#me & the girl i pulled by being her designated partner in the troupe

[taitavva]

day 5: crossdressing/dress up

[highlordrhysie]

Ring-a-Ring-a-Roses (pt1)

Well, this has certainly taken me a hecking long time to complete, but alas it is done! This is a piece done in response to a request from someone who wishes to remain anonymous, but they gave me some beautiful characters to work with and a wonderfully inspiring idea! So, here it is, I hope you guys like it and that it will be worth the horribly long wait! 

( also, let me know if you want to be tagged in pt2, it might be another long wait but it WILL be done! XD ) 

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Darkness is hypnotic, it doesn’t matter who you are or how pure of heart you may seem, no one is immune to its call. There’s just something in the way it wraps itself around sin that calls to the morbidity of the human soul and turns it sweet like the finest wine. That’s why the people came to Cirque de Macabe, to feed their twisted fascinations and revel in its curious darkness. In the circus tent a violins haunting melody fell to a halt as a woman, the troupes ringleader walked out into the center of the ring. The dress she wore was widows black, its sleeves and hem accented in lace to match the wide brimmed hat which formed a dark halo around her head. A bleach white bird skull looked out over its edge; center piece to the candle like sticks of dynamite that circled the hats crown. She made a strange and impressive sight, yet stood in the midst of the extending silence, not a soul could see her through the shadows. It filled her with an odd sense of power, being able to watch them all grow slowly uncomfortable, she felt like an omniscient being pulling on the strings of their fragile human emotions. Too soon the trance was shattered as overhead a spotlight came to life, casting her in a glow that for a brief moment she could almost convince herself was sunlight. Breathing deep she took a drag on the long cigarette holder balancing in her hand, then in a plume of smoke grinned up at the crowd, flashing the wicked points of her teeth. “ Madame’s and Monsieurs! I welcome you to the great Cirque de Macabe! Tonight, the shadows themselves will be brought to life before your very eyes in the tale of a harrowing journey through the underworld!” The ringleaders voice carried effortlessly around the BigTop, filled to the brim with a sly charisma and the syrupy lilt of an accent “ for you see, the universe is more than just this world! There are many and each is like a sheet of the finest silk, layered over one another so that in places they all but touch. These places are known as veils and it is here that our story begins, with the misfortune of a mortal girl, fallen from her world and straight into the mouth of hell ...” Perfectly timed, a giggle of laughter came from the edge of the ring as a smoke bomb rolled to a stop at her feet, hissing black mist all around and with it the Ringleader vanished.                                                               ~

From within the audience a very particular young man watched it all take place. It had been two years since he'd first heard of Cirque de Macabe. It's name had drifted through the muddy streets of Prague and intrigued he'd managed to work his way into the blood red BigTop. After that, he'd walked out a man obsessed, completely enthralled by their stories and the strange, twisted mystery of its performers. That night was the first of their newest tale and a music box melody came to life as the smoke cleared to reveal a young woman, the mortal, rushed out onto stage. The flower ladened tulle of her dress rippled as she looked around in apparent distress, and her golden hair shone like a flame against the dark backdrop. As she fluttered, other creatures began to stir as though drawn by her movements, then in despair she dropped to the floor and buried her head in her hands. That's when they emerged, some crawling out from beneath the stands and others tumbling from the sky on soft black ribbons. Their costumes were skin tight and patterned with the mottled brown of bark , shot through with an iridescent blue which glistened in the light. That same shimmer was dusted over the sharp planes of their faces and worked in among the feathers, leaves and lace which adorned them. As they moved towards the girl, their lean bodies twisting with a predatory gait, he caught flashes of their strange features from within the costume. To any who didn't know better their black, slanted eyes and pointed ears might have been missed, but he’d always wondered at this as there was something too eloquent about their look to be the simple product of makeup. 

At last, the girl looked up  and fell back with a silent scream. Then the dance began and the music turned into something wild with menace as the faery dancers pushed and pulled her between them in snapping, taunting movements. When she tried to break free, they folded themselves into shapes unthinkable and swung from the ribbons in elegant arcs to block their preys path to escape. When at last the song fell to a close, the dancers made a final lunge for the girl, but as they did there was a rush of air and an aerial acrobat swept low over their heads. The dancers hissed in fear and scrambled away, freeing the girl who raced back through the curtain. The crowd applauded, waiting in eager anticipation for the acrobat to return and they didn't have to wait long before a new melody arose and the three performers appeared poised among the rafters. All three siblings had tattoos coiling from their necks to their feet, the colours of which stood stark against their pale skin and moon white hair. From that distance it was impossible to tell what what the tattoos were, but the man had been to the circus enough times to know that on the twin girls you would find a pair of dragons and on their brother a brilliant Phoenix. At first, the act appeared like any other aerial show, graceful and beautiful as they flipped and swung through the air, but then as their movements built, it started to change. like a heat haze, the edges around their bodies started to blur, giving the impression of movement in slow motion. A gasp ricocheted throughout the audience as suddenly it was as if glowing ghostly skins peeled away from each of them so that where once the performers had been, two dragons and a Phoenix now soared in their place. Soft sparks trailed behind them, but where they landed there wasn’t an ounce of heat, they simply fell away; disintegrating against the skin. Awe hung heavy in the air and it was truly an eerie sight to behold as the glowing miracle of the creatures was reflected in the wide depth of the audiences eyes. 

