#his parents feel deeply embedded in the community

[lurkingshan]

I've been thinking a lot about the depictions of generational trauma and parental accountability being presented in dramas lately. Since you've watched way more than me, especially outside of BLs, what are some shows that present or include parental accountability?

This is such a good question and one I have been thinking about a lot since Last Twilight episode 10 aired. Westerners often assume that because of Asian cultural norms around filial piety, parental authority, and respect for elders, we can never expect satisfying parental accountability in our Asian drama narratives. But that's not true! It's been done and done well. It’s because these values are so deeply embedded in most Asian cultures that Asian creators are the best positioned to speak on the harms they can cause, and will often embed these themes in their work.

Now, there is an important distinction to make here: the difference between what characters do, and what the story communicates. A character may choose to abide by honoring their parents at all costs, but the story can still communicate how harmful that is. A character may never apologize for something they have done wrong, but the story can still make it clear they have fucked up and hold them accountable for that via tangible consequences. Here are a few examples from bl to illustrate what I mean, and the different ways this can show up in dramas.

Bad Buddy

One of the most obvious examples of parental accountability in genre, and also a pretty full metal version of it. This entire story is about the damage Ming and Dissaya did their sons with their decades-long feud and insistence on pushing that trauma down on their children, and we got some extremely cathartic scenes of Pat and Pran telling their parents exactly what they thought about that. Of course, even though they raged at their parents, they never got the apologies they deserved (and likely never will) and still had to hide their relationship to appease their parents going forward. But that doesn't mean there was no accountability here. The entire narrative held these parents accountable by showing us how they were harming their sons, forcing them to reckon with it, and ultimately showing them settling into a form of resigned acceptance.

Until We Meet Again

This entire show is about Korn and In's reincarnated souls healing from the trauma of their tragic ending, which was brought upon by the familial pressure and rejection they experienced from their fathers. We not only saw Dean and Pharm work through this trauma and forge new bonds with family members, we saw the direct aftermath of their first deaths, the despair and regret their families felt, and the ceremony that tied their souls together as a result. It's big karmic accountability on a grand scale, and the show never flinched from letting us see exactly how much harm was caused by these parents, or how the tenets of filial piety resulted in Korn's despair that he couldn't be what his father wanted. Even more crucially, we were shown, not just told, the counterpoint impact of good parenting, when Dean and Pharm were accepted by their families in their second life.

Blueming

A rare example of an Asian parent being called to the carpet, feeling the wrongness of their actions, and actually apologizing for it. This does in fact happen in drama! Si Won's mom raised him to hate himself, to be ashamed of his body, to fake his way through life so people would like him, and boy did it do a lot of damage. The story showed us how this affected Si Won and his relationships deeply, and brought him to the point where it finally burst out of him. And his mom, to her credit, was dismayed to understand what she had done to her son. This show also gets bonus points for Da Un standing up to his own mother after she interferes in the film contest.

Bed Friend

Uea's mother's sins against him are numerous, and I will not go into them all in detail to spare my own sanity. She is an abusive parent so horrific that she can never be forgiven, and doesn't need to be. An apology from her would be utterly meaningless. Instead, the drama holds her to account via showing us what she's done to Uea and the work he has to do to heal from the trauma she caused, and ultimately having her son cut her out of his life. It's the biggest consequence she can ever face for her choices and that Uea finds the courage to do it is the story's biggest triumph.

What Did You Eat Yesterday?

On the subtler end of the scale, we have our beloved KNT, which weaves parental accountability through its story in the long, slow journey for Shiro's mother to accept who he is and the partner he has chosen in life. What I love most about this particular depiction is that it's not at all linear in nature. We see her make strides by finally acknowledging Kenji and inviting him to her home, and then backtrack by rescinding the offer due to her own discomfort, and then include him in her family planning to ensure he will be cared for after her death. She’s homophobic and traditional, but she loves her son and sees how much happier he is with Kenji in his life. She is constantly reckoning with that tension. And Shiro and Kenji, being of an older generation themselves, don't hold it against her, even as the show makes sure we understand how much it hurts them. They are not okay with it, but they do understand why she's like this, so they take what she can give and forgive the rest. It's a really touching portrayal of this kind of impasse in a family.

Moonlight Chicken

There are several different vectors of parental accountability in MLC. There is Heart confronting his parents over their neglect and abuse and finally demanding to be treated with dignity. There is Li Ming directly calling out his mother for how her life choices have affected him. And there is Li Ming and his surrogate dad, Jim, working out their issues so that they can communicate better, and so that Jim can learn to stop pushing his own fears and anxiety down onto the next generation. All of it handled with deftness, with care, and with clear purpose to examine the ways intergenerational trauma can perpetuate in the absence of accountability.

[vashtijoy]

Hi! I really enjoy reading your analyses and thoughts, they're always so articulate and well thought out. Making me go "woah... woah!!" every time I read them haha <3 I'm curious if you have any headcanons on Joker or any interpretations of him that you particularly like ^^ Hope you have a good day!

Thank you, anon! Sorry to say I'm very much a one-trick pony, and I leave all the interesting Joker pondering to my QPP and partner-in-crime Libby/@nardaviel, who writes the Ren to my Goro. I love Joker very, very dearly, he just doesn't make me sit up in the middle of the night going OH FUCK THAT'S WHY—

That said, I mentioned this to Libby and she has kindly written an incredible guest essay, just for you. Enjoy.

...

Thanks for coming to my guest lecture! Today I'll be talking about Joker since it seems Vashti just defers to me for his characterization, which is news to me as much as it is to you, since she writes him so well.

Before we venture into territory that's more headcanony, here's the stuff that's more grounded in canon:

His parents are financially stable and support his physical needs, but are emotionally neglectful. Like. Joker is tall, he's healthy, they send him belongings when he goes to Tokyo. But then again, they send him to their friend's barista in another city and never call to check up on him. I've read a lovely fic where the lack of communication was because of a misunderstanding: A Year to Fill an Empty Home by Turandot. But it says a lot that the author had to really work hard to make it possible, I think. (Please be aware that Vashti hasn't read that fic, if that matters to you! It's my rec.)

He doesn't live in the ass-end of nowhere before canon. You can see tall buildings in the background of the Shido flashback, and also, why would Shido be in the ass-end of nowhere? Vashti and I decided he lives in Mito, the prefectural capital of Ibaraki, but that was partly just so we had a specific place for him to be for our RP. It fits, though, I think. Some taller buildings but not all that built up, and Shido would have more reason to visit a prefectural capital in Kanto than another random city of the same size, especially one further from Tokyo.

He had friends and a social life before his conviction. I'm not saying he was a social butterfly, but he seems so shocked and withdrawn in the animated cutscene at the start of the game, and it seems to me that if he was used to being a pariah his reaction wouldn't be so extreme. I also think he dated a couple of times pre-conviction, though it never got serious, and has had his first kiss before he gets to Tokyo, but that really does start to stray into pure headcanon territory.

He's real smart and can pick anything up incredibly quickly. I don't even know if this counts as a headcanon, actually. Look at how good he gets at whatever he chooses to get good at. Coffee. Curry. Billiards. School. Fighting. Making infiltration tools. Flower arranging. Shogi. My guy just has a big wrinkly brain.

He likes being whatever his confidants need. It doesn't feel like a burden to him, it feels rewarding. He needs to be needed, and also, the more they talk about themselves, the more they ask for his help, the more he gives them whatever facet of himself they vibe with, the less he has to reveal of his entire true self, which he has a horror of. I feel like that comes from his upbringing, that sense that people want him to be helpful, they don't want him to be him. It would suit his parents' vibe, and it's deeply embedded in Joker's psyche. It's really not healthy in the long run and it'll wear him out, but I think he chooses it. A lot of the time I see this conception of the PTs as taking and taking and never giving back. And there's some element of truth in that, I guess, but then when you max out their confidants, they all tell Joker they want to be there for him in return. And he just never takes them up on it at all. He doesn't want to.

However! I think Goro brings out something a lot closer to Joker's true self. Goro doesn't ask him for anything, Goro just challenges him, and Joker thrives when challenged--but Goro also requires kindness, especially around the midpoint of the confidant and at the end, and Joker bleeds kindness from every pore. Joker is kind and a daredevil and twisty and kind of a little shit, and Goro brings all that out. He's where Joker can be himself, even though Joker also has to navigate all the Metaverse shit while they're hanging out.

Joker doesn't feel like a fully realized person exists under all the fronts he puts on. The lyrics to Beneath the Mask put this idea in my head, and it fits, you know? If you play a part for long enough, you start to believe the act is all you are. He hasn't sat down and rationally come to this conclusion or anything, it's just a feeling he has on a really deep level. Being a wild card, switching personas back and forth and fusing them together, doesn't help.

The only way to really corrupt Joker is by playing on his fear for his friends, and even that's tough. The Yaldabaoth and Maruki bad ends are both like that, Joker caving and letting a shitty new world form because he can't bear to lose his friends. But in both endings, his friends aren't just threatened, they're already gone. Joker's watched the PTs die, he's heard Goro die. He has to be able to handle some level of threat to them, or he would be an awful leader; it's just when the worst has already happened that the game option appears for him to be unable to handle it. For an idea of what a Joker unable to handle leading the PTs into danger would look like, here's a stunning Strikers fic: Daredevil, You've Hit the Wall by ez_cookie (also solely my rec). I can 100% imagine that he might be like this after P5 canon, but it is after P5 canon. He's not like that during the game.

He is angry as fuck. He doesn't spend every hour of every day seething, but it's always there, ready to light up. He's been angry since his first arrest and it's going to take a whole lot longer than one year for him to get over it, if he ever does. He has nerves of absolute steel and is almost impossible to intimidate, though I suspect the interrogation room might have given him some specific buttons that can be pressed. But if he's not being clapped in handcuffs, like... I think of him glaring at shadow Kamoshida, which is extra disrespectful in a Japanese context, when he and Ryuji are in their dungeon cell about to be killed in a situation too surreal to comprehend. And everyone being understandably freaked out when Yaldabaoth's true form is revealed, and then you see Joker just standing there with his fists clenched.

He has specific principles that he adheres to, at times at the cost of his own safety, but sometimes the principles are not what you might expect a hero's principles to be. Morgana says, "This might kill Kamoshida btw," and Joker's just like, "I guess that's just a risk we have to take." And he lets Ann make her own decision in that regard. Arsene comes with eiha, a curse spell. Joker isn't an antihero at all, don't get me wrong, but he's a hero with a dark aspect.

He's incapable of leaving well enough alone when someone is suffering. Chasing Ann through the metro station, for one thing, and being, if you'll forgive me, very stupidly obvious about solving his confidants' problems in the Metaverse. A bleeding heart. And once he's decided to do something, he's going to do it, and good fucking luck to you if you want to stop him.

But he also enjoys messing around. He teases his friends. He plays little pranks. He bullshits with a totally straight face just to see what happens. He shows off during billiards games. He likes playing video games and reading and other normal hobbies. He's a kid, you know? A remarkable kid, but still just a kid.

In the Metaverse, he's able to be his flashier self, which is not very socially acceptable in reality, especially if you're a delinquent trying very hard not to draw attention to yourself. He has a great time showing off for his friends some more, being ruthless with shadows, and saying some truly wild things when he attacks. I think a big part of it is that he has all that anger and its only real outlet is screaming DIE, DIE, DIE as he rips into shadows. Or, more seriously, summoning all that rage out of his heart and using it to fight back the only way he can.

He comes out of the game extremely disillusioned with law enforcement and the government. One idealistic Diet member confidant isn't nearly enough to counterbalance all of That.

And venturing more into headcanon territory:

Before the conviction, he was just kind of a normal dude. He was restless, because Joker is an adrenaline junkie lol, and he often felt like he was useless. But he was just a kid who hung out with his friends, and studied, and tried to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. He'd worked out that he wanted to do something that made a difference, but that was about it. He'd never thought much about police corruption or any of that. He'd heard about it but he never really thought it would touch him...

His lawyer told him around the time of his trial that his eyes made him look like a criminal, which is where the fake glasses come from. When he isn't wearing them, his eyes are so intense, so I hc that his poor, doomed defense lawyer gave him the giant ugly glasses to kind of blunt the effect. And Joker never ever forgot those words. Your eyes make you look like a criminal. So he kept wearing them. Which is why he takes them off at the end of the game! He finally feels free of the weight of other people's judgment.

He was never super-expressive, but after his conviction he realizes that if he shields himself behind a blank face (and big fake glasses), it's almost like the people who are giving him the side-eye and gossiping about him are talking about someone else. Then that skill becomes useful when he has to hide that he's a wanted criminal lol.

He almost feels like he becomes a different person when he's Joker, not in a multiplicity sort of way but just in that the feeling of being ostracized vanishes, and it takes a lot of uncertainty and anxiety with it.

He cries when he tells Goro he'll stop Maruki. Not full-on sobbing but tears on his face. Then he lies in bed that night and tries to turn himself into someone who can march into Maruki's palace and fight with all his heart to destroy him, knowing that he's fighting to kill the guy he loves. He folds himself smaller and smaller and stuffs himself into a little corner of his mind, and the rest of him empties of everything but the necessity of what he has to do. ...which means on 2/3 he's extremely grim and businesslike all day, but he gets the fucking job done. Then he finds himself in solitary confinement with nothing to do but think about all the ways he failed Goro, so that's cool.

No matter what I do, I can't imagine a universe in which Joker doesn't have some kind of postcanon mental health crisis. Between the trauma of the interrogation room, the trauma of everything that happened with Goro, the trauma of dying in Shibuya after all his friends died in front of him, not to mention everything in the Metaverse beforehand, and how he was treated by society for a year, and how between early November and Valentine's Day he jumped from one terrifying disaster to the next worse disaster... and all the guilt he must feel for, essentially, wiping out an entire reality and murdering everyone there that was alive again, or that would have been born... Even if he stayed in Tokyo, he would crumple without the next crisis forcing him to keep it together a little longer. But he doesn't stay in Tokyo. He goes home and exchanges Sojiro for his parents, and all his friends and confidants for only Morgana.

He dissociates sometimes, even after the postcanon mental health crisis has passed. He learns it in the interrogation room, and once you've learned how to do it, you don't forget. Specifically, he feels like he's a few layers removed from everything that's happening.

More cheerfully: Like I said before, he's a little shit. He says obnoxious things and makes bad puns on purpose because it's funny when people get annoyed. He's the kind of guy who would know full well Han shot first, and because of that, look a Star Wars fan in the face and say, with utter seriousness, "Yeah, but we all know Greedo shot first."

He loves Goro for his cleverness and his bright, scintillating determination, and his cynicism, which strikes a chord in Joker after his conviction. And his devotion, as well, which Goro would think he was imagining but Joker can see it. Goro understands him, and he needs Joker's entire self: kind, giving, competitive, cynical, stubborn, sometimes provocative. And that's impossible for Joker to resist.

I'm sure there's a lot of stuff I've forgotten, but I think that's the outline of my picture of Joker. I am a torturer of characters so a lot of this is angst-focused, but I don't think Joker's entire existence is suffering. His friends bring him a lot of happiness, and his work with the Thieves is fulfilling, though maybe less so at the end.

[scorsoneamelia]

I like the way you write II wanted to ask if you could write a story where there is a shooting and link is shot

thank you so much :’) i like this idea a lot!!

this is gonna be a big one sorry it took me a while to write because it’s heavy lol

yall are gonna hate me for ending this the way i did lol

tw: shooting

         The thing about life is that you never know what to expect, everyday you live life never knowing how the day is going to end. Some like the idea of never knowing, some think it makes life more meaningful while some people sit on the edge full of anxiety because they need to know when their last breath will be. It’s like how some will take a test to tell them if they have the cancer gene, the Alzheimer’s gene, a disease, etc., and some will refuse to know because they’d rather not know than always expect the worst.

         Death is so familiar to Amelia, she’s seen her own father fall to his death right in front of her, even though she might not remember it as well as her brother did, the trauma still impacted her. Rolling over to notice that her boyfriend’s heart was no longer beating and his body was ice cold, her brother getting ripped out of her life too soon; it’s all familiar to her. You’d think this is what she’d be used to, the worst case scenarios but nobody really is ever used to hear the worst news of your life, no matter how familiar it may be.

          They had just been leaving from a dinner with Link’s parents, and although neither have them have spoken or seen much of one another since the afternoon on the beach; since the proposal, it was quiet. The only time they’ve communicated lately is for the sake of their son, who was currently being watched by Meredith. Link told his parents they’d both be there because it was ‘easier’ than explaining the alternative. Dinner was fine, the least amount of awkward it could have been, both of them putting on a smile and an act which was easy for the two of them since they acted like a perfectly happy married couple for her sisters before. This was easy.

          Link parked the car in front of a gas station, a small one along the outskirts of the city because he needed gas and a snack, even though he just ate. Neither of them said much to one another besides, “Be right back.” which came from Link and he was already exiting the vehicle.

            Amelia hadn’t said much to Link directly since he picked her up, she wasn’t sure what the right thing to say was and whatever she wanted to say, he wouldn’t care to listen and she knew that. He was hurt; and he was upset and even though she had her own reasons and feelings, hers weren’t important because Link was hurt.

             Her finger was tapping down onto her contact list to find Meredith’s number, a heads up that they might be a little big longer than expected cause the drive home will be a long one. Her attention was diverted away because there was a loud noise; an explosion sound and there was screams immediately followed after. Civilians were running down the street, people jumping into their cars to speed away, the sound of their rubber tires squealing against the pavement along with screams; terrified screams. A young girl ran out of the gas station, blood soaking her pant leg from the knee down and she was crying, her hands were trembling and she was dialling 911 on her phone.

             The gas station, the realization came and a wave of panic hit her, her heart pounding against her chest and now her hands were shaking. A man was running to the bleeding girls side, putting pressure on her leg while she cried out. Quickly, Amelia pushed open the passenger door and the screams were even louder. “He has a gun!”

             It only took a few moments before Amelia was throwing the gas station door open, knowing damn well that if there really was someone with a gun in there that she’d be risking her life. But there was something that was making her go in there, she wasn’t thinking and her heart was beating so hard in her chest it felt like it was going to pop out, and her hands were shaking and she couldn’t keep them still. Just as she expected, a white man with dark brown hair had the man who worked behind the counter at the gas station at gun point. His finger hovering over the trigger and his knuckles white, the innocent man had his hands raised in the air. The man had a black cotton mask covering his face so you could only see his hazel eyes, a backpack secured to his shoulder.

              There was a chime when Amelia opened the door, attention being drawn to her and immediately her hands were raised into the air, her breath being caught in her throat. “Don’t move, or I shoot.” The guy wasn’t facing her yet, but his eyes were burning into her. This was all too familiar, way too familiar. A man being held at gunpoint that worked at a gas station, her being in the same building and her hands trembling.

               “Amelia,” Link had been hiding behind a corner and he came out to expose himself, the gunman turning his attention to Link and pointing it directly at him, only causing him to raise his hands as well. “Sir, please, don’t do this.”

                Now that the shooter had his back towards the clerk behind the counter and his gun facing Link, he slowly reached for the cellphone to dial all emergency vehicles. Amelia didn’t move, she was frozen in place and her hands were still raised in the air and she was breathing deeply and slowly because she was about to have a panic attack. “One step and I shoot!” The man yelled, his voice was deep and it sent a chill down Amelia’s spine.

                “Link,” Amelia choked out, her voice thick with terror and there were tears trying to escape her eyes. “Link.” She said again, a cry coming out through her throat.

                 “Shut up!” The man yelled even louder, stepping closer to Link, his grip tightening around the gun. “I will shoot every single one of you.” There was no doubt this man would, there was a look in his eyes, a look that would terrify anyone.

                 There was sirens off in the distance, meaning someone had already called because the innocent man behind the counter couldn’t hold the phone still by how much his hands were shaking. The gun man heard the sirens, his eyes looking over at her as if she called them. “This pretty boy your boyfriend?”

                 “Uh,—“ was she supposed to lie in this type of situation? “Yes—, yes he’s my boyfriend.” Her breath was caught in her throat, it felt like she couldn’t breathe, like her throat was closing in on her.

                 “That’s too bad,” the guy laughed. His laugh was evil, the type of evil that made your stomach turn. A group of police cars rolled up at the front of the building, sirens and lights on and police men and women were surrounding the building within seconds. “Fuck!” He was yelling now, a frustrated hand running through his hair and he was bringing the gun down away from Link’s chest. Link thought it was enough time for him to make a run for it, ducking down and trying to make it to the front door.

                There was a ringing in her ears after the gun was drawn and the man’s finger pushed down onto the trigger, the bullet embedding into Link’s rib cage, blood wetting his white coloured shirt. She stopped breathing, it getting stuck at the bottom of her throat and her chest was tight. She could feel her heartbeat throughout her entire body, she could hear it in her ears and her hands wouldn’t stay still. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe and her chest was closing in. Her vision was blurry, black auras surrounding her eyes, and she was lightheaded, so dizzy she might fall over and it felt like her knees were about to buckle.

             The door behind her was thrown open and the chime went off throughout the store, her ears still ringing and she could barely hear anything. “Hands in the air!” The police were inside now, all guns drawn to the suspect. “Drop the gun!”

            She still stood there, losing her balance and grabbing onto one of the counter tops behind her. Link was laying on the ground, blood pouring out of his side and he was coughing, his face scrunched up in pain. His hand was reaching down and covering the injury with his palm, trying to put pressure on his own wound. Amelia couldn’t move, her legs were giving out and her entire body was shaking.

            She stood there for a few more moments, as the gun man tried to escape, running to the back of the store and one police man was talking to the man who worked at the station and another was standing over Link, calling for emergency back-up.

            “Sir,” the police woman was kneeling next to Link, addressing the injury. “Can you hear me? You’re gonna be okay, the ambulance is on their way.” Link was groaning and you could hear his pain.

             “Oh my god,-“ Amelia finally snapped out of it, running over to Link’s side, placing both of her hands on top of his ribcage putting as much pressure on the wound as she could. “Link, oh my god.” She was stumbling over her own words, panic arising.

             “Stay— Stay with me! You’re not dying, stay awake!” She was yelling, completely terrified, you could hear it in her voice and you could hear her crying. “Link, I love you so much, okay? I love you, I’m sorry...” She was in hysterics, you could make an ocean by the amount of tears that were streaming down her face.

            Her hands were covered in blood, and she was continuing to hold pressure. “Stay with me, Link, don’t close your eyes. Don’t-“ she choked on her own years. “Don’t leave me too.”

           Link was coughing even more now, she could see spots of blood in his mouth and his eyes were fluttering shut, so much pain written all over his face. “No, no, no!! No!!” Amelia was yelling even louder now, a police officer having to step in and try and comfort her. “You’re not leaving me too! No! Link! I love you, I love you!”

          “Ma’am,” the police officer said, placing a hand on Amelia’s shoulder. “No! Don’t touch me!” Amelia snapped, one of her hands reaching up to his throat and she could feel a pulse, it was faint and weak but it was there.

         “His pulse is weak, we’re not losing him! I am not letting you guys lose him.” Her hands were moving to the centre of his chest now, and she was doing CPR, because she needed him alive. 

         “I can’t do it without him, I won’t- I won’t survive this.” She wasn’t lying. She will not survive this. She can’t lose another person that she loves, especially to a gunshot.

