#fellas why do i always make a crack ship in my mind for the funnys and it ends up consuming me in a serious manner

[cringefail-clown]

hey remember the post i made that brodad in turnabout would be absolutely hilarious? because i remember. and i cannot forget. and now im thinking about it constantly

please send help

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

All The Days Ahead, Chapter 8: All Of The Words We Said, We Can't Take Back

Mal x Simon, Firefly. Jayne POV. Also on AO3. Ch 1-7 on my blog.

Jayne makes a listening noise and keeps walking, half of his attention on the people around them. Why any reasonable fella would want to get married in the first place is beyond him. He definitely never expected it of Mal.

A month after Mal is officially cleared from bedrest, Serenity is docked on Persephone while the crew scatters to gather supplies. Mal and Jayne are in the garment district, with its open air market tables and loud overlapping conversations. 

It’s not wholly clear to Jayne why the captain ordered him to come along on this errand--he ain’t much for fashion, nor wedding decorations. Mal would be better off with one of the women. His best guess is that Simon’s the one behind it, a way to offer Mal protection when he’s still weak. But he can’t ask, can he? The doc still isn't his biggest fan. So guessin’ is all he has.

“We’re looking for beads first,” Mal tells him. “The prayer kind, though we won’t be doing any prayin’ at my wedding, I’ve already had words with the preacher about that.”

Jayne makes a listening noise and keeps walking, half of his attention on the people around them. Why any reasonable fella would want to get married in the first place is beyond him. He definitely never expected it of Mal.

In hindsight--heh, hindsight, that right there’s a pun, Jayne realizes--he probably shoulda known the captain was sly long before Simon came onboard. Mal always did enjoy dressin’ up like womenfolk on the job a little too much. 

“How long is this gonna take, anyway?” Jayne asks. “Never feels safe spending too much time on Badger’s planet. Askin’ to get pinched.”

“It’s not Badger’s planet!” Mal retorts. “He only lives here. But I take your point, seeing as he got me shot and all. Once we handle my list, we’ll head back to the ship.”

“Shouldn’t take more’n a few hours,” Mal adds. “Rest of the crew ought to be back by then too--no reason to linger.”

“Good. So, prayer beads. Any particular color?”

“Simon didn’t say.” Mal frowns. “I guess, whatever’s classic under these circumstances.”

“Red and gold then. Or the kind made from wood.”

Mal stops walking to stare at Jayne.

“What?”

“Nothin.’ You just confound expectations at times.”

He’s feelin’ twitchy, an itch between his shoulderblades that usually means they’re being watched. In this crowd, he can’t tell if it’s true. “Just keep yourself focused while we’re strolling, would you? Don’t need nobody gettin’ shot again.”

“Hey,” Mal protests. “Mykan wasn’t my fault--I wasn’t distracted. I was a highly focused professional, scoping out the area just like you and Zoe.”

“Yeah, well, all I know is, Zoe and I didn’t end up shot. Maybe you and the doc should stay off jobs until after your honeymoon,” Jayne suggests. “Too busy grappling with him lately. Never used to get shot.”

“I’ve been shot lots of times!” Mal reconsiders that line of defense. “Not the point. I don’t need to take myself off the job, Jayne. I’m all healed, my mind’s as sharp as ever. Don’t know where you got the idea that I’d be addled anyhow, just ‘cause Simon and I are together.”

“Come on, Mal. Ev’rybody knows goin’ sly can make you soft. Got to watch--”

Jayne isn’t finished with his warning before Mal’s got his hands around his neck. Despite their history, it still surprises Jayne whenever the captain goes for whip-quick violence...probably because he’s more of a pistol duel kind of man. Honorable even when he shouldn’t be. 

“Hey! What’d I say?” Jayne chokes out, starting to turn red. Mal’s not actually trying to kill him--the hold he’s got on Jayne is more of a threat than a real attack--but that won’t stop him from passing out if it goes on much longer.

