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saranghanuuu · 4 years

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10 SIMILARITIES ALL INSTALLMENTS OF REPLY SERIES (Reply 1997, Reply 1994, Reply 1988) HAVE

1. Ze temperamental female lead & ze mighty and genius male lead who can tolerate her

2. Parents who are in a love-hate relationship, but care for their family more than anything

3. There should be at least one doctor in the circle

4. And at least one friend with celebrity-like fame who has a huge crush on our female lead

5. The crackhead friend in the group

6. The oh so perfect second male lead you would care less even if the female lead ends up with him

7. Relationships on the side as thrilling as our main ship

8. Answering the confession with a kiss - do it with your bodyyy

9. Unparalleled friendship we are all jealous of

10. Idol actors whom we are thankful of for bringing their wonderful characters to life

After all these years, I finally finished watching the Reply series. This is the best Korean anthology series I watched ever! I know, I know I'm so behind the fun.

So, why didn't I watch them while ongoing?

Reply 1997 aired when I was on my senior year in college and Reply 1994 when I just graduated and is transitioning into being an officially unemployed kid. Talk about the dreadful college stuffs like thesis, exams, pre and post-graduation stress, quarter-life crisis, etc. - YOU NAME IT.

I was still a newb in watching ongoing Kdramas during the time when Reply 1988 was aired. I can only watch one ongoing Kdrama at a time back then.

And why did I decide to watch it recently?

Blame the main contributory factor – i.e., Hospital Playlist. I've been kinda obssessed with it 'coz it's so heartwarming that it helped me with my anxiety attacks. I reckoned I should watch dramas with the same theme for now instead of complicated ones. After I discovered that the writer and director of Hospital Playlist are the same ones who brought the Reply series, that's when I knew I should watch them.

I found Reply series informative, too, that I'm amazed on how well-researched these dramas are.

If you want to know about the extreme fan culture during that time when 1st Gen Idols ruled South Korea, watch Reply 1997. I actually became a fan of SECHSKIES after watching it (sorry Si Won!)

If you want to be informed of some of the historically and culturally significant events that happened in South Korea during 1994 and succeeding years, watch Reply 1994.

If you want to have a glimpse of the familial and filial bond in South Korea during the late 80s, watch Reply 1988.

In what sequence did I watch them?

Reply 1988 > Reply 1994 > Reply 1997. I recommend this too in case you haven't watched anything just yet.

Since I've already watched the three installments, the big question is — which among them is my favorite?

This is an easy question for me. I became fond of them all, of course. But I can say that among the three Reply installments, Reply 1994 holds a special place in my heart.

Perhaps Si Won and Yoon Jae's push and pull relationship (imagine it took them 12 episodes to finally confirm their feelings) and Duk Seon and Jung Hwan not ending up together affected my choice. But that's not all there is to it.

Unlike Reply 1997 and Reply 1988, Reply 1994 characters were in a college setting – that phase in their lives where only the fittest survives – even getting out of the comfort of their own families and living together with strangers in a boarding house. I adored how the characters maturely dealt with the challenges and problems in life, finding solace in each other during difficult times. Watching Reply 1994 is like reality hitting me hard. It is true that we enjoy being with friends, but we must do it whilst being responsible and accountable for our future.

Reply 1994 has the best OSTs among the three as well (at least for me). The 6 main characters even had their fair share in singing OSTs for the drama and all of them are bop. I didn't know Go Ara can sing!

Also, they took the mystery of Na Jung's husband into a whole new level. It was produced in a way that would get the viewers thinking all main male characters can be the prospective husband, and as the episodes unfold, showing us why this particular character cannot. I guess it would have been far more exciting if I had the chance to watch it way back when this drama is still ongoing. I prolly get all giddy in anticipation as to who ends up with Na Jung.

And... sorry as this is a bit of a SPOILER. Honestly, I shipped Na Jung with Chilbong. Up to the last few eps, I hoped she ends up with him. While I am upset that Duk Seon and Jung Hwan's ship didn't sail, that was not the case after I knew who Na Jung's husband is. The scenes before the reveal were so emotionally detailed. I very much understood and wholeheartedly accepted at once why Chilbong is and cannot be the one. Luckily enough, all main characters of Reply 1994 had a romantically happy ending.