          The police officer had the audacity to try and pull Amelia off while her bloody hands where pushing down on the middle of his chest, trying her best to keep him alive. “No!” Amelia screamed, using one of her hands quickly to shove the police officer away.

           “No! He’s dying, what are you doing?!” Ignoring the police, she continued giving Link CPR, also ripping her jacket off to put it against his wound. “I’m a doctor, I know what I’m doing.”

           She was sobbing, her entire body taken over with cries and shakes. There was still ringing in her ears and she was trying to slow her breathing so that she wouldn’t have a panic attack. There was so much blood, it was pooling on the floor and his white shirt was almost completely dark red and Amelia’s hands and wrists were coloured. She’s a doctor, a damn surgeon, she should be used to the sight of blood but there was so much. She could hear the sirens off in the distance meaning an ambulance was coming, he might be okay. She hopes he’ll be okay, she’s praying. Link’s eyelashes were slowly opening and then slowly closing, his hand weakly reaching for Amelia’s that was moving up and down on his chest. A weak cough escaped his lungs. “Please-“ She cried out, there was blood on her own shirt now.

            A team of paramedics and a gurney was next to Amelia, and they were taking over and instead of leaving them to do their job, she leaned over and grabbed Link’s face in her hands. “I can’t do this without you, Link, I love you.”

           The paramedics where then lifting him onto a gurney, a mask put over his face while one of the paramedics pumped it, giving him some oxygen. She grabbed his hand, hers shaking in his and his was weak, but his fingers were loosely intertwined with hers. They were rushing him into the back of the ambulance, and she followed, sitting down beside him in the van while paramedics worked to keep him alive.

             “I’m in love with you,” she whispered, tightening her grip on his hand. “Oh my god, I’m in love with you. Please god, I need him to live.” She was praying, begging, she needed him.

             The ambulance was already making their way to the hospital, Grey Sloan being the closest. She pulled his hand up to her cheek and there was still tears spilling out of her face, and her other hand was running through his hair softly. “You’re going to be okay.”

————————

             The doors of the ambulance flew open and the paramedic jumped out, pulling the gurney out with her. “GSW to the chest, pulse is there but it’s weak.” Owen Hunt, head of trauma was the one who was there to treat him, followed by her sister, head of cardio, Maggie Pierce.

              “Oh my god.” Maggie said softly, stopping in her tracks for a brief moment to focus on what she was looking at. Link in a gurney, covered in blood, and Amelia was also covered, stepping down from the ambulance. She was concerned, very worried, and confused why her sister was covered in blood. “What happened?”

             “Crazy gunman,” Amelia’s voice was so soft that Maggie could barely here her. Her eyes were puffy and it was obvious that she hadn’t stopped crying. “There was a robbery at the gas station and he shot him.” She broke down in tears again, falling to the ground. “He shot him, Maggie. I saw it happen, I saw-“

             Maggie kneeled down in front of her while Owen rushed Link inside the hospital to bring him into a trauma room. “Hey,” Maggie whispered. “I’m going to do everything I can to save him.”

            “Please-“ she choked out. “Please make sure he’s okay.”

             While she stood outside the window of the ER room, it felt like the world was moving in slow motion. The doctors working on Link were moving slowly, in her mind, and they were assessing the situation, their stress levels through the roof. Amelia’s hands were still shaking and she was covered in blood, if nobody knew what happened they’d think she was the one who was hurt.

            “He’s crashing!” Maggie yelled, immediately moving to his chest to start compressions. “I need a crash kart!”

             The nurses were running in with a kart with a defibrillator, soon after Maggie reached down for them. “Charge to 300!” She yelled and placed them on both sides of his chest before telling everyone to clear, and then they shocked him.

          “No rhythm, charge to 400.” She places the paddles on each side again before the shocked him once more. “C’mon.”

           “We have a rhythm!” Maggie yelled, placing the paddles back onto the kart. Amelia let out a sigh of relief before Bailey was running over, peering into the trauma room window herself.

            “Oh my god, what happened?” Bailey asked, slightly reaching over and touching Amelia’s shoulder for support, but she was numb. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, the world was moving in slow motion around her. Her mind was all over the place, and she kept feeling dizzy.

           “I have to bring him to surgery.” Maggie said, coming around the corner while pulling the gurney with her. “I’m going to do everything I can do.”

            “I’m coming with you,” Amelia finally spoke, stepping forward and grabbing onto the gurney. Her pulse was still high, and her mind was still fuzzy.

            “You’ll wait in the waiting room like every other family member.” Bailey ordered, which made Amelia’s eyes roll and a huff came out of mouth.

           “Please, Bailey.”

           “It’s the rules, you know that.” And Amelia gave up, because it was the rules. She would have to wait like everybody else, and try to be patient but she felt like she won’t be able to sit still.

            “I’ll give you updates as much as I can.” Maggie brushed her shoulder before they were going through the Authorized Personnel Only sign and she was sliding down the wall. She couldn’t cry anymore, it was like she was out of tears. She sat on the floor, her back pressed against the wall while the blood dried onto her sink. She didn’t want to move, she couldn’t move. The waiting room was too far, she thinks waiting here on the floor is a better idea.

            How can something like this happen again? How can she relive something as traumatic as this? Will she even survive this?

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Treat Your S(h)elf: Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging by Sebastian Junger (2016)

“Humans don’t mind hardship, in fact they thrive on it; what they mind is not feeling necessary. Modern society has perfected the art of making people not feel necessary. It's time for that to end.”

- Sebastian Junger,  Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging

The phenomenon of tribal solidarity is the subject of Sebastian Junger’s enthralling book, Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging. Junger offers a rich but unevenly researched patchwork of history, psychology, and anthropology to explore the deep appeal of the tribal culture throughout history. The result is less of a tour de force book that I would have expected from the likes of Sebastian Junger than an interesting and thought provoking read. Certainly it should be read by anyone interested in the human condition.

As a British ex-military veteran and a fan of Junger’s other books I naturally found it fascinating.The memory of my most recent tour in Afghanistan was still raw upon my return to Britain. Although the book really focuses on returning American army servicemen and their integration back into the American ‘tribe’ there were several themes that I and many others who had seen war could readily identify with.

“Tribe” is not a typical Junger book. He doesn’t tell one knockout story, as he did in the “The Perfect Storm,” which made him rich and famous, or as he did in “War,” which — along with his documentaries “Restrepo” and “Korengal” — established him as one of the world’s most mesmerising chroniclers of the Afghanistan war. Rather, he gives us an extended-play version of an article he wrote for for Vanity Fair — one that’s part ethnography, part history, part social science primer, part cri de coeur. Junger previously served as a war correspondent for Vanity Fair, embedding for long stretches at remote American outposts in Afghanistan’s frightful Korengal valley. This experience may help explain his interest in the intimate bonds that define tribal societies as well as the despair that can come from being wrenched out of a situation that makes those bonds necessary.

Junger’s premise is simple: Modern civilisation may be awesome, giving us unimaginable autonomy and material bounty. But it has also deprived us of the psychologically invaluable sense of community and interdependence that we hominids enjoyed for millions of years. It is only during moments of great adversity that we come together and enjoy that kind of fellowship — which may explain why, paradoxically, we thrive during those moments. (In the six months after Sept. 11, Junger writes, the murder rate in New York dropped by 40 percent, and the suicide rate by 20 percent.)

“I do miss something from the war,” Bosnian journalist Nidzara Ahmetasevic tells Sebastian Junger halfway through the book. Ahmetasevic is talking about the wartime closeness she shared with friends in a basement bomb shelter in besieged Sarajevo. “The love that we shared was enormous,” Ahmetasevic says. “I missed being close to people, I missed being loved in that way.”

The sentiment lies at the heart of Tribe, a book offering a surprising thesis about the ways humans have traded communal belonging for excessive safety.

Junger gets a considerable amount done in a quick 133 pages: Tribe posits a reason why white settlers found life among Native American tribes appealing, theorises about false PTSD claims among returned U.S. veterans, and conveys the author’s equality-minded view of how heroic behaviour varies between genders — all in addition to remarks on hitchhiking, attachment parenting, Junger’s dad’s opinion of military service, and more. It’s an awful lot of ground to cover in such a short book, and it’s inevitable that Tribe would either feel inchoate and sketched or else aggravatingly dense. Because Junger is an adventurous storyteller (rather than, say, an academic theoretician), he opts for the former.

It’s not necessarily a good thing. The book’s lightness makes it accessible, an easy entry point to weighty subject matter. But its concision can make Tribe feel breezy even as it discusses life and death — if not sometimes confusing.

As a former anthropology major, Mr. Junger takes a special interest in tribal life. He notes that a striking number of American colonists ran off to join Native American societies, but the reverse was almost never true. He describes the structure and values of hunter-gatherer groups, including the ones that lasted well into the 20th century, like the !Kung in the Kalahari.

Unfortunately, these parts of the book are also the dullest and most problematic. There’s a numbingly familiar quality to much of the social science research he cites. It is not exactly news that nations with large income disparities are less happy than those without them, or that group cooperation increases levels of oxytocin, the bonding hormone. He notes, for example, that American mothers in the 1970s had a level of skin-to-skin contact with their babies that traditional societies would consider criminally low. Fair enough. I wonder, though, if he realises that in saying this he’s crashing open the gate for every helicopter parenting (or attachment-parenting) demagogue out there? And that parents who actually have to go to work for a living - and therefore can’t have their babies pinned to their chests all day long for three years straight - will read these words and start rolling the eyes back in disbelief.

Though Junger cautions against romanticising tribal cultures, he sometimes does exactly that, and in ways that can be annoying.  Tribe aptly opens with Benjamin Franklin’s observation, decades before the American Revolution, that more than a few English settlers were “escaping into the woods” to join Indian society. Franklin noticed that emigration seemed to go from the civilised to the tribal, but rarely the other way around. White captives of the American Indians, for instance, often did not wish to be repatriated to colonial society. At this distance, it is simply astonishing that so many frontiersmen would have cast off the relative comforts of civilisation in favour an “empire wilderness” rife with Stone Age tribes that, as Junger notes, “had barely changed in 15,000 years.”

The small but significant flow of white men — they were mostly men — into the tree-line sat uncomfortably with those who stayed behind. Without indulging the modern temptation to romanticise what was a blood-soaked way of life, Junger hazards an explanation for the appeal of tribal culture. Western society was a diverse and dynamic but deeply alienating place. (Plus ça change…) This stood in stark contrast to native life, which was essentially classless and egalitarian. The “intensely communal nature of an Indian tribe” provided a high degree of autonomy — as long as it didn’t threaten the defence of the tribe, which was punishable by death — as well as a sense of belonging. Tribe is then essentially a critique of modern civilisation, beginning with Junger’s observation of the inexorable appeal of Native American way of life to early settlers (“The intensely communal nature of an Indian tribe held an appeal that the material benefits of Western civilisation couldn’t necessary compete with”).

“The question for Western society isn’t so much why tribal life might be so appealing - it seems obvious on the face of it - but why Western society is so unappealing.” Junger is making a provocative point, but he is no provocateur. He swiftly justifies this jarring idea:

On a material level it is clearly more comfortable and protected from the hardships of the natural world. But as societies become more affluent they tend to require more, rather than less, time and commitment by the individual, and it’s possible that many people feel that affluence and safety simply aren’t a good trade for freedom.

All of these points have been covered in other, heavier books. Jared Diamond’s The World Until Yesterday examines traditional tribal lifestyles’ usefulness in the present day. The entanglement of war with human closeness and purpose is the focus of Chris Hedges’s War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning. (Both Hedges and Junger include the same anecdote, in fact, about a teenage couple in besieged Sarajevo, that dies, sniper-shot, on the banks of the Miljacka River.) Junger also briefly mentions the work of seminal disaster researcher Charles Fritz, noting that Fritz could find almost no examples of mass panic during large-scale disasters. This plays into his overarching point that difficult experiences can be unifying rather than shattering. The exact same studies by Fritz and fellow researchers — and that exact same, crucial point — are detailed in Rebecca Solnit’s brilliant A Paradise Built in Hell.

Junger uses these insights towards another point. “Because modern society has almost completely eliminated trauma and violence from everyday life, anyone who does suffer these things is deemed to be extraordinarily unfortunate,” he writes. “This gives people access to sympathy and resources but also creates an identity of victimhood that can delay recovery.” This is an important observation. It, too, resonates quite closely with previous work - in this case Harvard psychiatrist Judith Lewis Herman’s seminal book Trauma and Recovery, which remarks that “to hold traumatic reality in consciousness requires a social context that affirms and protects the victim and that joins victim and witness in a common alliance.”

At best what Junger tries to achieve, then, is to assemble parts of all those books into one slim volume. So much the better for the busy reader. Unfortunately, Junger’s quick look at violence, trauma, and modern anomie also omits important information from other books, and as a result ends up on shaky ground, failing to consider counterpoints or bring its own arguments to a close.

Junger in the second half of the book proceeds through an examination of how disastrous or violent circumstances can create similar human closeness, and includes a discussion of how our society’s distancing itself from such harsh conditions has inadvertently sharpened those events’ capacity to traumatise the people who endure them.

War is hell, so this scourge of loneliness may seem the inevitable price for those who fight in them. The second half of Tribe insists that this impression is gravely mistaken. “Studies from around the world show that recovery from war is heavily influenced by the society one belongs to,” Junger observes. Iroquois warriors, for instance, did not have to contend with much alienation because the line between warfare and normal Indian society was vanishingly thin. This is not to deny that the Iroquois were traumatised by combat, but it was generally acute PTSD, limited in duration and distress. Their trauma was ameliorated by the fact that the trauma was shared by the entire tribe.

War, then, for all of its brutality and ugliness, satisfies some of our deepest evolutionary yearnings for connectedness. Platoons are like tribes. They give soldiers a chance to demonstrate their valour and loyalty, to work cooperatively, to show utter selflessness.

Is it any wonder that so many of them say they miss the action when they come home?

Part of the takeaway from this book is that regarding military service as a source of permanent psychiatric disability is incorrect for most (American) soldiers. Junger includes a lengthy discussion of how the U.S. Veterans Administration mishandles former soldiers’ mental health issues, and how America’s cultural misunderstanding of war plays into that deleterious milieu. The information isn’t wrong per se, but what it has to do with the rest of the romanticising of foregone tribal way of life, etc., or why that necessitates anything more than the 2015 Vanity Fair article from which the book sprung is never quite made clear. Worse, Junger says that the low rate of combat engagement among U.S. soldiers means their diagnoses of post-traumatic stress disorder often aren’t real - but he fails to consider that some soldiers develop PTSD from military sexual trauma, or from other adverse experiences outside of combat or before their enlistment.

Worse, he seems to misunderstand the diagnosis entirely. Here, as in the Vanity Fair article, Junger describes his own bout with what he calls “classic short-term PTSD,” departing from this insight to further dissect trauma and the ways modern society misunderstands it. The problem is, there really is no such thing as “short-term PTSD.” It sounds like what Junger had was post-traumatic stress, a weeks - or months - long psychological adaptation to adverse events (in his case, exposure to war) that typically resolves on its own.

Although psychological care can sometimes be relevant, most mental health professionals don’t regard this as an illness. (Tellingly, Junger’s approach to his diagnosis involved little more than an acquaintance’s ad hoc comment at “a family picnic.”) Post-traumatic stress disorder is only diagnosable after three to six months, does not often go away on its own, and can endure for a lifetime if untreated. The implication that Junger’s case is typical PTSD is misleading - and to some extent, calls his conclusions into question.

The problems in his argument go even deeper. “In Bosnia — as it is now — we don’t trust each other anymore; we became really bad people,” Ahmetasevic tells Junger. “We didn’t learn the lesson of the war, which is how important it is to share everything you have with human beings close to you.” Junger’s thesis is that other cultures (the “Stone-Age tribes” white settlers once joined) did learn that lesson. But he assumes that violence is innate to humans and necessary for human closeness, never parsing evidence that it is not. And he doesn’t examine what this Bosnian journalist means by “really bad,” and how becoming so after the war might have arisen directly from the painful, long-lasting effects of the severe trauma Junger doesn’t quite seem to believe in.

If there is any doubt on this point, consider the alarming rates of PTSD among our warrior class, and the desire among many of them to return to war — a subject on which Junger has been at the leading edge of the public discussion. When combat vets return home, the alienation and aimlessness of modern society aggravates their psychological traumas and prompts them to yearn for the brotherhood of combat. It’s not for nothing that a recent book on post-traumatic stress is entitled The Evil Hours.

Many soldiers actually miss war. “Adversity,” he writes, “often leads people to depend more on one another, and that closeness can produce a kind of nostalgia for the hard times.” Soldiers go from a close-knit group in which everyone has a purpose to a society in highly individualised lifestyles are “deeply brutalising to the human spirit.” Soldiers who come home to situations in which there is no social support from family and community are more likely to suffer PTSD than others.

Thanking veterans for their service aggravates the problem, in Junger’s opinion. “If anything, these token acts only deepen the chasm between the military and the civilian population by highlighting the fact that some people serve their country but the vast majority don’t.” Tickets to games and other such perquisites can incentivise veterans to see themselves as victims, making their reintegration into society much more difficult.

What they really need is the one thing that will make them feel like valuable members of society: jobs. In their tribe-like military units, they each had a specific function without which the group could not perform. The worst thing that can happen to them when they return is to feel useless, marginalised. The suicide rate in America mirrors the unemployment rate, Junger points out. The best protection against devastating depression is meaningful work.

“Ex-combatants shouldn’t be seen - or be encouraged to see themselves - as victims,” writes Junger. Lifelong disability payments for PTSD, which is treatable and usually not chronic, actually debilitate veterans, Junger claims. In war, the passivity of victimhood can be deadly, he explains. Turning veterans into victims when they return is not only confusing but also destructive because it erases their sense of self. Instead of sympathy, “veterans need to feel that they’re just as necessary and productive back in society as they were on the battlefield.”

Of course much of this book is really around the American experience of war and the experiences of American veterans returning home. So some points don’t quite stick with either British or European experiences. For example neither British or other European societies thank veterans for their service as a matter of course. Of course there are special days to commemorate major war events and even an armed forces day but on a general day to day basis one doesn’t go up to a military person to thank them for their service probably because British and European servicemen and their service don’t enjoy a privileged standing. Respected and admired yes, but not deified. How British and other European countries take care of their returning veterans is hard to detail as the experience varies in terms of disability allowances and other measures. Certainly a misunderstanding of mental trauma or PTSD of returning veterans has led sometimes to a criminal mismanaging of taking care of those most affected. Again, it varies from country to country.  

Contemporary America is a considerably less consolidated society than it used to be. Cultural diffusion and economic stratification have increased the isolation felt by those who have borne the heat and burden of battle. I won’t a forget photograph shown to me by an older brother who had served with distinction in Iraq. He made a few American friends from the US soldiers serving there alongside and one day he was shown something that captured the dark humour and cynicism of war. The photo captured a graffito scribbled on a wall in Ramadi, Iraq, that read: “America is not at war. The Marine Corps is at war. America is at the mall.”

Multiple studies demonstrate that “a person’s chance of getting chronic PTSD is in great part a function of their experiences before going to war.” The relationship between combat and trauma seems to be a murky one. For instance, “combat veterans are, statistically, no more likely to kill themselves than veterans who were never under fire.” Junger says that even a significant number of Peace Corps volunteers report suffering severe depression after their return home, especially if their host country was in a state of emergency when they did. In Junger’s telling, particular burdens endured by socially disadvantaged Americans - from a poor educational background to chaotic broken family life - can make a candidate especially susceptible to PTSD. Indeed, these risk factors “are nearly as predictive of PTSD as the severity of the trauma itself.”

The decline of social order and solidarity has contributed to a loss of what researchers call “social resilience.” This has simultaneously supplied more potential candidates for PTSD and impaired society’s ability to help them recover. The United States must place a premium on boosting its levels of social resilience. Americans should no longer be content to simply thank veterans for their service; sporting events are not places of healing. Nor should they seek to outsource the responsibility to the federal government. The solution lies closer to home, in the mediating institutions of civil society — from families to churches to community and professional associations. I think this echoes the views of quite a few veterans in my experience with them.

More sensitively and perhaps controversially, ex-combatants shouldn’t be regarded, or encouraged to regard themselves, as victims. This I also agree with. America is still a tremendously affluent country, Junger writes, that can afford to perpetually care for a victim class of veterans dependent on government largesse, “but the vets can’t.” They have generally performed exemplary service for which they should be honoured, and they must know that their service is not over.

Next, Junger says, veterans (like most social animals) depend upon a sense of purpose that begins with a job and a position in society. Here the “hire vets” initiatives and retraining programs are necessary but insufficient. The traditional means of securing social resilience has been egalitarian social provision. Individualist America may blanch at that notion, but it should at least act to build a more open economy and inclusive culture where individuals can reliably advance by merit and develop social capital.

Not being an American I don’t wish to speak out of turn but as a veteran and especially in speaking with other British and foreign veterans I think Junger is on the right path. Victimhood and a lack of purpose are the unseen enemy that the returning veteran will continue to fight when he or she comes home.

To all this I would also that - arguably perhaps in America especially - a revival of national cohesion is needed if - as a nation that pays lip service to honour the sacrifices of its servicemen - it is to arrest the full savagery of battlefield trauma. This will require what Edmund Burke called “a revolution in sentiments, manners and moral opinions.”

One clue about how to achieve this can be found in the early pages of Tribe, when Junger tells an affecting anecdote about his father. Not long after the end of the Vietnam War, the author had received a Selective Service registration form in the mail, in case the United States government ever needed to conscript him into the military. When he announced that, if drafted, he would refuse to serve on political grounds, his father’s reaction caught him off guard. Although sternly opposed to the war in Indo-China, Junger’s father insisted that American soldiers had “saved the world” from fascism during World War II and many never came home. Junger writes;

“��You don’t owe your country nothing,’ I remember him telling me. ‘You owe it something, and depending on what happens, you might owe it your life.’” This did not oblige anyone to enlist in an unjust war - “in his opinion, protesting an immoral war was just as honorable and necessary as fighting a moral one” - but it did mean that the country had just claims on its citizens, and refusing to sign a registration form constituted a dereliction of duty.

Year after year, Americans hear arguments for taking the stink out of their sulphurous political rhetoric. It would be better for congressional productivity. It would be better for our international dignity. It would be better for their national literacy, their local advocacy, their general civility and the future etiquette of their children. But the one argument I had not heard, until reading Junger’s book is that they should clean up their act for the sake of their returning troops.

Junger never makes this point explicitly. What he writes, simply, is this: After months of combat, during which “soldiers all but ignore differences of race, religion and politics within their platoon,” they return to the United States to find “a society that is basically at war with itself. People speak with incredible contempt about - depending on their views - the rich, the poor, the educated, the foreign-born, the president or the entire U.S. government.” Soldiers go from a world in which they’re united, interconnected and indispensable to one in which they’re isolated, without purpose, and bombarded with images of politicians and civilians screaming at one another on TV and cable.

It’s a formula for deep despair. “Today’s veterans often come home to find that, although they’re willing to die for their country,” he writes, “they’re not sure how to live for it.”

With that, Mr. Junger has raised one of the most provocative ideas for bitterly divided Americans to grapple with without mentioning a single political candidate, or even a president, by name.

