myself.”

Social media did more than just help us make friends. It was also a major catalyst for the band’s success, and a large part is due to update accounts on Twitter that were created by fans, for fans. Fan-created update accounts would document every single movement and moment made by the band’s five members, whether it was live-streaming a concert or updating fans on the band’s whereabouts. For @With1DNews, a UK/Canada-based update account, it’s a labour of true love for the band that “glued them together” in the first place. “We found each other through our 1D fan accounts on Twitter,” they said. “We started talking about the boys, then our lives, and quickly became great friends.”

Even though they started the account after the hiatus already began, they still felt like fans needed One Direction news. “We had noticed there weren’t really any active 1D update accounts left and we knew a lot of fellow 1D fans were still interested in seeing news about the boys’ careers and lives. It was also because we missed seeing 1D together and hearing about them together. We thought, why not create this space that connects them even if they’re now all going their own way.”

Update accounts take as much time, effort, and energy as an unpaid second job; it requires those who run them to schedule themselves accordingly to cover certain times of each day to ensure their fellow fans get updated in a timely manner, and they do as much fact-checking and researching that any other traditional news outlet does.

Even if some critics might not consider One Direction an influential force in the music industry, the impact they continue to have on their fans is what has set them apart from every other musical act. In a scene in One Direction’s concert documentary, This Is Us, a fan breathlessly states “I know they love me, even if they don’t know me.” This type of parasocial relationship to a band is something not many understand; it’s a sense of intimacy that doesn’t require either party to actually deeply know one another on a personal level but is still as meaningful and significant as actual relationships.

A connection with the band is even more prevalent for Amy, a Los Angeles based writer and mum of two, because of the impact the band has had on her family is something that isn’t tangible but has been detrimental to her children’s development. “I have a child with physical and neurological disabilities who, prior to One Direction, was completely non-verbal and really struggling to find motivation and happiness amongst all the doctors and therapy appointments,” stated Amy. “They have done more for her development, including indirectly teaching her to speak and sing, than any therapy she’s ever done. Up until we found the boys, everything was trial and error; trying to find what makes sense to her and would, in turn, make the world make sense to her. Who knew the key would be a ‘silly’ boy band?”

Many fans have expressed that the band is their happy place – the only positive light in their life when things got tough. For so many, the band came at a time when they desperately needed something to help them through difficult situations whether that be pressure from school, jobs, peers, or life in general. Watching the ‘Best Song Ever’ music video, or a funny interview felt like a cure to smile and laugh after a long day. “They were what we turned to when we felt overwhelmed in our own lives. Now, we’re adults, and they still bring us as much happiness as they did when we were younger,” says @With1DNews.

Not only that, but the band has also helped fans gain more confidence in themselves. By helping create a space and community for them, fans who may have felt lonely, different, or struggled to find a place they belonged had somewhere to go now. They made friends who accepted them, endless content that felt like a burst of serotonin, and a band of boys who told them through lyrics how great and valuable they are, songs like ‘Through the Dark’, ‘Diana’, and ‘Little Things’. Through the band, One Direction fans created their own safe space to work out and navigate their own identity; a space that is free from outside shame where they could be whoever they wanted to be because the people they loved the most accepted them for exactly who they are.

Despite the safety found in those spaces, others have given those fans different descriptions: Hysterical. Rabid. Extra. ‘Screamers.’ Those are just a few of the many words that have been used to describe female fans of boy bands, both past and present. Although these words carry negative connotations, they imply something more powerful than any naysayer could understand or try to define: the sheer force that comes with unashamedly loving something so deeply, you don’t really care about anyone else’s opinions.

Young female fans are the most supportive, passionate fanbase an artist can have, yet they are the most trivialized and ridiculed both within and outside of the music industry. At the start of their career, music’s most beloved band The Beatles was a boy band that catapulted into fame because of, not despite, their female fans. It wasn’t until male fans noticed the band’s progression into an experimental sound when they decided to embrace the band and deem them worthy of their support after they began playing ‘real’ music.

Even if there are major similarities between The Beatles and One Direction, the latter is still regarded by many to be a manufactured pop boy band with a ‘teenybopper’ fanbase. The members of the band have consistently embraced and validated their predominantly female fanbase; Harry Styles has been consistently vocal about this matter, going so far as to say “Teenage-girl fans — they don’t lie. If they like you, they’re there. They don’t act ‘too cool.’ They like you, and they tell you.”

In ‘Girl Almighty’, the fifth track on their fourth album, Four, the band addressed the way their fans have been misjudged and labelled ‘crazy’ because of their passion and not only applauded them for their dedication and love, but bowed down to them as well; “Let’s have another toast to the girl almighty […] I get down on my knees for you.” Not only has One Direction always known who helped them get to where they are today, but they’ve also never shied away from declaring their respect for them, constantly validating their fans’ feelings.

For One Direction’s fans, a decade of the band’s formation represents ten years of a legacy that will continue on, even if the band never formally get back together. For Amy, it doesn’t really matter if they got their start on a TV talent show because it’s the fans that made them and set the band apart from every other boyband. “What we all created together feels so untouchable in regards to boy bands of the past and ones to come. I think people will look back in awe and see what we see; we’ve been so incredibly lucky to have witnessed the magic of One Direction.”

They might not be aware of it, but One Direction was incredible at predicting what was to come in their own music; “Who’s gonna be the first to say goodbye?” / “But it’s not the end, I’ll see your face again” / “We had some good times, didn’t we? We wore our hearts out on our sleeve” / “We could be the greatest team that the world has ever seen.” In ‘Best Song Ever’, a song that ordinary listeners would not exactly consider overly sentimental or profound, there is one lyric that will always stand out for the fans to represent One Direction’s legacy perfectly: “I hope you’ll remember how we danced.” Ten years later, we haven’t forgotten.

#tmrw magazine #230720 #10years1d #press

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kisskissbanggang · 4 years

Text

Exposure

[15Min Read/3.8K Words - Idol AU - Jungwoo x Paparazzi Female Reader - NSFW/Smut - Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Fellatio, Light Degradation, Dom/Sub Elements]

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Your braids felt too tight. They probably were, but you had rushed to get out to this fanmeet when you caught wind of it. Your boss understood your strengths, and you weren’t about to let that down. Once you were able to get your shots, you wouldn't even think about the dumb braids anymore.

It all started when an exec tried to say you looked too young to be successful as a photographer. No one would take you seriously looking like a high schooler, apparently, and it ruined you for days until you passed by a group of fans waiting for their favorite actor to make an appearance at the mall. These girls got so close and they could get into events that press weren’t allowed into. Even though you had openly applied for a sketchy tabloid job, you knew you needed credits to get ahead, and now you wanted to prove yourself. You had ran home, dug out your high school sweatshirt, pulled your hair into some pigtails, and were able to give the same exec who turned you down some great candid shots.

So this is what you did now. You perfectly fit in with the gaggles of fansites that would crowd these events, and no one gave you any second glances. You carried your press badge hidden behind a photo card on a lanyard attached to your camera, swapping out photocards for whatever group you were chasing. Today was NCT 127, so the photocard attached to your camera was of Kim Doyoung who, according to your boss, was in talks for some new ventures and could use some new publicity.

You had chased the group for three days now but every time you attempted a good shot of him, Kim Jungwoo kept getting in the way. They were always shopping together or eating together or doing nothing at home together and you couldn’t get any good shots of this idol alone and the whole chase was driving you crazy. This fire in you blazed when you took this new batch of photos into editing and you noticed. Jungwoo recognized you. More and more in these shots, Jungwoo had caught you in the background of his day, and today he even smiled at you.

Your boss wasn’t pleased when you said you needed even more time to get some more shots, but nonetheless you still used the company’s money to get yourself on a train for the group’s next concert. This time, in addition to your girlish appearance, you had your equipment stashed in a backpack that you carried with you. You skipped the long line, though, and headed straight to the loading gate in the back of the venue. Press would never be allowed back here, but nonetheless you still walked up to security and did your best to look nervously excited.

“Oppa,” you modestly smiled at the young guard, really only looking a few years older than you, “you know, it's my birthday, and I saved up money from my part-time job for this concert for months to come here. I really would love to make it even more special.” The man shifted uncomfortably, clearly conflicted about throwing out a young woman just wanting to have a special day until you whipped out a small wad of cash to tuck into the pocket of his trousers. He bit his lip and slipped you a wristband before he ultimately stepped out of the way to let you in, pointing you towards the green room where you and the other groupies could wait.

You took your time navigating the back hallways of the venue, looking bright-eyed and lost and waiting to sneak out your smaller camera for locations like this. You clipped your press badge onto the strap as you slowly made your way through the backstage area, checking around green rooms and craft services before you came to the makeup rooms. It seemed fruitless, seeing these hallways were much emptier than those you just checked, but you needed to be sure. You slowly made your way down this corridor, taking the time to peek into every open door from the hallway, listening for voices and footsteps all the while, until a hint of motion caught your eye.

Without making any brash movements in the quiet hall, all you were able to make out was the sinful visual of a figure leaned back over a vanity in an otherwise silent and empty dressing room, a hand stroking their exposed length in their near-privacy. You didn't gasp, you didn't blush, you just felt yourself watch, almost shamelessly enjoying this little private show before the figure pleasuring themselves against the vanity straightened up, their pace on their cock quickening. Jungwoo turned and looked right at you, and now you did gasp, caught as you were, spying on him as he jerked himself. He didn't stop, either. He just watched you watching him, never letting go of himself or slowing. If anything, he became more earnest in his ministrations, holding eye contact as long as you could handle until you were suddenly very aware of yourself. Quickly, you dashed back down the hall, writing this venture off as a wash and trying to find Doyoung somewhere else.

In order to try and shake off the very different and very unprecedented incident that occurred backstage, you took the first vanilla opportunity your boss softballed out to the staff: a simple press event, a small demo and cocktail party for a trending fashion designer. Thankfully, even Doyoung was invited. You could probably get some good shots and have an easy night all things considered. You picked out a simple dress and jacket, something that wouldn’t make you stand out too much, and clipped your press badge onto a plain black lanyard to actually wear around your neck. Wearing your hair down was an active treat, not having to look forward to sore roots later in the night.

