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instablamwriter · 4 years ago

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A3 characters sorted into Mahoyaku Countries/Kingdoms

If you follow me on twt (@/meclanitea btw), then you’d know how severe my mhyk brainrot is.

So me being me, I just had to sort a3 people into the countries. I have a basic description of each country below but tbh it’s very inadequate if you wanna understand so, like, join me in the mhyk brainrot. I wholeheartedly welcome you xD

So. If anyone has any other opinions, feel free to tell me because I love to talk (obvi hahaha)

Disclaimer: My opinion and all that jazz *jazz hands*. I took liberties for their ages because I could (bc they’re fictional characters :^]). The stories aren’t exactly complete but I’m not really building a full AU so it’s pine. And finally, we don’t really understand wizard genetics since wizards can be born from non-wizards and I’m guessing the other way around happens too? (we only have the flores brothers to go from after all)

Gonna start with the west the counter-clockwise to central

Western Kingdom: The eccentric wizards in love with art and have a unique interest in people

Yuki: Yuki is a west-born wizard and is a tailor. While not particularly interested in people themselves, he's interested in the different cultures and how it relates to clothes-making. He likes people telling him stories and doesn't care if they're made-up as long as he can draw inspiration from them (~early 20s).

Kazunari: Kazu is a south-born wizard who came to the west in his youth. He's an artist by trade and loves to interact with people of all kinds. He draws on the streets and leaves a little magic in his paintings (but not the one he gives to humans as western humans are wary). Back in the south though, they welcome his magical paintings (~60-70s).

Azami: Azami is from a strong family of wizards from the north. His father is the leader of a small but mighty bandit gang, comparable in strength to the legendary bandit leader Bradley. He escaped from the north to pursue his passion in make-up and uses his magic to create make-up with different attributes, as well as those that have different healing effects on the skin (~early 20s).

Misumi: Misumi is from a very isolated eastern family that actually originated from the west. He went back to where his late grandfather came from in hopes to find some peace with his memory. He loves interacting with others and his playful and energetic self is a hit in noble parties. His grandfather used to be a noble as well, but though their riches have stayed, they are not acknowledged by the Eastern Kingdom (~60-70s).

Taichi: A central-born wizard who had dreams of making a name for himself. Since he didn't stand out much despite all his hard work, he decided to start anew in the Western Kingdom and did a make-over with his hair and clothing style (~late 20s).

Homare: A western noble that despite being a wizard, is much loved and well-regarded for his poems. He uses his magic to add theatrics to his poem-readings (~500-600).

North Country: Wizards here are often powerful, isolated, and power-hungry.

Banri: A young wizard who had been powerful since birth. He was born into a long line of village leaders and he has several villages nearby submit to him for protection. Losing to a non-northern wizard, originally a /southerner/ at that really gave his ego a bit hit. (~late 30s)

Hisoka: An orphan wizard that lost his family in his teens (north natural disaster). He was taken in by August, a wizard mercenary for hire, and lived with him and Chikage. He disappears after an attack and is framed for killing his mentor, August. He lost his memories and wandered around the eastern Kingdom until he was found by Azuma. He retrieves his memories soon after being reunited with Chikage (~400-500).

Chikage: An orphan wizard who was taken in by a young August. He lived with August and Hisoka until August was killed and Hisoka disappeared (~400-500 but older than Hisoka).

Eastern Kingdom: Mostly isolated people who warm up once you gain their trust

Azuma: His human family died in a tragic accident when he was young. He moved to the east and keeps his wizard identity a secret. He gives company to the lonely people in the east (~1500).

Masumi: An eastern noble. He grew up under his human grandmother. His parents don't quite understand magic. He’s quite gifted and is pretty well-verse with the forest near his home (~late 20s).

Itaru: A toy maker who does a lot of custom work that is almost realistic. He’s also quite good at disguising himself. He’s often thought to be a western wizard at first but he’s a big introvert and would rather be left to his devices to work on his toys and machines (~100-200).

Juza: A south-born wizard known to be really physically strong. He had left the south because of bad rumours and had wandered around until he settled in the east. When he encounters fallen wizards, he takes their mana stones but buries the rest of their remains. He usually works as a mercenary for hire (~late 30s).

Kumon: A south-born wizard who takes a lot of pride in his brother and followed him to the east once his brother made base. He has a lot of personal conflict with his magic and using it properly (~mid-20s).

Southern Country: Kind-hearted wizards who are often weaker magically

Omi: A north-born wizard who was quite notorious in his youth. After his partner-in-crime died during a raid by other wizards, he moved down to the south and became a school teacher (~80-90s).

Muku: Born with weaker magical power and no teacher to learn from, Muku mostly focused on becoming dependable physically (~early 20s).

Tsuzuru: A young writer who once wished to sell his works, especially to the central and western kingdoms, but didn’t want to leave his large family. Now that all of his siblings are adults and his parents are in retirement, he’s had thoughts of leaving and making his stories come to life (~50s).

Tsumugi: A dancer who once upon a time was going to go to Central Kingdom to make it big but backed out last minute and stayed in his village. He is very talented though and uses magic to enhance the experience of his performances. He also often uses plants as a moving visual (~100-200).

Central Kingdom: Filled with natural-born leaders and those who have strong senses of justice

Sakuya: Orphaned at an early age, he grew up doing odd jobs just to survive. His dream is to become a knight for the kingdom, much like Cain Knightley (albeit he was thrown out of the knights) (~early 30s).

Citron: A noble and the tentative heir of the Zahra household. His father is an acclaimed wizard but out of all his children, Citron has been the only wizard. It wasn’t until recently that his younger half-brother Tangerine had been born a wizard as well that he decided that he wishes to leave the family (~200+).

Sakyo: A north-born wizard who had dreamed for the longest time to stay in central and rid himself of the pressure of north for years. He had been involved in Azami’s family in order to survive since he had originally been very weak. Azami’s dad is a wizard he respects deeply who had fathered many but Azami had been the first wizard and Sakyo had taken care of him since birth. When Sakyo was given permission to leave the family, he had taken it, but not without Azami’s resentment (~1000).

Tenma: The son of a merchant that made it big. He’s a performer in all aspects from singing to acting to dancing and is regarded as a superstar by the locals. His magic is used to enhance his theatrics (~late 20s).

Guy: While his parents were originally from the central kingdom, he was taken at a young age and grew up being trained in the North. He worked as a mercenary afterwards, traveling the world before he meets Citron’s family and is then assigned to become his aide (~1500).

Tasuku: A south-born dancer who has gained the attention of many people. He was originally going to come to the Central Kingdom with his Tsumugi, but he had backed out and Tasuku still resents him for running away (~100-200).

Thoughts???? I’d love to hear them!

#mhyk #mahoyaku #a3 #a3!#act! addict! actors!#promise of wizard #mahoutsukai no yakusoku #yuq hcs

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yoursinfulurges · 6 years ago

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Neo Host Club

Part 1.

Description:

Sm academy is a school for the riches kids in the country. If you have way too much time in your hands, have the school' host club take care of it for you. The host club is compiled of 21 members, im sure one of them will fit your preference. Indulge in fine dining as handsome rich men accompany you, showering you with love and affection. The host club is here to fulfill all of your fantasies of having a handsome rich man as your boyfriend. We encourage you to join us. Neo Host Club is your perfect vacation, we are here to aid you from all your stress.

Lies. All lies. At first everything was perfect, no bumps or kinks in the road. Being with Jaehyun was like a dream come true. But, like all dreams, at some point you have to wake up. Everything could've gone much more smoother if you would've never gotten involved with him in the first place. You went from being a one-time customer, to his personal call girl. You loved him with all your heart, but he loved himself way more. He took it upon himself to choose his pride over you. The host club wasn't as perfect as it seemed. It was not a picture perfect place where nothing could go wrong, It was just a utopian world made up by troubled kids, who hoped to forget their miserable lives outside of school. You know that now... He could've chosen love over tragedy, but his pride prevented him from doing so. He had a reputation as the host clubs most charming member to up hold, and he certain couldn't risk it for some girl he sleeps around with. He chose his pride, not you, thus shattering your relationship... or, whatever it was that you two had....

You were left with a shattered heart, he left you to pick up the pieces all on your own. It was not love, but instead a tragedy.

Warning: multiple smut scenes, bisexuality, grammar errors, implication of Asian reader, degrading terms, and over all a whole shit show

Word Count: about 5.k

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You gazed out the window of your limousine and sighed. Your face contorting into an expression that displayed 100% discomfort; you looked as if you were about to throw up any given minute, soiling the red velvet rug and your brand new uniform. The tingling sensation in the pit of your stomach seemed to be like a never ending stream. An endless flow of nervousness and anxious thoughts, feeding your anxiety like a wild fire, stirring up a cyclone of possible panic attacks or mental break downs. It felt as though you were on the verge of crying and shitting your pants.

Today, you'd be starting a new chapter in your life. You were finally attending the infamous SM academy, a school known for its excellent education system and outstanding clubs. You've heard many rumors about SM, but the most repeated are about a particular club called neo host club. It's apparently compiled by 18 charming male students, proudly running the club in it's second year at SM academy. The club was said to be extremely gifted, talents ranging from singing, dancing, rapping, and even magic acts.

You were sure they were nice and all, but you weren't buying it. A group of extremely good looking men with impeccable manners. It was almost too good to be true. What is this?, a sappy fanfiction written by a fourteen year old high school student that has nothing better to do? Yes. From what you've heard, they seemed like robotic brain washed idiots, fooled into acting like manga characters. It was best to not interact with them, given your long track record of obsessing over anime characters. You came to this school to learn, not to get involved with boys. No love affairs or scandalous awkward run in's. You were here to further your work ethics and that's all, there was nothing in your itinerary about getting involved with boys. Besides, something about them seemed fishy...

You gazed at your parents one last time before finally stepping out of the car. It was evident from your expression that you did not want to be here. You've protested a million times and made it completely obvious to your parents that you didn't want to attend SM. Originally, you wanted to go to JYP Arts, a school who focuses more on creative liberty rather than academics. It's most commonly known as a school who values creativity more than anything else, earning it a bad reputation from parents such as yours. You wanted to attend JYP rather than SM due to your passion for art, but your parents disapproved and left you with no other option but to attend SM.

They insisted that art wouldn't get you any where, and that it was more of a side hobby rather than a job you can actually make money off of. You were crushed, but weren't surprised. Your parents had always raised you to value money over happiness. Ever since you were little, you were tought that living in luxury and loneliness was better than living poor and surrounded by love. The only time you actually made your parents proud was when you won a hefty prize on some petty competition; not when you won a trophy for your outstanding literature work. Not when you donated half a million dollars to charity, in fact, they seemed bitter about it, rather than proud.