“Do I look soft to you?” Mal asks, his voice fearsome in its restraint. 

Passersby aren’t paying them much mind, though Jayne can see a pair of men across the market eyeing them. They look like scalpers, not likely to intervene even if Mal does strangle him.

“No,” Jayne says, trying to shake his head. “Wasn’t what I meant, Mal. You’re takin’ it all wrong.”

“What about Simon?” Mal asks, his anger more evident now. “You’ve been at the end of one of his blades, you moonbrained hwen dan. Think he’s soft too?”

“No. Dammit, Mal, lemme go.”

Jayne shakes off the choking feeling, rubbing his throat as Mal steps back. “Dunno why you’re taking things so personal these days. I was just tryin’ to say you and Simon both oughta be careful. Either of you die, what’ll happen to the rest of us?”

“Well, whatever you think of me, or of Simon, keep it to yourself,” Mal says. “I got no interest in your opinions on my sexual proclivities, ‘specially when they make you sound like a backberth never set foot off the rim.”

“Ain’t like I insulted you,” he protests. “Just fact. You and the doctor are coupled up.”

“That we are. And if you like facts so much, here’s another: you talk like that again about me or Simon, it’ll be your turn for a hilarious gunshot wound.” 

Mal rolls his shoulders and stalks off through the crowd, ready to pick up what they came for.

“Really didn’t mean it that way,” Jayne insists as he follows Mal through the crowd. Captain sure was tetchy lately; must be them wedding jitters people talk about. 

After a few minutes of silent walking,  Jayne puts a hand on Mal’s shoulder. He isn’t surprised when Mal shrugs it off, but it succeeds in getting his attention, which is the goal.

“Behind your left,” Jayne says under his breath, and Mal tenses, starts walking again. 

“Table up ahead,” Mal answers, and Jayne understands the shorthand for ‘play at being shoppers and see what happens next.’ 

He joins Mal at the display of prayer beads, his hand casually resting above his gun. “Well, are these gonna work for you okay, do y’think? I don’t rightly know what a wedding needs, to be honest.”

Mal relaxes as soon as he lays eyes on the men walking toward them. Jayne keeps his hand where it is, though, just in case.

“Renshaw!” Mal reaches out and the two men clap each other on the back, friendly as you please. 

The skinny man beside Renshaw looks about as thrilled as Jayne feels at this development, his own hand inside his coat. Jayne nods in his direction and he tips the brim of his hat in return.

“Cain’t remember,” Renshaw says. “You met Stacey before? He’s new to my crew.”

“Don’t reckon I have. Pleasure,” Mal tells the silent man in front of him. 

“Same.”

Chatty fella. Jayne clears his throat.

“Right. Renshaw, this is Jayne. He’s on my crew--doubtful you’ve crossed paths before, I know you stick closer to the central planets these days.”

“Jayne.” Renshaw grins, his smile crooked. “You can let go of your gun, I suspect. We’re all friends here.”

“Are we? I ain’t in the market for friends.”

“Jayne’s a girl’s name,” Renshaw’s man says, and Jayne’s hand twitches near his pistol. Maybe it is better if he lets it go for now. 

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. When my momma brought me out, Stacey was already taken.”

Renshaw decides to ignore them, and turns back to Mal. “What brings you to Persephone on this fine day, Reynolds? Didn’t you get shot on Mykan all recent-like?”

“Weren’t that recent,” he says with a shrug. “I’m up and about now, just doing some trading. Getting tied soon, and there’s all manner of particulars we need for that, as it happens.”

“Well, congratulations!” The leader of the rival crew claps his shoulder again. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Jayne snorts. The man’s wrong twice; Simon ain’t a lady, and he also ain't much lucky, far as Jayne can tell.

“No such lady,” Mal replies, aiming a warning look Jayne’s way. “I’m marrying our crew doctor--he and I have been flying together for years now.”