The party was pretty boring, but boring was what you needed. You were thoroughly set on edge after the other day, and you couldn't place why. You’d seen Kim Jungwoo in a few magazines and occasionally on TV when his group was doing variety, and more than a few times when out doing bigger industry events, but he’d never struck you as the devilish type. However, something about the way he confidently, almost defiantly held your gaze practically stupefied you, even days later. Finally, you caught sight of Doyoung, laughing and having a glass of wine with other tall, beautiful people. You grabbed a few shots before covering the rest of the party, but something caught your eye when you clicked through your digital display to review. Jungwoo. He’d brought Jungwoo with him.

“It’s a school night,” came a soft laugh over your shoulder, “shouldn’t you be home studying?”

You turned, rapidly growing sheepish as you were faced with Kim Jungwoo standing over you. “I’m sorry?” You apologized as you did your best to look like you didn’t understand.

“I was wondering when I'd see you again,” Jungwoo smirked, his soft eyes holding a mischievous sparkle in them. “How did you get in here?”

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else,” you smiled cordially.

“No,” Jungwoo insisted playfully, “I think you look like Doyoung-hyung’s new fansite I've caught poking around.”

“Fansite?” You shook your head gravely. “I'm sorry, sir, but I'm Press.” You held up your badge on your lanyard, jolting as Jungwoo brazenly reached forward to grab it. He flipped it around to expose Doyoung’s photocard. You must've forgotten to take it out amidst all your distraction.

“Did you enjoy your private show the other day?” Jungwoo chuckled, even stepping closer to talk low in the crowded party. “You could've joined me. I could've given you something worth shooting.” Jungwoo’s smile was genuine, soft and playful and innocent, but his eyes were hungry enough to make you plenty content with your coverage for the night and hurriedly excuse yourself from him and the party.

You should have guessed, then, that your boss wouldn’t be pleased to hear that you’d left early. None of your shots of Doyoung had been “provoking” enough for some affiliates, and now you were perched in the bushes outside of the group’s apartment in a last-ditch effort to catch something exposing, something titillating. You had waited all night, watching people come and go and you finally caught some action in an upstairs bedroom. The focus in your camera quietly clicked along after you zoomed in to get a better look. You clicked up your exposure length as you watched with endless satisfaction, catching Doyoung finally get out of bed to work out. He slipped his shirt off over his head, and you got to work, snapping shots of Doyoung’s measly workout routine before he retreated to go take a shower. You sighed, getting ready to pack up when a presence behind you made you gasp.

“You'll never graduate if you're always sneaking out,” Jungwoo smiled in the dark.

“What're you doing?” You asked accusingly.

“Me? I'm just going for a walk. You want to come with me?” You sought after a cheeky remark before Jungwoo pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you with the flash on, making you see spots. “See? I can take pictures, too. And I can show this to management and tell them all about the paparazzi posing as an adorable schoolgirl outside. How about that walk?”

You bounced your knee a little, shifting your weight from one foot to the other before you nodded.

Jungwoo offered you his arm and you curiously linked yours through, watching as he immediately softened and acted like this was just a fun night between two friends taking a walk in the nearby park, except you were still dressed in all black with your camera around your neck.

“I did a little snooping of my own,” Jungwoo mentioned, “after I saw your badge the other night. You take really good photos. You don't need to be doing this gonzo work.”

“I'm good at it,” you shrugged, “and I need the credits in my resume.”

“Well how many more do you need?” He asked you. Jungwoo’s tone caught your attention -- he was sincere. He was honestly interested in why you were okay doing this.

“I'll move on when I'm ready to move on--”

“You sure this isn't just easy?”

“Are you implying my work is degrading?”

“I'm saying your work is sleazy and gross,” Jungwoo huffed at you, “and I'd be a lot more attracted to you than I already am if you did work closer to your caliber.”

You paused, aghast. “Why aren't you more attracted to me as I am?”

“Because I've watched you follow us around for a week now, you didn't seem to have any problem watching me touch myself the other day, and I've never seen you without a camera.”

“If you're so disgusted by me, then why did keep going when I caught you?” You were challenging him now, squaring up against him as you passed a bench in the empty park, lit only by the moon through the clouds. You dropped your camera into your bag and set it on the bench before folding your arms spitefully.

“I was having fun,” Jungwoo grinned, “I thought we were having fun.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you’re the actual sleaze.” You smiled, cocky and triumphant before Jungwoo shattered you with a laugh.

“And you didn’t catch me. I saw you skulking around backstage. I thought you’d like to come join me.” Jungwoo reached forward now, pulling your hand from your folded arms and clasping it to draw you close. Something felt a little electric as you found yourself being compliant. “I like this secret spy get-up on you, but I think I prefer the innocent look.” You watched, dumbfounded as Jungwoo’s hand cupped your face before he suddenly grabbed your chin.

“Were you thinking of me looking innocent when you were jerking off?” You laughed nervously, eyes darting to make sure you actually were alone.

“Of course I was,” Jungwoo nodded soberly, “it’s only been getting worse since I first noticed you stalking us. I want to pull on your pigtails and see you in that school sweater again.”

“I can go home and get it,” you sarcastically offered, looking for an opportunity to get out and keep this encounter from getting messy.

“And let you leave?” He shook his head. “Not when I have you right here and all to myself.” Jungwoo’s arms circled your waist and pulled you close.

“What do you want?” You defiantly stammered. “Money? You want the photos I'm going to submit?”

“No,” Jungwoo smirked as he leaned his head in closer to yours, his lips barely hazing over yours, “I just want you to be good.”

“What?” You asked, barely a whisper, wanting to ask a million questions but nonetheless accepting when Jungwoo closed the gap between his lips and yours. He still held you close, nearly resembling two lovers in the park except you knew better, you knew what Jungwoo was chasing. You just had to decide to give it to him. You had to decide if you were okay feeling good when Jungwoo called you sleazy, if you enjoyed how he exposed you and made you feel vulnerable.

“Touch me,” he ordered softly, despite his hands finally relinquishing you. He understood the choice he gave you in letting go: obey, or run and take a chance that he would rat you out. You could clearly see the proud smile spread across Jungwoo's face in the dark as you tentatively reached forward, pressing your hand to his chest and letting it drift down his lean figure, only hesitating when you neared the waistband of his jeans. “Are you afraid?” He asked, almost soothingly.

“No,” you murmured, “just excited.”

Jungwoo’s hand closed around yours now, halting you. “Tell me why, first.”

“I'm curious about you,” you breathed, your hushed intrigue doing more than enough to let Jungwoo almost push your hand the rest of the way down to the button and zip of his jeans.

“Good,” he praised sweetly, his chest rising and falling hard as you got your hand in his jeans and around his member. “Now admit you've been thinking about me.”

“Yes,” you exhaled, practically trembling from excitement as Jungwoo turned you in his arms, pressing his length in your hand against the curve of your ass. “Ever since I saw it I've been thinking about…”

“Say it, cutie,” Jungwoo chuckled behind you, his lips trailing over the expanse of your neck.

“I've been thinking about your cock,” you admitted, and his member throbbed under your fingers as Jungwoo groaned. His own fingertips traveled around to your belly, dipping below your waistband to your quickly dampening heat. Your pussy accepted his probing fingers so easily it almost felt like a betrayal.

“And did you do anything about it?” He asked curiously.

“Not yet,” you shook your head.

“Awh, poor baby,” Jungwoo laughed, “too busy following us around? You've only had time to think about this?” He snickered at your pathetic nod as he ground his hips against your massaging grip. “You know, beautiful, you look just as filthy as I thought you would be like this.”

You earnestly nodded in agreement -- you did look filthy like this, knees squeezed tightly together with Jungwoo’s hand in your dark jeans and yours wrapped around his cock behind your back.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jungwoo smiled, “do you like that? Do you like being filthy?” He smirked at your renewed nod as his fingers massaged your wet pussy. “Then you're definitely my filthy girl. How about slutty? Are you my slutty girl?”

You swallowed hard at Jungwoo's teasing and deliciously embarrassing words. Were you a slutty girl? Maybe you could be, just for tonight. You didn't even realize you were nodding again and again before Jungwoo spanked your ass with a laugh. “Then I should give my slutty girl what she's begging for.”

Jungwoo’s hands pressed down on your shoulder blades, pushing you down to bend over the park bench as he swiftly yanked down your jeans and panties. Then he paused.

“Put me inside you,” Jungwoo encouraged. You swallowed down a nervous gulp as you massaged his length in your hands a couple more times. You prodded the head of his cock against your entrance, quietly moaning and whimpering under your breath as you worked him inside you. “Oh, princess,” Jungwoo cooed, “my perfect, slutty princess. Now work your pussy for me.”

You nodded, overwhelmed by your own desire and compulsion to please Jungwoo. Fucking him was like nothing you’d ever experienced, where this was almost fun, like it was a game, and you had a chance to win. You pressed your hands to the cold park bench and worked your hips back, thrusting your pussy down around Jungwoo’s thick cock before he spanked you again.

“You're good at that,” he teased, “maybe we should make this a regular thing, where you can show me everything you can do.”

“Well, what about tonight?” You asked, finally piping up.

“Tonight,” Jungwoo began thoughtfully, “now that we've warmed up, you just have to take it.”

Before you could question any further, Jungwoo pulled out, his absence within you immediately felt. He turned you both, seating himself on the park bench and hauling you down perpendicularly on lap, hooking an arm under your leg to easily hoist you up and seat you on his cock. His lips searched for yours in the dark before he eagerly bounced you on his length, his hips bucking and rolling hard up against yours.

“You like it, right?” He asked so sweetly, his big smile at your exhausted nod making your heart throb. “How should I finish?”

“After I do, for starters,” you giggled, and his laugh combined with yours proved that this was just fun and games when all was said and done, that Jungwoo had no intent of turning you in despite any reservations he may have had about your job. His fingers cradled your chin as he kissed you, before they traveled down between your breasts, taking a moment to tease your nipples through your shirt before dipping down between your legs and continuing to rub your soaked clit again.

Picking up where he left off, and now doing all the work, it was incredibly easy to feel your orgasm coming on. Despite every tiny dissenting voice in your head telling you that this was too public, too obscene, Jungwoo held you close, almost cradling you as he fucked you through your hushed orgasm sending sparks along your nervous system. He slowed his hips under where you were seated side-saddle, kissing your face as you calmed down.

“My gorgeous, filthy princess,” Jungwoo praised as he pressed his lips to your temple, “cumming all over my cock out here.”

“What about you now?” You asked, still panting as you caught your breath.

“What about me?”

“Don't you want to cum?” You asked curiously.

“Sure I do,” he nodded, “and I'm sure I will. I'm just having fun doing this with you.”