In this age of social and economic fragmentation, many of America’s disadvantaged fellow citizens have begun to chafe against an elite class - left and right - that often behaves as if it were exempted from the national compact. Junger only hints at the necessary leap beyond a social-psychological view to a political-economic analysis. He writes, "As great a sacrifice as soldiers make, American workers arguably make a greater one…. [w]orking in industries that have a mortality rate equivalent to most units in the US military." He suggests, "It may be worth considering whether middle-class American life - for all its material good fortune - has lost some essential sense of unity that might otherwise discourage alienated men from turning apocalyptically violent."

Nobody then should be surprised if the ranks of disaffected citizens – not least those who have borne arms in our name and in their defence - ultimately decide that the sensibility of the tribe is superior to their own.

As a proud Brit who is guilty at times of poking fun at America but borne out of sincere fondness and respect for America I do sincerely hope during these turbulent times that they are capable of coming together and recognising their tribal identity is to be Americans first and other labels (liberal or conservative or red state or blue state) whilst not inconsequential are not important enough to undermine the primary American tribal identity. They did it so marvellously after 9/11, but that feeling as we all know soon dissipated. It can’t afford to be a house divided from within when there are predatory wolves pawing at the door (I’m looking at you Russia and China). Junger correctly writes America is a strong nation, “The only one who can destroy us, is, well, us…..which means that the ultimate terrorist strategy would be to just leave us alone.”

Tribe is an important, thought-provoking book that encourages Americans to see its veterans and American society in a fresh light. Policymakers of all political stripes would do well to consider Junger’s arguments, for as long as they fail to fully integrate returning soldiers, everyone will continue to pay a high toll for their incredible service and sacrifice.

Junger’s “Tribe” even if it was written in 2016, remains relevant and serves as an important wake-up call. Let’s hope we all don’t sleep through the alarm. But this too brief and too scattershot book with an important message won’t get us all the way there. There is an old South African Zulu proverb, ‘If you want to go fast, go on your own. If you want to go further, go together’. It’s up to all of us.

[foolgobi65]

i really wish the writers of lucifer hadn't turned chloe and maze's friendship into such an afterthought! like ok:

- when they start in season 2, both of them are in pretty isolated places socially. chloe, already a pretty introverted workaholic, is just newly divorced and has exactly one (1) friend: lucifer. maze has finally split off from lucifer and has two (2) friends: linda and trixie, but for the purposes of this comparison linda really is maze's one friend. maze has just accepted that she's not actually going back to hell, that this time on earth isn't really just a lunch break before they go back to the real world (hell) and so she now has to figure out how to build a real life in LA.

- basically, both maze and chloe are kind of in similar positions in terms of being isolated and really only having a singular overwhelming relationship with someone as opposed to having a network they can rely on so that all their eggs aren't in one basket. you can see where this backfires on both of them throughout the series when linda spends the week not talking to maze after seeing lucifer's face, and when lucifer runs off to vegas and suddenly chloe is stuck with all these feelings she can't express (and crucially can't talk about to him, her best friend.) ofc lucifer and maze's relationship transcends friendship just based on their immense history and is its own weird thing that i also kind of wish they had given more thought to, but w/e.

- enter: maze and chloe's friendship! i think for both maze and chloe, the other person is as "far" as you could get from themselves, but is fascinatingly still someone they can like, respect, love, and be loyal to. for a good while (and this is something i REALLY wish they had maintained) chloe, maze, and dan are basically raising trixie together which takes so much respect and trust that the other person is someone you want having a hand in influencing a kid you love! i think what's interesting is that, unlike lucifer who is trying to answer existential questions about his place/purpose in the universe, maze is really just focused on the people she cares about and having a good time (which is rooted in her doing meaningful work as a bounty hunter.) chloe is someone who pursues duty to the point of self-sacrifice, and obviously her friendship with lucifer helps her loosen up, but the pedestal he places her on/reverence he sometimes feels for her prevents him from really popping that bubble in the same way maze does. also chloe and lucifer's relationship gets SO much more complicated around the time maze enter's chloe's life so the role that lucifer once had to shock chloe out of her comfort zone kind of goes to maze once chloe has to draw some personal boundaries with lucifer.

- i think the key to maze and chloe's friendship is that they're both people who desperately need someone who embodies the other person's best trait. while this tendency isn't always healthy, maze is fundamentally someone very loyal to those she believes deserves it. obviously she's also betrayed people a billion times but at her core she's deeply committed to those she cares about which is something that i can see chloe find really appealing. at this point chloe has spent so much of her life in this weirdly precarious position where, since her dad's death she hasn't been able to fully trust anyone or open up to them. obviously she loves dan, but its clear that even when they're still "good" he doesn't trust her instincts or potential like he should, and when he spent those months gaslighting her the issue for her even beyond the fact that he shot malcom would have been that he didnt support or trust his wife. the appeal of lucifer is that from the beginning he identifies that she's smart and moral with good instincts. he trusts her, and strangely over the season she begins to trust him too! and then he runs off to vegas, etc etc lol. maze's primary loyalty probably isn't to chloe, but we see that to the best of her capacity she wants chloe to be happy -- she gets the prison warden killed, she "tries" and then really does listen to chloe venting about lucifer, attends the parent night chloe was stressed about, sets aside her grudge with lucifer to find chloe.

- in turn, chloe's best trait is her ability to accept people as they are and see their potential. of course she doesnt really have that many friends, but the people she is attracted to are all works in progress (dan is obvious, as are lucifer and maze lmao, but there's also ella who confesses something very personal and scary to chloe and gets a hug in return, and even charlotte who chloe's had clashes with both as charlotte and Mom for years but still gets the benefit of the doubt.) maze does have to change when she comes to live with chloe and trixie, but we see trixie grow up heavily influenced by maze in ways that makes it clear that chloe must genuinely like maze, or those influences like the handshake and the passion for gore and the knife training wouldnt have been allowed. we know that the reason maze is so loyal to lucifer is that he was the first person to ever accept her for who she was unconditionally, without shame or judgment. we see that for lucifer chloe is that person, especially because she sees his potential for growth just as she sees maze's. because she doesnt have preconcieved notions of what they're supposed to be she only sees them as people going through a difficult period of growth and supports them as best she can: reminding maze that they're friends, worrying about her in canada, trusting her with trixie who is the most important person in chloe's life.

- of course, chloe and maze have lucifer and linda but narratively lucifer and linda become so much MORE for chloe and maze. the show sunk linda/maze lmao but linda's clearly the adult maze cares most about just as lucifer is chloe's. and for both in s3 this person they each place so much of themselves into suddenly hurts them and they both spiral. i think there was real potential for chloe and maze to become each other's support and develop into a really steady, enduring friendship in contrast to the chaos of their individual romances (you will NEVER convince me that triangle was about amenadiel rather than linda lmao.) even post s3, they don't really address that maze really hurt chloe by pushing her towards pierce, and that chloe hurt maze by lying to her. i really think there could have been a lot of growth from maze going back to living with chloe and trixie after making full ammends and chloe realizing that actually, yes she can deal with this and it isn't that scary and then the tragedy of her maybe missing her shot with lucifer becomes more stark. we see chloe and maze teaming up in the first episode of 5A but then they blow that up too! i get that chloe needs space and its clear they're both using the other as placeholders for the people they really want, but there's no reason that they couldnt have come back together later and re-established their friendship on screen. obv they wouldnt work together after lucifer comes back, but to me this is where i believe they should go back to living together. without that, maze's connection to trixie in terms of what they can show on screen becomes tenuous and chloe's home life just becomes less interesting/worthwhile to see bc it'd just be her or maybe her with trixie. without that, it feels like we just see a lot of chloe either at work or in relation to lucifer (bc thats the best bang for your buck in terms of interaction!) we do get to see maze with linda, which is nice, but idk just feels like a step back from early s3 when maze felt more embedded in a community of people who liked, accepted, and cared about her wellbeing.

- i think one of the issues is that chloe and maze's friendship might have seemed like a knock off of their "main" relationships with lucifer and linda bc they have similar dynamics with them, but idk! there's a sense of fun that we get from their friendship that we dont really see from the main pairings because those are so serious and passionate and the main mechanisms by which the 4 grow so there isn't as much room for the lighter stuff. i know i said that chloe sees the potential for growth but she's not really pushing maze to talk about her feelings. she's doing the dishes maze won't, smiling at maze and trixie's handshake, shrugging off the fact that maze is throwing knives at their rented walls. maze and chloe create space for each other to be seen as themselves, good or bad, in ways that linda and lucifer can't for whatever reason. they don't really push each other, just let the other person be. it wouldnt be the ideal dynamic if they were the only person in each other's lives, but i think its vital to have someone in your life who can, in chloe's case, gently push you outside of your comfort zone and in maze's case offer acceptance, friendship, and trust.

idk this is just going in circles as i repeat the same points over and over and over but i really wish they had put more thought into sustaining the maze and chloe friendship throughout s4 and s5 because it would have brought out notes in both of them narratively that i think are lost otherwise. also its just sad for trixie that someone who was basically part of her family who she was living with is just...not there anymore and that's never addressed. : (

[yannasunflower]

Chapter One | Kuroo x Reader | Zombie!AU

Rating: M Warnings: gore, violence, zombies, a fair amount of angst. still not sure about smut, but we'll see. characters have been aged up, but not all of them. eventual character death. Genre: angst/hurt/comfort, romance, survival-is-all-we-have Pairings: Kuroo x Reader Word count: 2.8k

i decided to actually expand this and make it a full story. not sure how long it'll be, guessing around 5 chapters. please reblog, like, comment, show some love! will be cross posting to AO3 as well!

Chapter One

There was a time, not so long ago, you would have killed to have a man on his knees before you just like this. But this man is bloody and bruised and the rancid scent of rotting flesh is heavy in your mouth. You resist the urge to spit. The unnatural corpse to your right was once a person. A man, you think faintly. Who may have once had a family. A home.

It’s been months now, but it’s still a fight to push the images of sun-drenched gardens and trips to the grocery store away.

The gun you have pressed to his temple is doing its job well. He is meek, eyes darting across the tile floor blankly. The way his shirt hangs from his tall frame and his wrists tremble make you lower the gun. This is a man who hasn’t eaten a meal in days. And his dirty clothes are covered in dry blood, none of it fresh. He managed to avoid getting bitten before your people swooped in. The sight of Daichi wrangling a nighstalker off someone is almost comical compared to his everyday activities – going on jogs and reading a book.

The stranger finally looks up at you and his dark, dark eyes are too dull. They are framed by a face that was once handsome, traces of good humor and vivacity still embedded in the lines around his mouth and eyes. Black hair forms almost a halo around him, the thick waves obviously in need of washing and trimming.

“Daichi,” you call and the man steps forward, baseball bat slung across his broad shoulders. “Get the man a snack. We’re taking him with us.”

Daichi nods, a question in his eyes that you ignore as you turn away, issuing orders. You sweep the shelves with your eyes, trying to find something of value. A forgotten box of cold medicine is swept into your bag without a second thought. A can of chicken noodle soup falls in after it. You hear the man huff a silent thanks as Daichi heaves him to his feet.

Heave might be too strong a word. The man looks thin enough for wind to blow through. You swallow, hard.

“Do you mind coming with us?” you hear Daichi murmur to him, always the graceful one, unable to keep the motherly concern out of his voice. The man must shake his head because Daichi sighs with relief. “Don’t mind the Captain. She’s got a lot on her mind.”

His conspiratorial tone makes your skin prickle. You turn just enough to shoot Daichi a venomous glare. He cheerfully ignores it.

“What’s your name?” you think to ask, turning fully to face him once more.

The man offers a weak smile. His lips tremble and his face wrinkles uncomfortably.

“Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou,” he answers. There’s a beat. You realize five seconds too late he’s expecting you to announce your name.

You remember your name, for a moment. It brings with it memories of fresh air and your parents, singing a silly birthday song to you, glee lighting their faces. A lurch in your gut nearly makes the world spin. You turn away from Kuroo again, hair framing your face.

“Just call me Captain, or Cap. Either will do,” you reply, far too nonchalantly and much too late. “We can offer a place to stay and some food, at least. Protection from the nightstalkers.”

You can’t see the look on his face and you wonder how long it’s been since he’s slept easily, deeply. His black eyes are too sunken to tell.

“It’s not much, but it’s something,” you admit.

Daichi huffs.

“She’s being modest,” he assures Kuroo. “We have running water and a water heater, as well as enough people to keep guards on rotation, and electricity and beds.”

“It sounds,” the man, Kuroo’s, voice grates, like it hasn’t been used in weeks. You realize it probably hasn’t. “It sounds too good to be true.”

Daichi laughs his big, booming laugh and someone, Sugawara you think, hisses at him to shut up. Daichi grins at the silver haired main, whose golden eyes are spitting venom at him, pointing gleefully at Kuroo as he says, “The poor man hasn’t slept on a bed for who knows how long, let him have a little joy.”

“You were the one laughing loud enough for every nightstalker in five blocks to hear you.”

That shuts Daichi up with an apologetic wince, although he still shoots Kuroo a wink.

“Let’s get you a granola bar and some water before we start moving,” Daichi whispers. Kiyoko steps from the shadows, more liquid than solid, more shade than human. Her glasses flash in the faint light and she is a cat, lithe and silent. She says nothing, just slings Kuroo’s arm around her shoulder and places a steadying hand on his chest. If Kuroo is surprised by the slender woman’s strength, he doesn’t show it.

She catches your eye and you see approval there, which warms your chest. Kiyoko has the best instincts in the group. She’s also your only nurse – if she doesn’t think the emaciated man will take up too many resources, you’re inclined to trust her. Her seal of approval settles the twinge in your gut, the one that screams to protect the people at the Pit at all costs.

Up from the ground, you realize with a jolt that Kuroo is taller than you thought, at least a full head taller than you. And you sense, in the same instant, that he is turning his eyes towards you, and that you are still looking at him.

You glance away, spying a pack of batteries in the back corner of a shelf. With a triumphant grin, you shove them in your pack. A lucky find. You make a mental note to thank Suga for suggesting the group drop in here. Trust him to be worried about their toothpaste supply at just the right time.

His fretting is the most likely reason Kuroo is still alive.

After the group, a small scouting party with just four people, packs as much as they can, you pull your mask back up over your mouth. The black cloth serves a few practical reasons: the smell of rotting flesh is much less likely to make you sick, and the color is useful. Nightstalkers have awful vision — it’s why scouting during a full moon can be dangerous and you are thanking the stars that the sky is dark and the moon nearly absent. Kuroo is in no condition to travel, which means you’ll have to move slowly. More slowly than you’d like.

His own dark clothing receives a nod of approval from Daichi, who supports half his weight still.

You watch as your group lifts their own masks, Kiyoko thinking to offer Kuroo one. A familiar thrall runs down your spine. You run through the route in your mind. Flashlights click off and for a moment, you stand, breathing in the taste of fear, growing thicker every moment.

“To the Pit,” you murmur.

“For the Pit,” Suga answers and the rest repeat it. The terror abates.

Outside, the air is cool, no bite to it, the fresh March night almost pleasant enough to forget for a brief second. But the smell of the nightstalkers chases after it and the illusion isn’t even fully formed before it dies. Your chest heaves.

The walk through the city is uneventful. The nighstalkers are thin in the city now, partially culled by the survivors who skulk the streets. Signs of human life are small, but everywhere. Fresh cigarettes, a pile of nightstalker corpses still smoldering. A child’s truck, lights still flashing. Your chest tightens again.

You take only a few seconds to leave a strip of yellow cloth tied to a signpost. Below it, you leave a smaller strip, this one purple, and scrawl Kuroo’s name on it as well as you can in the dark. With a knife, you cut off the old blue one that had been left a week ago and shove it into your pocket. The color blue used to be your favorite and now, seeing it leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

There are two other survivor groups that you know of in the city. With an array of color coded messages, your three groups communicate important information. Yellow for all is quiet, red for in need of emergency supplies. Blue for the death of a human.

It’s a courtesy to let them know you’ve taken in another survivor, but you know if you don’t try to show the other packs a little bit of trust, the system Daichi and Kiyoko came up with won’t do anything to help your people.

You’ll be damned if you ever let another group into the Pit without a blindfold and ropes on their wrists, however. They showed you the same hospitality when you were in desperate need of medicine three weeks ago. Sometimes, you still feel the ropes around your wrist. Iwaizumi, Oikawa’s sturdy second, had been gentle about it, but it still chafed.

Out of the city, your entire group breathes a little easier. You do a quick head count, feet never slowing on the dirt path. The Pit isn’t far, just a few miles outside the city limits. Still, the lights don’t reach here, and you are too afraid to click on a flashlight or speak out loud. You keep your ears straining for any noise at all. Nighstalkers aren’t the only danger out here, outside the uneasy truce that exists in the city limits.

Kiyoko is still helping Daichi support Kuroo’s weight; as you watch, Suga slips to her side and taps her elbow, taking over for her. She relinquishes gratefully, stepping away to walk beside you.

Kiyoko rolls her shoulder and you lean over to rub it for a moment with your fingers. She flashes you a grateful smile. You still remember the night she got the injury – she had saved your life and nearly lost her arm in the process.

It only takes half an hour filled with Kuroo’s gasping breaths and the quiet footsteps of your crew for the guard towers to come into view. Someone flashes their light three times, the signal, and two shadowy figures pull the gate open. You can see the two figures perched in the parallel watchtowers peering down at the group curiously. They’ve kept their lamps low, as instructed, and you make a mental note to praise them in the morning.

They left with four and came back with five, which is a welcome change, you think.

Kuroo’s eyes are wide, mouth open.

“A prison,” you see him mouth and Daichi shoots you an amused glance.

It’s not pretty, especially at night, with its gray stone walls and barbed wire. But it’s fortified and in the day, you can see the beginnings of your garden just starting to break the earth and the children being taught by a patient Suga to help.

Tanaka lifts the pack from your shoulders, dipping his head in greeting to Kiyoko. Yamaguchi is already at Suga’s side, lifting both his and Daichi’s pack to his back, murmuring in hushed tones.

“A stray?” he asks in a quiet, crackling voice with one eyebrow raised, facing toward Kuroo, who is still staring in wonder at the tall stone walls.

You watch Daichi offer him water, explaining the watchtowers, the gate. His hand gestures in the direction of the gardens, Suga struggling to look proud and humble at the same time. Kuroo’s eyes are gleaming and you look away.

“Even strays deserve a bed to sleep on at night,” you murmur.

“If people hear we’re taking in –,”

You cut him off quickly, growling, “Who’s going to spread the word? You? We couldn’t just leave him there to die, Tanaka.”

There’s only a moment of silence, Tanaka’s dark eyes roving over your face before he backs down with a single nod.

“Grab Noya and get him to the showers and a cot,” you order, brushing past him. Kiyoko lingers, waiting to fall into step beside you again. “And see if Cook has any hot meals to spare.”

You feel more than see Tanaka approaching Kuroo, Suga and Daichi introducing everybody. Your entire group shuffles through the entrance, following you down the hallways to the cafeteria where they will drop their packs off before finding their friends or families.

Kuroo is still staring hard enough to pierce the walls and you hide a smile.

“Tanaka will show you where to shower and then bring you back here for some food,” you tell him. His eyes snap to you and you have to look away from them again, unable to keep looking at those dark holes. “After that, you can get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

You don’t give anyone a chance to respond. The worn heels of your boots hardly make a sound against the polished floor. The cafeteria is deserted at this time of night, when most people are in their cells. Kiyoko trails after you, Daichi just one step behind her.

“Daichi, get me an itemized list of everything we got tonight. I need to do inventory in the morning with Ukai and Takeda, let them know for me.”

He nods, hesitating where the hall branches off toward his own cell.

You wait. Daichi sometimes needs a moment to gather his thoughts, or maybe his courage. His lean, strong body doesn’t shift nervously, however. He looks thoughtful.

“Kuroo mentioned he was a doctor in the before. And a chemist,” he finally explains. You can physically feel Kiyoko come to attention next to you. Her body thrums with tension.

The information takes a second to sink in. The little boy with a bad cough in cell block B and his younger sister with a fever dance before you.

“He needs to get his strength back before going on any forages,” you point out, frowning. Daichi nods.

“Just thought you should know,” he answers easily, waving as he strides toward his cot.

Kiyoko follows you all the way to your cell. She leans against the cement wall as you light a lantern, keeping the light low, before sinking to sit on your cot. She folds her arms over her chest.

“Kuroo could give us a list of medicine to get,” she points out, voice barely above a whisper. You nod, lacing your fingers together and resting your chin on them.

Your mind is already churning with the information, only a slight congratulatory tone to your thoughts. A doctor is invaluable, a prize worth risking one journey home for. A chemist, too…

“I’m hoping he can help us grow our own herbs, as well,” you murmur. “Eventually, the medicine will run out at the stores.”

Kiyoko’s eyes narrow.

“There’s something else,” she challenges you, mildly but directly. Just her style.

You spare her a grin, shaking your head as you pull your hair from its ponytail.

“Can’t let me get away with anything,” you hum, waving her off, a dismissal. Because Kiyoko is Kiyoko, she doesn’t ask questions. She hovers at the entrance to your room, eyes flickering from you to the small window on the other side of the hall.

“You can lean on us, you know,” she says before she’s gone, always needing the last word, always right.

The pillow is a cloud beneath your head as you collapse, barely reaching out to extinguish the lamp before your eyes fall shut. But sleep doesn’t come easily. Your thoughts race, plummeting towards one inevitable conclusion. Kuroo’s face can’t be shaken, his sad eyes burned into the back of your eye lids.

But with his face comes the possibilities. You hadn’t lied to Kiyoko. Growing your own herbs, knowing how to properly use them, will be invaluable. A true asset.

Yet, the gleaming ideas don’t stop coming, the ways you could protect your people now. You can see them, laid out before you, like a map. Your fingers twitch, itching to pick them up, examine them all one by one. You almost can’t stop yourself from just considering what this could mean.

There is one person these people trust to make the hard decisions, the difficult, life and death ones. The quiet sounds of them sleeping, breathing, living, they surround you. Your heart beats in time to the little girl’s cough in cell block B. With every hitch of her brother’s chest, your own heart stutters. Thinking of their little faces is almost enough to make your eyes open again.

These are the people who are depending on you. Children, sick people, even more people who have nothing to live for anymore. Time is wearing them all down, you can tell.

The pressure doesn’t make your shoulders droop. Your back remains unbent, your stride unbroken as you mentally explore all avenues of thought.

The moon is low in the sky before you finally let yourself drift off, three plans beginning to form in the back of your mind.

[sarita-daniele]

Hi, angel! Hope you're doing alright 💓 (hola ángel! También hablo español :) ) I was wondering if you could give some advices in starting out in an arts career?

Hola amigx, ¡perdón que nunca vi tu mensajito! I’m not on my Tumblr very often and definitely forget to check my messages. Luckily my favorite causita @luthienne told me you’d messaged me! 

I don’t know what arts discipline you’re in, so feel free to let me know if the advice I have doesn’t apply to you (and ignore it!). There are so many ways to build an arts career, but I’m happy to share some things I’ve learned through trial and error along the way. 

(Outrageously long post below break!)

Educate yourself in arts technique, but also study widely. 