“You’re kidding.” Renshaw looks between Mal and Jayne for the punchline, laughing when it didn’t come. “The fearsome Malcolm Reynolds, last man standing in Serenity Valley? Spreading on the sly? Well and I thought I’d seen everything the ‘verse had on offer by now.”

“You’re gonna want to find a new joke,” Jayne tells him. “This one ain’t funny.”

“Jayne, leave it,” Mal starts to say, before Renshaw cuts him off. 

“Son, you’re gonna want to stop giving me orders before Stacey here puts you in your place.”

“I’m right familiar with my place,” the mercenary says, as Mal looks on. “It’s exactly where I’m standin.’ You both might wanna reconsider your own locations though. You’re about three hundred rotations back in time, ain’t ya?”

“You’re telling me you fly with him, muscle like you?” Renshaw asks. “Knowin’ what he gets up to?”

“‘Course I do. Why wouldn’t I? He pays me.” It has always been that simple for Jayne, even if he sometimes also feels pangs of family and affection and home for the folks on Serenity. “I get paid, I got no problem. I’m here helpin’ him pick out wedding beads, ain’t I?”

“Well, I hope you know,” Renshaw warns, that crooked smile of his a sneer now. “Sly can be catching if you don’t put a stop to it. Next thing you know, it could be you tied to a--”

Mal expects the next word out of Renshaw’s mouth was to be insulting. He doesn’t have to hear it, though, because Jayne’s knuckles knock the words right out of Renshaw’s mouth--along with two teeth. 

Stacey reacts immediately, going for Jayne while Mal just sort of stands by, feeling useless under the circumstances. If he takes a punch to the wrong spot, he’ll bleed internally: Simon lectured him on that possibility multiple times before letting him out to shop today.

Jayne doesn’t give him long to mope, though. A gut punch doubles Stacey over, followed by an elbow slicing down to catch him behind his neck. He’s left sprawling across Renshaw, both men unconscious. Jayne cracks his knuckles and lets out a whistle, feeling cheerier after the excuse for a fight. 

Not much of a fight, only two men and all, over awfully fast...but still, made Persephone more fun for a minute there.

“Why are you staring?” He asks Mal, once he looks over and sees it.

“After all that kuh wu crazy you were spoutin’ earlier about me and Simon, it’s Renshaw’s words you take offense to? You dropped them both like it was your mama they insulted.”

“You know me, Mal!” Jayne protests. “Words ain’t my speciality. I’m always getting smacked for ‘em.”

“So your reasoning was, you should beat up Renshaw? In my honor?”

“‘Xactly.” Jayne nods. “Not like you could do it, not today. And you shouldn’t have to, anyhow. Get mussed up or bloodied while you trade for your wedding. You gotta look purty for your bridegroom, in’nt that right?”

Mal stares down at the men who are starting to stir, then back at Jayne, who seems as sincere as Jayne ever gets. 

“You really do confound expectations,” Mal says. “We should mosey along, I think, before they find their feet again.”

“What about your beads?” Jayne points to the table they were perusing before Renshaw joined them. “Those blue ones are nice.”

They’re painted wood, and the old woman selling them has a sweet smile. Mal decides that if Simon wanted a different color, he should have specified--the blue suits him just fine. 

“Yeah, pay for those and let’s go,” he agrees. “We have to find a ribbon next, fancy yellow one. Don’t suppose there’s a yellow ribbon table up ahead, do you?”

“Could be.” Jayne shrugs, handing him the beads and leading the way toward the center of the market. “What do you need a ribbon for, anyhow?”

“Simon’s got all kinds of ideas. I haven’t asked too many questions,” Mal admits, grinning when Jayne glances back. “Between him and Kaylee, I’m just doin’ as I’m told.”

“Does that make you the bride?” Jayne wonders aloud. “I keep meaning to ask.”

“Gonna shoot you,” Mal answers simply, and Jayne waits for him to catch up, so they’re walking side by side again.

“I retract the question.”

“Good.”