“Then maybe,” you teased as you returned the kiss to his forehead, “I can come up with an idea myself.”

“Oh?” Jungwoo smiled, watching with piqued interest as you fought your shaky legs to stand back up, sliding your panties and jeans off over your shoes and dropping them beside him. You were already this exposed, you figured. The cool night air tickled your half-bared body and only reminded you how public this was, but it only encouraged you more. Making sure you had steady footing, you climbed back onto Jungwoo’s lap, now squatting over his length with your feet planted on either side of his hips as you steadily slid him back inside you.

“I'm thinking I'm not the only filthy one if you like this so much,” you smirked playfully, enjoying his low groans from your tight walls massaging his length as you worked a good rhythm on him.

“I’m thinking you're right,” he chuckled, moaning and whimpering as you varied your pace, occasionally stopping altogether or even grinding your pussy down hard on his cock before you suddenly pulled off. Jungwoo whined with a desperate laugh as he bucked into the air, trying to get back into you. “No no, you don’t get to do that, I love it,” he begged.

“Say it again,” you demanded, riding him hard for a moment and doing it all over again, pulling your soaked pussy back off of him.

“Please please please,” he whimpered as he fucked into the air, “bring it back, you're working me up too fast to be a tease like this.”

“Are you sure?” You asked sweetly before you repeated the routine once again.

“Yes!” Jungwoo gritted through his teeth as he gripped onto the park bench. “Please, princess, make me cum.”

“Whatever you want,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead once more before climbing off his lap altogether. Jungwoo almost sputtered, not understanding until you sank to a squat in front of him and took his cock deep between your lips, your tongue massaging his length as you hungrily sucked on him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jungwoo panted, “it’s not as good as your pussy but it’s so, so good, baby.”

You pulled off his cock with an audible pop, your hand picking up where you left off and jerking his length.

“Well, maybe next time you can bring a condom next time you ambush me.”

“If it’s going to be like this, I'll do whatever you want,” Jungwoo laughed exhaustedly as he tried not to thrust into your mouth when you sucked him back between your lips. His fingers stroked into your hair, keeping his wavering touches gentle until he gripped at his thigh, seemingly warning you of his impending orgasm.

Your suspicions were confirmed a moment later as Jungwoo let his head loll back with the force of his orgasm, his cum spilling into your throat and down your chin for you to hungrily drink down. Jungwoo melted into the bench, catching his breath as you stood back up, stretching your legs and quickly pulling your panties and jeans back on.

It was odd, thinking of something to say as Jungwoo finally came back to life and gently stowed his cock back into his pants. You liked him, and you wanted more, but neither of you were hardly in any position to be trying to make this a real thing. At least, not a committed thing.

“So, I guess we should never do this again,” Jungwoo sighed with a disheartened grin. You thought hard about this, about him.

“I'm not sure,” you settled on. “You can ask me at the SM company dinner next week I'll be covering.” You softly cupped Jungwoo’s humbly triumphant face as you grabbed your bag before shouldering it and leaving in the quiet night.

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #nct 127 #kim jungwoo #jungwoo x reader #jungwoo x you #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct scenarios

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thelifedocumentor · 3 years

Text

Nkuley Masemola and his iconic creative expressions

Nkuley Masemola is a multidisciplinary creative who works as a fashion model, DJ and stylist. Nkuley Masemola has modelled for iconic South African fashion brands such as Rich Mnisi, Thebe Magugu and Nao Serati. They also invite the young vibrant youth of Johannesburg to the eccentric scenes of Braamfontein through DJ’ing. With styling that transcends cultural eras and borders, Nkuley translates their experiences of navigating South Africa and the creative culture artistically into their photographs. The success they have garnered since working as a fashion model from the age of 17 is truly inspiring. In this interview we talk about what inspired Nkuley growing up, their artistic journey and the importance of being yourself in order to thrive in the creative industry.

1. How was it like growing up in Pretoria?

The funny part is that I didn’t actually grow up in Pretoria, it was more outside of Pretoria than it was Pretoria. I grew up on the outskirts of Pretoria - that’s the farms. Bronkhorstspruit is where I was from. And it was bland - I don’t know any other way to explain it. It was like growing up on a big sheet of white paper. I had to make out myself. It was an experience but it was also really overwhelming because no one there had progressed to anything. It was complicated but also a good learning curve. I always say I would have rather not. I would have rather had a soft life but I guess I see the benefit of growing up like that but it was overwhelming.

2. What are some unforgettable childhood experiences you believe shaped who you are today?

When I finally moved to Bronkhorstspruit, after my father passed on, my mom bought herself a huge mirror. I didn’t have friends, I didn’t have anyone. So the only thing I ever did was look into that mirror. I had all my performances there, I had all my interviews, I did everything with that mirror. I just became so self-obsessed, all of my art is self-obsession. Everything is all about me. It’s my self-portrait, it’s music that is about me, everything that is structured in a way that is like self-worship. So I think that particular childhood experience shaped me forever. I got harassed but I never got bullied. I never let anyone bully me. If it happens, I can just avoid it, I’m not gonna stick around. I was always inside the house. I would make up my own stories, live in my head, and wait for the day I move to Jo’burg. When it finally happened, I already had like self-discovered so much. That particular childhood experience shaped who I am today. I created my whole world, and now I’m living in it.

3. How did you start modelling?

Back home, there used to be this modelling agency. It was just high school kids who had high-quality cameras, more than it was a modelling agency. They were like, “Yeah you should be a model.” And I was like, “I guess.” It was never my thing. I take really good photos, but I don’t look like a model, I don’t present myself as a model. At that time, I wasn’t the typical male model. And so I was like I’m not a model. That happened and it wasn’t really serious. When I moved to Jo’burg, my friend and I had just come from registering and we were going past Kitcheners and my friend was with their friend. We were all speaking to a guy and he said, “Yeah you can just come back to my place.” We all went back to the place. Then I left my matric certificate at their place and then when I left and went back home, they were like, “You left your stuff here [matric certificate] and also, I saw on Twitter that you might have to drop out of school because you don’t have anywhere to live until March so you can just live with me.” This is the person that I met with a friend because they met on the streets of Braam, literally at the corner of Kitcheners. I lived with that person for 3 months. They literally got me into modelling.

The first day I got here they were like, “You’re a star!”. I was on a music video set, and they needed one guy and I had just moved to Jo’burg and put my bags down. My parents had just dropped me off. I put my bags down and went up to shoot the music video. After that, I had another job. It was quiet for a minute and then my friend asked me to escort them to a casting. Still, I was not in the modelling game, I was just deep in love at the time. So cool, I go to this modelling gig, and then when we get there, my friend doesn’t get picked but they’re choosing from outside. They’re like, “You? Come here.” I said that I’m not here to model what’s happening? They said, “No, just audition quickly.” So I walked and strutted to the wall and then when I came back I got picked. It was The Threaded Man show. After that, everything started picking up, everything just set off. That’s how that happened. I just started modelling after that. Still very weird.

4. Wow! The Threaded Man was so huge at that time.

I didn’t even know. I didn’t know who Siya Beyile was. I had just got to Johannesburg. I had no idea who anyone was. So literally getting calls from Rich Mnisi being hey it’s Rich Mnisi. When I found out it was Rich Mnisi I was like OMG! They were shooting for i-D. That is one thing I’ve always dreamt about - I’ve always bought i-D magazines at the taxi ranks. When they said, "You’re 17 you’re gonna shoot for i-D", I was like that’s crazy, that’s crazy. I shot for almost every magazine that I had back at home. In one year, I had Cosmopolitan, Vogue, and i-D. My mom was like, “Aren’t these the magazines that are in your room.?” It was my favourite flex. I didn't even know it’s gonna happen in terms of modelling. I had always imagined being a part of the creative team or like one day when I’m all the way older on the cover of i-D for doing something. But not a whole documentary that is based on us. That’s so crazy, that’s insane.

4. Which would you say are your favourite fashion collections you have modelled for?

I really enjoyed the Rich Mnisi collections that I modelled for in the first year - I thought I looked really good in zebra print. Thebe Magugu gave me a suit and said “Do what you must with it.” That was really insane for me. Siyababa Atelier’s collection, Rich Mnisi’s collection and Nao Serati’s collection.

5. The South African creative scene has truly evolved over time, but there’s still so much work to be done. What do you think still needs to be done to move the culture forward?

I think South Africa needs to stop normalizing things and actually live in them. We need to stop trying to normalize things so much because we are othering them more than we think. We are othering people more than we think. We are regressing more than progressing. If we keep saying “Normalize trans women” - why? They’re women. Women are already normal. You don’t need to normalize women. It’s microaggressions like that. People don’t realize homophobia is just as serious as racism. The same way people are judging you because of your skin colour is the same way you are judging someone for loving someone. I think South Africa would be much better if they just lived in their truth more than trying to be these progressive people. We’ve been through so much, that we should know by now that we can’t risk having another revolution. We’ve revolved too many times. We’ve been traumatized too many times - we don’t need any more trauma. We just need to get that into our heads. We need to let go of the power game. The obsession with power in this country is a hectic obsession - that needs to be let go of.

6. How do you find the experience of integrating fashion, music and creative direction together to tell a story?

It comes easily because everything that I do is still self-obsession. Everything that I create is based on me so it’s not that hard. Self-awareness. It’s hard in that term that you know yourself so much that people want to digress you into this way. The only thing hard about it is people not understanding you and wanting to change you and who you are at that point. You already know who you are. Trying to accommodate everyone into your world because I’ve already said I am living in my own world, in my own space. In my own space, there is no need to accommodate other people. I think that’s the hardest part about it. It’s just me finding spaces for people in my world. In terms of navigating it, it’s always been me living out what I wanted to live out. It’s always playing music - when I DJ I play all the music that has registered with me. I’ve always been a Rihanna girl, I’m always going to play Rihanna. I’m always going to have the Rihanna aesthetic - the same way she does it. I’ve been studying Rihanna for the longest time in my life. The same way she does it. The same way she has this creative direction that goes into her music that also goes into her modelling - it’s really insane. That’s what I’ve always done. Rihanna, FKA Twigs, and FAKA do that in the most perfect way ever. That’s my thing.