A couple of people would no doubt be scrutinizing the set, looking for an explanation, but that was the beauty of this act. No matter how hard they tried, they would not find one. It did not exist. When their time came to an end, the creatures faded away to reveal the acrobats once more and it was with true dramatic flare that they disappeared back up into the rafters, seemingly swallowed up by the tent itself.

A movement flickered out the edge of the onlookers vision and he glanced down in time to see the Mortal appear back on stage and this time she was not alone. A figure was stood still as death in the center of the ring, head hanging limp so its long, dust grey hair shielded its face. Swathes of white lace dressed the woman’s body, loose and ill- fitting like a wedding gown stolen from a corpse.   The crowd watched as the mortal approached the figure, but just before she could touch her, the strange woman suddenly became animated and swiveled round to face the girl. From there the story showed how the woman offered the girl her aid, telling her of her great power as a Medium and walker of worlds. She promised that she would be able to get a message through the spirit realm to the girls family and so it was that they joined hands for the séance. The Medium began to chant and as she did, the room grew colder, so much so that the crowds breath could be seen misting in the air. Tension built as things began to sway and creak in time with the chilling music which played over head and the whisper of phantom voices joined with the song. Then the Medium smiled and its seemed to stretch unnaturally across her face as her eyes flooded white and her veins turned black beneath her translucent skin. The girl cried out and with struggle managed to rip her hands from the Mediums grasp. She bolted away, but the Medium would not be fooled. With a sickening crack her head rotated on its neck as she spat out the final part of the chant and with it, the girl fell to a boneless heap on the floor. The Medium cackled and rose into the air, hanging like a rag doll suspended on strings. When she spoke again it was with a voice layered with many tones, none of them human but each of them chilling as they crept deep beneath the surface of the skin. It was an act solely designed to instill discomfort, calling forth all the instinctive fear that mankind holds for the paranormal. She would pick on people, and speak of things that no one else should know, taking on the voice of long dead ancestors and angry souls whose stories were ones of bitter and gruesome deaths. At one point she disappeared altogether, the whispered voices rising and then a shriek came from the audience as a lady and her partner looked up  to find her hanging bat-like behind their seats. With all the intensity, it had almost been forgotten that the golden haired girl still lay on the floor, until she began to stir. She saw the Medium hovering above and seemed to harden her self as she got to her feet and marked a circle onto the ground. Then, reaching up, she grabbed a fistful of the Mediums gown, yanking her from the air and into the circle. The sound that came out of the Mediums  mouth was hideous as she  convulsed, then, all at once,  her body relaxed and with a sigh the energy drained from the room. Fragile now, the Medium looked at the mortal girl with a tired curiosity, before shuffling from the ring., The crowd seemed to take a moment to recover but eventually an applause rose and when it did it was roaring. The next act was that of the Siren. Just like the start of the show, it began with a violin, but unlike the first, this song was smooth and rich and eerily hypnotic. The owner of the sound turned out to be a man, more human looking than any of the performers so far, but it was with such reverence that he held the beautiful instrument beneath his chin that his mortality was turned into magic. He did not, however, hold attention for long, for in his wake walked a woman of such overwhelming grace that the heart itself seemed to ache. With the golden headdress she wore radiating out like a sunset over her amethyst  hair, she looked like a true Goddess, blooming color in the darkness that threatened to consume. That was before she even started to sing, because when she did…well, it was enough to shatter the soul. A crescendo of emotions barreled through the audience as she sang, her voice guiding them with a power such that no earthly creature should posses. Tears glittered on people’s faces and even the young man who’d heard her voice many times before felt his cheeks grow damp and his heart swell with such overwhelming emotion that it bordered on pain. Within the story, the mortal girl was also entranced and like a sleepwalker she approached the siren, before falling in awe at her feet. She looked up at her, her demeanor full of worship and in return the Siren laid a gentle hand upon her head, stroking back her hair in a soothing, possessive motion.