“Am I gonna need somethin’ fancy to wear?” Jayne asks. “‘Cause I’ve only got my...non-fancy clothing.”

“If you’re real worried you can ask Simon,” Mal says. “I’m guessing the women will dress up, because they want to. But I for one don’t care what you wear.”

They walk in friendlier silence after that, until Mal stops, aiming a knowing finger at Jayne. “As long as you’re wearing clothes.”

“That happened one time! And I was mighty hungover that day.” It’s not like he harmed nobody. No matter what ‘Nara said about mental pain and suffering. 

"Never let nothin' go," Jayne mutters under his breath on their way to a ribbon display, the rainbow of colors including a perfect yellow that Mal folds into his pocket.

“Two more treasure hunts and then we’re back to Serenity,” Mal tells him.

He’s glad to hear it. Jayne suspects the rest of their shopping trip is going to include a lot less punching, so he’d rather get it over with.

As Mal’s friend though, if he is that, it’s his job to be supportive. Right? 

So he tacks away from his real feelings and slings an arm over Mal’s shoulders. “Shiny. Just tell me what we’re looking for.”

[cao-the-dreamer]

Dragons of justice

Fandom : Overwatch

Pairing : McHanzo

Rating : K

Summary : Because I think McHanzo is cute (like all the others Overwatch ships) and also because I have a problem by creating child OC and writing about happy family and all. XD Fluffy OS with a bit of Emergenji

Enjoy ! Cao ;)

Read it on Fanfiction

Running, running and not stopping, while the sun goes down.

It's the end of the afternoon. Her feet almost don't touch the ground, each jump closers her to the sky, then she has to get back to the earth, long brown hair dancing behind her back like a living wave.

It's so easy to get off the hill, while going up is more difficult, but who cares ? At this moment, only the excitement of the run matters.

The wind is sharp, but the woods enlightened. Tree branches slapping her face, nimble legs trying to avoid the roots.

Here comes the end.

She flows from the forest, lands into the light, onto the dusty road. Down the hill stands the village, first mark of civilization. It's a beautiful day, between the emerald mountains. A powerful breath of wind hits the hills and mountain range, and the tiny valley embedded between them. Green or black, there are only woods everywhere, imposing and impenetrable. Here and there are also some impressive ochre cliffs. In this place the wild nature has all rights, we humans are so meaningless against it. The wind has a strong blow, messing her hairs, but it's fresh and pleasant. She could swear it has a voice.

It's time to run again.

Jump and dodge the obstacles, land into a massive rock to fly away, then reduce the violent impact with the ground by catching branches. Rise on your feet, and continue.

Don't stop thinking. Always considering the next move, using the environment around to go faster, but you must control you speed.

Her father taught her so much.

Now, she's one with the wind.

She jumps again, to arrive on a roof. She left the altitude, here's the bottom town.

She knows how to control her weight, her balance so that she doesn't damage the shingles and won't fall. She catches a thin wall, playing funambulists, carefully, then runs again onto the next house.

She hears a cry, looks down. This idiot of Lewis is bullying a little one with his band of morons, again.

Welp. Don't say she didn't warn him.

She goes back, takes a run-up, and dips down, yelling her battle cry.

- It's HIGH NOON !

Fear paints on the teenagers' faces, while she lands between them.

- It's Dragonna ! shouts one of them. Run, run !

But she's faster and blocks the alley's exit, forbidding any escape. Her smile is creepy.

- Please ! beg almost all the teens. It was Lewis' idea, not ours !

She shrugs, demonstrating that they are all guilty. Then moves quickly and slaps all their faces, a warning for the future, before blocking Lewis against a wall. She's smaller than him, but also stronger. He sees with despair his band running away.

- Just you and me now. How many ?

- Wh-what ?

- How many children did you bully ?

- O-only this one, I-I swear !

- I will ask in town what you did these last days, and if I discover you've lied to me, you will wish not to have been born.