To them, your trophy room filled with over 200 golden medals and trophies was nothing compared to the dollar signs you'd rake in. As a child, you've always joked that your parents were like the cookie monster, but with money. Having always seen them in the study, counting huge wads of 100 dollar bills, usually accompanied by other stacks of fresh paper; Naturally, you saw them as a psychopath with an unhealthy obsession over money, greedy and hungry (but without the blue fur and garbage can of course.) None the less, they still treated you with love,... In their eyes.... You were sure that in their own twisted way, they loved you with all their hearts. They just didn't show it much, or at all....

Life with them as parents was....rough... You would've been fine if you had other siblings to socialize with, but your parents thought of children as a menus and that you were far than enough for them. You figured out pretty quickly that you were only born because they needed a heir to the family business. You weren't aloud to talk nor even look at the children that would play outside the gates of your mansion. They iced you out from everything outside the walls of your house. Forcing you to make friends with the statues and paintings that littered your home. It was indeed sad, sad enough for the staff to take pity on you and go well out of their way to interact with you.

Thankfully, making some great friends in the confinement of your own home. Over time, you weren't so lonely anymore. There was Mrs. Kim, your librarian and teacher who home schooled you up until this point. Mr. Kim, the gardener. Mr. Lee, the chef and baker. Emily, one of the maids around the same age as you. Sehun, the son of your head maid. And lastly, Mrs. Oh, your head maid and Sehun's mother. They weren't exactly the normal group of friends people your age would have but they were great. So much fond memories were made with them, they raised you more than your parents ever did.

Morning classes flew by quicker than you expected, and before you knew it it was time for lunch. Your morning mainly consisted of you arriving to classes late due to your unreliable locker not wanting to cooperate, and boring lectures given in both 2 classes. You still couldn't shake off Ms. Lee's lecture about sexual intercourse, she had practically begged and yelled at your table to not have sex. Yes, specifically your table, earning lots of snickers from the other students and shy glance from you while your seat partner tried not to piss her pants. You did not expect a 40 year old lady in a purple get up to yell at you about sex on your first day of school. You expected your day to go much more normally than this, hopefully your evening will go on much more smoother. But some good did come out from Ms. Lee's excessive screaming.

While your loony teacher was yelling at another group about something you couldn't quite understand, you had managed to make a friend somehow. Her name was yeri, at first you'd expected her to one of the more quiet students, but boy were you wrong. The moment Ms. Lee stomped over to your table yeri's lips were practically bleeding, due to her bitting down on it way too hard to prevent herself from laughing. You liked her a lot, having shared some common interests and surprisingly similar personalities.

She even invited you to sit with her and her friends at lunch. You agreed of course, not wanting to look like a fool by sitting all by yourself. You would be vulnerable to judgmental stares and occasional murmurs. After class you stuck by yeri like gum to a shoe. She had informed you that it was usually her job to witch hunt her friends down. Understandable, given that the school was at least the size of fifteen malls. One could easily get lost. This 'witch hunt' however, wasn't as complex as you'd expect it to be. You had managed to find all four of them in under five minutes. Though it was painstaking, mentally wise. Yeri said 'seek for those that look ill minded'. It had taken you a while to figure out what the hell that meant, as you did not speak her witch lingo. But after a few seconds you had managed to translate it as 'look for the idiots'. You left it to her to find them though, as you weren't the judgmental type. And sure enough she did.

They were all huddled around a girl; and from what you can see, she seemed to be distressed in a way. Vulgar profanities spill from her lips as she aggressively throws books into her locker. They were all pretty, but looked very intimidating. From what information you can gather with your eyes, they definitely weren't the most well-behaved students here. One opted for a leather jacket instead of the required school blazer. Some wore fish nets instead of stockings. Two wore plaid skirts. And almost all had hoop earrings on, which you know for a fact is not allowed. They all sported bright, eye catching makeup; with hair ranging from violet high lights to straight up platinum blonde. The contrast between yeri and them was unimaginable, but fitting. The only remotely juvenile thing about her is her ash grey high lights. Other than that, she seemed like your typical well-mannered girl.

"Oof, whose the babe." A very pretty girl with red lipstick and perfectly lined brows said whilst pointing at you with her lollipop. You looked her up and down and immediately got chills. She wore black latex thigh high heels; a plaid miniskirt with a leather belt, accompanied with chains; and an off white blouse, nearing grey in the color spectrum; with a sleek black leather jacket, that tied the look all together.

"This is y/n. She's new. Y/n, seulgi." Said yeri. Her hand landing at the dip of your back, pushing you forward gently but with the foundation of force. The grip you had on your books tightens, pulling your notebook closer to your chest. You weren't necessarily scared, just weary.

"Ou, fresh meat." This,... Seulgi uttered.

"Careful she bites. Hi, I'm wendy." Stated the girl that was distraught earlier, as she moved her locker door a bit to take a peek at seulgi. Observing her, you smiled back.

She wore her hair in space buns with red and purple highlights; complementing their whole 'grunge chic' look. Her outfit was all mixed and match, from a yellow plaid mini skirt and red tank top, to a lilac and pink wind breaker. Chaotic, but stylish. Her gaze shifted from seulg to you, with a pleasant smile on her lips. To which you return, as you didn't wanna be caught observing her... She then aggressively shuts her locker door before turning your way.

"Cafeteria?" She questioned and you all nodded. You weren't one to oppose a grumbling stomach after all, so you complied.

Once seated in the cafeteria, you took a minute to take it all in. The place looked like the queen's ball room with the fancy domed roof and pillars, not to mention the giant chandelier that hung in the middle of the room. It was quite spacious, fit for the only finest. You couldn't expect any less from Korea's top school.

"Look whose here." The girl whom you've come to know as irene spoke, nudging her head towards the brown double door entrance. Your gaze following, and landing at a group of boys. All handsome and well dressed... I guess you were staring at them way too intensely, since one of the girls spoke up.

"Careful, you don't wanna get close to them." Wendy whispers in your ear.

"Why not?" You ask, turning her way.

Seulgi scoffs. "They're a bunch of a-holes but everyone here's too dumb and blinded by their looks to figure it out." She states while probing her miniscule fork in the air in their general direction.

"Seems like you have something against them." A sly tone laced your tongue as you spoke. You didn't know where this new found comfort came from since you were antisocial as fuck. But it was quite easy to adjust to them. They weren't as bad as you thought. They were actually very nice and well-mannered. They just have trouble obeying rules... You felt comfortable with them, almost like you've known them your entire life.

"Ya!? Well, I do!"

"Last summer seulgi got into some beef with taeyong, the guy with red hair and the leader of 'nct' as they call themselves. Anyways, They dated but seulgi came out as les and he got really salty about it and released nude pictures of her and her titties." Joy laughed while seulgi scoffed once more.

"They were nice though..." Wendy informed with a mischievous laugh.

"I know! If anything it just made the girls fond over me more. I mean get a load of these double D's." You spat out your tea as she pushed her breast together and leaned forward to attack you with them. Everyone bursts into a giggling fit as you coughed vigorously.

"But still, it pissed me off!" With her eyebrows furrowed she threw the tiny fork in her hand at her empty tray. The laughter didn't seem to die down and you thanked joy for the napkin she handed you to recollect yourself. You thought to yourself, maybe this wasn't so bad.

Not much had happened since lunch. Third period wasn't that bad since irene and joy accompanied you in math. Not to mention that it was practically a free period due to a technical difficulties. Last period was with seulgi and wendy. The three of you spent majority of language arts goofing off as the teacher read segments from Romeo and Juliet. Wendy made exaggerated expressions as the infamous "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore arth thou Romeo" line was read off... resulting in her being sent to the principal's Office...

And now you were back at your miserable humble abode, wilting away like a plant without water. It was only then when your macbook started vibrating with notifications, that you decided to take a break from painting.

Instagram: Yeri_is.petrified started following you...

Instagram: TheWendyBird started following you...

Instagram: Joy¡!_xoxo started following you...

Instagram: Irene♡_ started following you...

Instagram: Seulgi_ started following you...

Incoming call from: Yeri_is.petrified +4 others.

[Decline] [Accept]

You furrowed your brows in confusion, how did the manage to find your account so easily. You sighed unknowingly as you clicked the accept button.

AznBabe_ has accepted call...

"Hey bitch." Yelled seulgi. You looked at her side of the screen. Instantly you noticed her odd preference in decorations as her room looked like a night club. There were mixtures of reds, purples, and blue illuminating lights. You presumed that were caused by various neon signs of some form. Her roomed looked like a strippers den. Especially with the red and black silk sheets she had.

"Asian babe, really?" Asked Irene. Her room was definitely more mellow. It fits her whole "your mom wished she gave birth to me" vibe. Very prim and proper, her color palette from what you can see is mainly black and white, with a plant here and there.

"Ya, lol..." you deadpanned. "How did you guys even find my IG?"

"It took a lot of searchin. By the way, love the whole edgy-urban- im-a-badass-dont-mess-with-me thing you have going on in your feed." You laughed as wendy emphasized her words, using hand gestures to prove her point.

"Ya, totally different from the whole good girl thing you have going on. It's hot. I like it." Added joy. Understandable since to took pride in reinventing yourself just for the internet. In the eyes of your followers you were a rebellious lil demon' that smoked and road motorcycles. But in actuality you were a goody-two-shoes that just so happens to vape and have access to thousands and thousands of urban clothing. You did ride a bike though but you preferred the rose gold custom Lamborghini you got for your birthday last year.

Truth be told, it was just an act. You weren't entirely sure what prompted you to create this edgy persona of yourself. I guess it was just to distract yourself from the oh' so pitiful life you lived now. A double life if you will...

"You should dress like this tomorrow. You'll fit right in." Said yeri as she held up her left hand in the form of a 6 sign.

"Why'd you losers called anyways?" It's funny how comfortable you've gotten with these girls that you've barely known twelve hours ago. You felt like you've been apart of their friend group since the beginning even though you've just met them today.

They all shrugged before going back to the task at hand. Irene was probably finishing up next weeks homework. While Yeri and Joy were mindlessly scrolling through their feed. Wendy has her camera off but by the sound of things she was probably cooking. Seulgi, well she was just laying in bed smoking. As for you, you were just tidying your work station.

"Are you guys planning to go to yukhei' party tomorrow? I heard he's going to have a cheese fountain." Wendy announced as she turned her camera on, giving you full view of the mess she made. Stains ranging from red to greenish yellow adorned her white shirt. And the gold spatula she was holding had burnt pieces on it.

"The boy loves his cheese." Laughed seulgi as she talks another drag from her blunt.

"Wait a minute, isn't he that guy from the club you said to stay away from?" You questioned, looking up from what you were doing to give them a look of confusion.

"He throws really good parties." Irene shrugged, not bothering to look up from her notebook.

Wong Lucas was Indeed a questionable man, but there was no doubt that he threw the craziest parties. He was pretty much what you'd expect a nineteen year old rich kid to be, wild and rebellious. It was a known fact that he got his spot at Neo through one of his parties. He was the one that arranged most of the clubs events because he was really good at it. For the most part he has a pretty squeaky clean record. Aside from little rumors here and there.