Slowly, the song started to come to a close and the sense of loss that accompanied it was enough to cripple a person with longing. A strange hiss punctured the delirium and for a moment it occurred to him that perhaps some strange creature had managed to get loose and was about to set upon the crowd, but then, as if a bomb gone off, it exploded. Sparks flew into the air, like a golden river running into the sky and before they could fall  to the ground, each pin prick of light flared outwards, so bright that you were forced to look away under threat of being blinded. Blinking past the stain on his vision, the man looked back to the arch and found that where only a moment ago there had been nothing, the Ringleader now stood and alongside her, a new, even stranger man. The latter wore a long green coat, embroidered with whorls of sparking gold and a waist coat to match. This, added together with the frilled white neck tie and the aging top hat, made for a daring mish-mash of styles. What really caught the eye however was the pair of obsidian horns poking out from beneath the rim of the hat, their ridges also dusted with gold. On the other side of the ring the Siren pulled the mortal girl closer, her violinist continuing to play as her hold turned tight and she faced down the new arrivals. Neither two, however, made any move to approach her, the man simply smirked and raised a hand, snapping his fingers together in a single, fluid motion. The mortal girl gasped and then right before their eyes she disappeared, replaced by a huge green moth. It fluttered around the Siren who, realizing what had happened, made a grab for it, but the moth dipped out of her grasp. In a blink, the Ringleader moved, dashing across the floor to trap the moth inside a bronze barred cage, before retreating back to the mans side as though she’d never moved at all. Seemingly enraged, the Siren ran towards them, clawed hands outstretched, but as she did, the horned man threw an orb high into the air where it burst with an audible crack. Black smoke erupted across the tent, rolling out in thick waves that devoured everything in their path. As they flooded down, the young man looked into them and swore that suspended in the air a great creature shifted to look right back. Then it was gone, and suddenly not a soul could see in front, behind or to the side of themselves. It should have been terrifying, so close was it to the feeling of being buried alive, but just as the fear was setting in, the darkness became littered with stars. Terror replaced by awe, it was like becoming one with the universe and the stars shifted to your touch, you became a god governing worlds. It faded quickly, the black dissolving into transparency to reveal the ring and its new set once more. Six great windows of glass now circled its edge and so clear were they that it would have been easy to miss them if it weren’t for the slightest of distortions running round their edges. Through them, the performers could be seen: the ring leader, the magician and the mortal all on stage and with them, another new performer who looked to be a small girl of maybe twelve or thirteen. Her ratty green hair was tied in uneven bunches and held in place by a pair of copper flight goggles which she wore round her forehead. There was a strange pallor to her, the sort of sickly colour you find on the dead and dying, and yet, sat under the lights, stroking the hair of the sleeping mortal girl, she looked very much alive. The mortal awoke looking into that strange face and took it with fear, but unlike before it seemed to quickly cool into something closer to unease. In the audience, the young man shook his head, marveling once again at the true power of the show; at its ability to convey the finest emotion with naught but the smallest movement. It was then that the horned man now made himself known as The Magician and introduced the Ringleader and green haired girl as friends and assistants in his arts. Bit by bit, he used his words to smooth the mortal girls fears, telling both her and the audience that he intended to show to her the true wonders of their world. It was under this guise that his act, the final act, began. One by one the glass planes began to shimmer and then, one by one they came to life. Each window showed a different scene: a city of glittering gold, an ancient tree, a ballroom of ethereal winged creatures, a circle of standing stones and a lake, silver as molten moonlight. The sixth one, however was different to all the rest. Dark and earthen it showed a crude statue sculpted from red clay into the shape of a sleeping man. All around it the others shifted, their images seeming to expand and reach past their glass constraints, pulling themselves into reality. In centre stage, the magician took something from his coat and then, winding back his arm, he threw it straight at the panel with the clay man, but instead of shattering as it should have, it absorbed the projectile. Where it hit, a lava like glow flowed through the clays cracks until it reached the carving of its eyes. As it did, there came a sound like creaking wood and then the creatures eyes flew wide. It flexed it’s muddy limbs, becoming more solid and agile with every step until it was with the grace of a true trapeze artists that it clambered up the ladders and into the rafters where a tight rope was strung. “ And now, fair mortal, let me show you the greatest marvel of them all!” The magician exclaimed, sweeping his arm above his head. Just as it had with the glass planes, the air parted like a veil and with it the audience gasped. Hanging suspended in a huge glass bowl, was a mermaid, real and in the flesh. Indeed, she was the most magnificent thing, all sparkling scales and coral crusted skin. Her hair flowed around her in a halo as webbed hands moved through the water, showing off the bio-luminescent glow which leaked from every inch of her. She swam around the tank and every now and then would stop and blow bubbles through a pipe, each bubble morphing into a tiny angler fish which swam until popping itself on the side of the bowl. The top of this was open to the air where above it, the clay man had found his way onto the tight rope and started performing tricks, until somersaulting from the rope he dove straight for the mermaids bowl. Quick as an asp, the mermaid leapt from the water to meet him, her jaw unlatching as  he fell straight into her open mouth. Murmurs rang out as the mermaid dropped back into the water with a splash and burped her largest angler fish so far. Her glow slowly faded and the Magician drew the audiences attention back towards him and the mortal girl who was now looking around in awe, her fear forgotten. She swirled around, taking in the miracles before her, but stumbled and fell heavily into the Magician. For a moment they simply stared at one another, then, with a sly grin she wrapped her arms around his neck and without hesitation pressed her lips to his. Like a sound wave, the change rippled through her, her once golden hair melting away into raven wing black and the few flowers that remained wilting into a gown of blood red silk which clung scandalously to her curves. Her smile was dark as they broke the kiss where she turned away from the Magician to take the green haired girl by the hands and waltz with her to to where a human sized canon awaited. Willingly, the little girl clambered inside, pulling her goggles down as from her perch the Ringleader lit the fuse with the end of her cigarette. While it hissed, the now dark mortal and Magician continued to dance the waltz to its end, where on que, the canon exploded. Like glass, the six ghostly images shattered and the girl shot out like an arrow, a faint mist of blood raining down as she broke through the canvas of the tent and disappeared like a speck into the night sky. The audience flew into applause as the performers all came out to take their final bow and for each one to disappear behind the curtain until only the Ringleader remained, alone in the ring once more. “Au revoir!” Was all she said, before throwing her hat high into the air above her. Then, in a blink she was gone, leaving nothing but the hat to fall with a thump to the floor, and the empty sockets of a bleach white bird skull to watch the audience as it left.