He swallows and gives three names, begging for mercy between two words. Then the pain comes between his legs, unbearable, and he collapses down onto the ground, breathless. She gripes his hair and rises carelessly his head. Her stare is easy to read.

- I won't start again, I promise…

She exhales and slams his face on the ground. When she gets up, the little child is looking at her, stars in his eyes.

- Thank you so very much ! You came from the sky like some cool superhero ! You're so badass, ma'am !

- I'm only thirteen.

- Oops, sorry ! But I insist, thank you for helping me, miss, uh… Dragonna !

- No, she says coldly.

- What ?

- The name's Sarah.

- Oh… Sorry again. But why do they call you Dragonna then ?

She gives no response, but points at her right arm. And at this moment only he notices the impressive tattoo. All the skin is covered by crimson dragons' scales, with here and there delicate pink petals flowers, and some touches of golden paint.

- I can't believe your parents let you make a tattoo…

She shrugs again. No need to tell him the true story. Then the boy rises a hand.

- My name is Thomas, I've just arrived in town. It's really nice to meet you !

New one here ? Well that would be interesting. She greets him with a smile and shakes friendlily his hand. Then she steps back, waves at him before climbing the wall like some incredible ninja, and disappearing from his gaze.

To climb the hill, she always takes her time. She likes to contemplate the landscape. This hour of the day is one of the most beautiful. The twilight is coming down, gently shadowing the atmosphere. The last sunsets stretch the silhouettes of trees and hers, as if some giants were hiding under an innocent-looking skin. A palette of gold, pink and purplish is coloring the sky, and the light makes the cloud purple, like some funny marshmallows. They look so easy to catch, as if they were in front of your nose. The leaves crack under feet and some rocks roll, before she enters into the woods.

While the humans go to sleep, life here is awakening. Owls are hooting, crickets are whispering a peaceful song, here a bat is flying quickly and there is the breath of a strong animal, ground cracking under its weight. The environment is dark, and she's surrounded by various sounds, leading her in the shadows.

Then, she hears someone shouting her name. She starts to hurry, and finally the trees spread apart. Between the trunks stands an half-rustic half-futurist house, and in front of it a man is cutting wood with an axe, shirtless, and calling sometimes the name of the girl.

- Good evening, dad Jesse !

The man gets up and smiles at his daughter, sweat running on the skin of his torso.

- Hello there, little fella ! I see ya've kept yer promise.

- Coming back before the night falls, yes sir ! Where is dad Hanzo ?

- He finished cookin' a quarter of hour ago, so he's practicin' with the bow behind the house. Go get 'im so we all can clean our faces before dinner.

- Sure you need a bath, you big stinking bear !

- I heard ya !

But she runs away before he can catch her. In the training area, filled with weapons, dummies and targets, Hanzo was shooting his arrows, focusing, when she arrives. Because he hears his daughter coming, the Japanese man stops what he's doing.

- Good evening, Tousan.

- Good evening, Sakura, he says tenderly as he patted her head.

When she was just a little baby, her fathers couldn't agree about her name, so they ended up with two instead of one, Sakura Sarah, because both almost sounded like the other.

Hanzo wasn't her biological father, Jesse was. But in her mind, a father is the one who takes care of her, she doesn't care about blood ties.

She is always laughing when her dads tell her how they got their daughter. They went to a marriage party, and as usual McCree drank too much and ended up drunk. But in the crowded place, Hanzo lost his partner because this big idiot thought it was Hanzo he was seducing, while it was an unknown woman looking like the Japanese. And then McCree woke up in her bed, without a single memory of how he came here and leaving the place in panic, while Hanzo was stressed as hell, alone in their house. After some explanations in front of an angry Hanzo, the Japanese forgave the cowboy, both forgetting the incident. So it was quite a surprise when the woman reappeared some months later, furious and pregnant. She didn't want to keep the baby and almost ordered them to raise the child. At Jesse's surprise, Hanzo agreed, with discret happiness in his eyes. The bowman had been thinking for a long time about having children. He talked sometimes about it with Jesse, and since the opportunity had been here, why refuse it ? When the baby was born, Jesse and Hanzo were recognised as the official fathers, and they never saw the woman again. Whenever he was telling this story, Hanzo always remembered the first time he took Sakura in his arms, a tiny creature looking at him with her huge, shining red eyes.