Reply series officially made it into my Kdrama treasure trove. Why not? This series is indeed a gem.

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katiebruce · 3 years

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adios, amigo.

Well, 2020. What is there to say that hasn’t already been said, tweeted or Instagram-ed a thousand and two times about you? I’ll save us all the generic stuff—“unprecedented,” “nightmarish,” “absurd”—yes, 2020 was all of those things, but on a deeper, more personal level, there is so much more I have to say that doesn’t fit quite into those clichés.

So, this will be my attempt to document and reflect upon one of the strangest years I’ve encountered in my thirty-one years on this planet. Buckle up, buttercup.

Like many others before me have frequently observed, the way I spend my New Year’s Eve has always set the tone for the year to come, and boy, was this year a picture-perfect example of exactly that. Because I had to work on January first, I spent my New Year’s Eve at home watching a depressing movie with T, quietly kissing on the cold back patio as fireworks went off in the distance. I remember feeling both happy and sad about this evening (a duality that was a major theme for me for the fifty-two weeks to come, if only I had known). I was sad not to be celebrating my favorite holiday and even remember telling T that I didn’t want the year to come to be one I spent not going out, staying home, and becoming reclusive as I finished up the stressful process of finishing my MFA thesis in the course of ten (or, what I thought would be ten) short months.

But on the other hand, being held in T’s arms, I remembered feeling so happy that I could have this little quiet holiday—something that felt so private and personal—so entirely our own. It really set the tone for our relationship for the year, and for the obstacles we not only overcame together but dominated, one right after the next.

January was cold, snowy, and full of flight cancellations, which I remember to be something worth celebration at the time. I stayed home and snuggled my way into Aquarius season, the time for me and my brethren to shine, feeling positive that I had lived my thirtieth year to one of great satisfaction and maximum travels taken. (If only I had known then that that late-January El Paso layover where my crew and I walked across the border into Juarez to eat street tacos and laugh over Mezcal would be one of the only times I would leave the country for the year, well, I might have taken a few shots of tequila and really enjoyed my stay abroad just a bit longer).

February came, and with it, the promise of friends. My darling Kristopher, as always, flew to Chicago on the day of (also the day I completed and passed my eighth recurrent [!]) and, thanks to my other darling baby, Nicole, scored tickets to one of the highly coveted format reunion tour shows happening in March* for me, her, and my momma.

(*It did not, in fact, take place in March).

I turned thirty-one in the way I’ve come accustomed too—surrounded by my favorite people (this year at Dorians—a jazz club to end all jazz clubs) too drunk and too smiley to even coherently remember the evening properly. As much fun as I remember having, I told T that I thought it was my last year to host some sort of birthday gathering, and to hold me to it come next year. (He did very well—a few weeks later, after spotting an ad in a discarded newspaper for the Chicago tour of Moulin Rouge happening on my birthday weekend, we bought tickets and I sat peacefully with the fact that one of my new year (or, new age) resolutions was so quickly and poignantly adapted).

By this time, I was already deep in the throes of my first thesis writing course, meaning that I was pretty stressed out all of the time and surely a misery to be around (sorry to those of you who were). Basically, in three semesters’ time, I was expected to draft, edit, and rewrite a fully formed novel (70,000+ words) and the idea of accomplishing such a feat felt like a ton of bricks being carried on my shoulders. I had at least four mental breakdowns in the beginning of the year (again, we all know what lays ahead for the year, I know—but at the time, this seemed like an unbearable amount of stress for one person to have to carry. The joke is not lost on me).

In the coming weeks, things began to get even weirder. Covid scares began sprouting up in cities all around us, and as the government asked people to stay at home, airline ticket prices became massively reduced, so more people began traveling. I mean, this shit was like spring break on acid—it was hugely stressful, and though the threat of the pandemic had yet to reach Chicago, I felt more and more at risk with each passing day as careless amounts of people cashed in on what they thought was the deal of a lifetime.

By the time March reached its midpoint, I, like so many others, was terrified. We had no PPE at work—literally nothing. No gloves, masks, or even hand wipes. Cleaning the aircraft still wasn’t considered a “no-go” item, as far as regulatory practices go. I remember watching the news on my layovers only to keep myself up at night wondering if the virus was going to take hold of me or anyone around me, and if so, how long until they would recover, or perhaps wouldn’t.