[thedatsuzokucollective-blog]

TOP 10 KOREAN DRAMAS

Korean dramas are commonly smaller than usual arrangement TV dramatizations of 16-24 scenes each. While there are an assortment of classifications of K-dramas, the key ones are romantic melodrama, romantic comedy and historical drama. K-dramas are certainly a key main impetus of the Korean Wave which has cleared the world. There are a considerable measure of Korean culture partners who are pulled in to the Korean culture by the K-dramatizations, and we’re one of them!

On account of the complete storyline, addictive generalizations and prominent celebrities that regularly star in these shows, it's no big surprise why k-dramas are picking up prominence around the globe. See below the top 10 Korean dramas:

1. The Producers

A nervy work environment romantic comedy, The Producers revolves around, relevantly, the producers working in KBS's assortment office, highlighting a group of cameo appearances from stars and a course of offhanded references to showbiz, celebrities, and industry hones. Kim Soo-hyun proceeds with his hot dash of hit activities as the blundering new kid on the block maker who's book-savvy and road dumb, while Cha Tae-hyun is his tainted veteran PD sunbae. Gong Hyo-jin plays a veteran PD whose thorny external shell shrouds a milder inward marshmallow, and IU adjusts the give a role as the haughty Kpop hotshot. Shows are delivered, slip-ups are made, and individuals begin to look all starry eyed at numerous circumstances over.

2. Sensory Couple

The story initiates with our two leads, Choi Mu Gak (Park Yoo Chun) and Choi Eun Seol (Shin Se Kyung), who are both tormented by family murders. Eun Seol, who gets hit by a car in the wake of seeing her parents' murder, experiences memory misfortune. She is stunned to find that she sees odd, drifting hues and shapes, which she later distinguishes as smells. Mu Gak is so torn by the wrongful demise of his sister that he loses rest and gets to be desensitized to all torment. Their lives in the long run impact as they unite to at last catch the "Bar Code" serial killer, who is associated with the murder of their relatives.

3. Pinocchio

At the point when a false media free for all leaves Gi Ha Myeong (Lee Jong Suk) without a family, he is received into the group of a granddad who supposes he is his dead child, Dal Po. Dal Po expect this commonly useful personality. Choi In Ha (Park Shin Hye) and her dad move in with In Ha's granddad after a frightful separation and discover Dal Po living there, however consent to keep the mystery for granddad's purpose. At the point when Dal Po finds In Ha's mom (Jin Kyung) is the columnist who led the assault on his family, he holds a genuine resentment against In Ha, his now successful niece. In any case, as they grow up next to each other, that inclination is relentlessly supplanted by another, one he doesn't set out to vocalize. At the point when In Ha chooses to emulate her mom's example and be a columnist, Dal Po is frightened, not able to confide in any correspondent after his disaster. This ends up being a hard move for In Ha, who is a Pinocchio - someone who hiccups when they lie. With an end goal to bolster her and inevitably discover equity for his family, Dal Po settles on a considerably harder choice, to end up distinctly a correspondent close by In Ha. Before long, they wind up at contending organizations, working on the narrative of the week, as well as together in equity for Dal Po's family and retaliation against In Ha's mom.