7. If you ever feel a creative block during a project, how do you reconnect and channel your energy?

I like feeling things out. If it doesn’t happen then it’s not gonna happen. I was at a point where I was really depressed last year - I was at my lowest. I had never been that depressed ever in my life before. I told myself that I never want to feel like that ever again. For that to happen, I always have to be honest with myself. I have to know that I can’t do this right now. If I’m gonna go somewhere and I’m like okay you’re gonna have to model today but you don’t have the haircut. You look bad, you’re gonna feel bad and the pictures are going to look bad. So rather, we don’t do it. Rather sacrifice that and put me in a risky position but I’m not going to put something out there that I don’t believe in and don’t feel comfortable with. Being uncomfortable with something that’s seen by so many people is actually kinda crazy. It’s like uploading a picture of your pinky toe that you don’t like. I know people always say embarrassing yourself on the internet is being real, but that is always different for me. My realness is perfection. The real me is the perfect me.

8. Which creative material inspired you on your overall journey - it could be a book, film, exhibition, art collection - anything really.

Definitely seeing FAKA. Sitting down, talking to FAKA, and realizing that we have had the same life experiences. When I was 15, when I was a party girl - I still am, FAKA was like, “Oh you host this party called “Umrubisho” and I was like omg we used to host that party and FAKA was like we were always there. It’s so crazy how the Universe aligns like that - that’s insane to me. No one at that point understood what that meant to me but it just means to me my life is fine, I don’t need to worry about a lot of things. Life is just going to progress the way life progresses. I’m just going to get to where I need to get. A moment most pleasing to me was when FAKA was curating a Versace show. That’s so insane. That means anything is possible. That moment for me just sparked up everything. Thebe Magugu winning the LVMH Prize. Rich Mnisi doing Milan Fashion Week. Moments like that for me make anything. Moments like that for me are the most affirming.

9. Which brands and artists would you like to collaborate with in the future?

I’m not a big fan of Kanye but I really love Yeezy and the direction that it’s taking. As much as I’m working with Adidas, I would love to go deeper into Yeezy like that. Of course, I want to be a FENTY girl so, so, so bad. All the luxury brands - not necessarily as a model but as a muse nonetheless. I would love to be a DIOR girl, I would love to work with YSL but most mostly, I want to be a FENTY girl.

10. And lastly, which words of advice would you give to artists who aspire to manifest their dreams in this creative industry?

I would say be yourself. It’s not a joke, really be yourself. Everyone always says this, and it sounds corny all the time but really but it took me at least 2 years to realize, be yourself. Don’t fake it out, be yourself in such a way that even if you are being fake, you’re being fake in a way that is beneficial to you. You’re being fake in a way that is not going to hurt you in the end. You’re doing chaotic things but everything you do must be aligned with you. Everything you do must not come back and bite you. Everything you do must be something that you’ve always wanted to do. Be selfish as much as you can because being selfish just means being yourself and be selfish in ways that will still benefit you. That’s what it has always meant. Just remain yourself because that’s all you’ll have. People will come in and out, but you’re gonna remain with the same person forever - and that’s gonna be you. Take care of yourself, you know what’s good for you, you know what hinders you. You know what you need to do, so just do enough of that to keep yourself going.

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frncs · 4 years

Text

⌠ ERIC OSBORNE, 21, NON-BINARY, HE/THEY ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, FRANCES ‘FRANK’ LAVOIE! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in MACGYVER SURVIVAL SKILLS AND NAVIGATION & COVERT OPS; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of oversized clothing stitched with thick yarn and littered with cat hair, the snap of stretched balloons before they’re blown and a post-nap dazed gaze. when it’s the (virgo)’s birthday on 09/01/1999, they always request CORN DOGS from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ tasha, 22, she/her, est ⍀

well well well .. id meant to bring another kid ages ago .. n then jus didn’t because the personality part was/is givin me grief FGJH so pls 🐻 w me n replies as i figure out his voice . also .. haven’t even written out my intro yet . . bt ik it’s gna be long apologies , pls feel free to just read the tldr

tw: death, accidental murder, grief.

TLDR: grew up fairly well off to spy parents who didn’t want him to be part of that world but apart from that didn’t care what he did with his life otherwise. he often questioned whether they really cared for him at all (tht quote thts like .. if u love me u love me in a way i cant understand). luna’s his best friend, and he’s obsessed with his aunt and uncle’s circus that stops into town every year. life is pretty great until luna ‘dies’ at 16. he joins the circus and becomes a clown, he loves performing with all his heart. at 18, his aunt and uncle arm him with a credit card and tell him to go travel, he assumes it’s because they just want him to explore the world. visits europe for six months and asia for six months, enjoys it but misses the circus terribly, busks a lot. they actually send him away to distance him from the shady happenings that are starting to boil within the company. he comes back in time for the halloween switch-a-roo, where everyone rotates their act (so he does the magic show as a clown). he’s part of a set-up that results in him accidentally killing a person and sawing them in half. his aunt and uncle call his parents, who reluctantly send him to prep school for a little less than a year to heighten his chances of getting into a spy school for protection, which he does. dedicated to working hard and getting a high paying job to pay for reparations for the circus and do a massive overhaul of the way it runs, because it’s like his second home.

grew up in waterford ct, to one retired spy parent ( his mom ) and his dad who works with the government and is aware of espionage. his mom straight up didn’t have a good time, no one really talks about it, he has no idea what happened, doesn’t know if his dad knows either but it’s clear that they don’t want him going into the spy world.

he feels like he’s always been treated like an adult for as long as he remembers, not in the sense that they burdened him with responsibility, but that they didn’t seem to care what he did one way or another. the best way i can describe it is that his parents had the same energy as a character in a yorgos lanthimos film, very dry and lifeless, like they’re on autopilot. he’d try and cuddle his mom and she’d just pat him on the head. he couldn’t really rebel against them and as long as he went to school and got good grades they appeared un-phased about what he got up to, a very mind your own business dynamic shared between family.

he didn’t get up to a whole lot, he was a bit of an outsider. didn’t make friends very easily because he didn’t know how to let himself go around people, even though he’d sometimes be excited but wouldn’t know how to show it. definitely had that reserved temperament ingrained into him from his parents.

he did have one friend who knew him inside and out, luna <3 who was also his neighbour. their demeanours were a perfect match but also he’d find himself getting so excited and wanting to tell her about his day or listen to hers, or read with her or play hopscotch or send her secret notes with his flashlight at her window.

there was one other thing that got him terribly excited and it’s when his aunt and uncle’s traveling circus would stop in. he’d go every single day for the week and a half it was there. his parents would arrange one dinner with them and consider their familial duty done, other than that they remain out of contact with them. his aunt and uncle tell him that he’s always welcome to join, and he holds them to it. his parents say do whatever you want, just graduate high school first.

his whole world kinda crumbles when luna ‘dies’ at sixteen. he feels immense guilt over it thinking he should’ve done something about that skeevy bf of hers...this also coincides with one of his mom’s friends dying (harlowe’s mom) which makes his mom act even weirder so he fast tracks his plans to join the circus and joins at sixteen, doesn’t graduate high school. i envision the convo btw him and his dad went like:

“dad, i’m joining the circus.”

“graduate high school first.”

“no.”

“okay son, i can’t control you.”

the company welcomed him with open arms and he tried out everything, acrobatics, sharpshooting, but wasn’t particularly talented at anything. except, clownery. because messing up is commended, noting how all the kids would laugh at him trying basic magic tricks. so his aunt and uncle got him into a clown costume lickety-split. performing brought him a lot of joy through the grief like he’s an entirely different person when performing, insert that one cursed joker picture: put on a happy face.

because the owners were his aunt and uncle he was treated exceptionally well and he was very oblivious to the malpractice that went on behind the scenes. the circus had a whole sector dedicated to pickpocketing (other kids who he just saw as friends were often runaways from broken homes who didn’t have anywhere else to go and earned their wages by stealing from customers), and serious kerfuffle with pay, probably some extortion going on, just general yuckery. he vaguely knew it was happening but was kind of like it is what it is kinda standpoint. heavily inspired by the circus barney and clint barton grew up in reffed in the 2015 run of all-new hawkeye.

a couple years later his aunt and uncle give him a credit card and tell him to go travel for a bit. he does because why not but misses the circus terribly. he spends six months in europe and six months in asia, busks as a clown a lot and but his on-the-road/home sickness never really fades.

he returns super excited, ready to clown around but it’s evident tensions are just really high between the workers but they’re still all super sweet to him because he’s very sweet even if he’s oblivious. halloween comes around which is his favourite time of year because they do this thing called the switch-a-roo, where everyone switches what act they’re doing, bicycle acts do contortionist acts, lion tamers do rope walkers, magicians do animal taming and clowns do magic acts. it’s just one big laugh because obviously most of them are cross-trained, but it’s meant to be more of a comedy thing and their mess-ups are to an extent choreographed but also capitalizes on the scariness because they hype up the fact that they have no idea what they’re doing.

he’s doing his magic act, messing up all the magic tricks showing all his cards, and his last act is the sawing someone in half, so the assistant comes out in the box, really selling it like omg a clown !!! being like stop !!! you don’t know what you’re doing !!! and frances is like playing along with the act, as he was told that the gag would be when they split the boxes they’ll have some practical effects to make it look like he’d accidentally actually cut the assistant in half. fumbling with a very real chainsaw, he does the choppity-chop which takes a bit more muscle than he thought it would and the assistant screams a lot then pretends to pass out. anyways it wasn’t an act he accidentally cut someone in half, and they die.