St. Patrick’s Day came, and after fighting about whether or not to go out with friends (we didn’t—and for the record, T and I rarely fight—but this was, after all, his first St. Patrick’s Day as a Chicagoan—so his resentment was more than justified) we saw a matinee movie (Onward) and while in the theater, read about how Chicago restaurants, as a precaution, were shutting down the next day due to rising concerns about the spread of the virus. We reacted by grabbing drinks & lunch at one of our favorite neighborhood eateries and tipping the waitstaff more heavily than I think I’ve ever tipped anyone in my life (not mentioning this to brag, or whatever—just remembering what it was like to feel utterly helpless and unsure of what to do or what was to come—we had to find our positivity in some way, and on that day, this was how we saw fit, and it helped).

Then it all sort of happened at once—Lauren’s store was closed with no impending reopening date. The grocery stores (and I swear to god, I will never forget this) became a madhouse—people taking things out of other people’s carts when they weren’t looking. I remember going into Mariano’s with T and insisiting we tie bandanas around our faces for safety, feeling like a goddamn bank robber about to make a heist. But there was nothing left to even take. Frantically, we got what we could and got out of there, and I went home to have a full-fledged panic attack about the state of the world we were currently living in and what we were going to do if things didn’t turn around quickly.

As if overnight, everyone cancelled their airline tickets. It was for the better, and though it put my job in serious jeopardy, I was in massive support of it but still felt an eerie sadness looming around the countless empty airports, airplanes, hotels and city streets. There were times when my crew and I were the only guests in a place—times when I had zero passengers on a revenue flight. And then came the mass flight cancellations—and I mean mass. Everyday became a battle of anxiety as to what was going to happen to my job in the next twenty-four hours, and then cooing my stressed-out thoughts to sleep, only to relive the anxiety with every phone buzz waiting to find out if I had lost my job overnight. By mid-spring, I was hugely considering dropping out for a period of time, just due to the stress of it all, but thanks to support from my friends, family and T, I chose to stick it out and roll with as many punches as I could until I was finally knocked-out.

Quarantines were happening all around me, and without the ability to travel or the (former) grueling expectations of maintaining a social life, I started to reconnect with myself in ways that felt both organic and new, yet much like returning home after a long time away. Lauren taught me to knit, and we celebrated her birthday on the floor of our apartment in an Indian-food induced daze renting Emma and making thousands of tiny knots onto needles that would eventually become blankets. We took walks, did puzzles, and Lauren drove me to and from the airport on the rare occasion that I actually had a flight to work, as the CTA had, unfortunately, become a cesspool of targeted attacks on flight crew members (seriously) because they were often the only person in any given train car.

A rare glimpse of optimism then presented itself via two different opportunities: a chance to take a ninety-day leave from work, and a job offer in the form of editing a book for publication. I said yes to both and hoped that I would be able to take a step back and deal with the crumbling world around me easier with both of these opportunities now on my horizon.

This period of the year (May-July) started off swimmingly. Knitting, reading, and even smoking weed for the first time in nearly a decade (I took two hits and spent the rest of the evening sinking into the couch painfully aware of how bad I am at breathing and worrying that I might stop at any given moment). I fell in love with yoga and felt myself loosening up parts of my body and my mind that had been twisted into a series of knots for god only knows how long. I spent days reading in the sun, baking bread like everyone else in the world, and learning to make my own pies. Things were going really well, and I was even ahead in school, now on track to graduate in August—when things started getting heated.

I’m not going to go on a rant about race, although I very much could, but I will say this—the fact that we are still in a race war in this country in the year 2020 (and even now, a few days into 2021) makes me so sick to my stomach I don’t know what to do. Every injustice that passes by us, overshadowed by the next untimely death or wrongdoing makes me angry in ways that I cannot even fathom putting into words. It burns the color red that is so hot and so vibrant that I can see it soaking through my eyelids even when I squeeze them shut. This country lost a lot of love from me this year, and even more respect. There are not only things we can do better—there are things we must change. And honestly, most days, I don’t think most of the country is ready to not only admit that but to also work for. And that not only sickens me, but depresses the living hell out of me. I feel so stunted all of the time when I picture a world so at peace with its own injustice. It’s just so unfair.