4.  Kill Me Heal Me

This comedy-melodrama acting cross breed demonstrate highlights Ji Sung as a chaebol agent juggling seven different identities, giving a really epic comedic (and dramatic) performance as the strait-bound prevailing persona tries to hold his wacky modifies under wraps. Actually, things go greatly amiss. Hwang Jung-eum plays the doctor who helps him recuperate the excruciating scars exacted by a traumatic past, and begins to look all starry eyed at him en route. Chaebol plots, control gets, family strife, and amnesia all apply, however the show is particular and the scenes are paced rapidly enough to skirt feeling like Cliche Central. The drama exceeds expectations in depicting the models and passionate complexities of its characters because of outstanding acting from Ji Sung and befitting troupes. Every one of Do Hyun's personalities speaks to an alternate some portion of him: anger, guilt, sadness, and so on that make them unmistakable and significant.

5. Mask

Mask is a melodrama about a lady named Byun Ji Sook (Soo Ae) whose family was profoundly in the red and being undermined by loan sharks. A man named Min Seok Hoon (Yeon Jung Hoon) who is frantic for more riches and influence then arranges a progression of occasions that permits Ji Sook to replace a rich lady named Seo Eun Ha who looks precisely like her. By marrying a rich beneficiary, Choi Min Woo (Joo Ji Hoon), and accepting the character of Seo Eun Ha, Ji Sook is given the chance to help her family. In any case, she is not set up for what Seok Hoon has in store for her.

6. School 2015

Proceeding with the School establishment, this arrangement unfurls when a victim of bullying all of a sudden turns into the It Girl when she's confused for the twin sister she never knew she had. Amnesia gives the reason as she sinks into the new persona, and overnight she picks up companions, a mother, and the love of two young men. In any case, her past begins to get up to speed with her when her previous domineering jerk exchanges to her school, and she needs to recover her character while sorting out the secret encompassing what happened to her twin. Who Are You: School 2015 demonstrates that it merits its prevalence with a remarkable mix of holding puzzle and delightful secondary school sentiment. Also the wonderful acting exhibitions from lead performing artist Kim So Hyun, who plays twin characters Lee Eun Bi and Go Eun Byul, and rookie actress Jo Soo Hyang, who plays fundamental rival Kang So Young. I'm thoroughly inspired with how the youth actresses convincingly channel their character's different personas, making them considerably more life-changing.

7.  You’re All Surrounded

Brother time between Lee Seung Gi and Cha Seung Won was typically incredible, yet even the side characters gave me warm fuzzies inside my heart. The chemistry of the focal cast gave this demonstrate a ton of room to conquer drawbacks. As a feature of the cast associations, I additionally appreciated the relationship between Seung Gi's Dae Gu and Go Ara's Soo Sun. The couple was permitted to create actually, and, notwithstanding Dae Gu's initial protestations that Soo Sun was an empty head, they had common regard and fellowship. Not to ruin anything, but rather I additionally cherished how the authors dealt with Dae Gu's love admission. They had a million chances to make him flee out of honorable stupidity, yet they picked to take the more subtle course, and the relationship worked better therefore of that decision.

8. Healer

Healer had a balanced thrown. Rather than concentrating on the primary leads with possibly maybe a couple fun side characters encompassed by one-dimensional filler characters, the world of Healer was full to the overflow with individuals you really wanted to love and think about. I can't pinpoint who my most loved character is. It's plainly Min Ja—until Young Shin's father makes me cry. Alternately small Healer flies up to spare the day. That is to say, my most loved part of the whole show wasn't even a romantic moment—it was that stunning training arrangement amongst Teacher and Healer in the abandoned building. As Healer/Jung Hoo/Bong Soo, he could pass on more feeling with the smallest little jerk of a facial muscle than numerous performers and on-screen characters do with an enormous shouting fit. That, as well as he acted with his whole body rather than simply his face. Maybe that is his theater foundation at work. Obviously, we can't discuss him without his leading lady. I haven't generally had solid emotions whichever way about Park Min Young previously, however I felt that she suited this part well, and the Jung Hoo/Young Shin couple was my most loved sort of OTP—one where I could perceive any reason why they needed to be as one, and I trusted the relationship advancement wholeheartedly.