Techniques are important in art, but only as important as the concepts behind them. When I was younger, I wowed people by drawing near-photographic portraits, but that technical talent and skill alone couldn’t make me a professional artist. Memorable artwork has not just a how, but a why. It isn’t just the object but the story behind the object, and the meaning of the object in the world. Art is about what interests you, what makes you think, what you most value and want to change in this world. So as you build an arts career, learn the techniques behind drawing, woodworking, casting, writing, music-making, whatever your discipline is, but take time, if you can, to also study history, sociology, anthropology, ecology, linguistics, politics, or whatever else you’re drawn to conceptually. Study as widely as you can. 

The studio art program I went through (a public university in the US) was very technique-forward; we signed up for classes according to technique, like printmaking or small metals, learned those techniques, completed technique-based assignments. Then I did a one-term exchange at arts university in the UK that was very concept-forward. We had no technical courses, just exhibition deadlines, and what mattered in critique was the concept. Both of these schools had their strengths and flaws, but what I learned was that, to be a practicing artist, I needed both technique and concepts that I genuinely cared about and could stand behind. If I could go back and change anything, I would probably take fewer studio courses (after graduating, I couldn’t afford access to a wood shop, metal shop, or expensive casting materials, and lost many of those skills) and more courses in sociology, Latin American studies, linguistics, ecology, anthropology, etc., because my artwork today centers on social justice, racial justice, Latinx stories and histories, educational access and justice, the politics of language, and community ethics. 

And please know that whenever I talk about seeking an education, I’m not talking solely about institutional spaces. College career tracks in the arts (BFA, MFA, etc., much less high-cost conservatory programs) are not accessible to everyone and aren’t the only way to establish an arts career. You can study technique and learn about the world using any educational space accessible to you: nonprofits that offer programming in your community, online resources, Continuing Education programs. And of course, self-education: read as much as you possibly can!

Know the value of your story. 

I come from a Cuban/Peruvian family and grew up in Albuquerque, New Mexico, USA. My father’s family fled political violence surrounding the Cuban Revolution and came to the U.S. when he was a teenager. My mother was born in Brooklyn to Peruvian parents on work visas and moved back to Lima in her childhood. I grew up with these two cultures present and deeply embedded in our household, in our language, our food, our sense of humor, our sense of history. And yet, some residual assimilation trauma still affected me. I drifted towards the most American things, the whitest things, English authors and Irish music, in part because I enjoyed them but also because those were the things I saw valued in society. I wanted to fit in, wanted to be unique but not different, wanted to prove that I could navigate all spaces. The reality of marginalized identities in America is that our country tells us our identities are only valuable when they can be seen as exotic, while still kept inferior to the dominant, white American narrative (note that this “us” is a general statement, not meant to make assumptions about how you identify or what country you live in). 

But as an artist, all I have is my story, and who I am. I wasn’t willing to look at it directly. For years, I avoided doing so. It turns out, though, that I couldn’t actually begin my career until I reckoned with myself and learned to value everything about myself. To fully acknowledge my story, my history, my cultural reality, my sense of language, and my privileges. So I encourage young artists to look always inward, to ask questions about themselves, their families, and what made them who they are. 

The reason for doing this is to understand the source from which you make art.  Sometimes, however, for marginalized artists, the world warps this introspection into a trap, pigeonholing us into making art only “about” our identities, because that work is capital-I-Important to white audiences who want to tokenize our traumas. This is the white lens, and if anything, I try to understand myself as deeply as I can so that I can make art consciously for my community, not for that assumed white audience. 

Know that your career doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s, or like anything you’ve envisioned up to this point. 

As a high schooler I imagined that a life in the arts meant me in a studio, drawing and making, selling my work, getting exhibitions near and far, and gaining recognition. It was a solitary vision, one with a long history in the arts, rooted in the idea of individual genius. My career ended up completely different. Today, my arts projects involve teaching, collaborating, collecting interviews and oral histories, and creating public installations, rarely in traditional galleries or museums. 

As you work towards an arts career, figure out what does and doesn’t work for you: the kind of art you like and don’t like, the kinds of spaces that feel comfortable and those that don’t. I always thought I wanted to be part of traditional galleries, so I got a job working in a high-end art gallery in Boston during my grad program. Once in that space, however— even though I found the space calming and the work beautiful— I realized that there was something that I deeply disliked about the commodified art world. I didn’t like that we were selling art for over $10,000, that our exhibitions were geared exclusively towards collectors and wealthy art-buyers. The work was often technically masterful, but didn’t move or connect with me on a deeper level, and I realized that was because it wasn’t creating any change in the world. I liked work that shifted the needle, that made the world more inclusive and equitable, that centered marginalized stories (that gallery represented 90% white artists). I liked artwork that people made together, which drew me to collaborative art. I liked artwork that was accessible to everyone, not just the wealthy, which drew me to public art. I liked art exhibited in non-institutional spaces, which led me to community spaces. Since I was in an MFA for Creative Writing, I liked interdisciplinary art that engaged performance, technology, text, that was participatory and not just a 2D or 3D object. Figuring out all of these things led me to apply to my first major arts job: as a teaching artist in a community nonprofit that made art for social change in collaboration with local youth, in a predominantly Latinx neighborhood. 

My career path didn’t look like anything I expected, but I love it. The bulk of my income comes from teaching creative writing and art classes for nonprofits, working as a core member of a public arts nonprofit, and freelance consulting for book manuscripts. I love being an educator and consider it part of my creative practice. I love that I’m constantly collaborating with and talking to other artists. I love working with books and public art every day. I publish poetry, fiction, and literary translations, and exhibit artwork I’ve created in the studio and through funded opportunities. 

Fellow artists tell me often that I’m lucky, that my “day jobs” are all within the arts. But there are downsides to the way I’ve chosen to structure my career. I’m constantly balancing many projects, and my income is unstable. It’s difficult to save and plan towards the future,. I get by, but financial instability isn’t an option for many artists with families and dependents, with debts, medical expenses, and just isn’t the preferred lifestyle for a lot of people. I know artists who worked office jobs for years to support their practice and gain financial stability. I know artists who had entire careers as lawyers or accountants before becoming artists full time. I know artists who teach in public schools or work as substitute teachers. I know artists who are business owners and artists who work in policy and politics. I know artists who work in framing stores and shipping warehouses while being represented by galleries. These are all arts careers, and I admire every one of them. So as you build your career, don’t feel like it has to look like anyone’s else’s, like there’s anything you “should” be doing. Focus on the kind of artwork you want to make and what kind of work-life balance is best for you, then structure your career around that as best you can. 

Any job you use to support yourself can connect to an arts career!  

I get asked often by young people looking for jobs what kinds of jobs will best propel them towards an arts career. I believe that any kind of job can connect to and support an arts career, and I know that some suggestions out there in the arts world (like “get an unpaid internship at an art gallery!” or “become a studio apprentice to a well-known artist!”) assume a certain amount of privilege. So I want to break down how different kinds of jobs can connect to your art career: 

1) Jobs that allow for the flexibility and mental capacity to create. My friends who work restaurant jobs while going to auditions fall into this category. Who work as bartenders in evening so that they can be in the studio by day. Who dog-walk or babysit or nanny because the timing and flexibility allows for arts opportunities. My friends who are Lyft drivers or work in deliveries. These are often jobs outside of a creative field, but they can be beneficial because they don’t drain your creative batteries, so to speak. You still have your creative brain fully charged, and some jobs (like dog-walking) even allow for good mental processing (you can think through creative problems). As long as the job doesn’t drain you to the point where you have no energy at all, these kinds of jobs can be great because they allow time and space for your creative work. 

2) Jobs that place you in arts spaces, arts adjacent spaces, or spaces where you can learn about material/technique. My sculptor friends who work in hardware stores, quarries, foundries, or in construction. My printmaker friend who interned with graphic designers. My writer friends who work in bookstores and libraries, artists who work in art supply stores. My friend who worked with her dad’s painting company and got to improve her precision as a painter, which she then took back to the canvas. My teen students who get paid to work on murals or get stipend payments for making art at the nonprofit I work for. My filmmaker friends who worked on film crews. Friends who worked as theater ushers, in ticket sales, or as janitorial staff at museums. All of these jobs kept these artists adjacent to their artwork, whether through access to tools, materials, supplies, or books, through networking and conversations with other artists, or through skillsets that could enhance their art. 

3) Jobs that deeply engage another interest of yours, that bring you joy or can influence your work in other ways. If there’s a job that has nothing to do with your art but that you would love, do it! First, because I believe that the things we’re passionate about get integrated into our art, and second, because any job that gives you peace of mind and joy creates a positive base from which you can create. My friend who worked at a stable because she got to be around horses. My friends who worked at gyms or coaching sports because it kept them active. My friend who worked in a bike repair shop because he was obsessed with biking. An artist I knew who worked at the children’s science museum because she loved being around kids and planetariums. An artist who worked at a mineral store because rocks made her happy. If you have the opportunity, work doing things you like without worrying about whether it directly feeds your arts career.

Because believe it or not, all jobs you work can intersect in some way with your art. You’re creative— you find those connections! A Nobel-Prize winning poet helped his dad on the potato farm and wrote his best-known poem about it. Successful novelists have written about their time working in hair salons and convenience stores. A great printmaker I know who worked in a flower shop began weaving botanical forms and plant knowledge into her designs. The key in an arts career is to see all your experiences as valuable, to find ways that they can influence your art, and to be constantly thinking about and observing the world around you. 

As for me, I worked as a tennis instructor, a tennis court site supervisor, an academic advisor, an art gallery intern, and a coffee shop barista before and during my work in the arts!

Let go of objective measures of what it means to be good. 

I was always an academic overachiever. Top of my class, merit scholarships, science fair awards, AP credit overload, the whole thing. On the one hand, I grew up in a house where education was valued and celebrated, and my parents emphasized the importance of doing my best in school— not getting good grades, but working hard, doing my personal best, and reading and learning all I could. I loved school. I loved academics. And I’m not saying this to brag, but to lay the groundwork for something I struggled with in the arts.

It is jarring to be an academic overachiever and enter an arts career. I thrived off of objective value systems: study, work hard, get an A. If I worked hard and learned what I was supposed to learn, I earned recognition, validation, and opportunity. 

And then I entered the arts. The arts are entirely subjective. We hear it over and over— great artists get rejected hundreds of times, certain art forms require cutthroat competition, etc. —but it’s hard to understand the subjectivity of the art world (and the entrenched discrimination and commercial interests that affect who gets opportunities and who doesn’t) until you’re trying to live as an artist. That you can work hard on something, give all of your time and physical effort and mental and emotional energy to it, only to have it rejected. That what you think is good isn’t what another person thinks is good. That there is a magical alchemy in the act of creation that can’t be taught, or learned, but must be felt, and that you can be working to find that light while actively others try to extinguish it. That you can be good and work hard, yet still not get chosen for the awards, the exhibitions, the publications. If you chased being “the best” your whole life, you’re now in a world where there is no “best”, where greatness is subjective, where the idea of competitive greatness is actually detrimental to artists supporting each other, and where work that sells or connects to white, cishetero traditions is still the most valued. 

After struggling with this for a long time, I came to the conclusion that the most important thing to me now is making the art I want to make, the art only I can make, whether or not it fits what arts industries are looking for or what’s going to win awards. If I make art I believe in from a healthy mental and emotional place, doors will open, even if they aren’t the doors I expected. So try to let go of any sense that worth comes from external validation. Learn to accept critical feedback when it is given kindly, thoughtfully, and constructively. Surround yourself with friends and artists who who can talk to about your work, who build up your work and help you think through it rather than cutting you down. Don’t believe anyone in the arts world who thinks they get to be the arbiters of what’s “good” and who has “what it takes”. People have probably said things like that to the artists you most admire, and if they’d listened, you wouldn’t have experienced art that changed your life. 

Work to gain skills in basic business, marketing, and finances for artists. 

Many artists (at least where I am in the U.S.) go through an entire arts education without receiving resources or training in the financial side of the arts world. Your arts career will likely involve some degree of self-promotion and marketing, creating project budgets and grant proposals, artist statements and bios, sorting out taxes, and other economic elements. I can’t speak to other countries, but for artists in the U.S., taxes can be extremely complex. If you’re awarded a stipend, grant, fellowship, or employed for gigs or one-time projects, you’ll likely be taxed as an independent contractor and have to deduct your own taxes. Through residencies and exhibitions, you may pull income in multiple states and countries, which can also affect taxation. If you’re an artist who doesn’t have access to resources about finance and taxation in your arts program or who doesn’t independently have expertise in those fields, I recommend finding ways to educate yourself early: online resources, low cost courses, or even just taking your financially-savvy friends out for a coffee!

ANYWAY SORRY FOR THE LONG POST I HOPE SOMETHING IN THIS DIATRIBE WAS HELPFUL I HOPE THERE WEREN’T TOO MANY TYPOS AND I hope you have the most wonderful, fulfilling arts career! <3 

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Jackson Visconti AGE & BIRTH DATE. 26 & October 27th, 1996 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Witch ( Spirit + Clairvoyance ) OCCUPATION. Journalist at Corinthian Column & Freelance Writer FACE CLAIM. Max Minghella

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: suicide ) Born 1996 in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. Jackson was the middle of five children in a familial coven of witches that had long practiced ancestral magic that was rooted to their home in the countryside. Their affinity for earth was well known in the supernatural community and made them successful in the agricultural field, generations of wealth accumulated more land and resources that built the family name into what it was in the twenty-first century: Visconti farms was synonymous with nearly every wholefoods or grocery supermarket across the nation with a wide range of produce and products that marked them as a staple. 

The Visconti family was known for their ancestral power as mentalists, power over the mind was their trademark and while Jackson was not as powerful as his father or even some of his siblings, he was not exempt. A natural-born clairvoyant, the truth was also Jackson’s burden to bare. He did not understand it at first, the inkling feeling he would get when he was listening to others but the witch came to understand that his sixth sense allowed him to gather insight from people, places, and things that other could not. A hunch that was always right. Jackson could inherently tell when he was being lied to, except in the case of his mother whose own magical heritage allowed protection over her mind,

Wealth and influence was Jackson’s inheritance, but his father was never satisfied with what they had. His desire for expansion into spirits brought the family to Louisiana where they moved into the bourbon industry as well. Well established and connected already, they purchased a slew of smaller distilleries that were already native to the area and grew their power that much more. Only thirteen at the time, Jackson had to adjust to a new city, new friends, and an entirely new way of life. New Orleans was a hub of local culture, tourism, and opportunity. With a rich history that was deeply embedded within not just the people but the city itself. For a clairvoyant witch this was all both a blessing and a curse, it made the place loud, and at times disturbing. As he grew older he began to see through the cracks of his family’s well-articulated image and began to seek less comfort in those he was raised with and instead looked for solace in those he had come to know. 

Found friends could be family too, and there was kinship to in the spirits of the old that were trapped within the walls of the lands where they could never leave. Jackson had a long-standing affinity for earth and spent more time in his family’s greenhouse than he ever did with classmates. That was of course until he met Casper, the man was a shifter whose family was not at all unlike his own in that they were well-versed with the supernatural world. The friendship was one of convenience as the boys were of the same age, grade, and social standing, but the validity of it transcended anything that their parents had conspired for them on their behalf. Jackson would tug Casper along whenever he visited graveyards or the rich swamps of Louisiana bayous. 

Left alone for long periods of time as Jackson’s parents traveled for work, the earth witch was a familiar sight among the Hahn family. His own siblings were content with being left to their own devices, naturally adapt and occasionally cruel - Jackson wanted for more. He found it with the Hahns, school nights, weekends, and even holidays where he wasn’t pulled away for a Visconti function was spent with Casper’s family. The two were like brothers, the sort of brothers that Jackson had always wished that he had, instead of the pair of older and younger siblings who mocked Jackson’s preference for plant life over people. 

When the time came to decide where Jackson was going after High School, it seemed natural to follow Casper to California. There he studied literature with a major in journalism and thought to put his affinity for finding both prose and the truth to good use. While Casper seemed naturally attuned to the west coast lifestyle, Jackson was not so quick to acclimate. His friend wanted stardom and a place among Hollywood’s elite... But Jackson just wanted to continue to hone his craft, and do what he could to uncover the truth. He wrote for the school paper and published a few articles before graduation, nothing groundbreaking;  a scandal among the maintenance union, a secret cult within the fraternities, and a history of preference towards students whose parents made considerable donations to the campus. The fact that lies weren’t well placed among him didn’t make Jackson popular, nor did it really give him much interest in making friends outside of Casper. It wasn’t that he flaunted his power, it was that the clairvoyant had no choice in it - he wished to be told a lie that he could believe. Instead his burden was the truth. 

Graduation meant a release into adulthood and the independence from his parents that he’d longed for, no matter tuition held over his head, or bills that they paid on his behalf. He opted to move to New York and figured if there was anywhere that an up and coming journalist and aspiring writer could make it, it was there. From here he gave Casper a place to crash whenever the would-be Hollywood hero was ever in town, and from here Jackson wrote, his own dreams somewhere on the horizon. Drawn naturally towards the occult and towards horror, the underbelly nightlife was a natural fit for Jackson. Before long he picked up a tip from an officer of a string of suspicious suicides, men and women who were perfectly happy until they suddenly went downhill. Friends and family never understood why, but they were always seeing someone. The witch snooped around clubs and bars, all the hangouts that were localized to one specific New York borough, he relied on his power to try and find the person responsible but came up with nothing. One night he told his story to a handsome stranger, the guy bought him a few rounds and had a way of making Jackson feel at ease while most people had the opposite effect. One thing led to another and they ended up back at Jackson’s flat, when he woke up the next morning the stranger was gone, and so was Jackson’s magic right along with his soul. 

It was his mother who told him what happened and filled him in on the incredibly rare but destructive power of an incubus. And it was she that also told him how to locate a cure, only a phoenix could restore a soul that had been taken by the cubi, and so using his family’s connections he tracked one down to the place that Casper had been all but begging him to go to for months: Corinth Bay. Finding the phoenix was easy, convincing him to regenerate Jackson’s soul was even easier, but what came after was never supposed to happen. Jackson’s clairvoyance returned, but his connection to the earth did not - instead it was replaced by something else. Something dark. Left to figure out what this all meant, Jackson’s family had no answers for him, but at least he had a place with Casper and the two were officially in Corinth together. 

PERSONALITY

+ diligent, patient, curious - aloof, secretive, withdrawn

PLAYED BY SHANE. EST. He/Him.

[ericsonclan]

A Traumatizing Gesture

Summary: Gabe decides to go and surprise Nurgul but when he gives her a hug from behind her reaction is not what he expects it to be.

Word Count: 1850

Read on AO3:

Gabe stared out into the world beyond New Richmond, the moans and groans of the dead slowly filling the air as they mindlessly wandered about. Sometimes it surprised Gabe how much suffering the muertos had inflicted onto the living with how oblivious they seemed when humans weren’t nearby. One muerto was busy walking forward, never getting past the point it was at due to it being stuck in a hole. Another was busy trying to get beyond a tree whose lower branch was deeply embedded in its gut, tearing through its flesh and making its rotten guts slowly spill out. Then again Gabe had seen the carnage that the muertos had caused, the horror that they’d brought as they tore the living apart as if they were nothing. Biting into their flesh and drinking their blood. So he would remain vigilant on guard duty, not only for any kind of herd or muerto threat but also for those of the human kind.

Time passed by slowly up there as Liam stood not too far away on another watch post. After a while though, Gabe's shift was done and he carefully descended the ladder back down to solid ground. Strolling forward through the main courtyard, Gabe stretched his arms and reached for the snack that he would eat in celebration of a job well done: pudding cups. Nurgul had been kind enough to sneak out a second pudding cup to Gabe from Javi’s special pudding stash. The small gesture had warmed Gabe’s heart and looking at the pudding cup again Gabe was reminded how lucky he was to have a girlfriend like Nurgul. Tossing one of the pudding cups in his hand, Gabe happily strolled forward and was about to reach for his plastic spoon when he heard a familiar voice.

“Gabe!” Jimmy scampered forward with his usual friendly smile that showed his carefree nature. “I was hoping I would find you. I have the next shift but I didn’t grab anything to eat so-” Jimmy paused when he saw that Gabe was holding the pudding. “Could you be a pal and part with your pudding?” Jimmy pressed his hands together and began to plead.

Gabe looked down at his pudding then over at his friend with a small frown. Normally he would tell Jimmy that there was no way in hell he’d part with pudding. An apple? Sure. Some random vegetable? Absolutely. But pudding was special. Still, Nurgul had snagged him a second pudding cup and he would look like a dick if he didn’t let his friend have one.

“Okay, fine,” Gabe tossed over the pudding cup which Jimmy caught with a grin.

“Thanks!” Jimmy paused for a second. “It's hard to eat pudding without a spoon. Do you have one to spare?”

Gabe groaned again and reached into his pocket beside his army knife, one of the last mementos of his dad. Rummaging around, Gabe soon found the plastic spoon and tossed it over to Jimmy.

With a happy laugh Jimmy jogged forward and whacked Gabe’s back a bit too joyfully before sprinting off. “Thanks a million, Gabe!” He gave one final wave and then was off like a shot toward the walls.

Gabe returned the wave, watching his friend for a moment, then turned to continue to wander through the town. With a tired sigh and a shake of his head Gabe took out his other pudding cup and tried a new method of eating it: squeezing the bottom of the cup to let the pudding fall out. It was a sloppy, haphazard eating experience but still a tasty one. Maybe Nurgul was right - he was too kind for his own good. Then again, based on all the time he had spent with his girlfriend he knew that the exact same was true of her.

After a few more sloppy attempts to finish his pudding cup Gabe tucked the now clean plastic cup in his blue hoodie and wiped away whatever pudding remained on his face. Soon his mind was focused on the next order of business: finding Nurgul. He had no more chores or duties for the next couple of hours so he wanted to spend those with his girlfriend if he could find her. It took him a while, asking a lot of different people including Noah and Mia who were on their way to discuss something with Javi. Eventually, though, he learned that Nurgul was on the rooftop of a building only a block away from where he currently was. Apparently she was busy planting something up there. Whatever it was, Gabe knew that he’d enjoy the simplicity of helping his girlfriend garden while catching up with her. With that thought in mind he set out to find Nurgul, his strides wider in an attempt to reach her faster.

It didn’t take long for him to slip into the building and walk up the stairs, skipping steps in order to reach the roof quicker. Soon Gabe’s hand was securely on the door to the roof and with a soft push he opened the door which made a faint creaking sound. Strolling out and scanning the area, he soon found Nurgul in the middle of planting some new flowers. A calming Kazakh lullaby left her lips as she hummed while she worked. Gabe’s heart softly fluttered as he looked at his girlfriend before he began to tiptoe over toward her. He wanted to give her a nice surprise, wrapping her up in a hug that he hoped was even half as good as her hugs were. Step by step he made his way over towards her then waited until she rose up to her feet before he tightly wrapped her in a hug from behind. “Surprise, Nuri!”

Nurgul immediately tensed up though, her breathing becoming uneven and sporadic before disappearing. With a panicked cry she squirmed to break free of the hug, tossing Gabe back and landing him harshly on the concrete. Nurgul’s body trembled as she struggled to catch her breath; it wasn’t until a couple moments had passed before she risked a glance over to see who was there. Her eyes grew large when she noticed it was her boyfriend. “Gabe!” Nurgul jogged over to check on him.  “I am so sorry,” She reached out a hand which Gabe readily accepted.