EXTRA CLOWN LORE THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT FEEL FREE TO SKIP!

i envisioned that worker negotiations had been going on for a while and had kinda reached a stalemate where nothing was happening, and there were rumblings about frances being off travelling and spending a shit ton of money where it could’ve been put towards the workers and the circus and his aunt and uncle would hear threats thrown towards frances which is why they wanted him to stay away/go travelling for a while. the girl who was killed did so knowingly, and died a martyr (and also left frances a note explaining things and how she was sorry that he was the one that had to kill her). the whole thing was executed with a lot of thought: how it would affect frances and how it would be seen as a personal attack against his aunt and uncle - and that while the act seemingly went off without a hitch and the public didn’t suspect a thing, the workers have leverage to make it public (which ideally they don’t want b/c a lot of the workers are pretty disenfranchised or have criminal records and truthfully don’t want the end all being the circus closing b/c they do love their job just not the conditions). his aunt an uncle are in a bit of a jam because they need an investor but can’t get that because of shady hiring practices in the first place, and their greed definitely exacerbated the problem.

after that happens his aunt and uncle immediately call his parents, who despite never wanting him to go into the spy industry believe that it would be the safest option for him, and enrol him in prep school (which he attends for less than a year) so that he has more of a chance getting into gallagher the following year, which, with the right strings pulled happens.

now he’s dedicated to giving it his all so he can get a really high paying job and do a complete overhaul of the company and make a lot of reparations that should’ve been made years and years ago.

personality

- very patient, a slow talker and more of a listener. - idealistic, in the sense that he’s always been surrounded by people either in poverty of vulnerable, and despite being a caring guy, adopted that kind of mind your own business mentality his parents had. even his desire to get rich in order to save the circus is a very unrealistic plan or at the very least would take a very long time to achieve. - tired, i know it’s not a personality trait but i’m making it one, he’s a little bit dazed, not gloomy per se but like he’s woken up from a nap and needs to warm up a bit before being a functioning part of society. but that’s like all his interactions. has the gait of like a drunken kung fu master, very limber.

headcanons

has slight imposter syndrome about clowning, knows he’s great and always got a standing ovation but can’t help but wonder how much nepotism played a role in her being the main clown in the company.

planning on hiding out in her room during halloween, but is very bittersweet about it, because he thinks that halloween is one of the only times that people are happy because they get to be anyone they want and has found that most people don’t want to be themselves.

has an overweight, old cat which he’s had since he joined the circus and has been everywhere with him. it’s name is cat. he also has an album on his phone of all the strays he’s ever met, which is a lot being on the road. he named all of them but they never got to come with him.

sleeps a lot, probably has some sort of chronic sleep disorder, but enjoys the sweet release from life so he doesn’t question it. has no shame and will sleep anywhere and does.

loves making balloon animals, was his favourite thing to do at the circus. keeps a jewelry dish full of unpumped balloons on his bedside table. also a big reader, and hoarder of anything that can fit in a small travel notebook (leaves, ticket stubs, pictures, anything).

wanted connections: i’ll update my actual google docs in the coming days but people he met while traveling for a year, anyone with pets wanting to have a pet playdate (cat’s not too active but he could use some company), someone who catches him crying (he cries a lot haven’t peeped his full chart but i can sense the water energy from miles away), people who wake him up when he falls asleep in class, in the common rooms, outside, flirty flirts, someone who’s been to the circus, someone who clowns him about being a clown and he gets super angry, really anything, i’m terrible at coming up with connections i get such a thrill from mundane relations i’m boring <3

#gallagher:intro #smoking cw #my head is Empty i rly have no thots to terrorize u w/ in the tags . sad

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quentinblack · 4 years

Photo

Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 5: Andromeda II - Wotcher! (link to fully story on FF.net)

Featuring: Andromeda Tonks, Teddy Lupin, Bobby Tonks.

Word Count: 2.4K words

Warnings: References to Alzheimer's

Andromeda shuffled down the street with Teddy as quickly as she could.

It had started spitting, which was something she hadn’t counted on when she’d left the house just ten minutes ago. It looked like it was going to be a nice spring day, with the sun shining and barely a cloud in the sky, but then the sun had cowered behind one of those clouds and now it looked as though the heavens may open.

This was the trouble with travelling the muggle way. You didn’t have to worry about taking an extra coat or umbrella if you were using the Floo network or apparating. Andromeda couldn’t fathom how the muggles managed to cope with the unpredictability of the weather. You’d probably be alright if you lived in a place that was perpetually cold or hot, but not in Britain where the weather seemed to change on a complete whim whenever it fancied it.

Andromeda couldn’t see much of the pavement that she was walking on as Teddy was held tight to her waist in his blue baby sling, which meant he took up most of her peripheral vision. This was a particularly large risk as they were walking the streets of Fratton, which quite possibly has the largest ratio of dog-shit to pavement in all of England.

If avoiding dog-poo wasn’t enough of a challenge in itself – Andromeda also had to navigate the absolutely bewildering road system. There were some stretches of pavement on the way to Fratton Station where when crossing a road, or merely just from pavement to pavement - you would have four different directions of oncoming traffic potentially coming at you!

Andromeda struggled to understand the way muggle roads worked at the best of times, but Portsmouth was by far and away the most difficult. Ted had always said that if you could learn to drive in Fratton you could work out how to drive anywhere. Nymphadora had never had the patience for it and had much preferred apparating everywhere once she was of age.

Andromeda caught a slight glimpse of the train approaching in the distance. The platform was pretty busy with lots of families bustling here, there and everywhere. The red and blue train sauntering into the station almost resembled a sliced-open Battenberg, with the front of it dead flat and the rest of it sort of curving out.

Ted always said the modern electric locomotive trains were a wonderful feat of British engineering, but looking at the industrial, ugly train as it approached the platform – well, it certainly lacked the glamour and pizzazz of the Hogwarts Express.

The journey that they’d be taking would probably take them the best part of four hours, with their initial train to Waterloo clocking in half of that time. There was something about being on muggle trains that Andromeda found quite relaxing and enjoyable, perhaps it was just the nostalgia of those long journeys to school when she was younger.

In truth, Andromeda was just glad to be out of the house. It was a chance to get some fresh air and to be around lots of people, even if those people were only there for a passing moment. She’d been cooped up in that house for almost a year in hiding and barely seen more than a handful of people in that time – and half of the people she had seen had been there solely to torture her.

The time on the London bound train flew by and before she knew it they’d gone right through the Hampshire countryside and into Guildford, before eventually docking into Waterloo. The station was absolutely heaving with people and Andromeda struggled to work out where exactly they were meant to be going, but eventually a kind station guard directed her to the Jubilee underground line, which would take them to West Ham where they could make their connecting train.

It wasn’t her first foray on the London underground as she’d travelled on it many times with her late husband, but it was her first time along and she felt quite uncomfortable. The tube was jam-packed with foreign tourists and Andromeda could barely even fit on the carriage when she first got on.

The one silver lining of travelling with Teddy was that almost immediately a tall, bald man wearing a white t-shirt that read “ATLANTA 96” offered his seat to her. Andromeda thanked the man and noticed that the 5 multi-coloured rings on his shirt very much looked like Quidditch hoops, but she quickly learned that he was definitely a muggle when she saw him reach for his portable telephone and start talking into it.

It took a lot of sweat and a few tears from Teddy, but it wasn’t too long before they found themselves on the C2C train heading to Southend. Andromeda was very thankful when a dark skinned man offered up his seat to her and she stared out of the window as the train departed the East-London platform. It had been an early start for the both of them and Teddy soon nodded off in her lap – and it wasn’t long before Andromeda herself followed suit.

~ ~ ~

Andromeda’s eyes shot open as Ted’s cry gradually shifted into that of her grandson’s. She looked down into her lap and saw little Teddy’s tears dry up slightly when he noticed that she was awake again.

She shifted uncomfortably on her seat and as she saw the sea outside her window noted that they were almost there now. Andromeda felt her bum and back ache a little as she moved. Their carriage was now virtually empty, with only a mother and small son a few seats down and a greasy looking teenager in the corner for company.

The lad in the corner had short, spikey gelled hair and was wearing a black t-shirt with ‘Austin 3:16’ in block caps on it. Andromeda assumed his t-shirt must be some sort of religious reference – he didn’t particularly personify what she’d come to think of as the Christian-type, but she still struggled to get her head around muggle customs despite being married to Ted for the best part of 25 years.

The little boy a few seats down was fully engrossed in playing with his spaceman plastic action-figure, whilst his Mother read a book called Bridget Jones. This thankfully left Andromeda free to daydream outside the window as she stared into the sea and Teddy rested his eyes again in her lap.

This is the LTS Rail Service to Shoeburyness. The next station is… Westcliff. Please ensure you take all of your belongings with you when alighting the train.

“That’s our stop Mummy, isn’t it?!”

“No, no, Harry, Southend is one more after this one sweetheart”

Andromeda couldn’t stop herself looking over at the excited little muggle boy and his mother a few seats down from them.

“Mummy?! Mummy?!”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Are me and Buzz allowed to get some sweets when we’re out in town? We promise we’ll be good!”

“What do you say, Harry?”

“PLEASE!”

“That’s better! Now if you promise you’ll be a good little boy and are on your best behaviour whilst Mummy gets her eyes tested and pops into Boots for her prescription, then I’ll let you get some pick and mix in Woolies.”

“YAY!! Thanks Mummy! You’re the best!”

Andromeda almost allowed a slight smile to escape her permanent poker face. It did warm her heart to see the little boy’s face filled with such joy as he embraced his mother, but unfortunately it also served to remind her that Teddy would never experience such joy with his own mother, which made her feel very dejected as she glanced down at him.

She supposed at least in his Godfather he would have a positive male role model – and someone who actually understood what it was like to have no parents.

~ ~ ~

Teddy stirred slightly at the sound of the seagulls scuffling over some discarded vinegar-soaked chips on the pavement. The sudden movement from her grandson caught Andromeda by surprise and she instinctively reached out to grab him, forgetting that he was tightly secured in the muggle baby-carrier that Ted had originally bought for Nymphadora.

The mini panic caused her to momentarily stop in her stride, but Teddy didn’t notice as he was already back to sleep. He wasn’t as light as he once was. It was only really that he’d been such a tiny new-born to begin with that meant she was still able to carry him when walking in the first place.

Andromeda found the turning she was looking for and headed down it. Their destination wasn’t far now and she’d soon be able to have a nice sit down and a cup of tea. She saw the giant cherry tree in the distance and headed towards it, quickening her stride and walking into the road momentarily to avoid the litter on the pavement.

It looked like a fox had a fight with a black sack full of rubbish the night before – and the fox had won, quite comfortably, as the street was littered with empty juice cartons, crisp packets and banana skins. The middle aged-witch had to double take, as she could’ve sworn that one of the crisp packets proclaimed to contain Vanilla Ice Cream flavour crisps. It must be a strange muggle thing, she thought.

The tree came fully into view and shaded them from the sun, as Andromeda walked up the path towards the big red front door of Stapleton House. She pulled the door-knocker back a few times and after a few moments the door made a buzzing noise, indicating it was now unlocked.

A slightly tanned lady with a friendly smile on her face greeted them at the door.

“Oh hello,” she said in that very distinctive voice adults only ever use when talking to babies. “And what lucky person are you here to see today?” she asked Teddy warmly, although of course she was really addressing Andromeda.

“Robert Tonks,” Andromeda said.

“Robert Tonks…err… Robert… OH! You mean Bobby!”

“Yes.”

“Oh that’s fantastic! It’s been a little while since he’s had any visitors. I’m sure it will make his day to see you both. He’s down in room 14. Follow the hallway all the way down, take the first left, then right and he’ll be in the room next to the garden.”