And that's how you found yourself dressing up hot and steamy for a party you didn't even know the location to. You decide to go casual yet still sexy. It didn't take you long to decide on a red latex, skin tight skirt with a Gucci belt, paired with a black lace bracelet styled top, and black velvet thigh highs. As for your hair and makeup you kept it simple, opting to just curl your hair with a subtle black winged liner and a bright red lip, also accompanied by perfectly lined brows and extra gleaming highlight.

Seulgi was already at your house since she insisted on getting dressed there. The party didn't start till nine and it was only seven twenty so you had plenty of time to lounge around. Seulgi went with a dark purple velvet off shoulder flaired dress, with black thigh high heels that laced up at the front. Her hair was styled in a bun with her bangs hanging loose. And her makeup was very minimalistic, similar to yours except she had a nude lipstick on.

"Smile for a picture slut!" She yelled, positioning the camera in front of you both. You did your go-two insta hoe pose; shoulders back, one eyebrow slightly raised, gaze soft yet sassy; lips pressed together but lightly tugged into a small smirk. You figured out that the pose made you look irritated and confused yet still hot. The next picture was just of you and seulgi giving the camera the middle finger with your eyes closed and tongue stuck out.

"You look hot in all of these." Seulgi complimented as she scrolled through the pictures. Deciding the top five that worked well in her favors before posting it on her IG. Not so long later the doorbell rang, indicating that someone was present at the door.

Seulgi_ tagged you in a photo

[Image]

10,000 likes

Born in the pussy, i'll die in a cunt.

579 comments

_JaeD_ +58 others has started following you...

The party hadn't even begun and already the place was packed. Cars ranging from Lambo's, Royce', and Mercedes littered the place. Luckily Irene found a place to park her convertible. You knew that this place was heavily guarded since it was known to be one of the more classier part of Seoul. So when wendy suggested to park in the streets, none of you seemed to worry about any possible theft.

The house was huge, certainly not as large as your house but definitely enough to fit a hundreds of people. From your knowledge of revenue, or just money in general, the house looked to be worth a good nine million, ten at most. It was a modern home so you knew that it had to be well over a million. Since most houses that have that specific structure were more on the heftier side of things. And there were stone statues everywhere. Those aren't cheap to come by.

You all walked up to the security man with a guest list and patiently waited for the group of girls to finish. You knew judging by their clothes that they weren't from the privileged life. The knockoff Gucci was a huge give away. Normally you wouldn't have a problem about these kinds of things, but knowing how upper class parties work, the odds are they were going to get thrown out.

You watch as the girl whined and screamed to be let in, claiming that she'd tell her father about him. You almost took pity on them, enough to say they were with you. You would've if it weren't for half of them giving you the stank eye.

"Step aside. Name?" The man asked you.

"Lee Y/n, of the Lee dynasties." You said confidently, staring back at the girl who had been glaring at you the second you walked up here.

"And you know who we are." Joy piped.

"Hi wonho!" Greeted wendy.

"Right this way girls." The guard known as wonho smiled before opening the door for the six of you.

"We're with them." One girl said.

"No you're not." You laughed at Irene's words, strutting into the home. It reeked of alcohol and drugs. The air was littered with smoke from the smoke machine, and atmosphere gave off a more chill-club kind of vibe from the red and blue lights the laminated that places. The place was jammed pack with people, some you recognize from school.

"Let's go get a drink." Seulgi whispered in your ear. You nod whilst looking around. She mumbled a inaudible 'this way' before pushing your forearm to the direction of the kitchen.

Your jaw drops. There really was a cheese fountain...

The kitchen wasn't as compacted as before, leaving room for you to actually wonder. There were only a few groups of people and from what you can see out the sliding doors, they were all outside by or in the pool.

"Look theres pizza."

"Theres a cheese fountain. A fucking cheese fountain! I thought it was a joke-"

"Ohhh nooo, Yukhei never jokes about cheese..."

You watch in amusement as yeri chugs down her twelfth glass of martini blue. (S/o if you get it). At this point in, you've lost count of how many shots you've had and the many types of alcohol you drank. Everything became a drunken blur, gaze hazy, mind fuzzy. The blaring music was coming through filtered, like you were under water. Everything felt like a mirage. Every action your body did, your brain did not comprehend. Thus resulting you on time out, under the watchful gaze of wendy and Irene.

A huff leaves your lips as you slumped and grabbed another slice of pizza off the counter you sat atope of.

"Why can't I just have another one..." a pout forms on your face as you groan in frustration.

"Because y/n you've already had 24 shots of that neon green stuff." Says wendy.

"Hey Yuk, what is that stuff?" Irene grabs a hold of the muscular male that happened to pass by, pointing at the suspicious looking bowl of glowing green liquid.

"Oh, that?.. ask Sicheng and Nakamoto, they made it. But I think its mountain dew and monster with vodka and sprite, something like that." Lucas says before placing down three boxes of pizza and tacos and leaving. Leaving the two to groan in agony, somebody had to take care of you.

"I'm going to the washroom..." you say, hopping off the granite counter and wobbling off to a random hallway.

"Okay..." mumbled Irene as she takes a sip from her plastic red cup.

Uncertain where your legs were taking you to, you watch as seulgi pushes a girl into an unoccupied room. You were unsure of her name but you've seen her in your fine arts class. She hangs out a lot with those JYP kids.

"Have fun Seul!" You laughed, banging your forearm into the wooden door before drunkenly walking off.

Somehow you had managed to find the washroom. You swiftly made your way in and locked the door behind you. Clearly missing the figure that smoked in the shower. You blink meekly at the sink, forgetting why you went to the washroom in the first place.

You sigh, propping yourself up on the counter. Your body swayong lightly to the current migos song blasting through the speakers outside. You yawn lightly, thanking god that the red and black aesthetic happening outside correspondent in the bathroom as well. The red led light that illuminated the room was certainly much more calmer than the yellowish lights in the kitchen. It made things a lot easier to actually see.

The male watches you with amusement in his eyes. Taking another drag from his blunt, he shifts his weight onto the shower wall.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing here?" He asked, nodding is head upward before tilting it to the side and taking another drag of his cigar. His hazel brown eyes staring down at you as he lifts an eyebrow, waiting for a respond.

You hum lightly, swinging your legs absentmindedly. "Just chillin!" He laughs slightly at your answer before making his way to you and leaning against the bathroom counter.

"Then lets chill together. My names Yuta. You?" Evident in his voice that he wanted more than to just relax, but it only goes by unnoticed to you as you happily told him your name.

5 minutes later...

"Oh fuck!! Just l-like that! Shit!!!" You scream loudly as you grip onto Yuta' hair. A smirk forming on his lips as he looks up at you with sly eyes. A milky way of lust and hunger filled his hazel ord. (Pun not intended) Moans fall out of your mouth as Yuta sucked on your clit. Your vision fogs as your intoxicated mind tries to comprehend every wave of pleasure coming your way.

"I-im coming! Fuck!!!" Screaming at the top of your lungs, your breath increases as you struggle to unleash the tightness in your stomach. Your pitch rises ten octaves as you release onto Yuta' mouth. Your mind in a blissful ecstasy as you ride out your high.

"Well, that was fun." He says in a sly tone, lifting his head and licking his lips.

"Visit me if you ever want more..." A chuckle erupts from his mouth as he handed you a pink card with golden accents on all four corners. You watch as he leaves before reading the cursive golden letters on the card.

| Neo Host Club |

Empathy,

We turn dreams into reality.

| Room: 127 7am-6pm |

You raise your brow in confusion as you examine the card front to back. We turn dreams into reality? What the hell did that mean? An escorting buisiness perhaps.. though you highly doubt the school would allow such a thing. Regardless of the clubs purpose, it was still worth checking out. As the name and slogan intrigued you very much.

And thus, you began your journey down the rabbit hole of poorly chosen decisions and midnight drunk hook ups. But sooner or later the spiral will begin to unwind and all will be revealed. After all, they didn't call him the king of hearts for nothing...

How was that huh? Probably not what you expected but oh well :/ don't expect for part two to be out any time soon!!! Currently working through writers block :(

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cunyappliedtheatreblog · 6 years ago

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Countdown Profile: Week 4 Alexis Jemal (’21)

Alexis Jemal, JD, LCSW, PhD, clinical faculty member at Hunter’s Silberman School of Social Work, and member of the MA in Applied Theatre class of 2021, talks with Michael Wilson (’11) about her hunger for justice, finding applied theatre, and how she’s just getting started.

Okay, we’re recording

The first thing I want to put out there is that I don’t have all the answers or know how all these pieces fit together. I consider this journey to be a work in progress. That’s how I’ve always led my life and have ended up where I am today. It may sound, I don’t know how it will sound at the end, whether it seems it all fits together…

I’m a many-interested person myself, from anthropology to theatre, and now photography. There’s a connective logic I feel intuitively, but it might not look like it from the outside. I do believe that we attract passionate, interdisciplinary people to the program.

Exactly.

I welcome that complexity.

It is complexity! Which I have found not always welcome or understood. Even in my doctorate program, for example, they’re trying to fit you in a box. They’re trying to say who you are as a researcher. Do you do this, do you do that?

At first, I started out in law, because I wanted to help people. The main message in my personal statement for law school was: “stealing bread is wrong, whether it’s done by the king or the man living beneath the bridge.” I had read this passage in a sociology textbook. That made me think about inequity, and how, well, the king will never be prosecuted for stealing bread…

I went to law school because I wanted to be an advocate for the man, woman, child, person who lives under the bridge. I loved law school. But then I had a bunch of internships at places, like in the chambers of a Federal District Judge, at the New York Civil Liberties Union, at MFY Legal Services in New York that provides legal services to indigent people, and the Public Defender’s Office in my home county in New Jersey. And I kept seeing injustice after injustice after injustice. A person who is getting evicted from their house, yes, you could help them not be evicted, legally, but that wouldn’t help with their mental health issues, or their substance abuse issues. It wouldn’t help with the trauma they’ve experienced in their family history, or the macro sociopolitical issues that are harming them.

So I figured, social work is where I really want to go. I ended up first working at this place at Rutgers called the Center for Behavior Health Services and Criminal Justice Research. That’s when I learned I was interested in research, because we were testing psychosocial interventions within the women’s prison in New Jersey. I was really seeing the intersection [between] the intrapersonal, interpersonal, the mezzo, the macro…everything was interacting. I thought, this is what I want to do. I want to be on the frontlines but I also want to be a researcher. I was one of two students that were admitted to the first PhD MSW program that Rutgers started—one foot in front of the other, the stars just kind of aligned… In my doctorate program, I was not planning to go into a professorship. I wanted to do more the non-profit route. But I began to consider how going into social work education could be advocacy in a way that I get to help shape future social workers. I could be that change that I want to see in social work.

Thank you for sharing that. I’m inspired by that.