Although, after this memory, he also see the tattoo, beginning to draw itself on her daughter's skin, when she was seven. None of them understood this event ; Sarah wasn't a Shimada, and yet the dragons chose her, they marked her, making her shivering of pain for months. It was a painful and horrible process for the little one, but all of this disappeared with her laugh, when she summoned the dragons for the first time. These creatures aren't only powerful spirit, but also the "animal" part of their owner. The two crimson dragons played around her like kittens, nuzzling with each people in the room, making the day of the little girl.

Hanzo go back to present when Jesse kisses him on the nose.

- Whatcha thinking, darlin' ? Ya look absent.

- Oh, nothing. Just remembering the past.

Jesse chuckles and presses his lips against Hanzo's. Then the two men enter the house. Each person takes a quick shower, before setting up the table. The evening's menu is miso soup with chili con carne, and home-made ice cream. The advantage with a Japanese father and a Mexico-American father is the diversity of plates, and Sakura Sarah just loves it.

- So, sweetie, asks Jesse while they are eating, whadidya do downtown ?

- Hey, how do you know ?

- You smell like cement and concrete, answers Hanzo.

- I was just hanging around in the city. I also punched some bullies.

- Great job, cariña ! laughed Jesse. Justice ain't gonna dispense itself !

- Was it the same boy from the last time ? Lewis ?

- Yes, Tousan, but now he learned his lesson. There is also a newcomer in town, Thomas. Maybe I will see him at the back-to-school.

- Sakura-chan, the holidays are almost over. Is it the same for your homeworks ?

- Dad, come on, I finished them at the beginning of holidays! You can remember it, you are not senile !

Jesse starts to laugh while Hanzo pokes his daughter on the forehead. Of course he knows his daughter did them, she is clever, but only using her cleverness when she wants to, what a waste. Then the tablet rings, with the typical melody of Genji's call. Sarah is faster and literally throws herself onto the couch, grabbing the tablet on the low table before any of the two men could react. She answers to the video chat with a big smile.

- Good evening, uncle Genji !

- Hello Sakura-chan, responds the cyborg, an amused light into his eyes. Then Angela also arrives on the screen, carrying a young child.

- How are you doing, Süsse ? gently asks the swiss, while the little boy waves excitedly at the teen.

- Sasa ! Sasa ! the eight-years-old shouts happily.

- I'm fine, thanks Aunt Angie. Hallo, Erwin ! So, did you get better at dancing ?

- Yeah ! You promise you will come to see me at my performance ?

- Of course, I won't miss it for any reason !

- Hi everyone ! greets Jesse, sitting near to his daughter, Hanzo on the other side.

The whole family discuss for a long time, about anything and everything. Outside, the night is coming, with a half moon beginning to rise.

Then, it's time to clear the table and the kitchen, before going to bed. Teeth cleans and wearing a huge floating nightgown, Sakura gives a kiss on the cheek to both her dads before laying on her bed. They quietly close her room's door, then head to their.

The room is dark, but filled with soft shadows, and the pale moonlight falls onto their bed like a soft spotlight, as if it is indicating that it's bedtime. The two men prepare themselves to sleep, but Hanzo stays sitting on the mattress, looking at the wistful celestial body. Jesse pulls an arm around his shoulders.

- Still nostalgic 'bout past, darlin' ?

- No, he replies as he embraces his lover and tenderly kisses him on the lips.

I am happy with our present.

[ninaazucarbk]

An Unconventional, Difficult & Fun Life

Extremely Concerned Individual:  Are you still in that DJ thing?