“It’s fine. Didn’t mean to scare you like that. How about we sit down for a bit?” Gabe motioned over toward the set of benches, each in front of a planter.

Nurgul gave a shaky nod and made her way over to the far left one while Gabe gently brushed the lower part of his back. That was definitely going to bruise. Spotting where Nurgul had taken a seat, Gabe joined but sat a few inches away, making sure to give her the space if need be. Both of them were silent for a few moments as Nurgul fidgeted with the hem of her grey cardigan. Gabe stayed quiet, waiting to see if Nurgul had anything to say before he started up any sort of conversation. After some time had passed Nurgul broke the silence.

“Sorry,” Her eyes remained focused on the ground.

“It’s okay, just surprising is all,” Gabe gave a reassuring smile but Nurgul didn’t seem to fully buy it.

“Did I hurt you?” Her eyes studied Gabe’s for a moment.

“Nothing that bad. It will heal in no time.” Gabe smiled once more then took a beat before continuing to speak. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” Nurgul gave a smile that felt forced then glanced back down at the ground, the toe of her shoe gently brushing against the concrete.

“I really didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought-” Gabe took a deep breath, “I just wanted to surprise you with a hug.”

Nurgul was silent for a second. “It’s okay, just brought up bad memories,” Her voice became quieter towards the end of that sentence.

Gabe waited for a moment, wanting to ask if Nurgul would like to share but ultimately deciding against it. He didn’t want to force her to share tough memories; he knew he’d hate it if someone said something that made it feel like he had to do that.

“It was winter time,”

Nurgul’s voice drew Gabe's attention.

“My mother was sick, but we thought that if we were smart she could hold on until springtime and she’d get better. But that never happened,” Nurgul hid her hands away in her cardigan sleeves. “She turned that night and when I woke I thought for a split second everything was okay, that my mother was just holding me close. That wasn’t true though. The ulginder kept holding me, tighter and tighter until it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I thought it was all over but my winter coat gave me another moment to live and so when I saw a chance I ran. Leaving her,” Nurgul paused for a moment. “Leaving it behind. That’s why I reacted the way I did earlier.” Nurgul’s right arm wrapped around herself for a moment as if she hoped that action would crush any lingering panic and anxiety within her.

Gabe looked at his girlfriend, feeling his sadness build as he let that story sink in. An inkling of guilt burrowed deeply within. Seeing the expression Nurgul held, he wished he could help her feel better.

“Nuri,” Gabe slowly reached out his hand, intertwining his pinky with Nurgul’s. The small action startled Nurgul for a moment, causing her to instinctively flinch before she allowed herself to accept it. Slowly her pinky locked with Gabe’s. “I’m so sorry that happened. Losing a parent,” Gabe felt his throat go rough at a bitter memory before he harshly swallowed and continued. “It hurts, deeper than I’d ever want anyone too feel, especially you.”

His words made Nurgul’s lips tremble as tears started to slip down her face.

“I promise, Nuri, I won’t ever do that again,” Gabe looked over at Nurgul who gave a small nod. She continued to cry softly as her grip on Gabe’s hand tightened. Gabe silently supported her, letting all of her emotions run freely now that he knew the weight that his one unintentional action had caused.

After a moment Nurgul scooted over and slowly slid her arm around Gabe’s back. Ever so carefully Gabe moved his arms around Nurgul, making sure that he wasn’t doing anything that would cause her any sort of pain. The two soon sat side by side, holding each other close and letting each other’s presence communicate what they were feeling as the silence remained.

After a few minutes Gabe felt Nurgul’s shoulders relax somewhat as her head rested on his shoulder. Looking down at Nurgul he saw that her eyes were closed as she took slow, deep breaths. Silently Gabe pressed a kiss to her head then let his head softly rest on top of hers. Soon the world around them faded and the pair let themselves enjoy the comfort that came from sitting together in peace and silence.

[exlovebackmaulanaji]

FAMILY PROBLEM SOLUTION +91–7347347995

Title: Family Problem Solution by Astrologer Muhammad Ali: Restoring Harmony and Happiness in Your Home

Family is the cornerstone of our lives, a source of support, love, and joy. However, even in the closest families, conflicts and problems can arise, leading to stress and disharmony. The complexities of relationships, different personalities, and external pressures can create tensions that, if unresolved, can escalate into serious issues. When faced with such challenges, many individuals seek guidance and support to navigate through these difficulties and restore peace within their families. One such source of guidance is Astrologer Muhammad Ali, who offers specialized family problem solutions through the ancient wisdom of astrology.

Astrology, with its roots deeply embedded in ancient traditions, has long been used as a tool to understand human behavior, relationships, and the forces that influence our lives. Astrologer Muhammad Ali, a renowned expert in this field, has helped countless individuals and families overcome their issues and find lasting solutions. In this comprehensive guide, we will explore the various aspects of family problems, the role of astrology in resolving them, and how Astrologer Muhammad Ali's expertise can help you restore harmony in your home.

Understanding Family Problems

Family problems can manifest in various forms, ranging from minor misunderstandings to major conflicts that threaten the stability of the family unit. Some common family issues include:

Marital Conflicts: Disagreements and misunderstandings between spouses can lead to frequent arguments, emotional distance, and even the threat of separation or divorce.

Parent-Child Conflicts: Generation gaps, differing expectations, and communication issues can cause rifts between parents and children, leading to a breakdown in the relationship.

Sibling Rivalry: Competition, jealousy, and lack of understanding between siblings can create tensions that affect the entire family.

Financial Problems: Financial stress is one of the leading causes of family conflicts. Disagreements over money, debts, and financial responsibilities can create significant strain on relationships.

External Influences: Interference from extended family members, friends, or third parties can exacerbate existing issues or create new ones within the family.

Health Issues: Chronic illness or health problems of a family member can create emotional and financial stress, leading to conflicts and disagreements.

Lack of Communication: Poor communication is often at the heart of many family problems. Misunderstandings, unexpressed feelings, and lack of effective communication can create barriers between family members.

These problems can lead to a toxic environment at home, affecting the mental and emotional well-being of all family members. Left unresolved, they can have long-term consequences, including broken relationships, mental health issues, and a decrease in the overall quality of life.

The Role of Astrology in Resolving Family Problems

Astrology offers a unique perspective on human relationships and behavior by analyzing the influence of celestial bodies on our lives. Each individual’s birth chart, which is a map of the positions of the planets at the time of their birth, provides insights into their personality, strengths, weaknesses, and life challenges. By understanding these astrological influences, it is possible to identify the root causes of family problems and find effective solutions.

Astrologer Muhammad Ali uses his deep knowledge of astrology to analyze the birth charts of family members and identify the astrological factors contributing to their conflicts. He examines the planetary positions, aspects, and transits that may be affecting the relationships within the family. By understanding these influences, he can offer guidance on how to mitigate negative effects and enhance positive energies to restore harmony.

How Astrologer Muhammad Ali Can Help

Astrologer Muhammad Ali has years of experience in providing family problem solutions through astrology. His approach is holistic, taking into account the individual circumstances of each family and providing customized solutions based on their unique needs. Here are some of the ways in which he can help:

1. Analyzing Birth Charts for Compatibility

One of the primary tools Astrologer Muhammad Ali uses is the analysis of birth charts to assess compatibility between family members. By examining the planetary positions in each person’s chart, he can identify potential sources of conflict and areas of compatibility. This analysis helps in understanding the dynamics of relationships within the family and finding ways to improve them.

For example, if a couple is experiencing marital conflicts, Astrologer Muhammad Ali may analyze their charts to identify any challenging aspects between their Sun, Moon, Venus, or Mars. These planets play a significant role in relationships, and their interactions can reveal a lot about the dynamics of the relationship. If there are challenging aspects, he may suggest specific remedies to neutralize the negative effects and strengthen the bond between the couple.

2. Providing Remedies for Planetary Influences

In astrology, certain planetary positions and transits can have a significant impact on our lives. For instance, the transit of Saturn, known as Sade Sati, is often associated with challenges and hardships. If a family member is going through a difficult planetary period, it may affect their behavior and relationships. Astrologer Muhammad Ali can provide remedies to reduce the negative impact of such transits.

These remedies may include:

Wearing Gemstones: Specific gemstones are associated with different planets and can help in balancing their energies. For example, wearing a blue sapphire can help reduce the negative effects of Saturn.

Performing Pujas and Rituals: Astrologer Muhammad Ali may recommend specific pujas or rituals to appease the planets and bring positive energy into the home.

Chanting Mantras: Chanting mantras associated with specific planets can help in mitigating their negative effects and attracting positive energies.

Observing Fasts: Fasting on specific days associated with certain planets can also help in reducing their negative influence.

3. Strengthening Family Bonds

Astrologer Muhammad Ali believes that strong family bonds are essential for overcoming challenges and maintaining harmony. He provides guidance on how to strengthen relationships within the family by fostering understanding, empathy, and communication. This may involve:

Astrological Counseling: Astrologer Muhammad Ali offers counseling sessions to help family members understand each other’s perspectives and work through their differences. He uses astrological insights to guide these sessions and provide practical advice.

Recommending Auspicious Days: Astrology can also be used to identify auspicious days for important family events, such as weddings, family reunions, or even resolving conflicts. Choosing the right time can enhance the chances of success and harmony.

Improving Communication: Effective communication is key to resolving conflicts. Astrologer Muhammad Ali provides tips on how to improve communication within the family, taking into account the astrological tendencies of each member.

4. Addressing External Influences

External influences, such as interference from extended family members or negative energies, can also contribute to family problems. Astrologer Muhammad Ali can provide protection from these influences through various astrological remedies. For example:

Evil Eye Protection: The evil eye, or "nazar," is believed to cause harm through envy or negative thoughts. Astrologer Muhammad Ali may recommend wearing specific talismans or performing rituals to protect the family from the evil eye.

Vastu Shastra: Vastu Shastra is the ancient Indian science of architecture, which focuses on harmonizing the energies within a living space. Astrologer Muhammad Ali may suggest Vastu remedies to improve the energy flow in your home, creating a more peaceful environment.

Removing Negative Energies: Negative energies can accumulate in a home due to various reasons, such as past conflicts or external interference. Astrologer Muhammad Ali may perform rituals or suggest remedies to cleanse the home of these negative energies and restore positive vibrations.

Real-Life Success Stories

Astrologer Muhammad Ali has helped numerous families overcome their problems and restore harmony in their lives. Here are a few real-life success stories that highlight the effectiveness of his astrological solutions:

Case 1: Saving a Marriage on the Brink of Divorce

A couple approached Astrologer Muhammad Ali when their marriage was on the verge of collapse. They were constantly arguing and had lost trust in each other. After analyzing their birth charts, Astrologer Muhammad Ali identified that the couple was going through a challenging planetary period, with both partners experiencing negative transits. He provided specific remedies, including wearing gemstones and chanting mantras, to reduce the negative effects of these transits. He also offered counseling sessions to help them improve their communication and understanding. Within a few months, the couple noticed a significant improvement in their relationship, and they were able to rebuild their trust and love for each other.

Case 2: Resolving Parent-Child Conflicts

A family was struggling with constant conflicts between the parents and their teenage son. The son felt misunderstood and distant from his parents, leading to frequent arguments. Astrologer Muhammad Ali analyzed their birth charts and found that the son was going through a period of Rahu’s influence, which was causing rebellious behavior and misunderstandings. He provided remedies, including wearing a specific gemstone and performing a puja to appease Rahu. He also offered counseling sessions to help the parents understand their son’s perspective and improve their communication. Over time, the conflicts reduced, and the family was able to rebuild a strong bond.

Case 3: Overcoming Financial Stress

A family was facing severe financial problems, which were causing stress and conflicts between the husband and wife. After analyzing their birth charts, Astrologer Muhammad Ali identified that the couple was experiencing financial difficulties due to a malefic influence of Saturn. He provided remedies, including wearing a blue sapphire and performing specific rituals to appease Saturn. He also suggested practical financial management tips to help them overcome their challenges. Within a few months, the family’s financial situation improved, and the stress and conflicts in their relationship were significantly reduced.

[sugasmainn]

10,000 Hours (Soulmate Hobi AU)

We live in a world where our soulmates are predestined for us by eye color. The moment you fall in love with your soulmate, the one eye that is a different colors changes to match the other one. For y/n, the concept was always an unfair one, so she kept her focus on advancing herself. For Hoseok, the concept was always one that he lived to fulfill, but heartache changed everything. He was focused on dancing and y/n was focused on becoming an researcher, so what happens when life takes control of their plans?

 ☼ Pairing: hoseok x female reader

 ☼ Word Count: 11.1K

 ☼ Genre: soulmate au, fluff, romance, angst

Warnings: mentions of death (slight but if you’re sensitive to that subject here’s a warning), mentions of suicide, and mental health issues.

a/n: I’ve been reading a lot of soulmate au’s and I’ve been having this idea in my head the last couple of days, but I finally got around to feeling creative enough to go for it. Hope y’all are staying safe and productive during this damn quarantine!!!

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Growing up, your mother always told you stories about finding your soulmate. While some girls were told stories before bed about princes saving the princess, your mother was telling you stories about finding your soulmate and how magical that moment would be. She talks about the moment when your father and her were matched together and fell in love. Seeing each other’s blue eye turn into brown was one of the most magical, and still the most magical, moment of her life. Realizing she was in love and that love being her soulmate was just breathtaking.

You see, everyone is born with one eye brown (natural color) and one eye blue (soulmate indication). When you fall in love with your soulmate, both of your eyes turn to brown. You remember thinking how much heartache it must cause some people who realize they’re in love with their partner and it ends up not being their soulmate. You never thought it was fair that the universe made people go through the emotions just to play a 50/50. Why couldn’t they have made a system where your eye changes color upon the first meeting?

On top of that, you still harbored feelings of resentment from your father’s departure from your lives.

Between your mother constantly talking about how wonderful it will be for you in finding your soulmate, your father leaving and how unfair the system was in general, you vowed to just keep to yourself. You valued the individualized talents people had and believed that education was the only way to enhance one’s life in the direction best for them. So, while other girls in your grade were talking about finding their soulmates and trying to talk to all the boys in the classroom, you were embedded in your reading. Books were a way for you to escape the fixation that people had on the whole concept of soulmates. It seemed like you were never able to escape the bitter cycle and conversation surrounding the idea.

One thing you made sure to keep a secret was your love for singing. Ever since you were 7 years old, you started singing some of your favorite Disney songs in the shower. Your mother always used to compliment your voice and started talking about how you should audition for different competitions or plays in the community, but you strongly disagreed with her. You never liked being the center of attention and singing for people would definitely be the opposite of trying to remain hidden. So, your voice became your outlet for emotions you kept hidden. It was something that was yours and yours alone.

By the time you reached high school, you were completely uninterested in the idea. In fact, your junior year, a nice boy in your class had taken an interest in you after working together as lab partners on an assignment. During the duration of all the time you were spending together, he began to love your personality. So, it wasn’t a surprise when he showed up to your front door and tried to ask you to be his date for the junior prom. Your mother was in the back waiting to hear you utter the word ‘yes’ only to give him a cold expression saying, “you’re a great guy, but I’m just not interested in prom or anything of the sorts. I need to focus on my studies but thank you for asking”. Needless to say, your mother was unhappy by your decision.

Hoseok’s story was quite the opposite. He was surely born with the heart of a romantic. Finding his soulmate was something he always had in mind and never failed to take the opportunity to do. He always told his parents, “I’m going to find her, and when I do, I hope you guys love her as much as I know I do already”. His parents always loved his optimism when it came to the idea of his soulmate. He always stated to everyone he talked to about his soulmate that he didn’t care what she looked like or what she did, but that he knew the universe paired them for a reason and he was going to love her for the rest of his life regardless.

Once high school came, around his sophomore year, Hoseok really believed without a doubt that he had found his soulmate, and that it was just a matter of time before the two of them realized it. One day while they were sitting under a tree at the local park, Hoseok had told his girlfriend that he was in love with her and she had replied with the same emotion. He felt it in his bones. This is the one, I just know it. Yet, neither of their eyes changed. Both remained with one blue and one brown. How can this be? he thought to himself. His girlfriend went home in utter distraught and he went home to lay in his bed, heartbroken beyond belief. It was in this moment, Hoseok couldn’t care less about the system or finding his soulmate. To go through something like that again, where you’re so sure you’ve found the one, nope. Not again, not for him. So, he vowed to remain focused on his studies and his dancing.

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You had decided to go to Yonsei University in Seoul, South Korea to begin your journey to becoming the best researcher the world has ever seen. Today was your first day of classes. Literature 101 at 10AM. Literature wasn’t your favorite subject, you were more of a science/biology kind of person, but from all the books you spent reading growing up you found an appreciation for the mechanisms of writing and making novels.

Hoseok on the other hand, he could care less during this class. He just saw it as another early class to drag himself too. Sitting three rows above you, he had his head back as the professor was going over the syllabus. He just had to make it passed this hour and a half and then he had two hours free before heading over to the dance studio.

After going over the syllabus, the professor spoke, “For your first assignment of the semester, I want you to write up a quick 3-5 page essay on your soulmates. If you’ve met them, describe the meeting experience and what it was like when you realized they were the one. If you haven’t, write about what you think of them and what you hope to happen.”

Even from rows separated, both Hoseok and yourself found yourselves rolling your eyes at the idea of having to spend more time on this subject. Both of you felt like this was all the world cared about, and quite honestly, you were sick of it. Hoseok was thinking about how he was going to write up those pages, but his thoughts were interrupted by a girl in front of him talking about the paper.

“Excuse me? Professor?” You asked in a gentle voice. The professor looked up from his papers to show that you had his attention. “Is it possible for us to have a choice in the topic? Some of us have a sensitivity to the subject, so I know for myself I would prefer an alternate choice if that was okay.”

As if he was pondering the question deeply, the professor said, “Would you like to share as to why this is an issue for you Miss…?”

“(L/N)” you responded. “And as I stated before, some of us might have a sensitivity to it. That being said, I don’t feel like I have to share my issue surrounding the topic, with all due respect sir.”

Hoseok was impressed by your confidence. It’s the first day of classes and you have to balls to go against the professor like that on something you feel so strongly about. That’s more than he can say about himself. He sat back watching the conversation going back and forth to see who was going to give in first. You were strong willed, he’d give you that, but it seems as though the professor wasn’t lightening up anytime soon.

“I’ll tell you what Miss (L/N), you can have an alternate topic of choice for this essay, but at the end of the semester, I want your paper to be about your thoughts on soulmates and specifically what you think about yours. Then, I want you to present it to the class as your final presentation.”

Feeling satisfied with the compromise, you nodded your head to indicate that this proposition was totally okay with you. Hoseok was left wanting to thank you for saving him two weeks of slaving over how to write about something that he didn’t want to dwell over, and to tell you how impressed he was by how you stood your ground.

30 minutes passed by, indicating the end of class. As you were packing up your things, you texted your roommate, Jiyun, to see if she wanted to grab something to eat for lunch. Hey Jiyun, I’m heading to the café to get some lunch before my 2 o’clock class. You want to meet me there to have lunch together?

After sending the message, you picked up your stuff and was met by a boy with great highlighted hair and a dazzling smile stopping you in the hallway. “Hey” the boy said to you, “my name is Hoseok. I just wanted to say the way you went against the professor like that was dope. I was thinking the same thing as you as far as not wanting to write about the whole soulmate thing. I think it’s overrated and I’m kind of tired hearing about it, if I’m being honest.”

You looked at him and gave him a small smile, saying, “Names Y/N. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“Do you have a class now? I was heading over to the café. Since this is our first year, I don’t know a lot of people around here and you seem really cool.” Hoseok said to you while walking side by side out of the hall your Literature was located. Just then your phone buzzed indicating that you got a text. It was from Jiyun saying, Can’t. I have to meet with one of my professors to go over how I’m going to go about exams with my ADHD. But, I’ll pick up something for dinner tonight and we can have a mini dinner and movie to celebrate the beginning of the semester. You looked back up at Hoseok as he was waiting for your answer. “Sure, that sounds nice. I can always use a friend.”

Hoseok and you spent the next nearly two hours talking about your lives, where you came from, any siblings, etc. You found out that he was from Gwangju, had one sister and both of his parents were married. He played tennis growing up, but soon after realized his love for dancing, which explained why he came to the university to major in dance therapy. He lived with two of his friends off campus and their names were Yoongi and Namjoon. Yoongi was a year ahead, while Namjoon was a freshman like you both. Apparently Yoongi and Namjoon were his best friends since grade school.

“What was life like growing up for you?” He had asked you from across the table. You always hated the topic, mainly because you kept to yourself. Your first friend was your roommate for Christ’s sake. You knew it was stupid to dwell over telling people your boring life story, but you always felt they would ultimately find you boring and not want to really be around you much after that. Reluctantly, you decided to talk about your upbringing anyways.

“There wasn’t anything major. My mom and I moved to Dageu from Michigan when I was only 6, so I really haven’t known anything else. I mainly kept to myself as a child, keeping busy with reading and my studies, so I didn’t do much as far as sports or hobbies go.” You replied back to Hoseok, receiving a look like he was waiting for you to continue. “I mean, I guess you can consider reading as a hobby. I love discussing the different plots to the different novels I read. My room back home has built up quite the collection.”

“I was going to say, your Korean is excellent and now I know why” He stated with a small giggle at the end. “You never did anything for fun outside of school and reading?” He asked you. You looked at him for a bit, and for a brief moment you thought about telling him that you sing and create music in your spare time. But, you knew he would more than likely ask to hear how you sound, so you ultimately decided to keep it a secret. “Nope. Nothing really besides the normal TV watching with my mother.”

He looked at you like he was trying to find something in you that showed something contrary to your words but was interrupted from his thoughts by the alarm on his phone going off. “Oh! I’m sorry, it’s a couple of minutes before my next class starts, and it’s all the way across campus. But, I’ll text you later or something. Maybe we can get together later to work on our essay’s together? I have no idea what alternate topic I’m going to pick.” You looked at him was a shy smile and said, “Neither do I, but yeah. I think that would be beneficial to us both. You know what they say, two brains working are better than one, right?”

He looked at you with a nice smile and took in what you said for a moment. He nodded his head and replied say, “Exactly what I was thinking. You know what Y/N? I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.” He stuck his right hand out for you to grab and shake as he was saying his last goodbyes. You had a feeling he was going to do what could to bring you out of your shell.

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It’s been a month in a half since the semester started and it was starting to get to you. Taking two biology and organic chemistry courses, the work load was over the top on your stressors list. Literature class was your favorite part of the day, considering it was a break from the hard work that came with the life of a microbiology major. Also, you had Hoseok in your class to provide some comedic relief. Your friendship with him has grown a lot since your first meeting. He and you meet every Monday after class to have lunch, and Jiyun even started to join you for them at times. The three of you got along great, and you loved your little Monday get togethers. It kept you sane from the insanity that was your college life.

Today was one of the days that Jiyun couldn’t make it, so it was just Hoseok and yourself. He was telling you about his new choreography he was working on for a show his class was participating in. He quickly gained a top spot in his class, pretty impressive for a first year, so he was one of the individuals who were in charge of creating some of the choreography for the class. You can tell how much he enjoyed each portion of his story. With each mention of what the dance consisted of and the story behind the moves. His face just beamed with excitement each time he talked about his dancing, and he loved how he had someone like you who actually listened to him about everything.