It all intersects. To me, social workers have no excuse. We are the only field, as far as I know, to have an ethical mandate to address oppression. When any social injustice occurs, we should be the first responders. Instead, we’re trying to be psychologists, or something.

Technically, at Silberman School of Social Work, I am clinical faculty. I get to, in my class, bring the message of how clinical work and social justice need to be integrated and practiced. Like: “I get it, you guys want to go out and you want do therapy, but you will be interacting with multiple systems, and there’s no way around it. So how are you going to practice with an anti-oppressive lens?”

So that’s the teaching. I’m also a researcher, right? My interventions are always grounded in critical theory, liberation health models, restorative justice-type practices. They’re always about developing critical consciousness.

For my dissertation, I wanted to create a scale of Paolo Freire’s critical consciousness. As a doctoral student I was developing an intervention called Community Wise, that’s grounded in critical consciousness theory. Community Wise is a group intervention, it’s fifteen two-hour weekly sessions, for people who were recently released from incarceration. It’s supposed to reduce HIV STI risk, criminal reoffending, psychological distress, and substance use. And it’s grounded in critical consciousness theory, meaning that we have these critical dialogues, and we have capacity building projects, where the participants work on some type of project together.

The theory is called transformative potential: a scale of critical consciousness. The heart of the theory is that…when people [social workers] design interventions, like substance abuse interventions, they’re trying to get these people to use substances less, but really, what we’re arguing, is substance abuse is a symptom. It is not the issue. The issue is oppression. If we can find ways to get at the root of the issue, then substance use will decrease.

And there’s the Freirian piece: you’re there to challenge people to develop critical consciousness, that’s about reading the world.

Exactly. We’ve all been socialized to blame the individual. The participants have been socialized that way, as well. “When I come out of prison I should be able to get a job, I should be able to do this…I have all these skills, I have all these certificates.” And it’s like, “dangit, you don’t need another certificate. What you need is for people to stop discriminating against you and give you a job!”

One of the questions I ask people sometimes is, “could you have done everything right and still things have gone wrong?” And the answer is, well, “yes.” And that tells you it can’t be 100% about you.

I am concerned with the health of marginalized people. I want my work to be a healing agent. And it always has to be multi-systemic.

So, that’s what brings me to applied theatre.

How?

I saw psychodrama at a social work conference. And I was immediately impacted by it. Everything started to collide in my head. From, role theory…we’re all on the stage, different roles that we play…to, just that art itself, whether it’s dance, whether it’s painting, just has a way of breaking down boundaries. How I see applied theatre fitting in [my work] is that it integrates healing from trauma that’s associated with oppression AND raising consciousness and getting people to act against inequity.

And I have always been a creative writer…I’ve always felt I didn’t know how to integrate my academic and creatives sides…but applied theatre is the perfect way to integrate both aspects of myself. It seemed to all merge here.

I have several ideas. I wrote a story when I was thirteen or fourteen about hair. I know that for, especially black women, there’s so much trauma at the roots. Every time I read this story I can’t help but to cry. It’s a tear jerker. I think about how this [the exploration of hair] could be used with theatre as a healing agent for the people who participate in the drama, devising [an original piece of theatre around hair], but also it can impact people who are watching it.

Telling your story is healing, but also empowering. And unifying. It could build empathy, you could know people in a way that you didn’t know them before.

Thank you. Thanks for bringing me up to what seems to be a frontier for you now.

Yes. It seems to bring together all of my interests, from education to consciousness raising to community organizing to healing, to health. To creativity.

Now switching gears, what does it take to keep going as an interdisciplinary person in a world of siloed work?

Yeah, that’s…I believe that my work will be more effective [because it’s interdisciplinary], I guess. But I do battle. You know, it’s not like just going into carpentry, where I can just work with the person’s mind, and forget their health, because you know…people can’t be sliced. People can’t be separated like that. We’re complex and we’re a mess and that’s humanity.

What gets you up each day to keep doing it?

People are fascinating to me. I could sit and people stare, and guess, what happened there? When I’m driving and see a home, and I can kind of see in laughs—like I’m peeping—I wonder, does that family eat dinner together? Is there violence? My mind wanders. And, I’ve always been a person about justice. I’ve always been a champion for people who didn’t have power, since I’ve been young. To stand up for people, to stand up for justice. I don’t like people to be in pain or to suffer. My name, that’s connected to Alexander, defender of mankind. And that’s how I’ve felt. I’ve always been about justice and equity.

Okay. Well, as I’m listening, I’m so struck by your accomplishment and knowledge. I really admire what you’re up to.

Thank you. People think I’m humble or something, but I don’t feel like I’ve done much, yet. People are always in awe of the DEGREES. It’s like, yeah, but the degrees mean nothing if you don’t do anything with them. So I’m hoping that I do make a difference…so far I feel like I’m laying groundwork. I’m in the preparation stage.

Rapid fire round. A fiction author or book that’s lighting up your imagination?

That is hard to say, because, I’m so ashamed to admit this, but I don’t read as widely as I’d like. Because, I’m usually reading journal articles and papers.

Alright, fine. But did you read Octavia Butler at all?

So that’s the funny thing. I just took this writing course at Medgar Evers in October. It was every Monday night. And I write kind of sci-fi stuff.

Aah [of course, just like Butler].

That’s my genre. I started looking up African-American sci-fi writers, and of course she pops up. So I have several of her books on my kindle but I have not read one yet. But I do know who she is.

There’s someone else who was perpetually fascinated. And so personal…so interested in each person’s wounds and psychology, and also so curious about social change. She used dystopias that are not so far away as a metaphor for interrogating the present. She used the arts as a reflecting surface for society.

I’ve been warned that I sound a lot like her…the teacher was like, “I don’t know if you should read her, because it may…” So I’m like, “do I or don’t I?”

Well you’ve given me a writing challenge, because I have a full article here on your work on critical consciousness and a full article on your reflections on the value of theatre.

And so I’ll tell you this last part so it wraps it up. I have this research project I’m starting to get into now…with women, they’re going to do auto-ethnography. Researching their own lives and experiences with different types of oppression. And the last part that I’m hoping they do—I’m going to present it to them, but it’s up to them—is to do something with applied theater. Somehow incorporating what they’ve learned from their autoethnographies into some type of applied theatre format. So that’s kind of where it’s going. That’s it.

For now. Thank you so much.

Thank you for listening.

#mainappliedtheatre #cunymainappliedtheatre #criticalconsciousness #blackgirlmagic #JD LCSW PHD #huntercollege #silbermanschoolofsocialwork

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withlovingregards · 6 years ago

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Au Yeah AUgust Day 1!

Day 1: Soul Mates

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition

There were many things that Iclyn was born knowing, since her existence was based upon the magic and life of others. One was the memories of all those that made up who she was. She knew the entire history and language of her people, which all elves had mostly forgotten. Second was the use of her deep well of magic. Muscle memory of memories not her own showed her everything she needed to know. Third was that every single sentient species was assigned what she had learned was a Soul Mate.

Or, that was what she had been told when she questioned the ghosts in her mind of the phenomena. Not very many of them had had the chance to meet the one meant for them before the end of their lives, but those who had sent her warm thoughts and loving memories to assure her that it was indeed true. Everyone with a soul had another attached to theirs.

But, what had that meant for someone like her, only created with the sacrifice and magic of others, whose soul wasn’t just her own? It had been something she had disregarded, to instead focus on the grave mission she had ahead of her.

It became impossible to ignore it, however, when that so called "Soul Mate" had come barreling into her life. And she meant that literally.

The Inquisitor had finally made her way into the Emerald Graves with her squad, investigating many things, but one in particular; the myth of the ghost that lived in the deeper parts of the forest.

That's what the locals had taken to calling her, and she told that to the Inquisitor when she'd come to her part of the world, struggling against what they called Red Templars. It was nice to put a name to the monsters she had taken the liberty of turning to blocks of ice every now and again.

When the threat had been eradicated, the "ghost" elf had turned to the group of four, and when she gazed directly at the giant man of a Qunari, color had exploded behind her eyes. It was powerful enough to stagger her, and she'd waved off the concern of the strangers as just a dizzy spell.

Because, while the world had been painted in beautiful shades long before this moment, nothing could compare to the colors that lay before her. Everything was much brighter than it had been previously, and even the simplest thing was more than it had seemed before. Leaves weren't just green, but a mixture of colors she would never know the name of.

And the voices in her head whispered the answer. This was the connection of Soul Mates.

Except the Qunari hadn't been left breathless as she'd been. He seemed completely fine, high off the adrenaline of battle, intrigued by her presence, but not discovering something he'd never felt before. And like she'd done before, she pushed all those thoughts and feelings away, instead offering her help to their cause, for it overlapped hers.

They'd asked her name. That was not something she had been created knowing, and she told them she had none.

So he'd given her one. The Elvhen surrounded by the coldest of ice, her favorite spells, should be known as Iclyn. The others scoffed at the suggestion, telling her it was just one of his many horrible puns, but she knew it was right. That was her name. Iclyn. Her name was Iclyn.

She continued on with the party, making sure to keep a close eye on the tall warrior, who was doing the same to her, for entirely different purposes.

It would have been less embarrassing to search for her answers in books, or even to blackmail someone into giving up the information. But since she was barely more than a name to these people, she took the direct approach to the problem.

She asked the Inquisitor.

Iclyn had at least been somewhat subtle about it. First, she'd asked Shaela if she'd left behind a Soul Mate in her clan. The elf's tattooed face turned red, her answer sputtered since she'd not been prepared for it. No, she hadn't left one behind. But she had found one. Though, she refused to reveal who that person was.

Iclyn asked if all races had one, pretending that she already didn't have that answer.

"Everyone has someone, but it's not always easy to find them. The world is so big, some don't want to search for them; some understand the power of marriage between families, so they forget about them. Then there's people that just can't feel them."

"They can't feel them?" Finally, she was getting somewhere. None the wiser, Shaela nodded her head as she leaned back in her chair, playing with a strand of her hair.

"There are people that are so focused on a single goal that they are blinded. It's most prominent during war time in the armies, as well to the Qunari people."

Qunari, Shaela explained, were a people that were all given an individual purpose in life, and nothing was more important than the role they played in their society. Nothing was unplanned under the Qun, and there was no room for marriage, love, or even children to be raised by their parents. It seemed cruel, but that was their way of life.

"The majority of Qunari live under the Qun? Including Iron Bull?"

"Yeah, he may not seem like it, but he's actually one of their spies. He's got a deep alibi, with his mercenary squad and all."

"I see."

That meant he'd never be able to see her in the same light in which she saw him. Iclyn wasn't even aware she was upset about that until the ghosts at the back of her mind were mostly quiet. They knew the pain of not knowing, of not having the chance to find out. It was heartbreak all on its own, but it wasn't something they could dwell on.

The few spirits that had found their Soul Mates wrapped around the elf like a familiar blanket. Their words seemed to whisper against her skin as they spoke to her.