Me: Yes, I still DJ professionally.

Extremely Concerned Individual: *sigh* After all the work (re: college) and for nothing.  It’s so sad.

Me: It’s not sad.  It’s my job.  It’s just different.  I took a different route.

Extremely Concerned Individual: Yes but this isn’t a real job.  It’s a hobby.  I’m worried about you.  

Welcome to my life as a full time DJ with a vagine and a relatively steady stream of gigs who is simply trying to figure out how to adult as a creative freelancer in her mid 30s with no shortage of people who don’t understand how I got here or why I choose to stay here.  To be clear, I get it.  Being a creative freelancer is difficult for many reasons.  But the most difficult aspect of it is coming to the realization that societal conditioning has made it so that DJ’ing, which can be a pretty practical gig if you let it be, is declared an unrealistic career goal that can’t replace a traditional 9 to 5 job...or more specifically, a traditionally female 9 to 5 job.  

A little perspective.  I spent 8 years as a full time teacher before working up the courage to transition to my current situation as a full time DJ.  I had been mulling it over for about 4 years before making the leap, after which there were no shortage of friends, family and random strangers I just met who have been terribly concerned about me ever since.  9 times out of 10 this concern manifests itself as a gentle steering towards more realistic alternatives that would grant me benefits and other general trappings of a traditional 9 to 5 career.  In these cases I’m usually steered towards traditionally female jobs like:

Teaching - Reminder: That ship HAS sailed.

Nursing - I can’t tell you where this comes from.

Speech Pathology - ????

Child Counseling - Are we sensing a theme?

Interestingly enough at no point has anyone ever suggested I work in other pretty secure, predominantly male, gigs like Sanitation, FDNY, Tech, Finance or the like.  This is probably for the best because, to be fair, I would suck in all four of these areas.

But that doesn’t suggest that I would make a great nurse either.  And I can’t tell you the amount of times well meaning loved ones have suggested I look into a career along these lines, failing to acknowledge the glaring truth.

When a person, of any gender, is determining their “life’s purpose”, whatever that even means, there are several important factors to consider that transcend genitalia. 

1. Do you have natural talents that lend themselves to the line of work you’re trying to pursue?

Por ejemplo... I am particularly squeamish and would have a difficult time working in areas where I had to frequently encounter injured people and be around bodily fluids on a regular basis.  So that takes nursing out of the equation....

Not to mention the expense of nursing school for someone who already has three DAMB college degrees, two of which are in *drumroll please* MUSIC.

2. Experience.  Expertise.  Do you have any?

I’m a woman of a certain age.  

It’s a funny age because while I’m aware I’m not geriatric, by any means, I’m still at a stage in my life where I’m expected to have learned certain life lessons, be vaguely more established in life than I was in my 20s and, of course, to have expertise in SOME professional area.  My areas of expertise, for context, are administration, education and music.  However, of the three, when you think of which is the more realistic job option for someone who is “serious about their future” MUSIC hardly comes to mind.  

So go figure this is the area in which I have the MOST expertise and experience.  I performed extensively as a child with Bomba y Plena music and dance troupes throughout NYC in the 90s.  In my teens I studied classically at LaGuardia High School For The Performing Arts.  I continued my classical training at Brooklyn College Conservatory for roughly 8 years and earned two college degrees in music.  I worked professionally as a ringer for several church choirs in NYC and have now worked, professionally, as a full-time DJ for two years.  The bulk of my ACTUAL expertise (paid or otherwise) has been in the field of music.

3. Passion.

If we’re being honest, my number one passion has always been and will always be music for a plethora of reasons that could be an entirely different post altogether.  I firmly believe that passion is what should drive someone into the career they’re best suited for, if they can manage it.  But when you get to a certain point in your life the act of letting passion drive you is often scoffed at as irresponsible, immature, unrealistic and certainly not the way to land an APPROPRIATE or SMART career.  