9. City Hunter

Lee Min Ho plays Lee Yoon Sung, a man raised to render retribution on the administration authorities in charge of his father's death. He is instructed in America and afterward comes back to work in the Blue House where he can penetrate the system to discover the guilty parties. In the process he turns into the City Hunter, an unknown wrongdoing contender. Consider Batman, however without an outfit. He additionally becomes hopelessly enamored with a young lady who he adores yet needs to secure so he pushes her away is in run of the mill superhero design. It's an awesome story of love and revenge and the decision between the two. It had just enough of the immense kdrama adages we generally expect and adore, alongside some new plot turns. I was dazzled all through. Park Min Young is the ideal blend of quality and exquisiteness as Kim Na. The character Kim Na is skilled and dedicated and having a solid feeling of what's good and bad. She is an outstanding courageous woman. That, as well as she doesn't require Lee Yoon Sung to give her a makeover! I'm truly delighted in this leading lady. Prosecutor Kim Yong-joo, played by Lee Joon-hyuk, is the City Hunter's opponent in both wrongdoing battling and love. Like the City Hunter, he will probably reveal defilement and convey malicious government officials to equity, yet dissimilar to the City Hunter, he believes in doing it by the book. He tries to find the character of the City Hunter since he believes he is perilous. He is likewise the romantic adversary of the male lead, as both strive for the consideration of Kim Na. Once again this is like Batman, yet at the same time crisply. I'm truly delighted in this character, as he gave an incredible thwart to the lead and additionally extra gorgeous sight.

10.  Gu Family Book

A melodrama epic about the great trouble of Choi Kang Chi, conceived as a half-human-half-mythical creature, who experiences battles with a specific end goal to live more like a human than any other person in spite of not having the capacity to wind up distinctly human. He is the child of Gu Wol Ryung, the guardian of Jiri Mountain, and Yoon Seo Hwa, a normal human. Choi Kang Chi later was raised by adopted family. He grows up as a straightforward character who's brimming with interest and one day, he understands that he's a half-human-half-monster through a specific episode and begins carrying on with his second life. While experiencing the battles, he met Dam Yeo Wool who is an ace of martial arts and archery at young age and afterward, they both go fall in love for each other. The cinematography, sets and areas, the acting from a prevalent gathering cast of a significant number of Korea's finest entertainers, the haunting, poetic and savvy script composing, the excellent outfits, the stunning musical soundtrack, awesome hand to hand fighting, and impeccable course all consolidated to push this convincing show toward the highest point of my top picks' rundown. Regardless of the possibility that you are not customarily pulled in to historical era K-drama, simply try this one out I'm certain you'll be snared. Specifically, the initial two scenes are the absolute most stunning and amazingly sensational and enthusiastic television that I've ever seen in my life, and I cried hysterically at what happened to the characters of the guardians of the lead male character in this show, played by the superb and committed on-screen character Seung Gi Lee.

[supporthosechi]

Our Third Visit

        Home again, whatever that means exactly.  Moving for most people is terrible because it involves putting a bunch of small things into larger boxes, carefully wrapping delicate items—heirlooms, art, instruments, televisions, anything which is not really designed to be packed into a van or truck or other vehicle and moved any distance.  It also can mean uprooting oneself, which obviously cuts both ways: no more favorite diner down the street, no more garden in the back, no window which catches the light in the morning just so, no paint on the walls which has been redone to suit moods or fancy, no immediate physical access to friends, family, and work left behind, all to be exchanged for comparable or better versions. 

        Our LeLe’s move shares variations on many of these characteristics.  She moves from maximum to medium-minimum security, from 2000 fellow inmates to 500, from a facility housing people who will live out their natural lives within to those who will be there nine years or fewer. She leaves behind an ex-partner to become “fresh meat” at a new facility.  She sacrifices friendships and a place where anything might be obtained to one where inmates are far more cautious and the state’s control is more ironclad.  She cannot bring her paints, for which her nails have (temporarily) suffered, but the kitchen has a fryer and not everything is made of soy, by dint of which her skin has immediately cleared.  She exchanges the promise of contract work to reduce her sentence, the possibility of working with animals or cosmetics for a kitchen job which pays next to nothing (from 15 to 20 to 30 dollars a month as she moves up the ranks, rapidly), and layoffs in prison labor which do not allow her sacrifice herself to menial labor to move towards swifter release.  It’s a new place and there’s not much going on.  We sometimes think of our jobs, our relationships, our apartments, the very contours of our lives as prisons, and it sometimes feels as if we move from one to the next.  Alisha Walker’s situation has in some ways actually gotten worse with this move, and I can tell, and it tears at me, which in turn makes me feel dumb, because it tearing at me does nothing for her.