“That sounds like it’s going to make for a great scene Hobi.” You said to him with the nickname you gave him. You remember when you first gave him the name. At first, he found it odd, but began to find it endearing after a couple of time of you calling him Hobi. “Are you going to film it and put it up on your channel later?”

“I might, I mean once I work out the kinks of it and get everything cleaned up. I like the concept of this choreo. Mental health in general isn’t talked about enough, but for men specifically, I want to kind of push that boundary” He said with his beaming smile.

You loved to see him smile. It always made you feel good inside. When you mentioned it to Jiyun, she would always said to you that usually means feelings are starting to emerge, but you loved it when all of your friends are happy and smiling. Whenever Jiyun for example is upset, you always try to find a way to help her forget about what’s bothering her, or even try to help her move passed the issue altogether. So, this was no different to you. Just because it’s Hobi and he’s a guy doesn’t mean it has to be something romantic, it’s obviously something platonic. Yet, something very small in you thought about making him smile more than you normally would think.

Hobi was feeling the same way. When he saw you smile it made him smile, but he always summed it up to the same thing as you did. He hated when people in general were upset. It always did something to his soul when he saw someone in passing with a look or a broken feeling to them of just helplessness. It made him feel as though their suffering was slowly killing them, so he always tried to be a ray of light to everyone he came in contact with. I guess that’s why his mom used to call him her little ‘sunshine’. Yet, he couldn’t help but love the way the side of your lips would crinkle in a smirk before forming a full-on smile. He swore he would do anything in his power to make sure you would never lose your smile.

You were speaking to him, but he was starting to get lost in the features of your face more and more. Her eyes sparkle more than I’ve ever seen in a person before. You started to wave your hand in his face to gain his attention, which caused him to get disrupted from his thoughts. “Huh? I’m sorry Y/N. I kind of got lost in my thoughts for a moment.”

You gave a small smile and replied, “I asked if you wanted to get together this weekend and study a bit for our exam next week. I think two minds are better than one, but also judging by the fact you fell asleep for the past two weeks straight, I’m assuming you’ll need my notes.”

He gave a laugh before responding to you saying, “Hey! Dancing takes a lot out of me. Also, I might have stayed up all night for the last week watching the entire series of the Golden Girls” he finished, making you bust out in a fit of laughter. He didn’t even bother to call you out for making fun of his choice in entertainment, but instead chose to enjoy this moment being one of the moments that he just enjoyed you smiling and your time with him. Don’t over think it Hoseok. You’ll think too much on it and eventually convince yourself you like her and that she’s the one. She’s a friend and to remain as nothing more. “Sure. Let’s get together Saturday at 5?”

“Sounds great!” You said, then leaving to get to your next class.

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Sitting at home, Hoseok began doing part of his assignment for class this week. They were studying the history of soulmates and the poetry written between the first two people who discovered the bond. Both had already been betrothed to other people, but their bond was too strong to ignore. So, they began writing letters back and forth to each other. Must be nice to have that without disappointment. He thought to himself. He always hated having assignments like this. Ever since feeling that heartbreak, he never understood the purpose of soulmates in the first place. If you felt the connection to someone, then that’s it. Doesn’t necessarily have to be with the person they’re paired with by the universe. He began reading another excerpt from the book:

My love, You give me something worth fighting for, something to wake up for each morning, something to dream about when I lay my head down at nightfall to rest, and something to live for. Every moment of my day is spent thinking of ways to make you happy and make you feel protected and loved. When I look into your eyes, I see my future, and in my future, I see all I need to survive. Without your love, the piece of me that has always felt missing would remain missing. You are the piece that makes me whole. When I saw your eye turn brown, I knew there was something to this. I prayed to the God above and asked Him to show me what it was that this meant, and I know now that our souls were meant for each other. Yours designed to fit mine and mine for you. You are the song I sing and the revelation I was waiting for. I know we both are promised to another, but I promise you that we will find a way, and when we do is when we will make our greatest escape yet. This time, never coming back.

I love you and I will dream of you tonight and every night until the day I die, Your Soulmate

There was that damn word again. Soulmate. How he dreaded that word. He felt all that with his previous girlfriend and nothing happened to their eyes. Reading that one passage put him over the edge and made him throw everything off of his table. He hadn’t realized he was showing his anger and frustration until Namjoon came into his room with a concerned expression on his face. “Dude, are you okay? I could hear you slamming stuff all the way down the hall” He stated.

Looking around his room with a clearer state of mind, he saw he had in fact nearly destroyed his room completely in his fit of rage. “Yeah” Hoseok breathed out. “I’m fine. I was just stressed out from some of these assignments I have due next week that all Joon.”

“Yeah, I’m not buying that. You’ve gotten this mad twice in your life. Once when your mom sold your favorite toy bear at a garage sale in the fourth grade and the other being when you and Minseo broke up because of…” Namjoon trailed off not wanting to finish his statement, knowing it was a painful memory for his friend.

Though, Hoseok wasn’t having it today. He was tired of feeling like he had to be dealt with delicately when the subject came up. “You mean when we didn’t match with the soulmate bond? You can say it you know.”

Namjoon sighed entering his room and sitting on his bed. “I didn’t want to make whatever was going on with you worse” He said confessing. He tapped the side next to him on the bed signaling for Hoseok to join him. “Now, I’ve been your best friend before we were able to understand what a boner was. Tell me what’s actually going on.”

“I mean, I technically didn’t lie. My assignment has been causing me some stress” Hoseok said in reply. He took a moment to gather his thoughts on what to tell his friend without seeming like a complete dramatic bitch. “We’re reading an excerpt on letters sent between the first two soulmates in history, and as I was reading one of them I started to think about Minseo and how we basically felt the same way, yet we were left destroyed after that. How can something that was made to bring us to the person who would complete us also bring me the biggest pain I’ve ever felt?”

Namjoon took a moment to assess his friend’s behavior and emotional state. He realized that maybe it wasn’t so much that this reading assignment was bringing him reminders of the pain he experienced, but realization that perhaps what he thought was a soulmate bond that didn’t happen, wasn’t something that strong at all. “You said that it was basically the same, but not so much that it was the same. Do you think that it’s possible that your bond with Minseo was never as strong as you both believed? You’ve always been a romantic, and this was something that was close to the feeling of a soulmate, so it’s understandable that you would feel like she was your soulmate.”

Hoseok sat with the thought for a moment and tried to take in what Namjoon said to him. Did he not feel the strong soulmate bond with Minseo? Of course, I did. He just doesn’t understand what I meant by my statement. He shook off the idea and replied, “Of course, I did. It’s just a painful memory and reminder is all. I’ll be fine Joon, but thanks for checking in on me. I should clean this up and get to bed” He said getting up from where he was sitting on his bed to move over to the fallen books next to his desk. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Giving up and sighing in defeat, Namjoon got up and started walking out of his room, looking back to give him one more piece of advice before leaving it completely. “Just think about what I said okay? Don’t just write it off. Either way, just know it’s okay to feel things and understand they needed happen for what ever reason. It’s only when we accept the fact and move on that we learn what that reason was for.”

Hoseok nodded in response with a smile signaling a goodnight. Had this happen for a reason? He chose not to dwell on the thought, knowing it would just make him more agitated. If what Namjoon was saying was true, he hoped he would come to find out the reason for his pain soon enough.

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“I’m telling you, my mother is just as crazy as Sarang in this novel! She is so obsessed with The Jackson 5 and Michael Jackson she followed them around for a whole year while they were on tour” you said while laughing with Hoseok on his couch. Your literature class was reading a novel about a girl who was so obsessed with a band that she went as far as killing the member she was in love with.

“You think your mother would go as far as she did in the book?” Hoseok asked you jokingly, to which you replied with a smirk before saying, “I don’t know. She is a die hard romantic. Dying at the hands of your lover? How else can one hope to die but by the hands of their lover and that being the last sight they see?”

This threw him off so much he went from his laughing expression to one the portrayed pure fear in the tone of voice you chose to say that statement in. Mixed with the expression that you gave as you said it? “You’re deadass right now?” He asked in fear of what your answer was going to be. “No, dumbass, I came from a semi-crazy gene pool not a full blow psychopath” you stated before laughing even harder than before.

For the rest of your evening, you both sat there discussing the major points of the book, but all the while joking with each other entirely too much for two people who were meant to be studying and analyzing literature. You both weren’t getting as much done as you would have if you were doing it separately, and this was the first time you didn’t care about not going the extra mile. You were genuinely enjoying the company of your friend next to you, more so than you have ever enjoyed anyone else’s company before. You weren’t aware of it, but he was thinking almost the exact same thing.

In the middle of your laughter with one another, you were both interrupted to the sound of the front door to his apartment opening and shutting. When you both looked up, your eyes met with those of two unfamiliar men in the entrance. “Who’s this?” the taller one asked Hoseok referring to you. “This is Y/N, my friend from my literature class I was telling you guys about” he responded back. “Y/N, these are my roommates and best friends, Namjoon and Yoongi.”

You looked at both the men in front of you, giving them a politely shy smile, you stood up bowing before them introducing yourself. “Hey, I’m Y/N. Hobi’s mentioned you guys a lot, I’m glad to finally be meeting you both.” Both of them gave you a confused look before Yoongi looked at you with a small smile saying, “Hobi?” You grew slightly embarrassed remembering that it was a nickname you had given him and not something people would regularly call him.

Hoseok took your lack of response as a sign to interject. “Yeah, it’s a nickname that she gave me a few weeks after we met. Guess it just kind of stuck.” Both the boys gave each other a look as if they were communicating telepathically to one another. Once they broke their eye contact with one another, it was Namjoon this time speaking saying, “Well, we are going to go and let you guys get back to studying for your class. It was nice meeting you Y/N. We look forward to seeing you later, so feel free to come by whenever you’d like” he finished with a smile, and after he was finished he gave Hoseok a pat on his shoulder, and with Yoongi bowing, they both left to further into the apartment.

“Sorry about them. They like to joke around a lot” he began apologizing to you. What you both didn’t know was how both of his roommates were on the other side of the wall next to the living room, Namjoon’s room, listening to what was going on between the two of you. “Don’t worry about it Hobi. I’m a lot tougher than I may look. Plus, I’m sure they’re just as great as you’ve been telling me. There’s got to be a reason you guys have been friends for so many years” you replied trying to reassure him.

He took a moment to take in what you were saying, and glad the brief but awkward encounter didn’t scare you off. “Yeah, I guess they just aren’t used to seeing me around a girl again.” You thought about his words for a minute trying to think what he meant by that. Is he afraid of girls normally? “What do you mean by ‘again’?” you asked him in curiosity.

He didn’t realize what he said until you asked your question. Shit, he thought to himself, do I tell her? No. You don’t have too, and she doesn’t need to know…but she is a good friend of yours now. You can trust her, right? He took a moment to collect his thoughts before beginning to tell you the biggest event to happen to him. “Well, it’s kind of a story. It’s a bit long…” he said beginning to trail off.

“Oh no Hobi, if you don’t feel comfortable telling me about it then don’t feel you need to please. I don’t want it to seem like I’m prying” you said trying to reassure him. He looked you in the eyes and gave you a small forced smile before saying, “No, it’s okay. I want to tell you. I mean, you’re a close friend of mine now, so I feel it’s okay to trust you with this.”

He breathed in once quickly before beginning his story. “When I was 15 I fell in love with my girlfriend at the time Minseo. We fell head over heels fast, and before I knew it we were spending all day and everyday together. She was the other half that completed me. I was so sure she was the one and I was going to marry her after college. The day we both realized we were in love with one another, we went to go tell each other formally. We just knew, yet our eyes remained the same. Nothing changed, and in that moment, it killed me. She started to cry, and I was just in shock. I wanted to fix everything, I wanted to fix her pain way above dealing and fixing with my own. Seeing her in pain was crushing me more than finding out she wasn’t my designed soulmate. I couldn’t offer her my shoulder to cry on, because we both believed in soulmates. Well, she still does. I on the other hand, I couldn’t care less about the system any longer.”

You were in shock as you saw the pain on your friend’s face revealing itself as the reminder of the painful memory. You now understood what he meant when he said wanting to fix something you can’t. It was killing you that he was in this much pain, but the damage was done to his soul and there was nothing more you could offer him than an ear to listen too. You never experienced a loss of love like that before, but you tried to offer the only help you knew of a loss of love.

“Hobi, I’m so sorry that happened to you. I can’t even imagine the pain of losing a love like that. I’ve never really let myself indulge in something like that. But, I can kind of understand having your heart broken” you took a breath before continuing, “…my dad passed away when I was a little girl. He left a note to us saying that he felt like a failure of a man, but that was his depression talking to him. My mom found him in the basement hung from the ceiling with the note in his hand while she was going down to do laundry. At his funeral, she said ‘Sweetheart, was there anything I could have done to make your heart beat better, something I could have said to make it all stop hurting? It kills me that your mind made you feel so worthless.’ Seeing the pain in her face, the pain I felt, all of it was too much to handle.”

Hoseok didn’t know what to say. All he could think about was taking away your pain. He wished he was there with you when you were a young girl during that time. He couldn’t imagine the pain you were feeling, and something about thinking about you in pain and hurting was killing him a bit inside. Even Namjoon and Yoongi were on the verge of tears from behind the wall hearing that story. “Y/N, I had no idea you had that happen. Is, that why you hate soulmates?” You took a moment before responding, looking at him in the eyes with a smile forced, “I don’t hate soulmates Hobi. I just don’t want to invest my time into something that’s overly hyped and something that wasn’t designed with my likes and dislikes in mind. But, I’m not going to lie, my dad’s suicide makes me even more resistant to it. I don’t want to fall in love with my soulmate so much that if they leave like he did that I’ll end up like my mother. Depressed and holding on the hope that my child will live the life I was supposed to live, only with their soulmate.”

You both sat there in silence for a while, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. Both of you just sat there in a silence of comfort. You both recognized there was a big hole in both of your hearts, and the thought alone made both of you feel something inside you haven’t experienced before. It was new to the both of you. Hoseok was the first to break the silence, feeling the urge to do something to comfort you and bring you some peace, “I’m promising you right here and right now Y/N L/N, I, Jung Hoseok, will always be here for you and make sure you know that you have someone on your side cheering for you, supporting you, comforting you and just being somebody to you. I’m never going to leave you by my own will, ever.”

You found a new kind of comfort in his words that you haven’t felt before. You felt, safe? You were so grateful for this friendship with him, you were so filled, you couldn’t help but leap into his arms and give him the biggest hug in gratitude. He accepted it right away giving you a small kiss to the top of your head in comfort. He was breaking down the walls you had built slowly, and you were doing the same to him.

Suddenly you both felt more bodies on top of you both and looking up you saw a teary eyed Namjoon and Yoongi hugging you both as well. Hoseok was the first to speak saying, “How long have you both been within earshot of our conversation?”

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Hoseok and you have become nearly bound to the hip for the next couple of weeks. You enjoyed his company so much, and your roommate was beginning to notice as well with the lack of time you spent in the dorm studying nowadays. “You’ve seemed to be spending an awful amount of time with Hoseok lately. Does someone have a crush on her friend?” Jiyun would say to you trying to gain a reaction, but you would simply denounce her suspicions by telling her about how he’s just become a close friend that you enjoy spending your free time with.

“I hate to break it to you, but I’m sure that’s how people describe the actions of someone who’s developed feelings for someone else” she stated. Did she have a point? you thought to yourself. You quickly shook the thought out of your mind before it could manifest any longer. “He’s just a friend and nothing more Jiyun. Now, if you want me to continue to help you practice your English for your class, I suggest you drop the subject before you end up having to order Rosette Stone just to pass the class.”

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It was a Saturday night, and just like previous weekend nights, you were spending it out with Hoseok. Tonight, you both were sitting on a bench at a park near the campus eating some Wendy’s and talking about nonsense like any other day. Small moments like this were something you always looked forward to after a long day filled with classes, homework and preparing for your final exams. Unfortunately, one thing loomed over your mind in recent days.

Hoseok seemed to take notice in your shift in mood, because he looked at you such concern asking, “Y/N, what’s wrong?” You looked him in the eyes and let out a sigh. “It’s just, the semesters almost over and I have to write up that report on soulmates that our literature professor told me to do as our final. I hate that I have to discuss about what I think about soulmates and having to explain what I expect from mine, because quite frankly, he’s probably better off without me.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Better without you? He wasn’t your soulmate and he knew that not having you in his life would kill him. He knew that there would continue to be a hole, a missing piece in his life that you were filling to make his life complete. Who else would he spend his nights and weekends with? “How could you say that? You’re amazing. By you coming into my life, it had been one of the best things I can think back on in my life to happen to me. You bring me so much joy and I wouldn’t have it any other way. The guy you end up spending your life with is going to see it too. Don’t make yourself believe the lies your mind is making you believe.”

You looked up to him and smiled with how convincing his voiced sounded as he was telling you how he felt towards your friendship. “You really mean that Hobi?” He took your right hand into his left and looked you straight in the eyes saying, “I’ve never meant something with such sincerity in my life. You mean more than you could ever know to me, and I thank whatever higher power above that we crossed paths every day.”

“I feel the same about you too. Thank you for helping me feel a bit better about this whole thing.” You had then given him a tight hug that seemed to melt away all your worries about your finals and the ending of the semester stress. When releasing from each other grips, you couldn’t help but stare at each other for a bit in a comforting silence. That’s when something neither of you saw coming happened.

His blue eye turned brown. You thought to yourself, and in that same moment he said to himself, her blue eye turned brown. Both of you too shocked to move from where you were previously, still locking eyes with each other, mouths open, you both sat there trying to find words to say to one another, but nothing was able to project from either of your mouths. It wasn’t until the panic began to swell within you that you were the first one to break the silence of everything.

“I can’t do this. I need to go.” You got up from where you were sitting and began walking in the direction leading back to your campus, so you could get into your dorm room and sleep, hoping that this was all a dream and you’d wake up to a different scenario. Hoseok was quick to jump to his feet to chase after you. “Y/N! Wait! Don’t go, please we should talk abo-“

“There’s nothing to discuss.” You didn’t even look back while speaking to face him, you just continued on the path home while he was trailing behind you. “Nothing to discuss? Y/N our eyes changed. We’re soulmates.” You couldn’t take it. Everything was happening all at once and you couldn’t bring yourself to think rationally about everything, because you just wanted it to all go away. “I’m well aware of that Hobi, but I’m not discussing this. We both know how we feel about this whole soulmate’s thing. Just because we found out we are doesn’t mean it’s changed.”

He could almost hear his heart break slightly from his chest at your words. He knows what he said and felt about all of this originally, but now finding out it was you, everything seemed to be perfect. Everything just began to make sense. “Please Y/N, let’s just take a minute so we can discuss this rationally. I understand you’re overwhelmed, but we can get through it. We can take things slow. I know you’ve felt what I’ve been feeling towards one another, but we let our own hurt push it aside as if it wasn’t there when it was meant to be all along.”

At this point, you had enough and what you said next you were going to regret it the moment it escaped your lips. “No. I’m not going further with this. You aren’t bound to me and I’m not going to be bound to you because some higher power just said, ‘fuck it’ and paired us together. They don’t know me, and they don’t know you. I don’t need you as my soulmate. You’re going to find someone else.” You didn’t look back because you can already hear the hurt in his voice as he said, “and what if I don’t want someone else? What if I just want you?”

“Well, I don’t.” With that, you left him standing there hurt, broken and confused on what to do next.

You continued to walk with tears in your eyes from the flooding of emotions overtaking you. By the time you reached your dorm, you were in a full-blown meltdown that made Jiyun snap her neck around to look at you, panic and concern flooding her expression as she rushed over to you. “Y/N, what the hell happened to you?” You couldn’t even speak, so you looked her in the eyes to let your new appearance speak for itself. She stared at you for what seemed like an eternity waiting for your response, but she eventually saw what you have been waiting for her to notice, and with a gasp she asked simply, “Who?”

“Hobi” you were barely able to choke out before bursting out in tears again. Her confusion led to her believing that he had said or done something to you because of this, when it was you that had said something to him. When you explained what happened and why you had said and done what you did, empathy resonated within her as she continued to comfort you. “I understand what you’re saying, but the soulmate bond isn’t something that was done so carelessly. Your soul was designed to fit the person you’ve been paired with. To ignore that is to live incomplete. Just, think on that.” She patted your back before going to grab your pajamas and some makeup wipes. “For now, you need to rest. Get some sleep and we’ll deal with it in the morning to see what it brings then.”

At his apartment, Hoseok was beside himself. Walking in, Yoongi and Namjoon automatically noticed a difference in how he carried himself. The contagious ray of sunshine that he always held was now replaced with something more seldom. “What the fuck happened to you?” Yoongi was the first to ask. All he did was look up, and they saw what had happened. “She turned out to be your soulmate huh?” Hoseok looked at them confused. “How did you know?”

“It’s not that hard to figure out” Namjoon began. “You’ve been spending almost all of your free time with her, you talk about her non-stop, so much so Yoongi was beginning to say her name in his sleep, you’ve opened up to her about things you normally keep private, and she’s the first girl you’ve allowed yourself to entertain since Minseo. We both knew it was only a matter of time before something happened.” He couldn’t believe he had been so oblivious to what was happening around him. The signs were all there, yet he was too wrapped up in the joy that came with you to even notice the inevitable.

“If she’s your soulmate, why do you look so down and out about it? I honestly thought you’d be running home to tell us every detail that happened” Yoongi interjected. He really didn’t want to relive the painful words that were spoken to him from you. “To spare myself the painful reminder, she basically said she didn’t want me. That was that.”

Both of his friends looked at each other and just shook their heads in disapproval. “What?” Yoongi was the first to get up, and for the first time in all their years of friendship offer the wisest advice he ever received. “Ever since we were kids, you talked about meeting your soulmate. After Minseo, we both saw something that died inside of you that dimmed your light slightly. You tried to hide it as best as you could, but we’re your best friends. We know you were incomplete. When Y/N came into your life, we saw something in you slowly, to put it simply, begin again. What I’m trying to say through this speech is, I know she said she doesn’t want you, but that doesn’t mean to stop trying. Your soul needs her, and I’m willing to bet that hers is feeling the same way, whether her words show it or not.”

He didn’t say anything the rest of the night. He thanked them both for listening and for the advice before excusing himself to go to his room to end his day. His mind was going at a hundred miles per minute, and if he was being honest, he just wanted the day to end.

It seems as though Hoseok was taking Yoongi’s advice. He would call and text you non-stop for the next two weeks. Even though you were ignoring them, he didn’t give up. He even continued to sit next to you and wait for you after class each time. Though he was feeling discouraged by how you were ignoring him, he knew he couldn’t give up on you. He couldn’t give up on your life together, the one you were supposed to build together.

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You sat at your desk trying to type up your final paper for your literature class, finding it harder than ever before to write about what you think about soulmates and you specifically. Before, it was just your hypothetical soulmate, and now you have a face to the person. The worst part? You know you’re in love with him too, but you can’t let yourself open up to more pain and go against all you promised yourself. Just then, you heard your phone buzz with a call from your mom.