"Don't give up."

She remembered the first time she'd been brave enough to kiss him. Or, well, when the alcohol had made her brave enough to kiss him. He'd been celebrating the victory of their latest dragon kill and was buying rounds for the entire tavern. Iclyn hadn't been there at the time, but he'd had Stiches run and fetch her. He'd grumbled about it their entire trip back to the tavern, but he even admitted that it wouldn't be a party without her.

While the elf had been discouraged by the fact that Bull would never see her as his Soul Mate, that didn't mean he couldn't see her as something else. She already enjoyed his company, with his awful jokes, worse beer, and incredulous stories. First, she'd started by helping Stiches with their wounded when they couldn't rely on just their potions and salves, healing them with what she liked to call her "endless well of magic".

After that and many celebrations like this one, it was common place to see her with the Chargers. They treated her like one of their own, especially after she'd come to them wearing a wooden helmet carved by Blackwall with an imitation of Bull's large horns. The grin on the Qunari's face had been present the whole night.

That night, however, Iclyn lost her inhibitions. Iron Bull had been so happy about his take down, had told the story a million times, with the tale getting more and more absurd, she couldn't help but sit, listen along, and drink.

At one point in the night, most the patrons had left, either too tired or too drunk to continue on. Only the Chargers and the guards who had finished their late shift were left, most of them ready to continue drinking farther into the morning. Iclyn was sat close to Bull, watching as Rocky challenged all his friends to arm wrestle with him, barely able to walk straight. The elf giggled, more than a little tipsy herself. Bull's form moving closer to her pulled her attention to him, tilting her head back so she could look at him properly.

"Pale looks lovely on you, but I have to admit, pink like that is almost sinful."

As if she wasn't pink enough, the compliment made her skin color even darker, and made the man at her side laugh. She smiled up at him and pushed at his thick arm, ending up moving herself rather than him.

"And I know what would look lovely on you," Iclyn blurted, and even in her drunken state, she knew she'd made a mistake. She wanted to panic, because she hadn't meant to set herself up for a pick-up line, but with that smirk he was sending her way...

"What's that?"

Fuck it.

"Me," she whispered, pulling him down to her lips by his horns. He hadn't resisted, because Gods above knew he could have done so, since Iclyn was a weakling compared to most. Instead, he followed her motion, and rather than kiss her gently, he took her mouth as if he was prepared to devour her.

Iclyn, herself, hadn't kissed anyone. She'd barely interacted with people before the Inquisition had found her. But even these moments the ghosts gave her memories of. They knew of love and passion, of the fire that could burn you to the very core. This was much more than that. His lips burned against her own, and when he moved his large hand to cup her neck and head, she felt like she was home. All the pressure, all the fear and anxiety of the war that surrounded them disappeared in that moment.

When they finally pulled away, both a little more than breathless, it took a while to come back to reality and realize that they had a laughing and clapping audience. Iclyn usually would have ducked her head in embarrassment, but she was still riding the high of booze and Bull's kiss, so she only winked at the Chargers while their leader laughed.

"'Bout time, never thought this day would happen!" Dalish yelled, pointing her "bow" at them for emphasis.

"We were about to start taking bets when this exact moment would happen," Krem teased, taking a sip from his drink. The two continued to take the teasing, though it didn't last much longer as everyone continued to drink and separate. As everything started to wind down, Bull carried Iclyn back to her room, since she was completely unable to walk, and laid her in her bed gentler than the elf would have thought.

"Hopefully, this isn't a drunken memory you're going to forget in the morning, because I'd really like to continue where we left off."

Nothing about that moment was fuzzy, since it kept replaying in her mind every time her light blue gaze fell to his full lips. She gave the Qunari a slow smile and a soft caress to his stubbled cheek.

"Anytime, anywhere."

"Don't promise something like that. You have no idea where that will lead," Bull laughed, reluctantly pulling away.

"I trust you," Iclyn yawned before she completely passed out.

Iclyn was having a hard time keeping still as she paced in front of the entrance gates of Skyhold, waiting for the specks in the distance to hurry up and appear before her. A week ago, the Inquisitor and the Chargers had set out on an expedition to the Storm Coast, though the details of the mission had been kept under wraps. She had been told, by Bull, that it shouldn't be anything too serious. Just collecting some assets for their cause.

Shaela, the best friend a girl could ask for, had sent a raven to her once their mission had been complete, filled with the bare minimum of information to get her point across without giving too much away. Everyone was safe, but nothing had gone to plan. Iron Bull was physically fine, but would probably need time to process what exactly had gone on. Shaela had asked Iclyn to give the man some space.

Unfortunately, that was just something she couldn't do. Not because she wanted to disobey the word of the Inquisitor, but her power was nothing compared to the pull she felt to her Soul Mate; a bond that had only grown the closer they'd gotten to one another. She tried to quiet the voices in her head as they ran through the worst possibilities of the situation, but the anxiety only ate at her. Until she saw the top of Bull's head over the crowd he was surrounded by.

Shaela lead that group, as she usually did, and when she was close enough to notice Iclyn's presence, she glared at the pale elf. Iclyn chose to ignore the nasty words she could interpret from that look, and instead focused her attention to the Chargers. They were fine, not a scratch on either of them, though as they talked and laughed, there seemed to be a solemn aura around them.

Shaela fastened her pace, aimed straight at her friend, and pulled her away by the arm, doing her best to hide her form with her own, even if she was barely taller than her. Iclyn gave her a sheepish smile, moving them a bit so she could still see the Qunari over the Inquisitor's shoulder.

Before the elf could give her a piece of her mind for disobeying her, there was a commotion from the group of mercenaries, and both the women looked down to see that Iron Bull had collapsed to one knee, eyes clenched tight like he was in pain.

Iclyn fade stepped out of Shaela's hold to the crowd, moving her way nimbly through the Chargers to kneel next to the downed man, giving Krem a concerned look.

"Bull, what's wrong? Are you hurt? I'll heal you-"

She went to place her hand on his shoulder, magic at the ready to check for any unseen wounds, but at the sound of her voice, Bull looked up. Her hand instead brushed against his face, and it felt like she'd just touched the sun itself. It hurt, but the hurt was soothed by the look Bull was giving her, washing over her like a tsunami. Her heart clenched inside her chest, and she didn't need her historic knowledge to know what was happening right now.

Bull knew. He knew she was his Soul Mate. But how?

"How did you do it?" He asked, breathless like he'd been hit, "How did you manage to be around me, to feel this, when I was too blind to understand?"

Iclyn framed his face with her hands, pouring all the love and heat she'd been holding for him into her touch as if he could feel it. Maybe he could, now. She began to smile while she rested her head against his own.

"I had hoped one day you would feel it too."

"How long were you willing to bet on that?" He laughed, but it wasn't because of the joke, more on the fact he was processing everything. Unable to stop himself, he moved his hand so he could cup her neck and head, thumb stroking her soft skin.

"I'd wait forever for you, for this," Iclyn mumbled. But she couldn't keep talking, not when he was this close to her. So, she kissed him, ignoring all their confused friends. She'd been waiting too long for this moment, to feel like this again.

To feel whole.

#Au Yeah AUgust #auyeahaugust #DA:I #Dragon Age #Iron Bull #my writing

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elmidol · 4 years ago

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To Find Hope

Three Blind Tooke Part Three Death is an Art

Read on AO3

Warnings: None(?)

Three Blind Tooke

Part Three: Death is an Art

Chapter Forty-Six: To Find Hope

the sky is painted anew each day

to remind us not to get lost along the way

because as we grow, we will come to see:

life always changes, yet hope will forever be

Dissuading the former Knight of Ren from again utilizing the moniker Super Tooke was nothing that you had to waste your time with. He had decided to drop some of his bias for the sake of the potential missions that the pair of you would work together. In many ways, the two of you were similar. You had adopted several names throughout your life, and here he had done the same. As a step towards moving away from his history as a man serving under Kylo Ren or Snoke, he had decided to change his name. Navrin claimed that he would not don the armor that had been with him for years for very much longer. To shed it completely would be to move fully forward from his past. That was a terrifying thing to do, as you yourself well knew. You looked at his armor with a new appreciation. He was being allowed to choose to leave it behind. When you had been captured, your uniform had been forcibly taken from you. The transition back into the Resistance had been rocky, and it remained so; but the difference was that you were able to make choices here. Accepting the nickname from Dameron. Picking out from a small selection what clothes you would often wear. A willing assimilation into this life.

He continued to wear the armor through the use of the flight sim. You had opted to go second in order to have more time to clear your mind of thoughts that would otherwise distract you. This potential mission was something you truly wanted. The growing passion would refuse to be extinguished regardless if you were accepted or not. It would, should all things go well, lack violence.

When it was your turn, you successfully went into things with a clear mind. The same way it had been back during your training to become an LDS for the splinter cell. Your skills as a pilot were unrefined in comparison with many of your allies. Some vessels were foreign to you, and it took time to learn their different quirks. Thus it came as no surprise to witness a crash within the first minute. This transport shuttle was a temperamental slag bucket. You pinched your lips together while mentally running through each and every one of your actions. It was easy to deduce where you had gone wrong. Remedying that mistake, your next run lasted longer. The landing was what did it. You did not technically crash, however the potential of whiplash to possible children passengers was too high. The nature of your possible upcoming mission dictated that it was not acceptable.

The limited amount of resources dictated that your time running through the sims was less than what you may have hoped for. You did manage to improve with every run, however you knew before the results were given that Navrin had had the superior performance. You wondered about his past, his familiarity with the model.

The pair of you sat side-by-side away from the rest of the Resistance members who were still quite busy with their work. “It isn’t meant to have passengers, is it?”

“No,” Navrin said. He paused for a moment, shrugged, and began to speak again. “That is why it is best suited for this mission. It is common in that sector. It has low defenses and no offence.” You winced at that fact, mostly because there would be children aboard. Limitations could help or they could hinder. To have a nonthreatening ship raised the potential of it being the former. “We won’t be completely unarmed.” He looked to you as he spoke. You brushed back some of your hair then looked to the sky. Clouds had started to gather, though there was little threat of rain. A part of you wished that it would rain. A drizzle. No storm.

Both of you would have weapons, although this would do little good against enemy fire while in the depths of space. The Resistance would not risk sending a trained Force sensitive. That would increase the risk of the Order of Ren being drawn to the location. The greatest threat, for the time being, would be the First Order and also the usual pirates. There had been less attacks in that sector of space from pirates in part due to First Order activity. Many such individuals had gone underground, so to speak. Navrin was not ignorant of the Force, but he was not trained as Rey had been. There was no blood connection with Kylo as there was with Luke and Leia. The familiarity of the Knight was still a potential problem.