          It is hard not to imagine what it was like for her arriving as we do, pulling through a proper town and into a different sort of stone and barbed wire hell.  There is a funny little hut with some tables at the entrance and I momentarily lose track of where I am, thinking: “this would be a nice spot for Alisha to sit with her family.”  The presence of the eerily immobile guard standing beneath a strangely folksy, wooden sign proclaiming “Staff Only” quickly dispels that notion.  These are places of utmost control and power over, and any person who leaves them not wanting to smash, kill, and destroy after serving their time is either an incredible model of restraint from whom we all could learn that lesson at least, or else has had their spirit so utterly broken that it must take many soul-searching hours to find themselves anew outside.  This being our first visit, we brace for different regulations and novel layers of arbitrary command to fight through to gain entry.  We are not disappointed in this expectation.  Our first time through the double glass doors finds paperwork and, interestingly, more people of color behind one desk than we saw at the entire facility at Logan.  We are informed that one of our membership’s attire will bar her from entering, despite it being identical to what she wore on our last visit, and so I run back to the car to find something else she might wear, to no avail.  After a trip to Target to buy something less revealing than thick black tights and a hooded sweatshirt (the dead cops t-shirt is fine, mind you), we make our second attempt, now being told that we need a second form of ID each, which I dutifully return to the car again and procure. The third try reveals that the hooded sweatshirt cannot be worn in, nor can my cardigan.  When we finally make it through the metal detector, we’re left to peruse the scenery outside the gendered shakedown rooms, then left again to our own devices until we realize we can walk into the visitation room on our own accord.  The distance from the visitor’s entrance to the building to the door behind which we’ll spend the day with our friend is perhaps thirty feet, entirely indoors. This is emblematic of an entirely different, arguably even more nefarious affect of the Decatur facility.

           The entry desk is opposite a giant set of plaques devoted to employees of the month and retirees, each of which is clearly hand-carved, burned, and painted as if we were in a backwoods hunting lodge such as one might find just a few miles away from town.  There is one calligraphed sign for “Warden,” one for “Guard on Duty,” and a variety of smaller ones for the time clock and a key rack. There is a hand-etched lithograph commemorating a mother and children reunification program, to help reintegrate ex-offenders, which is distastefully hung next to a prison-staff lotto game of some variety where officers can put in their names for a monthly drawing for cash prizes.  I’m uncertain which is the more disingenuous of the two.  The guards interact with us in a generally saccharine tone (“It’s always more complicated the first time, sorry.”), wholly opposite the gruff, put-upon affect of the previous set.  I detest them and their complicity in this system, and I do not want to muse on this being a better work environment than the previous facility, that they get on better with each other and perhaps even the inmates, I want them to feel the full gravity of the despicable institution in which they are cogs, and I want them in turn to be as miserable as possible as they help make this needless societal scourge for the women inside.

           But this is not the place for any more of this particular screed.  I am privileged to see and hug and laugh with and hold and update a friend who has gotten closer and closer, and I want to know she is as all right as is humanly possible in a place designed to rob her of her humanity at every turn.

           We know each other a bit better now.  Alisha knows which one of our troupe she’ll have wild parties with and learn about the tough edge of the anti-fascist struggle when she gets out, which one will take her to tiki bars and teach her about the subject position of being a queer femme and all its responsibilities and travails, and which one will laugh too hard in spite of himself at all her jokes and make sure she’s well-fed when she needs home cooking with her Chicago family (I’m the last one, if you were wondering).  LeLe is her usual combination of vivacious hilarity and genuine interest in what we are up to on the outside.  As has been the case throughout, some of our mail has gotten through (all her birthday cards) and some, infuriatingly and arbitrarily, has not (two of our members’ last letters), so there is some general updating to be done on our end.  But we are, as anyone would be, curious about our friend’s move, and it is safe to say Alisha is at least a little wistful for the, shall we say, woolier world of Logan, a place better suited to her bawdy, mischievous, and social personality. In short: our girl is bored.  But I am reminded more acutely in this visit also: our girl is easily but deeply funny.  She tells us about the first set of clothes she got at the new facility, the crotch and thighs stained (“somebody had like a toxic vagina or something!  Just burning through!”), and how she soon found that there was no fashion scene to keep up with here.  We comment on how clean the clothes she has now look, and how she has clearly lost back some weight from the—marginally—better food and find that she’s wearing her “special occasion” polo, pristine and white, and her pair of shoes from Logan that “nobody else got.”  At the old facility, she’d be altering clothes and getting the new garb whenever it came in or else risk ridicule, which would result in mouthing off, which consequently would result in something worse.  We comment this sounds like high school all over again, and Alisha’s eyebrows go up as she busts up laughing: “It’s worse than high school!  They’re criminals!  You get your ass beat!”  She tells us about the sort of pranks unique to a place where people are already on edge but used to certain routines which mark out the time.  There is the regular practice of lining up to receive prescription medication, which LeLe naturally thought was worth crying wolf at, at least once: “MEDLINE!”  The effected inmates, of which there were many, all piled out of their cells to line up for drugs, furious at the false alarm.  When one of the older inmates got especially angry, Alisha responded with the natural question of the nonplussed prankster: “You mad?  Are you big mad or little mad?” knowing full well this would be the end of the incident.  In this “minimum security” place, loaded with contradictions, the restrictions regarding fighting and sexual relationships are vastly harsher than the previous: either will get you cited and likely put in solitary confinement, in the hole.