Often comparisons are made to generations before us who had to do what they had to do to make ends meet.

Passion based careers are considered a luxury or privilege.  To that I say, try surviving on a creative freelancer’s salary in NYC for more than a month and then we can talk.  

Even some of my peers in creative fields often speak of having to choose between your brain and your heart.  Referring to choosing a career that they’re passionate about as “following your heart”.  A career in the arts, unless your a bonafide celebrity (which is NOT my end goal), is seen as flighty, romantic and hopeful.  Rarely is it acknowledged as a suitable career for someone who is equipped for the job, because naturally without a team of people managing every aspect of our day our delicate little heads would explode.  You can’t honestly believe that it’s possible for one person to have enough discipline to manage more than one aspect of their business, can you?

*insert sarcasm related gif here*

We’re living in an age where we have a world of information at our fingertips 24/7 and more opportunities to thrive in alternative careers than ever before, which begs the question...

How unrealistic is freelancing, really?

I, too, have fallen prey to external voices that attempt to tell me what I can and cannot do from their own biased perspectives.  But the only way to find out what can and can’t be is to take a crack at it.  Cliche but true.  And so that’s what I’ve been doing for the past 2 years.  Now when I’m asked what I do for a living I’m met with concerned looks, condescending remarks, chuckles and suggestions that my being a DJ is an adorable attempt at going toe to toe and trying to keep up with the fellas.  The most confusing reaction of all is the suggestion that my being a DJ is a rebellious act, which is perplexing because I don’t feel rebellious at all.  DJ’ing feels like a regular degular job to me because music performance is actually what I’m best equipped to do, despite my having a breadth of knowledge and expertise in other areas.

I'M A CREATIVE.  BOTTOM LINE.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I don’t even necessarily think that this is something I could have chosen to be myself.  It was more of a realization that I came to after dibbling and dabbling in one field or another with this thought in the back of my mind that music was what I really should have been doing the whole time had it not been for how obviously unrealistic it was.  But ultimately, as it turned out, being a musician and overall creative is what mattered to me, what I was most skilled at and what I am committed to.  

I often feel like when we discuss glass ceilings and gender inequality we often focus on polished, conservative fields like law, medicine and politics, etc.  To see women breaking down walls in these fields that involve a lot of structure, rules, formulas and rigidity (that’s actually not shade) it feels safe.  But unconventional lines of work are more threatening.  Mainstream ideas of what women should and shouldn’t aspire to become clear when we get to decide how and when we get paid, how flexible our work schedule is, how we present visually, etc.  Of course there’s no shortage of people, even in creative fields, who will stop at nothing to make things difficult for us either way.  It’s not all sunshine and lollipops.  But the point is it’s difficult to monitor and manage women when they’re calling most of the shots.    

When I think about it, this is part of what compels me to push forward, despite how challenging and scary it was to thrust myself into this field.  I feel strongly about women being capable of attaining the same level of success as their male counterparts on their own terms in all fields and I have committed myself to being an example of this so much so that, at times, it gets downright uncomfortable.  But for me, it’s worth it.  Because if I can learn anything from my parents and grandparents who sometimes placed themselves in uncomfortable positions in an effort to push forward, it’s that growth can be painful, uncomfortable and difficult to navigate but, if my experience trying to advance in my field is any indication, it’s very necessary.

I’ve come to the end of this piece and struggling with an impactful note to end on but something that sticks with me is a visit that I made with a group of young girls to Serato a few months ago to learn how to use Serato Video to add exciting visual elements to a DJ set.  The girls were fascinated with Op Miller and DJ Dstrukt’s demo and I remember at one point one of my students turned to me and said:

“This is so much fun.  It’s a good skill to have, you know, if everything else doesn’t work out.”

It struck a chord with me and renewed my commitment to being one of (now) many women in the DJ field who are proving that choosing an unconventional life can be everything you need. It can work out.  And yes, it absolutely is fun af.