“So… This is what limbo feels like.” You snorted in amusement at Navrin’s words. The wait to learn whether or not you would be given a mission was always agonizing. You felt too much like you were sitting there twiddling your thumbs and doing nothing. “I’m going to see if I can help with anything.” He rose to his feet. You lingered there for a second longer prior to mimicking his movements. Navrin had the right attitude about things. There were many ways to be productive. The smallest task was nothing to balk at.

There were other missions that your allies were preparing themselves for. As you helped to unload supplies from a newly arrived craft, you chatted with the other members of the Resistance who were working with or near you. The flight sim would be assisting a team of pilots in preparing to steal several First Order ships on a series of missions. You did not know the full details, and you doubted that you were at liberty to obtain those finer bits of information. This news merely confirmed suspicions that you, and many others in the Resistance, had already been harboring. It was the one way to harm the First Order simultaneous to expanding the Resistance fleet. For the pilots to act similarly with the Order of Ren, that would be trickier. Such missions would have to be placed on the back burner.

Mercy missions like the one that you had your eyes on were spread across the board as well. There was the lingering threat of violence towards Resistance allies, even those who had not joined the cause from a battle standpoint. Several had instead offered food and supplies. What you were assisting in removing from the craft was proof that support came in many forms.

What you fought for, what those in the Resistance risked their lives for, was a better universe. One without the threat of the First Order or the Order of Ren. In order for such a place to exist, waiting until the fighting was done would never do. Reparations had to be completed alongside winning battles, winning the war.

“Are we still short on medical supplies?” you asked. The human medic you had addressed paused in his steps. He held his hand up, palm flat and facing the ground, and wobbled it back and forth. You understood what he meant. There was always a shortage when the stakes were this high, when there was always the chance of multiple injuries. At least, you thought, Resistance allies had been able to spare some.

After completing the task of offloading the supplies, you found yourself wandering about the base. Conversations buzzed in your ear. You were able to make out only a few words here and there. The Force. Order of Ren. First Order. Wishes for specific foods. That was a huge one; so many were homesick, but they would not abandon the cause. If the Resistance lost, there would quite possibly be no home to go to. Planets had been enslaved by the Empire in the past, and the First Order had done the same thing. The amount of information that Navrin and Finn were able to provide better put into perspective just how similar the two were. Not that you had had any doubts. Theory was, however, much different than when one had solid proof.

Finn, Rey, and Luke were seated together in a sloppy triangle. Their eyes were closed, and you suspected that they were in a state of meditation. General Organa usually partook in this activity, so her absence sparked a sense of curiosity in you.

Leaving the three Force users alone, you sought out the woman, and soon found her speaking with Lieutenant Connix. Rose also stood near them, however she was busy working on a datapad. You remained standing apart from them. Watching, observing. You did not feel quite so alienated anymore. The yearning to interact was complimented by the necessity to simply watch those you cared for. Appreciate all of the small things, everything that you had, at one point, believed you would never see again. You loved living. You felt such a strong surge of emotion bubbling in your chest at your desire to enjoy every second that passed. These brief moments of peace, which would hopefully someday be commonplace, were everything to you.

You had to let go of all bitterness and resentment that you had allowed into your heart. You did not want to be a monster, not some vessel for hate.

It was far from easy, and more often than not it was a conscious effort on your part. You had accepted that you could not go back to being the person you had been. It did not prevent you from subconsciously attempting to go back to old habits. There the bitterness would rear its head. Those times were becoming less frequent. Accepting that you would, if selected officially for the mission, be the copilot instead of the lead, it revealed that you did not have to prove yourself. You did not have to be the best in whatever new path you took; it was not about making up for what had changed. It was finding joy along the way.

If the Force amplified feelings, both the positive and the negative, you understood how it was that people such as Ben Solo could stray, could become creatures like Kylo Ren.

You could also see how it was that Navrin had been able to grow into a Resistance fighter rather than remain a Knight of Ren.

“Do I stick with Supernova?” Navrin asked when the sun had begun to set and the two of you were in the temporary barracks together. You were sitting on the same bunk together. Backs facing the other, feet planted on the ground on opposite sides of the furniture. “Are you feeling Super?” It was difficult to not smile at that. He was speaking in a monotone. But there was something so guarded there, something that was also raw. Fear of rejection. He felt like an outcast.

You stretched your arms above your head. Felt your spine cracking, tension in your muscles easing. “Super tired.” You pressed your lips together. A moment of silence. “You can call me by my name if you want. Or Nova. Supernova. Just not Tooka or Tooke.”

He slipped under the covers of the bottom bunk, whereas you climbed up onto the top. The decision to sleep had been after General Organa had approached the two of you to officially hand over the mission. As you had suspected, Navrin would act as pilot. You had believed that a third Resistance member would be put onto the mission with you. A sort of supervisor given how most viewed both you and Navrin was being compromised. There would technically be a second team. Their initial destination was identical, but from there things changed. They would not have children with them. That was all that you knew. It was a safety measure just in case either team was later captured. Just like how the splinter cells had operated. You had a vague notion that this was similar to how the Knights of Ren had operated when it had come to their relationship with the First Order under Snoke.

In the morning, the two of you and the pair in the other team were equipped with improved gear including comm devices with new scrambles that Rose had helped to put together. There would be no long range communications. It would put the two missions at risk. More importantly, the ‘cargo’ at risk. The clothing also had to been inconspicuous. Nothing with a Resistance insignia. You hated having to leave your jacket behind. It had been a comfort on several levels. You refused to leave behind the rings, the small sentimental belongings that reminded you of your time with Kylo. Reminded you how you had changed. Not just changed, but grown. There were parts of you that you loved.

You loved that your current mission was not focused on killing, but on saving. You had killed so many. Had watched just as many die. This change of pace was a good thing.

It was Navrin who seemed completely out of place. No longer donning the armor of a Knight of Ren. No mask or helmet to conceal his face. The change of scenery, not being stuck on this base with people constantly eyeing him with distrust that he could understand, would help him as he transitioned into the full swing of things. News of the Order of Ren had put everyone on their guard. It was one of the reasons Rey had to sit away from the main camp to meditate.

All four of you were loaded into a shuttle that would take you to the first drop off. It was there that Navrin would begin piloting the transport with you as his backup and guard. You patted the blaster that was at your hip. There was a scope attachment tucked into a pouch on the other side of your waist. You were also in possession of a vibroblade, and strongly believed that your three allies were as well. The two who would not be joining you on the mission had thermal detonators. You hoped that they would not have to use them in a manner that would cost them their lives though it was something you had all signed on for. Navrin had been given a small blaster. He had close range weapons beyond the vibroblade.

You had opted to sit across from Navrin. A young Resistance member, humanoid, was beside you. A human female diagonally. No one spoke during the ride. The jump through hyperspace rocked each of you. You stared out the viewport. The dots of stars became long lines.

In that silence, your mind wandered to Ip. To everything that he had taught you. You looked over at Navrin; it was then that you realized, no matter what, your life had been filled with mentors. Your parents, namely your father. Various instructors in the Resistance, but mostly Ip. In a way, Kylo Ren, and then Rey. Dameron had reached out to you when you had returned, back when everyone had believed that Kylo was dead. You had been wrapped up in your own problems, yet that had not prevented you from seeing that Navrin had socialized here and there, had spoken mostly with Rey, however had spent the majority of his time on the periphery.

You had lost mentors to death. Maybe he had reacted so strongly to Kylo’s ‘death’ by being hateful towards you because he hadn’t. It was new. He wanted to cling onto the past while moving forward. Wanted someone to guide him; memories could serve as a thread to follow. He had been following Kylo’s in reverse. From Ben to Kylo; from a Knight to Navrin.

You really had not expected to ever seize such a title, a role. Nor were you arrogant enough to believe that you could do so by force. Once the two of you were alone in the transport shuttle, Navrin in the pilot’s chair, you asked him. Asked if he wanted someone to help him go through this vast change so that he wouldn’t be lost in a sea of despair. When you had first learned to swim, your father had held a hand underneath you to ensure that you wouldn’t drown.

“There are many ways this could end poorly,” he murmured. “Even if the Force is with you, it may not be on your side.”

You wrapped your arms around your midsection. The long sleeves of your shirt were loose. The pair of you had the appearance of a young married couple. Maybe that had been part of the plan set into motion by those of higher ranks in the Resistance.

“You are a very glum person.” You were grinning despite your words. So was he. Navrin was not rejecting your offer. If anything, he was proving that he did want help. He did not want to live a life without hope. For so long—how long?—he had been in a position of power; aware that the First Order fleet was superior in size and firepower to the Resistance and the New Republic. He was not accustomed to being the underdog. “I think that’s why General Organa wanted you on this mission. My father told me that he participated in the war against the Empire so that I wouldn’t have to face war. He prepared me for one just in case, but… That’s it. The children. Hoping that the next generation won’t make our same mistakes, won’t be subjected to these horrors. The galaxy widely believed that the Force was gone...the Jedi gone. These children, they’re Force sensitive. They represent many things. A new generation. That hope isn’t lost even when you don’t see it immediately. It exists. You just have to search the right place to find it.”

“And so you’ll protect them?”

“With my life, if it comes down to it.”

Novrin grunted, the sound preceding a comment in regards to how Kylo, too, was protected by blood that had been shed from you. The argument that it had been taken rather than given failed to leave your lips. You had wanted him to be alive. And while you did not condone the actions he had taken, you did wonder if you would have willingly given him some of your blood if he had asked, if he had told you what it was for. Rey had once placed her trust that he could change. You had as well. And Navrin…

The habit of toying with the rings on your necklace once more presented itself. The former Knight had started to speak again. There was time to kill before you arrived for the children. Time to learn one another, time to mentally prepare yourselves for whatever might come. Should it be the First Order, their goal would be to kill you and the children. It was the Order of Ren that caused pause. Navrin spoke of how Kylo Ren had studied both Sith and Jedi lore. The deceased Snoke had pushed for the grandson of Darth Vader to be an embodiment of both the Dark and the Light. Which had Navrin wondering if there were other artifacts. Not only from the Sith but the Jedi as well. Rey, Master Skywalker, and Finn had the sacred texts from Ach-To. But there would be more out there.

Kylo Ren had managed to cheat death by using the Force. That had been a Sith technique. Would he also have started to learn the Jedi techniques for healing?

There would be no winning this war if you, and others, did not embrace that the Force was in everyone. That it connected everyone. A tide of good and evil. Potential. The children, you thought again, were proof of that.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren smut #three blind tooke #elmidolfanfic #death is an art

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jordannamatlon · 8 years ago

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By Aaron Ross Coleman

In the age of Donald Trump’s flip-flopping doublespeak, the importance of accurate, unwavering speech has recently become an urgent priority for many Americans. But for African Americans, a people whose access to language and liberty have been contested since the nation’s founding, the need to speak truth to power is always of perennial interest.