“Hello, my sweet daughter” you mother said through the phone upon you answering. “Hi mom.” She could tell there was a difference in your voice from the last time she talked to you. Something was weighing on you, but she wasn’t sure what it was. “Honey, what’s going on? Why do you sound so weighed down?” You weren’t sure if you should tell your mother the reason behind your attitude lately. You knew that as soon as she found out that you had met your soulmate she was going to go overboard about it and pressure you into going along with it, even if you told her otherwise.

Yet, you’ve been keeping all of this to yourself in fear that you would burden Jiyun. You didn’t have any other friends, so you kept everything inside. It would be nice to finally just let everything go all at once now that you’re less emotional from the initial shock. Against your better judgment, you decided to tell your mom. “I found my soulmate.”

Just as you had predicated, your mom was on the other line happy as ever asking you all kinds of questions ranging from who he was, what’s he like, what does he look like, where did we meet, what does he study, what does he do. You almost expected her to ask if you knew his social security number. “Mom calm down. I told him no.” She didn’t say anything at first and then just asked simply, “What do you mean you told him no? You told him you didn’t want to be with him? Sweetheart, why would you do that?”

Here it is, you thought to yourself. This is where I tell her how I feel about everything. You began to explain to your mother how you thought the concept was unfair to have the ability to be with who you wanted and who you chose to be with, not someone who was picked for you before you were even born. How your dad killing himself and leaving your mom like he did made you feel like soulmates all together were pointless. You wanted nothing to do with them.

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. Your mother didn’t respond right away, and quite frankly you weren’t sure what to expect from her now. She normally would give you a lecture on why you weren’t thinking straight and that this way is the better way, but instead you both sat in silence. Finally, she spoke up. “I understand.”

You were shocked to say the least. “You understand?”

“I do.” Your mother responded. “You’re scared. The fear from everything you’ve endured and thought about manifested itself into just bringing you to what you find to be a logical conclusion that you don’t need your soulmate. And you don’t honey. You don’t NEED them. But, it does enhance your life in more ways than one. Yes, your father did kill himself leaving me heartbroken. He was my soulmate, and I was left feeling incomplete again. Which I’m sure is something you’re now understanding is what happens when you’re not with your soulmate. Even though I don’t have your father physically by my side, it wasn’t my fault or his. He was sick. His depression got the best of him and he was consumed by all of the voices tell him he was worthless. He was beaten down and he felt he couldn’t be saved.”

You heard your mother take in a deep and sharp breath before continuing. “But, I wouldn’t trade the memories I have with him for the world. From the moments we spent going out for ice cream, sitting in the car singing along to old Disney songs, having deep talks about our dreams and worries, the way he would do that quirky face when he was in deep thought, or the greatest memory he could have given me. A life filled with love. While he was here, I loved him more than anything, and he made sure I knew he felt the same way for me. He gave me the gift of you, my greatest joy and gift. So even if he isn’t here physically, I still have his love in my heart. I get to see him all the time still when I see you thinking deeply or the way you sing to your songs. You have your fathers voice. He is living through you. In fact, he left you a note for when you get married. I was under strict instruction to not let you read it until the day of your wedding, but I read it, and honey you were your father’s pride and joy. He wanted you to believe in the wonders and love of life.”

At this point you were a full mess. You couldn’t even believe the words you were hearing. You spent so much time mad at everything and everyone for your father leaving, you never took the time to sit back and think about all of the good memories he left for you and your mother. Maybe you were wrong in not even giving Hoseok the chance to sit down with you to discuss everything. You had to make it up to him somehow, but you didn’t know how. All of this was so new and foreign to you, expressing you want him wasn’t something that was going to come naturally to you. “Mom, I think there’s something I need to do.” You couldn’t see it, but she was smiling on the other side of the phone knowing she was experiencing the strong girl she raised now showing herself.

Once you said your goodbyes, you saw you had another missed call and text of Hoseok.

He…just said he loves me? You thought to yourself. That’s when you knew, you had the perfect idea on how you were going to tell Hoseok that you were willing to try too. You wanted him to know everything, and you were more than ready to put your heart on your sleeve for everyone to see. Especially for your Hoseok to see.

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“Ms. L/N, are you ready to present your final paper?” Your professor asked. If you were being honest, no you weren’t ready. You looked to your right where Hoseok sat stealing a glance just long enough to give you a small encouraging smile. Letting you know that you’ve got this. “Yes sir, I’m ready.” You replied. “Then the floor is yours.” He said taking a seat with the students in the front getting ready to hear what you had written.

It’s now or never. You stood up in the front of the class scanning your audience. A couple of people were on their phones, others looking around the room, and others doodling in their notebooks, but the one person who mattered the most in this moment was staring at you giving you his full attention. That’s when you began your presentation.

“Growing up, I always found the whole ideology of soulmates to be one that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of life. We have free will and with that we should have the ability to pick who we want to be with, without it being something that is picked for us that we are brainwashed into believing was our choice all along. I mean, we’re assigned a soulmate before we’re born, so how can the higher power that designs this know who I am as a person well enough to know who I need as a life partner?” You took a breath knowing the next part was going to be hard to get through without choking up at least. The memories of your father still fresh in your mind from the day you talked with your mother a few days ago. “Adding on, my father, my mother’s soulmate, killed himself. Only for my mother to find him with his suicide note to us in one pocket and another for me on my wedding day in the other. Seeing her pain, hearing her cries, all I remember thinking is ‘how can a bond as strong as that of this soulmate bond make him still have the audacity to take his own life’, and it became apparent to me that soulmates are just something constructed to give us a fantasy of something so great and wonderful that’s too good to be true ultimately.

Yet, my ideology was shaken this semester when I met someone incrediblely special to me. Jung Hoseok came into my life and challenged everything I had previously believed in about soulmates, just from him being himself.” You looked up for a brief moment to lock eyes with Hoseok now with a confused expression on his face. Everyone in the room was now full on listening to what you had to say. “If you guys didn’t notice, I have two brown eyes as of three weeks ago. That’s because my soulmate, Jung Hoseok and I realized we are in love with each other. We were chosen to fit and complete one another’s soul. Yet, because of my stubborn nature and my belief on soulmates in general, I wasn’t having it. I pushed him away because I was scared. I didn’t want to have a life like my mother. I didn’t want to deal with more pain. But, by rejecting him as my soulmate, I was causing myself the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life.”

Now, you looked up to Hoseok, who was trying to hold in his tears, to lock eyes as you said your closing statement. “Jung Hoseok, you came into my life with a common feeling on soulmates as me, and yet to our humor, we were paired together as soulmates. You are my best friend and everything I could ever ask God for in a life partner. If you’ll still have me, I’ll spend 10,000 hours and more in learning that sweet heart you’ve got. Even if I might not ever get there, I’m going to try because I love you.”

When you finished, you had all the girls, two boys and even your professor in tears. After five minutes of praising your work with clapping and tears, everyone turned their focus to Hoseok to see what he was going to do. He never broke eye contact with you as he got up from his seat to meet you where you were in the front of the classroom. “It took you long enough” he said through his tears running down his cheek.

You ran your thumb over his tears, now having your own filling your eyes. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize I can’t live without you.” Without warning, he leaned down to meet your lips where they were. The kiss was nothing to what you could imagine. You were filled with so many emotions, but all of them were feelings you never experienced before, but you knew you never wanted to stop feeling it.

After he pulled away, he looked at you and said, “So, since you’re basically my wife now, how about we go out for a proper date. My treat.” Laughing at his corny attempts, you agreed saying, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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7 years later:

Fixing the veil laying on your head, carefully placed, you were doing anything you could to not focus on the growing anxiety in your stomach. Today was the day you were going to seal forever with your Hoseok. The love of your life, your soulmate. You couldn’t believe it’s been seven years since you found him, the person who completed the hole in your soul. These passed few years have been the best years of your life. Hoseok and yourself moved into an apartment in Seoul so he could open up his dance studio, while you went to go on to work in a laboratory to analyze abnormalities in the blood. Yoongi and Namjoon went on to open a record label together and live together not far from your apartment. Jiyun moved to America to study for her graduate degree, but you still constantly talk on the phone. You couldn’t believe the turn of events your life had gone through, but you wouldn’t change it for anything.

Snapping you out of your thoughts was the sound of your mother coming into the room. “Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful” she said, wiping away some tears. “Your father would be so proud of the woman you’ve become. I know I am.”

“Thank you, mom. I just wish he was here right now for this.” That’s when your mother pulled out a piece of paper from her clutch.

“Well, he is. Remember I said I was under strict instruction to give you this on your wedding day? Here it is.” Your mother handed you the letter, then leaving you alone to spend some time with your father before you were to be led by your mother to your husband-to-be, Hoseok.

My dearest Y/N,

I know you probably aren’t the happiest with me for leaving in the way I did, but it was never your mother’s fault or yours. I’ve always wanted you to have the best life possible, and that meant without me for a multitude of reasons, but a major one being the life insurance policy. I just lost my job, and I know I couldn’t afford to keep you both alive and provide for your needs, so this was my last way of doing what I needed to do as a husband and father. Just writing this, I feel such an enormous amount of love for you, but I need to do this. From the day you were born, I knew my entire life was going to change. When they put you in my arms, the first thing you did was grip onto my finger, and I knew from that moment on I was going to do anything and everything in my power to protect you and give you everything you could need or want. My little girl. I know you’re going to do amazing things, you’ve always been a smart little girl. I’ve adored watching you grow up, and I hope God grants me the chance to continue to see you grow up even though I can’t physically be there to see it. You are my world baby girl, please always remember that and make it known to yourself. I want you to grow up to find the love of your life, which is why I told your mother to not give you this note until the day of your wedding. I know you must look even more stunning than I could imagine. I wish I could be there right now while you’re getting ready to calm your nerves down as I prepare myself to give my little girl to the man I’m going to have to trust to take care of you for the rest of your life. Your soulmate is out there, Y/N. I know he is, and I know he’s going to love you more than words could even express. I know this because that’s how I feel towards your mother. I lose my breath every time I even glance at her. She is the part that makes me whole, but she deserves better. Please remember to let him in Y/N. You’ve always been reserved, so don’t ever close up yourself to your husband. He’s the love of your life and he’s only going to want to take care of you. You need to let him in to do that. Lastly, just remember to continue learning about each other. His heart must be sweet, so spend 10,000 hours, more than that, even the rest of your life doing it. Even if you never get there, you still have to try. Love him forever. You both deserve it.

I love you my darling daughter, and I am here with you right now walking you down to him and celebrating you. -Dad

“He is special dad. I love him so much, and I’ll love him for 10,000 hours, 10,000 more or the rest of my life doing it.”

[dearmrsawyer]

it’s just not often something is in your life for FIFTEEN years you know??? not many things live beside you for that long. that was half my life!!!! that was HALF my LIFE!!!!! i was barely even a person back then????? all the parts of me that exist now didn’t even exist yet! and god so many of those parts were shaped by Supernatural, like, i’m sure that without it i would’ve found my way to becoming this person through different avenues, i’m sure my life would’ve course corrected to create this me one way or another, but in this reality Supernatural did bring me here! to this me!!

i’ve been thinking about how so much of my self and my journey is inextricably bound to it, it’s just ALWAYS been here with me?? so many of my longest, deepest friendships were all built on a shared love of this show, in highschool, on livejournal, university, tumblr, like ALL of them, it brought me communities over and over everywhere i needed one. it was my first transformative fandom experience! what would i have submitted for my portfolio when applying for my creative writing undergrad if not thinly veiled Supernatural fic? 

i just feel like i’ve done all my important growing with Supernatural. i have all these memories attached to very particular times in my life, and Supernatural was there! i remember watching the first few episodes of season 1 in 4 10-minute parts on youtube on my first ever computer in my childhood bedroom, i remember watching the season 8 finale in my grandparents’ spare room when we lived there after my parents separation, i remember my first online friend coming to visit me from NORWAY in 2012 and watching getting to watch new episodes together after we’d shared our love for it from afar for years! i remember watching an episode on my tiny little ipod nano with my highschool friend as we drove to Sydney in his first car for a convention in 2009, i remember watching an episode AT the convention with five hundred people and the pure joy of us all watching the thing we loved most together, i remember i remember i remember all these memories from all these stages of my life, 15 years of stages, and really soon their story will be complete and mine will keep going?????

what an absolute joy to have shared my life with this story. god like what an amazing thing to care about a story so long, and for it to only ever make you happy for that entire time. they have given me so many stories, and i have so deeply LOVED these stories!!!!!!!!! what a blessing to have had Sam this character that i have cared about more than any character, and to have been able to spend FIFTEEN YEARS with him!!!! to have had 15 years with two brothers and watched them build found family after found family, and to have genuinely felt part of it. what a privilege to have had this story built on the idea that choice always matters, to always keep fighting, and to have had those ideas weave into my life without even realising, until they were already deeply embedded in me. i don’t remember what’s its like to have a story without theirs, but how incredibly lucky am i to have had it with me all this time! what an unbelievable GIFT to have had this constant with me through fifteen years of change and growth and life. i am so... i’m just so sad to say goodbye and so grateful that i’ve had it

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #338

“i can’t decide if you’re wearing me out, or wearing me well”

Are you a fan of techno? I've gotten more into it lately, actually. I've never minded it. Who’s your favorite horror movie villain/monster? Pyramid Head, though he's called Red Pyramid Thing in the movies. Do you have a favorite muscle car? Nah. I'm not big into cars. What would be a total deal-breaker for you, relationship-wise? You so much as lift your hand at me, bye, motherfucker. Would you consider yourself to be accepting of others? Yes, but not as much as I used to be. There are certain opinions I just don't tolerate in people anymore; I feel like by staying associated with people whose views invalidate or in any way harm others (racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc.), you're on the side of evil as well, even if indirectly. However, I genuinely do feel I have a wide range of viewpoints I'm willing to accept in others, even if I don't agree with them. Are you flirtatious? No. I think I'm only capable of flirting with someone I'm already with and very comfortable around. I'd feel way too shy and awkward otherwise. Have you ever just felt "drawn" to someone, but you didn’t know why? "Didn't know why," no. I've felt drawn to people with good reason, like if I was romantically interested in them. Is there anyone you currently want to reach out to? There's a number, honestly. Especially with the aid of therapy, I'm being motivated to strengthen bonds with old friends and/or acquaintances via Facebook. Freddy or Jason? I think Jason is scarier. Freddy tends to come across as cheesy for me. Have stickers or gems on your cell phone? Nah. Ever teased your hair? Bitch I damn well tried in high school because I wanted the ~ l e g i t ~ emo hair, but mine was just too heavy to hold, at least with the hairspray my sister had. Have any friends with benefits? Nah, that's never been my thing. Ever lost of bunch of valuable information? Ummm I don't believe so. I've lost massive RP posts before, but I can't really call those "valuable information." What drinks or food make you hyper? None, really. Most expensive thing you ever bought? With my own money, my snake. She's a champagne morph ball python. What type of toothpaste do you use? Crest. How much time to spend putting on makeup daily? Zero. When listening to a song, what do you listen for (lyrics, bass, beat, ect)? The beat, more than anything else. What is the color of your toothbrush? It's a white electric one. What is your favorite color(s) of eye-makeup? Black. Just black. Are you sexually active? I'm not. Do you have sensitive skin? Very. Are you attracted to several guys atm? I'm actually not attracted to any guys in my personal life atm. How many toilets are in your house? Two. Do you have an older sister? Excluding the one I don't know, I have three older sisters. Favorite song by Owl City? Probably "Hot Air Balloon," but I don't know many at all. What color is your mum’s car? White. Do you truly understand the (LDS) Mormon religion? I don't know what "LDS" means, but as my former best friend developed into a Mormon, I learned some stuff from her in her self-discovery. I don't remember a lot of it, not that I knew all that much in the first place. Where do you keep your kitty litter box? Ugh, Mom's unmovable about it being in my fucking room for some reason. And we have an extra goddamn room no one uses yet. Roman's shit STINKS, like we think something might actually be wrong, but nope, it has to stay in here. e_e It would literally inconvenience nobody if we moved it in the spare room. Are you a lighter complexion than your father? MUCH lighter. He's very tan. Do you like apricots? No. Solid soap bar or liquid body wash? 100% body wash. Bar soap slips so easily, and as someone who lives with another person, I'm not rubbing my body with the same bar my mother uses, no offense to her. Sharing it's just gross. Where do you live (country or state)? Shitty 'ole North Carolina. Do you use plastic, wooden, or wire hangers? I think we have a mix of them, actually. What is your favorite shade of yellow? I only like pastel yellow. Otherwise, it's one of my least favorite colors. Are there any shades of blue that you don’t like? If so, which ones? Ehhh not really. What is something you want to accomplish before you turn 30? God, can I please have a stable career by then. Who has the best decorated house in your town? I don't know. We live in a cul de sac community thing where it's just houses next to houses, so there's a lot to choose from. I don't pay attention to them. What is your favorite part of Halloween? The decorations. Do you feel a connection to the moon? "As above, so below," as the saying goes. What does your heart long for? Peace and contentness with myself. Did you decorate a pumpkin this year? Last year, I didn't. I do want to this year, though, if I can just think of a really good idea. I have to be motivated. What are some fall activities you would do with your kids? I'm not having kids, but I'll follow along, hypothetically. With how much joy Halloween brought me as a kid, I'd want to do SO much as a family with them. Homemade decorations, carving or painting pumpkins together, and hell yeah I'd be taking them trick-or-treating once I felt they were ready and they wanted to. I'd be one of those parents that probably spends too much on whatever costumes they want, haha... Oh, and then besides Halloween, I'd certainly rake leaf piles together for them to jump and play in. This question has brought to mind like ONE thing I could enjoy as a parent, haha. Have you ever seen a fox? I have; besides in a zoo setting, I've seen one or two in the wild run out of sight, and I also found one poor fellow as roadkill that had been disemboweled by I'm assuming vultures. With my whole roadkill photography thing, I literally almost kneeled into a strand of intestines I didn't see at first. :x What color are the squirrels where you live? We only have brown ones. Is there anything about Halloween you find offensive? lol no What do the trees look like where you live? Lots, and lots, and LOTS of pine trees... There are others, but I'm not well-informed on tree species and such. Oh, then of course there are dogwoods (our "state tree"), which are unmistakable because they smell like fucking manure. What is your dream vacation? Maybe the mountains on the western side of NC during the fall... ugh, that would be breathtaking. We actually have an abandoned The Wizard of Oz-themed park around there that allows tours at certain times of the year, and I'd love to visit and photograph there. As well, western NC has the zoo, which would be spectacular to visit with autumn weather and, once again, load up on photos. Did you like field trips when you were a kid? I LOVED field trips. Do you find museums boring or interesting? Very interesting! Would you ever wear a shirt with your country’s flag on it? No. I'm not patriotic enough at all for that. What’s a medicine that makes you sleepy? Historically, larger doses of Klonopin can knock me the fuck out. Do you like bath bombs? Never used one, because I don't do baths. Who are your favorite small YouTubers? I'm going to guesstimate you mean less than 1M subs as "small," because I really don't know what you consider to fit that description. I watch a lot of people with less than 1M, so it's hard to say, but lately it's probably been a let's player John Wolfe. He's really funny. Then there's some tarantula YouTubers, along with the animal educator Emzotic... and really just many others. I think most of the people I watch actually have sub-1M, but more than 500k. Who are your favorite big YouTubers? Markiplier is absolutely, positively #1. I also really enjoy Snake Discovery, GameGrumps, Jeffree Star (don't judge me ok, he's a fuckin hoot), and while I haven't watched them in years, Good Mythical Morning will ALWAYS be deeply, deeeeply embedded in my heart. What was your favorite girl group when you were growing up? Ummm probably the Spice Girls? Have you ever used an outhouse? Ugh, yes, at old childhood sports games. What was the last good cause you donated towards? When I cut off like 8+ inches of hair to accomplish the style I have now, I donated it to Children With Hair Loss. My hair has always been mega-thick and healthy, so why in the world waste it? One of my most cherished items is the certificate I got in return many months later that my donation had been used. Have any of your exes gotten married or had kids since your breakup? I haven't had contact with Juan in many years, don't know what Tyler's up to either, and I haven't spoken to Jason since 2017, so. I'm very doubtful he's married or has kids yet, though, just knowing him and how "I need to be fully prepared for this" he is with big life stuff like that. Does it bother you when people get super emotional? Not at all. I'll do my all to comfort them. Have you ever worked in a restaurant? No. Do you get a lot of thunderstorms where you live? Depends on the time of year. Summertime? Brief but super intense thunderstorms every late afternoon. What was the last drive-thru you went through? Taco Bell w/ Mom. Do you know anyone who claims they can see/feel spirits or other supernatural ‘things?’ No. Do either of your parents have a mental illness? My mom has depression, and Mom is also convinced Dad has either depression masked as anger and/or bipolarity, but following the divorce, I don't see it in him at all. He's never seen a doctor in that field to be diagnosed with any mental illness. What fun things are there to do where you live? Jackshit. Do you know anyone with a really poorly-trained dog? Mother of fucking god, yes. My little sister lives with her best friend, and said friend has a colossal black lab named Hudson that is absolutely uncontrollable because she neglects the shit out of him. Won't listen to you even if it saved his life. He jumps on you, barks endlessly, and if he escapes the house? Good fucking luck getting him inside. She has absolutely no right to own a dog with how shitty of an owner she honestly is. When you were growing up, did your family rent or own your home? They owned it. The idiots who were moving in after us accidentally burnt the place to a fucking crisp, and my parents were SO not happy to lose that house because people were dumb enough to place boxes atop the goddamn stove. Do you do meal-prepping? No. Do you know anyone who got preggo less than a year into their relationship? Multiple people, not that that's my business. What did you dream about last night? I don't remember it clearly, other than I was with Jason and his mother was also present. What's the biggest age difference you've ever had in a relationship? That would have been with Juan, but I don't remember exactly how old he was. I just know I was a freshman and him a senior that got held back a year or so in HS. If you could save one animal from ever becoming extinct, what animal would you pick? Probably bees, given how vital they are. Name the coolest thing about one of your grandparents. My maternal grandmother worked at Disney World. I can't remember what her position was, though. Do you ever eat peanut butter straight from the jar? If I want a healthy snack, sometimes I'll have a scoop. Do you prefer your clothes loose or close fitting? They need to be loose. Favorite thing you’ve ever painted? This big painting of meerkats grooming on burlap I did in high school. Do you always wear a bra? I question the self-love of anyone who can sleep with a bra on. ;__; Do you normally finish one book before starting another? Oh yes, I can't read more than one at a time. Do you prefer reading books, comic books, manga/graphic novels, magazines, or the newspaper? The normal book. Do you know how to play chess? I don't. Are you watching anything? No, but I do have Manson's "Third Day of a Seven Day Binge" on in another tab. What is your blood type? A-. Has anyone ever borrowed something from you and never returned it? Yes. Do you twitch when you're falling asleep? Dude, I more than "twitch." I can just suddenly spaz out and look like I'm seizing for a moment. Another side effect of my nightmare suppressant medication. Are any of your pets “overweight”? No. Has anyone ever bought you a ring? My mom has bought me a few, and Jason gave me one for one of our anniversaries. Where was the last place you took a bath/shower, other than your own house? My sister's place. What first attracted you to the last person you kissed? Just how unique and happy that way she is. And her pretty much undying loyalty. Has someone ever taken a pic of you while you were making out with someone? No, considering I wouldn't go that far with someone unless we were alone. Had a crush on someone you thought shared your sexuality, turns out didn’t? Yes. What’s your favorite color to wear? Black. Does it gross you out if a guy has hair on his chest? I personally don't find an excess of it attractive, but it doesn't "gross me out." If they bathe themselves just like everyone else, why should it? Do you think sexuality is a choice or not? It is absolutely not a choice. If it was, I'd assume most people would choose to be straight, given phobias, hatecrimes, etc... I could write an essay on this. Do you like industrial piercings? Yeah. Do you think stretched ears are disgusting? "Disgusting" is, once again, the wrong word. Gauges don't really gross me out - hell, I want tiny ones -, but they can reach a size that, to me, is not visually appealing. Did you watch animated Barbie movies when you were little? I do remember loving Princess and the Pauper as well as the Rapunzel one; my sister was addicted to them. Oh yeah! Then there was the Swan Lake one that she adored, too. We usually watched movies together. Do you like fruit in your cereal? Big No. Do you like raw vegetables? Ugh, no. Do you listen to A Day to Remember? I do! They're on my list of faves. Do you like funnel cake? I actually don't. Have you ever been with someone while they were getting a tattoo? Yuh.