“Thank you,” Andromeda replied courteously, not wanting to make too much of an impression on the nurse in-case she started asking any questions.

Andromeda opened the door to room 14 and saw Robert Tonks sitting in a brown armchair facing away from the door. He was staring at the television that was bizarrely not actually showing anything on it at all. It was just a black screen, with lots of yellow and blue writing on it.

She looked over at his bed frame which read:

ROBERT “BOBBY” TONKS.

ALZHEIMER’S.

DOUBLE INCONTINENT.

“Hello Robert,” Andromeda said warmly. The elderly man, now in his 70s with not a spot of hair on his head turned around instantly and looked at her curiously through his glasses.

“Hello,” he said blankly. “Who are you?”

“It’s me, Robert, Andromeda. Ted’s wife,” she said calmly. He had been losing his memory for the best part of three years now, so she was used to having to be patient with him.

“Andromeda…Ted’s wife… Ted. Ted…” he pondered to himself. It was evident that he was trying very hard, but could not quite put it together in his mind.

“Your son, Ted,” she prompted.

“My son…Ted…Ted…Ted! My son Ted! Yes. Yes of course. Chip off the old block, just like his old man. Kind and loving like his mother, too. Are they here too? Ted and Agata”

“No… no not today Robert. They’re busy today, but I am sure they’ll be here tomorrow,” she lied.

It was much easier that way.

Ted’s mother had died of cancer about five years ago, long before Robert had started losing his memory and had to be put in a care home. But he often forgot. The first few times her and Ted had taken the painstaking trouble of telling him that she wouldn’t be visiting him that day, or ever again, because she was dead – and it was horrible. It was like he had to go through the whole grieving process all over again.

The least they could do was spare him from that, although now it wasn’t just Agata who was dead. It was his son and granddaughter too. But Andromeda had barely been able to grieve properly for either of them herself yet. She was hardly about to stroll on in and announce to him that they were dead.

“Oh. Well, at least you made the trip ehh, Andromeda? And wow… my goodness. Is that? Is that little Nymphadora? Haven’t you grown sweetheart?” he said in amazement at Teddy.

“No, Robert. This is Nymphadora’s son, Teddy. He’s your great-grandson,” she said smiling and lifting Teddy up and taking him over to meet Robert.

“Great? Great-grandson?” Robert uttered in disbelief, as he took Teddy into his arms.

“You see that, lad,” he said, pointing to the television screen with lots of writing on it. “That’s the Premier League table. The 20 best football teams in England play each other twice, then whoever gets the most points at the end wins the title. And look at that. It’s the last day of the season and look who sits at the top…The Arsenal! That crazy French fella Arsene Wenger has only gone and won it for us hasn’t he?!”

“I said to Ted we were mad to hire him. Should have gone for Johan Cruyff. But look at that – he was right. Said all along Wenger would win us the league!” Robert mused to nobody in particular.

Andromeda was always amazed at how no matter how badly Robert’s memory deteriorated – he would never forget anything to do with football, or conversations he’d had with Ted in relation to it.

Robert suddenly looked over at Andromeda in slight panic and fear. He ushered for her so he could hand Teddy back.

“Are you okay, Robert?” she asked worriedly.

His face was fluxed with shame and anguish.

“I’m sorry Andromeda. I think you’ll have to call for a nurse…I’ve messed myself.”

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x-15 · 4 years

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Putting the main points of this post right here at the top so you can’t miss them. Various thoughts underneath it.

This blog is in support of BLM

Considering I’m transgender, and some of the most famous and influential trans activists are black, you’d be hard-pressed to believe I won’t stand in solidarity with black people and other poc

Readmored because this got long!

I’ve been quiet here because as a trans person, generally speaking I don’t want to hear about upsetting and sometimes genuinely triggering news from places I usually go to calm down, like space tumblr. I felt like, if I’m a positive influence on someone who needs it right now, especially if they’re a black person who doesn’t want to be reminded from every blog they follow how unspeakably awful it is to be black in my country, then I wanted to do what I could to cheer them up.

It was never my intention to stay quiet to pander to white fragility or anything like that tbh. I’ve seen firsthand how law enforcement act towards poc (though in my specific case, latinx, not black) versus white people. I was a fairly vocal activist offline when I was in high school. I’ve been in clubs that got disbanded after protests that ended in club members getting punched by white supremacists. I’ve marched in May Day parades in support of rights for immigrants and black people. I’m not nonpolitical here because I’m nonpolitical... I’m just not political here because that’s never how I’ve run this blog.

I think for a while I’m going to try to post more about black contributions to aerospace. I really do want this blog to remain a positive space for people who need it right now. But a lot of the most prominent figures in aerospace history are white, male, straight, and cisgender, and to be honest, as much as many of them are fantastic people... They’re not the stories that need to be heard right now.

This blog is mostly just for my own fun, but I am a professional science educator as my day job and I’ve been involved with museums since I was a senior in high school. I’ve worked both at museums in some very rich, either gentrified or historically expensive areas... and museums that first and foremost have always served the underrepresented people of their own, much less privileged communities. Having seen science education that targets both extremes, I’ve got a lot of thoughts about what it’s like to be an underrepresented individual in STEM that I’ve kept to myself for a long time because I’m not sure when I’ll be ready to share them. I really do believe that science & history education can be used as a tool to empower people who desperately need it, and that every STEM industry where I live at least needs more diversity. And finding people like yourself in history, for those of us who have been historically pushed out of industries like aerospace, is one of the most empowering feelings in the world, and it’s a part of why I think teaching the history of STEM alongside STEM itself is so important.

I’m going to finish this post off with a few resources and tips I haven’t seen traded around on Tumblr yet.

NYC Department of Health and Hygiene’s tips for staying safe while protesting

Screenshot photos you take and post the screenshot so the metadata of the original photo isn’t there.

And in case you’ve somehow avoided this tip, obscure faces of protestors to protect their identity.

Put your phone in airplane mode so that you can’t be targeted by StingRay, which forces your phone to connect to a cop car and triangulates your position, allowing police to track you. [Washington Post source about StingRay]

If you DO turn your phone off airplane mode, keep location services off... enough said.

DO YOUR RESEARCH BEFORE YOU SHOW UP TO ANY PROTEST. One of the ones closest to where I live was started by white supremacists in an attempt to draw black people to commit hate crimes against. It’s scary out there.

I’m going to be honest, based off what happened in Chicago where bridges were raised and lowered until only a short time before curfew... I would go home as soon as it starts getting even slightly late. More and more cities and counties are issuing curfews. This isn’t just a peaceful parade anymore, it’s becoming an actual state of martial law.

One more thing: I understand if you’re drained of money, can’t go outside for health reasons, and don’t know what to do. If I’m honest I’m still learning to navigate online activism myself considering most of my life, if I’ve been an activist, it’s been offline. If you’re broke, feeling helpless, and have an hour to kill, play this youtube video with adblock off. All ad revenue will go towards, according to the description: “the associations that offer protester bail funds, help pay for family funerals, and advocacy that are listed in the beginning of the video.”

Please stay safe and healthy everyone!

#and if you have a problem with black lives unfollow me #i understand not supporting the looting tho #i personally dont rly care if target gets looted but looting small businesses gets me big mad #that's some family's livelihood and there's a nonzero chance they're one of the marginalized ppl ur trying to protect #but whatever man.

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hollybourneauthor · 4 years

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“How Teen Fiction Can Change The World”

The Patrick Hardy Lecture has been running annually since 1989. Guest speakers from the world of children’s books, including the likes of Jacqueline Wilson, Meg Rosoff, Juno Dawson, and Michael Morpurgo, have taken to the lectern, and this year I had the overwhelming privilege of speaking to those who work in the industry.

“How Teen Fiction Can Change The World” Holly Bourne, Patrick Hardy speech, 2020

Before I get going, at the risk of sounding like a yoga teacher, I want to ground us all in this room. Right here. In this moment. It’s a Wednesday night in winter, you’re sitting in a library, and you’re about to listen to me give a lecture about stories. So, high chances are...you really like books. At some point in your life, you stumbled across a story that won you over. You became consumed by the magic of fiction, and could never go back. There are probably a few key books that you’ve read that you honestly believe changed you. Improved you. And reading those books may have led to you making a number of small decisions throughout your life that paved the way for bigger decisions, that, all collected together, led to this very point in your life. Right now. This room. The people sitting around you. Your passion. Maybe even your career. Reading is likely the part of your identity that you feel the proudest of, and the most nourished by. I know that’s true for me.

So, I just want you to take a few moments to think about the books that led you here today. Directly, or indirectly. The books that you’ve no-doubt read and reread countless times. The books that you feel are etched onto your soul. That made you who you are. That helped you through life and steered you towards becoming someone you’re proud of… And I’m going to go out on a limb here and say, I’m guessing that those books – those life-changing books – are books that you read as a teenager.

This is the topic of my speech today. How I believe teen fiction doesn’t only have the power to change a young person’s life. But how that magical transformation can start ripples that can actually change the world for the better. I truly believe that YA books – writing them, publishing them and distributing them – is an act of activism that can start huge, positive, social change.

But how?

Before I talk about teenagers, I want to explore the powerful nature of stories themselves. Our brains are wired for stories – they are how we learn to survive in the world. Human survival needs two things – the basics of how to keep yourself out of danger, and how to keep in favour with the social group around you. We are pack animals. We need the surrounding community to survive. And we constantly tell each other stories about how to live. Information is more palatable if it’s in the form of a story. Rather than saying to someone “Don’t eat those red berries”, we’re much more likely to engage with that life-saving information if someone says, “Did you hear about Ig, the caveman from next door? Oh my God, it was AWFUL. He ate those red berries on the bush outside, and his stomach exploded ALL OVER THE CAVE. It was so gnarly. They’re still cleaning it up…”

The same is true with instructions on how to be socially accepted by others. Linguistic experts have found humans spend most of their conversation time gossiping about people who aren’t there. Telling stories on each other. Gossip is actually narrative that instructs humans on what is and isn’t acceptable in their social group. Again, we’d get bored of an information manual. But if someone comes over to you, wide-eyed, saying, “Have you heard that John left his wife for his twenty-two year old secretary? And now everyone has turned on him and he isn’t welcome at the Safari Supper any more,” you’d be lapping it up. But you’d also be learning important lessons about how to behave. Instructions are boring, but stories are riveting. Our brain rejects one, and embraces the other. And, through narrative, we learn how to survive – both emotionally and physically – in this world.