From the Civil War through the Civil Rights Movement, black writers and artists have led this vanguard, using words to illuminate the cavernous, shifting contours of American racism. Most recently, with the advent of live-streamed police brutality, the long-running discourse on equality and democracy has zeroed in on the use of unrestrained state force and the visceral fear it inspires. And among today’s most talented creators and intellectuals tackling the topic, writer Ta-Nehisi Coates and hip-hop artist Kendrick Lamar rise above the rest.

In Between the World And Me, his award-winning memoir dedicated to his teenage son, Coates writes of the Baltimore of his youth, “the only people I knew were black, and all of them were powerfully, adamantly, dangerously afraid.”

He later centers this angst around the threat of violence at the hands of the police. It was a threat that could easily result in beatings, maimings, and death. And so it was a threat parents did anything to prevent ― even if it meant administering brutal violence to their children themselves.

In his first book, The Beautiful Struggle, Coates illustrated just how far parents could go. In a scene where young Ta-Nehisi has just been suspended from school, he arrives home where his father is inside.

“He was waiting in the foyer at the door, again magically off work at the worst time possible. He was there with Ma and Jovett, half smiling through an awkward mix of shock and anger. Jovett walked out of the room and then it came. He threw an open hand, and I hit the floor….

“My father swung with the power of an army of slaves in revolt. He swung like he was afraid, like the world was closing in and cornering him, like he was trying to save my life. I was upstairs crying myself to sleep when they held a brief conference. The conference consisted of only one sentence that mattered— Cheryl, who would you rather do this: me or the police?”

The police ― fear of the police in West Baltimore, writes Coates ― drove mothers and fathers to reach for cable wires, extension cords, pots, and pans. “Our parents resorted to the lash the way flagellants in the plague years resorted to the scourge,” he would later write his son.

Brutal yet nuanced, Coates’s memoirs paint a human face on a group of parents who oft have been portrayed in the media through the tropes of dead beat and welfare dependant. He recasts them as three-dimensional humans, who through a manic mixture of love for their children and fear of the police, turn to a tragic cycle of violence within their own homes. Readers leave his work with a deeper empathy for the tortured plight of adults rearing children in a racist society. However, the newfound understanding for guardians can’t negate the trauma their sons and daughters endure.

It is here, in depicting life through the eyes of frightened black youth, that Kendrick Lamar’s lyrical dexterity and conjuring imagery take the wheel.

On FEAR, a track from his 2017 album DAMN., Kendrick provides an unflinching view of the regular violence that many black youth experience as children, and the deepening fear of fatality they develop as adolescents.

“I beat yo ass, you better not run to your father

I beat yo ass, you know my patience runnin’ thin

I got beaucoup payments to make

County building’s on my ass

Tryna take my food stamps away

I beat yo ass if you tell them social workers he live here

I beat yo ass if I beat yo ass twice and you still here

Seven years old, think you run this house by yourself?

Nigga, you gon’ fear me if you don’t fear no one else”

...

“I’ll prolly die from one of these bats and blue badges

Body slammed on black and white paint, my bones snappin’

Or maybe die from panic or die from bein’ too lax

Or die from waitin’ on it, die ’cause I’m movin’ too fast”

- From Kendrick Lamar’s “FEAR”

The sheer violence and terror of the combined stanzas are a mind trip for those who would see America as a peaceful, egalitarian nation.

In many ways, Lamar’s physical presence alone represents the superlative of the country’s fears. Black, gang-affiliated, Compton-bred, Lamar was born during the peak of the crack era and professes an unrestrained passion for West Coast gangsta rap. He belongs to a generation of black youth whom in the 1990’s criminologists, media outlets, and politicians widely cast as inherently criminal and violent “superpredators” who had “no conscience and no empathy.”

But two decades later on “FEAR,” Lamar has flipped the role of predator and prey. Here, it is the teenage youth reared under systemic disadvantage and violence, who fears an unprovoked, unnatural, and unredeemed death at the hands of officers.

Lamar’s deeply autobiographical articulation of fear affirms the experience and the humanity of his young, black fan base ― a group who in recent interactions with the police, have been cast in depositions and headlines as superhuman thugs. Through Lamar’s “FEAR,” we are transported into the body of a young black teenager. And there, we can see that it is not a drug-induced rage or a uncontrollable criminal craze that animates black youth’s interaction with the police. Rather, it is a deeply human fear.

In books and over beats and breaks, Coates and Lamar command language to expose the raw emotion created by interpersonal and structural racism. And thus far, their insights have helped galvanize a generation of protesters. But more than mere political literature, they offer their readers personal cues to coping as well. For it is through the very process of the naming of their nightmares that these writers have, in part, found meaning and a means to gird themselves from the long reach of American racism.

#hate speech #police violence #black #ta-nehisi coates #kendrick lamar #race and racism #hip hop #african americans

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brandenkuv906-blog · 7 years ago

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Meaningful Beautiful Skin layer Care

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josetteschott7-blog · 7 years ago

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Tips That Are actually Both Significant As well as Practical By Jamie Jefferson

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jeremystrele · 7 years ago

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Retail Strategy · Dinosaur Designs

Small Business

Fiona Killackey

Inside Dinosaur Designs’‘ James Street store in Fortitude Valley, Queensland. Photo – Toby Scott.

Dinosaur Designs opened their first store in Sydney’s Strand Arcade in 1989. Photo – Toby Scott.

Thirteen years later Dinosaur Designs opened their first store in Nolita, New York. Photo – Toby Scott.

The brand launched their online business in 2010. Photo – Toby Scott.

Louise Olsen, artist, designer, Co-Founder and Creative Director of Dinosaur Designs. Photo – Nikki To for The Design Files.

Expanding to online and e-commerce has proven pivotal, even for in-store sales. Photo – Nikki To for The Design Files.

‘Dinosaur Designs is going from strength to strength and still keeps us on our toes,’ tells Louise. Photo – Nikki To for The Design Files.

Sometimes it’s the side projects that end up taking centre-stage in our lives. For Louise Olsen, Stephen Ormandy and Liane Rossler, Dinosaur Designs originally began as a creative business that would help fund their painting practice. Launching in December 1985, during their final year of art school, the trio started selling at local market stalls. The initial success, says Louise, came from their commitment. ‘We just turned up — and kept turning up, which is so important. The markets were a great testing ground for developing the brand. We hardly made any money there but we learnt a hell of a lot!’

The interest for their original product led the trio to open their first store in Sydney’s Strand Arcade in 1989. ‘It was daunting but also exciting at the same time! When we opened the store, we didn’t have enough stock to fill it so we borrowed scarves from a designer friend of ours and spread those out to fill the space!’ In the same year the brand was part of an exhibition in London at the Victoria & Albert. ‘That opened us up to a new market in London and wholesaling to Liberty and Harvey Nichols. That year was a huge eye opener as we had to learn about stock levels and the whole administration side of opening a store and running wholesale.’

Thirteen years later Dinosaur Designs opened their first store in Nolita, New York. ‘I think we underestimated just how competitive it is and it’s only increased over the years. For us it was good that we had something new, a point of difference, there was nothing else like it — and still isn’t — which gives us an edge in this market,’ The main difference between their home country and New York says Louise is ‘just how quickly perceptions of an area can change from being the “hot” area. It’s always on the move so if you’re opening a store you have to think strategically and over the longer term if you’re going to ride it out.’

In an effort to quench the global demand for their product, the brand launched their online business in 2010, which Louise says plays a ‘pivotal role, as it provides people with a touch point to Dinosaur Designs no matter where they’re located.’ It’s also had a positive impact on in-store sales. ‘We find that people will come into store with an image of a product they’ve seen on the website and use that as a guide to what they want’.

Like any brand that has created a niche product, Dinosaur Designs is no stranger to copycats, negative feedback and dips in sales. ‘It’s very important to stick with your vision and always keep an eye on what’s working and what’s not’ says Louise on how she and the team stay motivated during the down times. ‘Keep questioning and never stop learning from your mistakes. You have to rise above negativity, wherever it comes from, and remember why you’re doing this in the first place: because you love it and feel passionate about what you are creating.’

It’s also essential, says Louise, to focus on the business side just as much as the creative side. ‘There’s so many hats you have to wear — you might enjoy being creative the most, but without a robust business practice it’s not going to get you anywhere’. For Dinosaur Designs that means investing in hiring strong staff for both Head Office and in-store, and engaging regularly with all staff for the benefit of the business. This year the brand have started a scheme they call the Friday 5:15, an email of five points of interest that can be read in less than 15 minutes every Friday. ‘All our store managers write one and share with the group – it’s great because they interact with each other and it gives us in the studio a direct link to each store and each manager. It’s a system we learnt from our UK PR company, Talker Tailor, and we’ve found it really effective’. In addition, the brand ensures store teams partake in a production day ‘where they actually make a piece so they understand all the work that goes into one object and they’re better able to communicate the value to customers’.

With everything they have achieved, what is Louise most proud of? ‘We keep growing and evolving. I love that what we set out to create over 30 years ago is a very different Dinosaur Designs today. We have entered new markets, which has brought so many more new possibilities. It’s great being part of Net-A-Porter and to be a part of London and New York Design week. There is so much to celebrate and be thankful for. Australia is still a great country to start a business in. Dinosaur Designs is going from strength to strength and still keeps us on our toes, we never take it for granted.’

‘We keep growing and evolving. I love that what we set out to create over 30 years ago is a very different Dinosaur Designs today,’ says Louise. Photo – courtesy of Dinosaur Designs.

Retail Strategy

Essentials

1. Create an Experience

The biggest threat to retail is experiences. As wages remain stagnant, consumers are eager to invest in an experience rather than a specific product or service. This doesn’t mean retail is dead, but it does mean all shopping (online and in-person) needs to create an experience, whether that’s an iconic “Instagram wall” (think the angel wings in Melody Ehsani’s LA store) or creating an experience with every delivery (think Go-To’s random gifts and stickers for online shoppers). People want to feel they have ‘experienced’ not just ‘consumed’.

2. Invest in People

Your staff – whether answering the phone, community managing on social media or serving in-store – can make or break your retail business but often they won’t feature in a retail strategy (#rookieerror). Don’t always go for the cheaper option when employing staff, look at how they embody your brand values, how they engage customers and ask yourself, ‘Could this person represent my brand on a panel (nerves aside)?’. If not, increase training until you have staff you’re 100% confident bring out the best in your business and, consequently, your customers.

3. Sales isn’t a Strategy

Avoid the temptation of dropping prices to increase conversion. Sure, it works in the short-term but over time it trains customers to wait until prices go down and diminishes perceived value in your products. Instead look at bundling products (i.e., buy candle and diffuser for $X), offering a Gift With Purchase for orders over $X (such as samples of a new product, an item you have collaborated on or old stock i.e. last season’s notebooks) or offering a VIP discount on their next order (upping conversion and repeat purchases). Limit sales to a max of four times per year (if at all) and make them meaningful.