[kuramirocket]

Created by Elizabeth Ito, the animated series City of Ghosts explores the history of different neighborhoods in Los Angeles through friendly ghosts that make the past of this metropolis real. Our guides into these adventures, created in documentary style, are a diverse group of children, the Ghost Club, who navigate each encounter with curiosity and compassion.

For episode six, focused on Koreatown, the creators recruited professor Felipe H. Lopez, a Zapotec scholar to help them portray the Oaxacan community of L.A. With Ito and producer Joanne Shen’s support, Lopez brought authenticity to the depiction of certain visual elements, such as the grecas de Mitla, geometrical designs specific to the Indigenous people of Oaxaca. More importantly, he voices an animated version of himself, as well as Chepe, a lovable alebrije ghost at the center of the story. Lopez’s dialogue is both in English and Zapotec.

A native of the small Oaxacan community of San Lucas Quiaviní, where the vast majority of the population speaks Zapotec, Lopez has become a binational bastion in the preservation of this Indigenous language and the culture it gives voice to. He came to the United States when he was 16 years old speaking mostly Zapotec. He learned English first and then he worked on improving his Spanish while at Santa Monica Community College.

In 1992, Lopez got accepted into University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA) in the Latin American studies program; he has restlessly devoted himself to preserving the identity of the Zapotec diaspora, which has been present in the United States since the days of the Bracero program. Lopez first found support in linguist Pamela Monroe with whom he created the first trilingual Zapotec dictionary, which was published in 1999 via the Chicano studies department at UCLA. Today he is a postdoctoral scholar at Haverford College.

Below, he expands on his life’s work and the significance of the positive mainstream representation of Indigenous peoples.

What was the impulse or situation that made you realize you wanted to dedicate your professional life to preserve the Zapotec language and culture?

There’s always this relationship between economic gains with language. I saw how a lot of families in the Oaxacan community were raising their kids. Even if they didn’t speak Spanish fluently, they wanted to teach their kids Spanish rather than Zapotec. In a sense, they didn’t see a lot of usefulness in teaching their kids Zapotec. Interestingly, some of them actually were teaching their children the little English they knew. They even skipped teaching them Spanish. The parents would speak with each other in Zapotec but then would talk to the kids in English.

Being a college student back then and thinking about those things made me realize that the language was being lost and being substituted by either Spanish or English. At that moment I thought, ‘Maybe my language is going to be lost. I’ve got to do something about it. Even if it is just to leave a record. I want it to at least be known that we spoke this language at one time.’ That’s what really drove me to seek out somebody to help me because I’m not a linguist. Ever since then, we’ve been creating a lot of open source materials in Zapotec for people to use. We now have dictionaries. We’ve really used the technology in order to make our language, our culture, and how we are visible. City of Ghosts is another component that continues the work we started in 1992.

One of the interesting things about Indigenous languages is that sometimes they are not seen as real languages. You have this battle against the established ideology that Indigenous languages are not really languages. It’s almost like being salmon going against the current, if you’re trying to preserve your language because there are very few spaces for you to use your language and it’s not being taught in public schools in Mexico. But I was fortunate to be able to teach one of the very first courses in Zapotec. In 2005, UCSD [University of California, San Diego] asked me to teach a course in Zapotec. We needed to create all the materials from scratch because unlike Spanish or English or French, which are the dominant languages, you have tons of materials. If you want to teach Spanish you can go to the library and you have tons of materials to teach. But for us as Indigenous teachers we really need to create materials.

Language is deeply connected to how a culture sees the world. In that regard, why do you think it’s necessary to protect and teach Zapotec and other Indigenous languages in Mexico?

A lot of our Indigenous knowledge is embedded in the language. For example, when I think about how we’re being taught math in school from a Western point of view, we have the decimal system of counting: 10, 20, so on. But in Zapotec we have a different counting system, which is a base 20. We do 20, 40, and 80. Sadly, in Mexico something people say, ‘Why do you want to preserve the language? It’s not even a language. It’s a dialect.’

Fortunately, last year, I think if I’m not mistaken, Mexico changed the constitution to recognize more than 68 languages spoken in Mexico as national languages. There has been a long struggle. I’ve been doing work both in the U.S. and Mexico. Currently I’m teaching a free course on Zapotec in one of the universities in Mexico, because I want to contribute. Indigenous languages are important because they represent our history. They represent our identity and the ways in which we see our surroundings. There are even words in Zapotec that I can’t even translate into Spanish because there are no concepts that are equivalent. They need to be explained.

With the constitutional changes that you mention and someone like actress Yalitza Aparicio inspiring conversations about racism in Mexico and across Latin America, do you believe we are on the brink of a deeper appreciation of Indigenous culture and language?

It’s interesting that you mentioned Yalitza because when she first came out people attacked her. They would say, ‘She’s an Indian. She doesn’t deserve to be there.’ It is the sentiment that has endured in Mexico and Latin America. It’s a colonial mentality. If you look at the soap operas and Mexican TV shows just about every single actor or actress is white. There has been a push historically for Mexico to aspire, to be white. We, as Indigenous people, have been perceived to be a problem for modernity. They feel like, ‘How can Indigenous people be modern?’

We tend to be very fluid and move into different cultures, into different eras. I can speak my language in my pueblo, but at the same time I can use the Internet and I can speak English.Being Indigenous is never a detriment.In Mexico, the dominant culture, the politicians and the [non-Indigneous] intellectuals, see us as something less than Mexican. They speak about Mexicans versus Indigenous people. I’ve always questioned that because they like to talk about Mexico’s Indigenous roots, yet ostracize and put us on the margin. When they speak about Indigenous communities, they tend to think of us in a museum because once you put us in a museum it means that we no longer exist. There is this contradiction in terms of where we are, where we fit in Mexican society. That’s why we’re pushing so hard to make ourselves visible.

Specifically speaking about Zapotec people, and other immigrants from Indigenous communities, in the United States, what are the major obstacles in resettling?

Indigenous immigrants go through two steps of assimilation, because a lot of us who move into the States, we bring our indigenous language and culture. But the dominant culture that exists in LA is a Mexican or Mexican American culture. It’s a mestizo culture and there’s Spanish. So we as Indigenous people first need to assimilate into that culture and then assimilate into the mainstream culture. We need to speak English, but we also need to speak Spanish. There are two steps of assimilation for us to even try to situate ourselves in mainstream American society.

Tell me about your experience working on such a unique show as City of Ghosts, which really digs deep into the cultural fabric of Los Angeles. What convinced you that this could be positive for Indigenous communities?

One of the things that I asked Joanne [Shen] was, ‘How much say do I have?’ Because I didn’t want to be there if they already had an idea and they just want me to emulate something. So she said, “No, we want to sit down with you and talk about what are some of the important aspects of Zapotec society and what is it that really impacts you guys? How do you see the world?” That was one of the most important things for me in order to agree to do the project.

We had several meetings in terms where they asked me questions. Once I looked at the whole script, not just mine but also those for the alebrije ghost Chepe and Lena who is voiced by Gala Porras-Kim, I made some changes according to how I felt it represented Zapotec culture. For example, tying the idea of the ghost with the idea of the nahual orthe alter ego in Zapotec and Mesoamerican culture, as well as the use of alebrijes and the colors, which properly represented Zapotec culture on the screen.

They were very sensitive and they wanted to get it right. I really commend them for that, because I’ve worked in projects where they don’t really care. They have an agenda. But for this project they were so attuned with me.I think that’s what makes City of Ghosts such an important program for kids and just for the public at large to understand who the Zapotec are, because when we think about the Mexican community we assume that everybody speaks Spanish. This program, and specifically episode six, will help people to at least begin to rethink Mexican society and that not all Mexicans speak Spanish. Not all of them are mestizo, but rather that we are a multilingual and multicultural society, and we are bringing that to the States. I hope it makes people at least curious.

One aspect prominently mentioned in your episode is how certain Oaxacan communities use a whistling language. Why was this a significant element?

To be honest with you, I have no idea where it came from, but as far back as I remember when I was a kid we would just whistle to communicate basic phrases to each other. Also when we go to work on the field and you see somebody far away, you whistle at that person just to get some information like, ‘How are you doing? What’s going on?’ Since, we didn’t have any phones back home then, we whistled to communicate, but it’s not entirely just Zapotec communities. There are other Indigenous communities in Oaxaca and Mesoamerica that use whistling as a means of communication. So when I was asked to be part of the show, I did a lot of whistling in the episode just demonstrating how we communicate and that we don’t need words. Whistling is another expression of language.

When you think about Angelenos you think about Mexicans or mestizos at the pueblo of Los Angeles. But we rarely talk about the Indigenous people in LA. By having the Zapotec people in this sho2, we begin to have this conversation go beyond thinking about this land only having Latinos, African Americans, and whites. There are these hidden multicultural societies here that have been fighting and resisting against all these forces.

One thing that is so interesting to me is that when we are on the margins, we tend to fight and resist at the margin to maintain our language and culture. So then by bringing us into the light and being visible, even by asking, ‘Where do you guys come from?’ We can say, ‘Well, we’ve been here all along. You just haven’t seen us.’ With these particular episodes on the Zapotec, all of a sudden some people might learn something. I’ve seen on Twitter the young Indigenous people express they feel so proud of the fact that Indigenous people are represented in this show. There’s something unique about this show, because it really brings some of the historical aspects of the composition of LA, specifically of the Pico-Union area.

The most important thing people should take out of those two episodes that talk about Indigenous communities, it’s the very first time that we see Indigenous communities well represented and not objectified, but just as human and what they do in everyday life. And also how we bring our traditions and cultures to some of the megacities in the world, coming from small communities, such as mine where we have about 1700 people, yet we are being represented in such an incredible episode.

City of Ghosts is streaming on Netflix.

[rottenwoodandwiltedsunflowers]

It felt like transcendence - Kae

I’m supposed to be finishing up work and instead it’s 12:25 am and somehow 2020 keeps getting worse and worse and I can’t focus on anything productive and I’m just sitting here alone while my family sleeps. And I’m thinking about immersive theatre.

For someone who is fairly gregarious on the internet--I’ve written about my sex life and liveblogged my pregnancy for publication, after all--I’m a surprisingly guarded person IRL. I don’t see crying as a sign of weakness in others, but I can’t convince myself of the same. I only really trust one or two people in my life at a time. That’s all I have capacity for. I’m an adoptee. I’m a Capricorn. It’s who I am.

I miss the hotel right now and immersive theatre in general. What’s hard to explain to most people is that it’s not just about the art and the live performance. Maybe it’s about the community, though I ironically see my far-flung fan friends more often now than I did before the pandemic shut down theater. We’re all desperate for immersive work and have been seeing virtual shows together and apart, having Zoom chats and group chats and debriefs about them, sharing reviews and solving clues collectively.

I do miss people and IRL connection, but that’s not the ache I feel most ardently. I accessed something within myself in immersive shows that I can’t replicate anywhere else. Is transcendence too strong of a word? It felt spiritual, but I also don’t know if I know what spirituality means. Immersive was (is?) a solo experience for me, whether I went with someone else or not. I felt alive and present in my body at immersive shows. I’m always thrilled to have a 1-1 or to see a new scene added at Sleep No More. But it’s the much smaller moments and experiences that swoooooosh returned me to my flesh. And I miss that feeling, of being transported. The illusion of being alone in my head, that allowed me to focus on just what was in front of me, just what I wanted and who I was in the moment. Since becoming a parent, I both started seeing more and more immersive shows beyond SNM and had less frequent trips to NYC to see shows at all. The last time I saw SNM was October of 2019, the Halloween trip. I haven’t been back to NYC since. I don’t remember who was on or what I saw or where I wandered. It wasn’t a deeply transformative trip to the McKittrick. I took it for granted and if I could go back today, I would try to take it all in--the scents, the textures, the million tiny details. Corners of the building are already blurring in my memories.

But I do remember some very specific things, teeny moments embedded in my long term memory from 7 years (6 in earnest) of immersive adventuring.

Some scattered memories from the last few years that I can still smell, hear, taste, and remember, from SNM and others:

Being alone in the lofted bedroom alcove at the very top of the brownstone building in which Inside the Wild Heart by Group.BR was performed and standing slightly too close to the wall, when I realized the flowers on the walls were talking. Barely audible audio of Clarice Lispector reading her work, like a whisper, was being played through the flowers pinned to the wall, so quiet and in such a small, lonely corner of the building. Who would hear them? Who would ever happen upon them or stand just close enough to that particular wall? But they called to me and I pressed my ear closer to the wall to hear their whispers.

Outright choke-sobbing during the last scenes of Remembrance by Linked Dance, a time during which I really wished I was alone and was also slightly embarrassed that I’d paid extra for the additional scenes that commenced while I was still gurgling and wiping my tears on my sleeve. My grandmother, who I was very close to, died after living a long time with Alzheimer’s. That show was so lovely and I held it together the entire time and then it all burst out at once and it’s truly the most emotional I’ve ever been in public that wasn’t, like, an actual funeral.

Reading through all the manila folders in the reverend’s outside room at SNM, when that was a thing, and puzzling over the characters in the files. Who was the midwife? The nanny? What about the others? Trying to commit it all to memory. Failing. Crawling through the tunnel and being shocked by the soft texture and brilliant white of the chapel (towel room).

The first time I felt the flutter of movement during my pregnancy with Remi, a slight ticklish wiggling inside me, so slight I barely registered it. Had I been moving about my normal life, I might not have noticed. I was, at that moment, deeply moved and completely still, witnessing the Father do a dance of regrets across a sandy roof in The Grand Paradise by Third Rail Projects. I don’t know if a fetus can register its gestational carrier’s emotions, but I have always felt that Remi was reacting to my heightened emotional state.

A night during which I was the only person with the porter during the boy witch lip sync. A scene I’d seen many times, but after looping this particular porter, I felt deeply empathetic towards him. He never took his eyes off of the boy witch and I never took my eyes off of him and he started to cry and I felt tears coming in the tightness of my throat. As though he could feel the synchronicity between us, without turning his fixed gaze from the boy witch, he reached his outstretched hand towards me across the desk. I’d seen the porter loop many times, so I was surprised, but I knew that it was meant for me and I didn’t hesitate to take it. We held hands, urgently, and those tears started to fall one-by-one down my face and then, when the boy witch was done, the porter shook the spell and looked me directly in the eyes, squeezing my hand before moving back to his unfortunate loop.

Watching an actor climb around a huge bookshelf, finding little pots of white paint behind the books and painting her face with her fingertips, while blue light cast unnatural shadows over the room--a scene you probably saw if you saw Submersive Productions’ first large-scale work in Baltimore, The Mesmeric Revelations of Edgar Allen Poe. What I remember is just watching her, as other audience members came and went, for a very long time, for the entire wordless scene, including when she dismounted from the shelves and folded her arms at odd angles into the top of a wooden piano.

The scene in Then She Fell by Third Rail Projects when Alice sees you through the mirror, the audience member becoming the mirror image of Alice. The actor spoke no words. We made eye contact through the implied mirror and she reached for the clementine on her side and I reached the one on mine and then we peeled it together, wordlessly, the skin giving easily under our fingers, and slipped one slice into our mouth and it was sweet.

And, of course, the very first SNM show and the very first time I saw the banquet scene. I have no idea what loop it was--maybe second? I didn’t comprehend anything about the show that night other than that I was intrigued. The banquet scene, which I so often skipped intentionally in my later shows, so often stayed out in the bar at the end of the night if I was having a good time, was the highlight of that very first show. It felt like the whole room slowed and warped. It stopped my breath. I was zoomed in. I could feel my pulse. The whole ballroom pulsed as the lights and mood shifted. For a moment, I was unstuck in time.

If you’re missing immersive theater right now, please do come to The Lost Halloween. It’s a moment for all of us to get found. A bit. And if you’re able, please give to the fundraiser. Every single dollar is an investment in another person's survival and a meaningful thank you for the ways immersive experiences have challenged us, affirmed us, and brought us joy and healing.

[adrianodiprato]

+ “Your breathing. The beating of your heart. The expansion of your lungs. Your mere presence is all that is needed to establish your worth” ~ Lyanla Vanzant.

Sunshine Heights Primary School

This afternoon I paid a visit to the first primary school I ever attend, Sunshine Heights Primary School in Sunshine West. I left Grade 4 at the school in 1981 to enrol in a local Catholic primary school for Grades 5 & 6.

I have two memories of my time at Sunshine Heights. The first was that I remember having one of my wisdom teeth removed by the on-site dentist. Yes, I said dentist, and I too have no idea why the primary school had a dental clinic on site. But I do recall the pain of having numerous anaesthetic injections and asking the dentist to stop with the injections and just pull it out. And so, she did!

The second is this photo above. Under the photo was my Christian name, home address, and the following few statements:

I like to ride my bike and play with my toys.

Alan is my best friend.

At school I like to do my sums.

I like reading.

In this picture I am looking at the board.

So, I was keen to return after almost 40 years, to see what else I could remember from my childhood experience at Sunshine Heights. Although this visit didn’t necessary bring up any old memories, apart from recognising the location of the tuckshop, down ball courts and some of the classroom structures, I encounter something far more significant.

I encountered a Principal in David Cocks who is a living embodiment of a school leader that leads from the construct of permission. That rare commodity that only a small percentage of school leaders possess. It was abundantly clear that David operates from the deep position of trust, trust in the inherent ability of his highly dedicated staff and trust in the inherent possibility of each young person in his care. He gives all in his community the permission to operate from their true selves, and the space to be genuinely seen, heard, known, and loved. Powerful.

During my visit today I encountered this poem, which stands before you is what Sunshine Heights wants for their students, teachers, leaders, staff and community to aspire to:

David embodies the aspiration of this poem, granting permission for all learners to enter a space of awe and wonder, or as I like to call it, a pedagogy of encounter, a deep encounter and tuning in with self, place and the other. Real, raw and vulernable. This pedagogy of encounter is embedded into the daily practice of the staff, students, and parents of Sunshine Height, manifested through their four pillars of courage, connection, commitment, and collaboration. Wherever you walk on the campus you’ll encounter these four pillars, not just in word but more profoundly in practice. Collaborative learning is complemented my staff forming intentional connections and positive relationship with the young people and vice-a-versa. All in a harmonious environment, equally deeply committed to the strength of their multicultural diversity and inclusion, through leveraging their courage to aspire to simply be more, for self, place and the other.

At Sunshine Heights Primary School, students are actively involved in learning experiences that focus on building understanding through explicit instruction using an inquiry approach and play learning opportunities. I witnessed creative and inquisitive learners, where laughter, play, pride, joy and happiness were a constant thread across all classrooms and in the spaces in between. Most uplifting.

We are in an interesting time in human history. There has been a real paradigm shift from the industrial age to one centred around connectedness like no other time in our history. For the first time in history most of us have the chance to decide what to do next, what to create and how to deliver it. The problem is that most people won’t take that chance because they are not prepared to be vulnerable.

Well, David and his staff are not afraid to be vulnerable, with each other and with their students. Being open to the construct of permission, means we enter a space where one thing is liking to occur, either we learn through failure, or learn through success. Being open, giving ourselves this permission to new continuous learning and unlearning teaches us the value of vulnerability in the way we can ultimately learn, lead, live and work.

Today's blog message is therefore about imploring a commitment to learning that is personal, that requires the guts of a deep tuning in, that calls for active participation, and that has the potential to change everything for the individual and our collective humanity. If you believe that you have no talent, in anything, then you are hiding. Life might scare you, sharing your thinking with others might scare you. Leading might scare you. But doing nothing by standing still, instead of standing up, should scare you the most. For there to be courage, there must be risk, being open to our own possibility through the profoundness of vulnerability.

The harsh reality is that there isn’t a pain-free way to achieve one’s goals. It takes the determination of foundational pillars like Sunshine Heights’ courage, connection, commitment, and collaboration, to navigate the internal ocean of our ups and downs. Some haven’t succeeded with their learning yet, or their leading yet, not because they can’t figure it out, but because they haven’t been willing to try and simply do it. Always claiming it’s all too hard, or what will others think. Nonetheless through action comes liberation of one’s heart and mind. The permission to triumph.

We all know that pain is real. It’s the pain of possibility, vulnerability and risk that hurts the most. The easiest way to avoid this pain is to lead and live a life that numbs you, simply existing. It is time however for all school leaders to consider the notion of vulnerability in all aspects of their leadership. To be vulnerable is to be new, fresh and risky, the natural antagonists of predictable, boring and safe. Education and knowledge are not limited to just gaining control and power. Leading learning communities and building collective knowledge is transformational. Transforming self is everything but predictable, boring or safe. Each school leader is capable of being bold, of changing more than they are willing to admit. Neil Young once stated, “Holding back is close to stealing”. Don’t rob yourself of greatness. Greatness comes to those that honour their inner truth through authentic participation in all opportunities.

The path that is available to us all is to reach higher than we’ve thought possible. Yes, by taking risks one becomes vulnerable. However, life is about an attitude and it is available to anyone who chooses to adopt it. Today I witnessed an educational leader in David Cocks with an infectious positive attitude in actively finding ways he and his school community can be better than they were yesterday, by simply saying yes to self, place and the other, this permission to being vulnerable.

One of the most common human failings in many schools is that some school leaders settle for too little, mainly the status quo. It is easier to fly low as a school leader because it feels safe. By flying too low we short-change ourselves and the community that we serve. We settle for low expectations and small dreams. Often society reminds us about the dangers of standing up, standing out and making a noise. I say it is time to say I am HERE!

I will finish with this passage I love from Brené Brown’s in her book, Dare to Lead:

As you think about your path to daring leadership, remember Joseph Campbell’s wisdom: “The cave you fear to enter hold the treasure you seek.” Own the fear, find the cave and write a new ending for yourself, for the people you’re meant to serve and support, and for your culture. Choose courage over comfort. Choose whole hearts over armour. And choose the great adventure of being brave and afraid. At the exact same time.

Thank you, David, for your generosity of time and of your heart today. The young people, of my old primary school, are in the capable hands of a dynamic school leader and a staff that understand that people matter, all people and all their individual stories of being and becoming. Expect the unexpected when you visit Sunshine Heights.

Ps: I don’t remember who Alan is, but he was my best friend. And I still like reading.