I find the work of Sigmund Freud hugely influences how I write stories, and how to ensure they connect with my readers. Some of you in this room will, no doubt, have done English degrees and will be familiar with how Freud’s theories relate to narrative. So apologies if this is a recap, but it’s something I try to remind myself of whenever I’m writing.

Freud believed all humans lived in a state of constant conflict between three parts of our psyche – our Id, our Superego and our Ego.

Our Id is the totally subconscious, primitive and instinctual part of us. It’s our selfish desires. Our animal selves. And it’s always there.

I’m hungry.

I want that.

I want to have sex with that person. NOW.

A newborn baby is completely Id-driven – at the mercy of its desires. And that part of us never goes away. The Id is always with us, steering us to survive. Utterly reactive and animalistic.

Whereas the Superego is there to tame the Id. The Superego is the cocktail of messages we marinate in throughout our lives, telling us what a person should or shouldn't do. The Superego is about consequences. It’s your values. Your moral compass. Don’t steal. Don’t snatch. Don’t dry-hump that person on the Tube even if you really fancy them. Essentially the Superego socializes us. The most powerful influence on your Superego comes from your parents and your early childhood experiences. But society has a part of play. Laws are part of the Superego – telling us what is and isn’t legally acceptable. And culture plays a huge part in shaping it too. What should a man be? What should a woman be? What is right, or wrong? And the Superego isn’t always a good thing. It provokes a lot of guilt in us, and, if taken too far, feelings of shame can make us unhappy.

And, finally, the Ego is the navigator of these two conflicts. It’s the “weigher-upper” – listening to the Id and the Superego and making the best judgement it can. I like to believe that the Ego is essentially who we are as a person, based on the decisions we make as a result of this eternal internal conflict. Rather than beating ourselves up for having “bad thoughts”, we should judge one another, and ourselves, on our actions. It’s our actions that make us who we are. We are what we do, not what we think.

We learn about Freud in creative writing because, to some degree, every successful story represents the struggle between the Id, the Superego and the Ego. We are drawn to these stories because they reflect the battle we fight in our heads every day. If you consider the huge, ongoing success of comic book films, you can see how Freud’s theory explains their popularity. Baddies in these stories are often very Id-driven – selfish, compulsive and uncaring of how their actions impact those around them. Whereas superheroes are disguised “Superegos” – representing goodness and morality.

But what excites me most about Freud isn’t how I can use his work to shape my books, but the belief I have that reading powerful stories can actually contribute to a person’s Superego. How the act of reading a work of fiction can actually cause a psychological change in us that makes us better people in our non-fiction lives. And the nature of the adolescent brain makes the opportunities for this even richer.

So why books? What makes fiction the most potent vessel for activism compared to, say, films, TV, video games or even an Instagram caption? It’s because the very nature of reading itself is an irreplicable act of immersive empathy. When I go into schools, I always tell teenagers that novels are like really safe, legal, hallucinogenic drugs. I once read a funny tweet that said that reading a book is crazy when you consider what’s actually taking place. Effectively, you are staring at symbols printed onto a dead tree and vividly hallucinating. That’s pretty magical when you truly consider it. Even with all our technological advances, even with virtual-reality goggles, nothing quite recreates reading. How a reader is effectively transplanted into the mind of someone who doesn’t exist – feeling their feelings as they’re feeling them, experiencing their experiences as they experience them. When written well, and used for good, stories can educate readers about all sorts of social issues by provoking an empathetic and emotional response. You can open a reader’s eyes to the truth of what life is like for people who aren’t like them – from being on the receiving end of racism, to experiencing mental illness, trauma or physical disabilities. In To Kill A Mockingbird, Atticus tells his children that, in order to understand a person, you have to try and crawl into their skin and walk around in it. That’s exactly what books do.

It can also be truly revolutionary and reassuring for a reader to find a book where they see themselves in a main character. Especially if this main character’s hardship or thought processes are something you believed was unique only to you. Being seen, heard, understood – sometimes the first time someone feels like that is through the pages of a novel. Alan Bennett once spoke of the magic of this moment and how it’s like a hand has come out of the pages and is holding yours. And if you’re reading about a main character suffering how you suffer, and yet this character is able to stand up and be brave... Whether that's speaking up, fighting back, or simply just asking for help...well, this connection between writer and reader could well inspire the reader to be brave themselves.

Now, let’s go back to those books you had in your head. Your favourite books that you read when you were younger. The ones that really lodged in. What’s going on there?

There’s actually some neuroscience that can explain this. Scientists have found that during puberty, when a child’s brain is rewiring to become an adult brain, a side effect is that we make memories more strongly compared to any other time in our lives. You can recall and connect with your teen years more easily and potently compared to your twenties, thirties and onwards. I certainly know this to be true for myself. Ask me to close my eyes and remember being fifteen and, yeah, I’m there. Hell, I don’t even need to close my eyes. I can already smell the Lynx Africa, remember who kissed who at the school disco. I can remember the full names of all the popular people in my year group. And yet, if you ask me what I was doing at twenty-five, twenty-eight, thirty-one, I’d have to think about it. Trying to recall what job I was doing, struggling to remember certain people’s names... It’s vaguer, and certainly less visceral.

On top of this they’ve found that teenage brains are hyper-attuned to social stimuli. From an evolutionary perspective, adolescence is when you have to figure out how important you are to your social group and that impacts your chances of survival. This means teenagers are constantly asking themselves: Am I important? Do I matter? Does anyone care about me? Because of this, they’ve found that teenage memories particularly linked to identity and sense of self are even stronger. So if a teenager stumbles across a book that is holding their hand through its pages, just consider the POWER of that memory.

And let’s not forget just how wonderfully malleable young people are. Teenagers are so much more open to change – both in society, and in themselves. They haven’t calcified yet. They haven’t had as many years of repeating unhealthy patterns and gathering biased evidence to prop up unhelpful theories – about the world and their sense of self. I saw a talk once by a psychologist who said we need to stop dismissing our younger years as being unimportant years of freedom that do not matter. Actually, your youth and what you do with it paves the way to the future, and tiny adjustments, over time, can see you end up in a totally different place. She used the analogy of aeroplanes, and I love to think of teenagers as aeroplanes taking off from Heathrow airport. The planes all soar up in the same direction, but with minor changes in angle, they land in New York or Brazil or the Arctic.

I’ve started to see evidence of my books causing angle changes in the journeys of my readers’ lives. I’ve now written ten YA novels, and have built my career by being honest with teenagers about the hardship of their reality, as well as encouraging them to fight for a better future and a better world. I educated them about feminism through my Spinster Club series, asked the question Is mental illness preventable? in Are We All Lemmings And Snowflakes? and, most recently, wrote about an emotional and sexually abusive relationship in The Places I’ve Cried In Public. I’ve been touring the book with Women’s Aid and have become an ambassador for their Love Respect campaign that educates young people about healthy relationships. I’ve always believed that my stories were activism, and hoped they’d create positive changes in the Superegos of my readers. And I’ve now been in the game long enough to see my faith wasn’t misguided.

I met my very first Spinster Club alumni only last week, at a Women’s Aid event I did at Bristol University. After my talk, a young woman came up to me, squealing, and revealed she’d read my Spinster Club books as a teenager and they’d made her a feminist. She then went on to say she’s now studying law, and has got a barrister traineeship and wants to use law to protect vulnerable women. I’m not going to lie – it was probably one of the happiest moments of my life.

And the ability to tweak a person’s journey has never been more evident than in my latest book, The Places I’ve Cried In Public. Since it’s been published, it’s had more crossover appeal than I thought, and I now get several messages a week from women in their twenties, thirties, forties, fifties and even sixties, telling me their own harrowing abuse stories. They tell me about their PTSD, the university degrees they never got because their partner never let them go, their fights through family court, their lost years, lost self-worth, their therapies and their ongoing recoveries. Each tale is just as heart-wrenching as the last. And all of them write to me, I wish I’d read your book when I was younger, or I wish I could go back in time and give this to my 14-year-old self. They wish they’d known the red flags to look out for that could’ve prevented them from going down a path they’re still on.

And when I talk to teenage readers about the same book…

“Well, those sorts of relationships sound terrible. I’m never going to let myself get into something like that.”

“I HATE Reese. I want to kick him in the eyeballs.”

“The book made me cry so much. I never want that to happen to me.”

I’m not saying preventing awful things is that simple, but, also, maybe it can be? When you combine everything I’ve spoken about, what’s to say we can’t use fiction to nudge teenagers into making healthier decisions that will benefit them? As well as hopefully entertaining them along the way.

When we start reflecting on the power of teenage fiction, as people who work in the industry, we need to ask ourselves: how do we utilize this? Maximize this? And, to me, the most important thing is to remove as many barriers as possible between teenagers and the stories that can change their lives. I see the need to address this in three ways.

Firstly, we need to ensure books are available to all teenagers, regardless of their means. Novels, and their life-changing magic, should never be allowed to become an elitist item. So we need to fight to keep libraries and school libraries open, and to keep trained librarians in position. Librarians are experts at matchmaking teenagers with the best books for them.

Secondly, we need to fight for all teenagers to be able to see themselves in books by making the publishing industry more diverse, and therefore the stories it produces more diverse. The magic of fiction can only work if there’s an authentic connection between writer and reader, and diverse voices are an essential component for this to occur. If we think back to that reminiscence bump, and how memories about identity leave a particularly strong mark, just imagine how it must feel to be a marginalized teenager who finds a book that finally gets them.

And thirdly, we can’t let our own maturity and “calcification” accidentally erect barriers by letting literary snobbery shame a teenager for what they are reading. There is no such thing as good or bad reading – there is only reading. We need to celebrate and reward the books that teenagers are connecting with. It’s the connection that changes a life, not the beauty of a sentence. Yes, perhaps ideally, we want them to read the classics, but they’re much more likely to get there if the world of reading seems like an open, non-judgemental, non-elitist place. Let’s also recognize how hard it is to write a book that’s “easy to read” – the craftsmanship that goes into creating a story that pulls a teenager away from the huge list of distractions fighting for their attention. Literary snobbery is an unhelpful stance that will only inform a teen’s Superego in a negative way, leading to shame and exclusion. In trying to crowbar a teenager into reading a certain type of book, you’re potentially putting them off all books for ever.