4. Merge Your Worlds

Don’t pour money into your website and leave your in-store lacking or vice versa. Your customers don’t shop exclusively online/offline. If you have exceptional service in-store, ensure you have clear customer service options online with the same standard of care. If you’re looking to increase sales to one location (i.e. up online figures) then the use of limited edition/exclusive colour ways can help, however they shouldn’t result in frustrating customers (i.e. people who have travelled to get to your bricks & mortar store). Any exclusive items and their location should be clearly discussed on your social, email and website. Lastly, keep communication lines open between your in-store staff and Head Office. You can learn so much from those at the coalface.

5. Test with a Pop-Up

If you’re selling online and looking to open a bricks & mortar store, consider testing your concept via a pop-up store or concept store in a location your target audience frequents. This can often be the best way of validating ideas, getting real-time feedback, testing merchandising and judging location fit without the huge expense of taking on a long-term commercial lease.

Fiona Killackey is a business consultant and the founder of My Daily Business Coach, providing information and education for starting and growing a creative small business. Fiona has joined forces with Natasha Morgan of Oak & Monkey Puzzle to present an all-day marketing workshop this October in Daylesford. For info visit Oak & Monkey Puzzle.

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esotericbonds · 4 years ago

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@clandestinare wanted an adventure

Dimitri’s long relationship with the Takahashi-kai had been beneficial over the generations for both parties. The duras would get the information he needed to track down his prey and the yakuza got rid of annoyances that interrupted their bussiness. There were a few bumps in the road along the way, but with the organizations level of command few even knew he was more than just their trusted tattoo artist, and even fewer knew of his true nature.

The tattoo artist casually walked into the building, having gotten clearance awhile ago. His crimson iris’s and deep black sclera eyes glanced around, noticing the guards and exit point out of habit. His suitcase trailed behind him with his equipment. He was there to meet with Enzo to work on an Irezumi tattoo after all. The old style was lost in the modern age, and the artist was thankful he was still able to practice it. With a hum and a sparkle in his eyes, the Opast went to the room he was to meet his client. When said man was within his sights, a smile broke across his face, even as he gave a respectful bow to the other. “You called for my services, Satoru?”

#╰❃╮∙*‣ { Interactions } — ❝Paint like you live with passion and liberty❞#♚*ﾟ⊱ { Starters } — ❝Start of something new❞#clandestinare

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nofomoartworld · 8 years ago

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Hyperallergic: Existential Musings from Nashville’s New Hybrid Museum Hotel

Katja Loher, “Butterfly Rainbowmaker” (2016), acrylic, projector, media player and speaker (all photos by the author for Hyperallergic)

NASHVILLE — The 21c Museum Hotel chain represents a new model for art in the public sphere. The flagship location opened in Louisville, Kentucky, just 11 years ago and has since expanded to six operating locations in Southern-Midwestern population centers like Cincinnati, Ohio; Durham, North Carolina; and Lexington, Kentucky, with the newest addition slated to open in Nashville, Tennessee, by mid-May. With the developing location comes a fresh opportunity for 21c to introduce a new community to its unique approach to contemporary art.

“We’re a hybrid, but still, what is it?” said Chief Curator and Museum Director Alice Gray Stites, who took a break from installing the inaugural exhibition in Nashville, Truth or Dare: A Reality Show, to speak with Hyperallergic. “It’s very hard to understand until you come here. So we want to use the inaugural exhibitions to express something that’s really seminal to the character of the whole organization and what it wants to do.”

Leandro Erlich, “La Vitrina Cloud Collection (Venice)” (2011), wood, glass, acrylic

Stites has worked with 21c since its inception, first as an independent curator and eventually as the leader of a dedicated museum team when the flagship branched into multiple locations, developing the collection of some 2,500 art objects with co-founders and contemporary art enthusiasts Laura Lee Brown and Steve Wilson.

Pedro Reyes (Mexican, 1972), “Lady Liberty (as Trojan horse)” (2016), Ed. 1/3 + 1AP wood, on display in the sub-level gallery

“One of the goals has always been to expand the audience for contemporary art and to erase what have been the traditional boundaries, whether those are physical boundaries or the imaginary boundaries of the velvet rope or the grand processional,” said Stites, “not to mention the ticket or membership price that also keeps people out. So we can collapse those boundaries by making space that’s publically accessible twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, by educating our entire staff to share their knowledge and passion about art with the public, by continually presenting exhibitions.”

After a stay at the 21c’s Cincinnati location during the 2016 FotoFocus Biennial, I was familiar with some of the practices of the museum hotel, including their iconic penguin mascots, whose location-specific color scheme is matched to the custom cotton candy that’s served with the check at their onsite restaurants. At risk of damaging my credibility as a person who values principles over material comforts, I admit that I do like a fancy hotel getaway now and then, and, like everyone else, I do what I can to live my best life on Instagram.

Vibha Galhotra ((Chandigarh, Punjab) Indian, 1978–) “Earth 1978” (2015), nickel-coated ghungroos, fabric, polyurethane coat, on display in the corridor outside the museum-side entrance to Gray & Dudley

Beth Cavener Stichter, “The Sanguine” (2010), stoneware, one in a series based on the four humors, among numerous works by Stichter on display within the restaurant, Gray & Dudley

What unexpectedly emerged, however, was a legitimate existential crisis about the nature of the relationship between museum and hotel. Because, as of my visit, the 21c Museum Hotel in Nashville was not completely finished. There were many things a hotel requires already in place: walls, a restaurant, furnishings, an elevator, and a small village of contractors, service professionals, maintenance staff, and art handlers working as hard as possible to hit the line on opening day. But there were also many things not quite in place yet, like a functioning lobby, television service, in-room amenities, and more than one working elevator. Dozens of pieces in the inaugural exhibition had been installed upon my arrival, some two weeks before the official opening; many still were not. This presents something of a conundrum in terms of my ability to accurately reflect the aesthetics or intentions of the finished exhibition: I find myself unable to offer more than evaluation or appreciation for those individual works that I was able to see. However, as a person with a healthy curiosity about the workings of the world — not to mention one to whom it is typically a high priority to present a finished product — it was fascinating to see the work that goes into an environment that is usually presented as a seamless experience, and to get to know some of the people behind the process.

Artist Sebastiaan Bremer, in the process of installing a custom guest suite, within which visitors will be able to listen to records and make live recordings of their own. Bremer has an ongoing relationship with 21c, with other works included in their collection.

The museum side of 21c is supported by the hotel and restaurant revenue, and as such, Stites has created a scrappy and efficient team. Based in Louisville, the overarching museum management includes Director of Museum Operations Eli Meiners and Registrar Deanna Taylor, as well as site-based museum managers for each of the locations — in Nashville, this is Brian Downey, who left his position as Director of Exhibitions & Associate Curator at Cheekwood Botanical Gardens and Museum of Art to throw in with 21c. The art team is a convivial, fraternal bunch, with all hands on deck to help prepare for the new location rollout.

“Nashville has great museums, great contemporary art galleries,” said Downey, taking a brief aside from installation to speak with Hyperallergic. “But I think it’s very exciting that Nashville now has a museum that’s devoted strictly to contemporary art.” As operations get underway here, it will be among Downey’s responsibilities to schedule site-specific programming that is responsive to the needs and interests of the location, such as the popular film screening series at 21c Lexington, the brainchild of Museum Manager Alex Brooks.

Peter Sarkisian (1965–), “Puddle 9” (2002), video projection and mixed media, DVD on projector, on display in the second floor corridor.

Still from Mulas (2014), by Miquel Angel Rios, one-channel video with stereo sound, runtime 6:25, on display in the first-floor video lounge.

“All the 21cs have community partners and do programming, whether it’s poetry or film screenings, hosting events that would be a good tie-in with what we do here,” said Downey. “We’re always looking for more opportunities like that, and to bring that programming to Nashville.”

“I find 21c’s greatest gift is that of accessibility,” said Meiners, in a follow-up email interview. Meiners has worked for 21c for five years, having come to the position from the Cincinnati Art Museum. “As citizens of a smaller city like Cincinnati, we would never have a chance to gain access to works like those in the shows we put together. Our model gives us the flexibility to bring the zeitgeist to smaller cities. And we don’t keep bankers’ hours, so you can literally come and see the exhibitions when it is convenient for you.”

Carlos Garaicoa ((Havana) Cuban, 1967–), “El Mapa del Viajero II” (2005), detail view, 680 metal pushpins and 100 pieces of paper

Oliver Laric (Austrian, 1981–), “Versions” (2010), polyurethane

Indeed, the greatest question that arose was, when it comes to the 21c Museum Hotel, where does the art end and the hotel begin? As 21c has defined itself as a museum hotel, does that make the hotel experience nearly as important as the art itself? These are the kind of existential musings that arise in the mind of an arts writer when she does not have cable television in her hotel room — let alone the 21c art channel, which greets visitors as the default channel setting, and which I confess I was very much looking forward to watching. The experience of getting to watch video art in bed is an unparalleled luxury.

Brian Dettmer ((Chicago, IL) American, 1976–), “Funk & Wag” (2016), detail view, hardcover books, acrylic varnish

Daniele Papuli ((Maglie) Italian, 1971–), “Centrica” (2016), detail view, hand-cut paper

Certainly the art does not stop in the corridor or the lobby, which is outfitted with commissioned artworks and selections from the 21c collection. Nor in the elevator, which, I’m told, will eventually run video art segments, nor in the upper-floor corridors, which will showcase the work of Nashville artists, nor even in the rooms themselves, which feature photographs from annual trips made by Laura Lee Brown (who paints and takes photographs, in addition to being one of the co-founding partners). So it became complicated for me to try to decide how much of a museum hotel should be part of an art review. But in a way, this is the essence of the 21c mission: to dissolve the distinction between art places and life places.

The author takes herself on, with Trong Gia Nguyen’s interactive work “Win Win (Flamingo’s Dream)” (2015), acrylic paint, vinyl, wood, and mirror

Jane Hammond ((Bridgeport, CT) American, 1950–) “All Souls (Bielawa)” (2006), detail view, gouache, acrylic paint, organza, mica, and metal leaf on assorted handmade papers with graphite, colored pencil, archival digital prints, and horsehair

“It’s a humanist perspective on contemporary art,” said Stites of 21c’s collection. “It’s about the human experience, both lived and dreamed in the twenty-first century — so, very much contemporary, but very much about what people are experiencing. The founders were driven to collect art and to create 21c largely because they’re very curious people, and I think curiosity is an important quality for everyone to have, but particularly today, with our dearth of empathy for others. When you’re curious about others, you’re much more likely to think about walking in their shoes.”

21c Nashville is taking its first steps into the scene, and like all first steps, things are a little wobbly. But if the other 21c locations are a telling precedent, it will soon hit its stride.

Truth or Dare: A Reality Show at the 21c Museum Hotel, Nashville is slated to open on May 9.

Editor’s note: The 21c Museum Hotel in Nashville paid for the author’s accommodations and travel expenses.

The post Existential Musings from Nashville’s New Hybrid Museum Hotel appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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