           We ask her a few questions on behalf of a reporter friend who is doing a profile on Alisha, one of which we already have a sense of the sad answer to, but ask anyway and receive a classic LeLe answer.

           “How are you passing the time at Decatur?”

           (slight pause) “Dyking out!”

           She goes on to explain that she is “talking to” three people, but there are ten more interested.  We get into a discussion about how “everyone is gay” on the inside, because there’s nothing else to be.  As mentioned before, she has been separated from the partnership she had begun to build at Logan, which we assume would be difficult, but as it turns out, not for the reasons we guessed.  Suffice it to say, Alisha had her heart broken while she was still at the last facility, subjected to the same sort of amplified betrayals that anyone who offers up herself to another, who feels she has forged a connection through the harshest of obstacles, who takes a calculated risk knowing separation is immanent, would find themselves susceptible.  The classic coping mechanism of “needing to spend some time alone” is drawn into brutalist relief in a place like this where one is at once in a uniquely profound solitude and at the same time never more than ten feet from another person or fifty.  Alisha proclaims she is “manic depressive,” a diagnosis about which we are all concerned and interested in how it is made and treated in this environment.  It turns out that a formal diagnosis has never been made, and Alisha explains how there is no intermediate state for her, she is either hyperactive and excited, sociable to the point where she kids with the guards in the dining hall and pushes buttons just to get some kind of reaction from the subdued and tamped-down inmates, or else utterly depressed. Not just sad about her lost girlfriend, the absent opportunities which were available to her at Logan, her missing family and friends, the wrongful nature of the system which reminds her daily it would have simpler if she had just died that night, but a purer, simpler low, resultant from the basic realities of being a giant spirit and personality cordoned off and hidden away from the society she would choose and which would, I am certain, choose her. 

         The time is more real now, she says it and I can see it, because this will be the final destination before release.  She bargains with us for all the things she would give up to be able to step outside, or do anything positive for herself at all, and then we hit the crux of the matter.  Alisha tells us she is not used to—and at this point, there’s no reason to think she’ll ever get used to, which is fine—having to ask for everything, and being powerless to help those she cares about.  Among the myriad motivations for doing sex work, the at least potential command over one’s income, how often and what sort of work one wants to do, was clearly foremost for our girl.  Her mother, brother, sister, and new nephew need her, not simply financially or even emotionally but—and I do not use this term lightly—spiritually.  Anyone who meets Alisha and finds favor with her would comprehend this sort of need; she is magnanimous not because she is a saint but because it is clear that when she cares it is wholesale and not easily vacated. She will never become accustomed to be so dependent on, having to ask for things from, her mother, having to be shaken down to use the bathroom, finding nearly every step, of which there are only so many which can be taken anyway, requiring official and explicit sanction.

           It does no real good for me to soften the situation in these reflections: our dauntless survivor is hurting, each next forced renegotiation of her dignity and creative power taxing the underground wellspring of strength from which she draws.  The tiny gold cross she wears around her neck borders on satire; this is no cloister for the likes of Alisha Walker, and there’s no spiritual quest or fulfillment concealed within.  Just the full, indifferent weight of the state’s corporal fetish borne down on a young woman full to bursting with creative potency.  I, insignificant and impotent in the face of such forces, have two options, with only the first being at all viable.  Either LeLe will emerge from this place, sooner than later, intact and excited to make good on all the plans we make every next visit, or I do not want to go on existing in the world which not just allows but applauds her forced sacrifice.

           Alisha is disappointed that one of our members does not eat red meat, having raised cows in her youth and, accepting this reality, turns to me in mock-frustration:

           “Aaron, please tell me you eat steak.”

           I do, LeLe, I do, and I don’t know if it’s going to taste right again until you’re on the opposite side of the table from me for the first time.

-AH