I started by grounding us in this room. And now, after geeking out on you for half an hour about brain science and psychology, I want to bring it back to this room. I want us to take a moment to reflect on just how much power sits within these four walls. Collectively we have access to thousands upon thousands of young people, and a passion for the stories we want to give them. Just think of the ripples we can create by the simple, wonderful act of activism which is giving a book to a teenager. I honestly believe that giving the right book to the right teenager at the right time can change and possibly even save their lives. And I also believe that all those teenager aeroplanes, taking off from Heathrow airport, feeling empowered and understood, will go on to achieve remarkable things. Teen fiction really can change the world, and make it a better place.

A long time ago, someone gave you a book that led to you sitting in this room today. Let’s go out and start that journey for others. Who knows who will be sitting listening to the Patrick Hardy lecture in twenty years’ time, and what they will have achieved. But every time I think of this, I feel nothing but hope.

Thank you so much for listening.

#PatrickHardylecture children'sbooks childrenspublishing activism teenageactivism yabooks yareaders hollybourne

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all-things-are-nothing-to-me · 5 years

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Alienation

Alienation – the result of individuals and, through them, societies 'becoming alien' (i.e distant, disengaged, even uncomprehending) to the results of their own activity, the environment in which that activity occurs, from the people who share that environment and activity, and from themselves. Alienation is marked in those of us living out systems of social relationships which thus redirect our energy from living on our own terms in a manner we ourselves can choose and assert, and into simply reproducing and reinforcing that social system in order to attain the means for survival. Individuals with the means (intellectual, ecological, social) to create lives they freely desire are difficult to base top-down authoritarian systems upon without the draining use of constant force. Alienation makes it possible to relatively smoothly maintain the centralisation of wealth, knowledge and power, separated from us yet raised by ourselves and many like us.

A well-used example of alienation was deployed to describe private property and the economic exploitation of capitalism, by which the worker is separated from what they produce: their 'power to' do whatever it might be is sold as labour power, transforming it into an owner's 'power over' them and thereby alienating human beings from their capacity to create. However it would be a mistake to simply stop there, as Marxists mostly do for instance. (In the 20th century what became known as 'the Fordist compromise' began to allow producers a limited amount of access to the commodities they produce; without however changing the course of alienation, now even more marked in the 'post-industrial' consumer classes.)

We believe that the problem runs much deeper and older than wage relations, in both the 'external' world of habitual interactions and their ramifications and in the psyche. While alienation can be and is implemented through many institutions (religion, for one) with a far longer history, a more holistic example of how alienation begins to sink its deeper roots would be the dispiriting result on untold numbers of land-based cultures from assimilation into conquering empires, and the industrial revolution that forced a mechanical division between individuals and their livelihoods, their tools, their communities, their lands; the separation between production and knowledge itself. Let's take a step back to a more fundamental appraisal of what it might mean to be a potentially-free being on a living planet.

What do you know about the trees outside the window? What keeps them healthy? What about the other animals that live close to you; do you recognise their calls or tracks? What they do, what they prefer? What do you know about the lives of human animals that go on over the other side of the wall next-door, or the masses you pass on the street? What do they know about you? How does that make you feel?

What do you really know about where the food you eat comes from? Or about what has to happen for our homes to be lit, heated, or built? How many of your survival necessities or subsistence skills are truly in your own hands or those of your relations?

What proportion of your conversations still enjoy the depth of face to face interaction? How much of your daily environment can you navigate on foot, walking, climbing, swimming, being helped by a companion, or how much of it is it necessary to depend on regulated means of transportation through? How much of your immediate surrounding area are you physically, socially or legally barred from exploring? Why?

How much of your daily activity is to suit your own needs? Aside from within the symbolic order of the wage economy, that is. How much of it do you even really see or understand the repercussions of? Would we live in this manner if we could directly see and touch the impacts that are hidden from most, in ghettos, toxic dumps, slaughter-houses, hospitals, cemeteries, refugee camps, battlefields and felled rainforest in distant lands, youth jails, oceanic garbage-gyres? Or have we become so distanced from other lives by the allotment of everything into categories of utility, so justifying their and our exploitation, that we cannot empathise with parallel lives that become mere resources for our own, as rulers living off us cannot empathise with ours?

Does the concept of diversity have much relation to your life beyond the array of brands at the supermarket, or inter-relatedness have a meaning beyond message boards? We are tricked and trick ourselves into believing that the damming of a river or disappearance of wildlife doesn't really affect us, burying ourselves in air-conditioned coffins as a society to separate ourselves from the world we were born in.

Do you even remember how to enact and express your joy as you may have in your early years? What actually gives you deep satisfaction; or fails to, even though it may be what advertising and marketing, your parents, school, politicians or your peers tell you should do? How in touch are you with your own desires, multi-sensousness, thoughts and feelings? Might they be directed by social constructions of gender roles, 'human nature', class positions, urban desensitisation...? Might any tendencies which don't fit those constructions be smothered daily, in this world we endure? Do you ever feel like something is missing?

What about your own body; are your familiar with its cycles and drives, or are they an abstraction in a textbook or something that simply comes upon us from the blue? Is health just something obscure that a technical industry exists for and which we're objects to? Isn't the direction of our culture one directly away from the immediacy of human sensations, evidenced by inflating reliance on machine-readings of our 'vital statistics' and symptom-numbing drugs, shifting value from group play or physical activity in general into the spectacle of online games and, at best, exercising isolated with the iPod, or the generational proportion of Japanese society with a disinterest or even phobia of partner sex?

Do you find that you float from one hobby, job, friendship group or city to another, but never seem to be able to feel at home in yourself? Have you ever felt, like a comrade wrote, that the only revolutionary thing about your life is its relentless circularity? What systematically seems to push people into these directions, and aren't reflected in all histories and cultures, which suffer less of the loss of personality, loss of place, loss of purpose? What does it mean to be brought up and inherit not an intimate wealth of folklore to help us navigate a living landscape with reverence, but to be left grasping for a handle on an impersonal life that always gets away from us; as it did our immediate predecessors for multiple generations in the West, with little understanding or influence, our ancestral capabilities, skills and memories expropriated or sterilised? What does it tell us about the trajectory of this system when depression is a main cause of death in the 'developed' world?

It's this 'developed' world that we imagine most of our readers will be accustomed to: with the alienations of wage-labour, claustrophobic built-up areas, an endless routine repeated day after day to attain the means to go on surviving in the way we're used to, navigating the artefacts, mass media representations and bureaucracies of this civilisation, however irrelevant to our own thoughts and wishes. A while ago, Michele Vignodelli characterised the deeply meaningful interactions with a living Earth, as the cornerstone of existence, as having been replaced by “over-stimulation by artificial, coarse, mechanical inputs, through fashions, revivals, disco music, roaring toys, cult actors, events... a whole flamboyant, uproarious and desperately hollow world. A rising wave of fleeting inputs, a multitude of fake interests and fake needs where our emotional energies are swept away, drowning us in nothingness[...] This sumptuous parade seems to consist substantially in the stream of toxic, hidden grudges that flows beneath the surface of politeness, in the corridors of industrial hives; it consists in the snarling defence of one's own niche, to protect 'freedoms' and 'rights' that are sanctioned by law, in a deep loneliness which is increasingly hidden in mass rituals, in a universal inauthenticity of relationships and experiences.”

We're awash with communication technologies, and yet more often living alone, with fewer off-screen friends and little real-world social solidarity. In replacement we are given the imagined community of the market, the nation, or the virtual. What was once lived directly, becomes mere representation.

Alienation results in sensations including (but not limited to) powerlessness, shame, despair, delusions, hostility, social withdrawal, feeling constantly threatened or self-destructive, which are all pandemic within industrial civilisation. Its outward manifestations are on the rise everywhere that industry and 'development' have become the social norm, not just in the capitalist 'Old World' but now China, India, Africa. Alienation is needed for how our bodies are currently regulated in ways both great and small by being enmeshed within norms and expectations that “determine what kinds of lives are deemed livable or useful and by shutting down the space of possibility and imaginative transformation where peoples' lives begin to exceed and escape [the system's] use for them” (Susan Stryker). It forms a society of individuals largely isolated and dissociated from each other and themselves, despite the crowded cities, depressed, apathetic or filled with violent and directionless anger; and we identify it in how the dominant social mode pushes us further into this estrangement. It's the anguish of the living subjected to a deathly regime, and a condition that must be struggled against to overturn the whole social order – which we are demanded to adapt ourselves to fit. To adapt ourselves to ever-more limited and virtually superfluous roles, at any time liable to be replaced like a faulty cog. Beneath the surface of modern life, we live in what can only be described as a state of captivity, and the neurotic way we internalise this reality to cope with it seeps out and permeates our every interaction. The loss of perspective that the overwhelming totality of the current system engenders, casting a shadow over all past ways of life, makes it easier to be fooled when we're told that it is us who are maladjusted, malfunctioning, and when the system's guardians tell us they have just the cure for the mysterious undermining of life.

Yet in spite of generations of 'naturalisation', psychological immiseration tells us we are not at home in the world of social media, council estates, gated communities, artificial parks, billboards, office blocks, traffic jams, cash machines, asylums, factory farms, call centres and other prisons, stuck in a flaccid cycle of work, nuclear families and programmed entertainment. This is the environment our pre-determined interactions, which we all go through every day, has created; yet it is created against us and our own self-determination. Our health (inseparable from that of our landbase), solidarity, spontaneity, and indeed in the era of vast climate changes even our continued existence itself is jeopardised by our own alienated activity. The blackmail of the market keeps our habits and relationships, more often than not, not just delaying but actually antagonistic to the fullness of autonomous creativity. Mass social organisation is the separate power that stands apart from us as individuals, regulating and imposing on us, as the truly human-scale in life is dwarfed by an unending cycle of representations, bureaucracy, requirements, regurgitating what is; and what cannot fail to oppress us. The conditions of life forced upon us by the economy, the State and technological society have become powers that rule over and direct us, not tools to use as we see fit. The segregation from a multitude of lifeforms displaced by the city not just unfamiliarises us with our planet, but makes it much easier to participate in the industrial structure devouring everything.

Ignore these facts we may, they continue to come back to haunt us in the unarticulated precarity of our helpless dependence, the interpersonal violence, the deadly sadness. Self-medication doesn't cut it. Reality TV can't mask it. The chatter of the crowd won't drown it out. We are under mental and physical occupation by the capitalist-industrial system, leaving the firm but false impression of there being no outside, no choice, no escape. Is this really what we could call living?

#return fire #alienation #anti civ #communism #extinction rebellion #post left #anarchism

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