I watched as the world was (rightfully, although woefully) destroyed around me. My neighborhood turned into a desolate, looted shadow of itself—one where Lauren and I could sit on our back patio safely until dusk, when the crime and gunfire became so rabid that on occasions, we sat in the living room in total darkness, listening only to the radio, afraid to let anybody at street level see that we were, indeed, at home. The opportunists that took advantage of the message of this movement made me numb to such a large demographic of the population, and I found myself crying myself to sleep enough times that I thought it might be time to leave the warzone that had become Chicago for a little while as escape down to Florida. So, we packed our bags and left. It is not lost on me that so many did not have this option, and for so many minorities, just simply existing during this time was enough to cause assault. I know I am fortunate—I carry it like lead in my pockets every day.

While in Florida, the first retailers began to reopen and I found myself waiting in an hour-long line to buy soaps and hand sanitizers, and to get a glimpse of what this “new normal” might look like when things started picking back up again. Like many, it was jarring to see empty tables, capacity limits on items, cashiers behind plexiglass sheets shouting to be heard over both the physical barrier and the cloth one strung across their faces.

By the time T & I arrived home, Lauren was already making plans to reopen her store “safely” and I felt sorry for her. How could anything be safe when nothing had changed? Why were companies acting as if business could go on like before—even though nothing had gotten better?

My final months of my MFA were just ahead of me, and I had one month remaining free from work to finish my first full-length novel, and I all I really remember is stress stress stress.

And then Andrew, being Andrew, offered a glimmer of hope, in the form of a drive-in concert celebrating fifteen years of Everything in Transit in southern California, a mere matter of hours from where Nicole had been working. It took a matter of two or maybe three text messages to confirm that we would be attending, and once the ticket was purchased I practically packed my bags and headed off to visit her and try and make light of my heart.

As suspected, the trip was magical. Being around Nicole, per usual, was magical. My heart felt so fully aligned seeing a little piece of her story and getting to experience her way of life once more—drunken hot springs and all their glory. There truly are few things in my life I love more than sitting in the passenger’s seat as Nicole drives us all over the country, and experiencing it again felt so right and so perfect that I honestly thought it was one of the happiest experiences of my life. Because I had requested so, she drove me all the way to Venice Beach the day of the concert so we could see where the infamous album cover was taken. We ate cbd gummies and listened to jack’s and ate in-n-out burger like our lives depended on it. When the concert began, it was eerie, yet hopeful to see all the new protocols of something that had become so familiar to me in my former life. Drinks were ordered through an app and delivered, as was merch, and clapping was replaced by the exuberant honking of car horns. We streamed the sound through the radio and laid the in the back of Nicole’s converted SUV as we cried and sang along to the songs that made everything, even just for one night, feel like it was all going to be okay again. We ended the evening marking ourselves with our first stick and poke tattoos—hers a sun to my moon, positioned to kiss one another when we stand next to each other on our preferred selfie side (lol). I left worried about how long it might be before I could feel her warm embrace again, the embrace of one of the truest friends I’ll ever know, but also recognizing that we were lucky to have had such an experience at all during such an insane year and feeling eternally grateful for its memory.

The last weeks of what I referred to as my Rumspringa were ahead of me, and one sunny afternoon I wrote the final pages of my novel. In a mad rush to edit, revise and complete my portfolio for official review, I never really sat with myself and what I had accomplished or congratulated myself; I wrote a book in seven months’ time, and even though I am unhappy with it (more on that later) there’s no denying that I actually did it. I did it, and nobody can ever take that away from me; it’s an accomplishment I will forever have, and it’s all my own. And I need to remind myself of that. I need to let myself feel proud.

I was back to work in September and taking a huge pay cut, though working the same hours. It was stressful, but once I found out my portfolio had been accepted and I, indeed, would be receiving my MFA I felt a bit at peace for a while. I had let my hair grow long all summer, and all but stopped wearing make-up (mascara makes me feel entirely dolled up now). I felt in an odd way free—almost bare.

The fall came and went fairly quickly—the weekends alone at home and grocery-store-only outings feeling more and more like normalcy. It had been such a tough, trying year, that it suddenly felt nice to just stand still for a bit. So, I did.

In a brief amount of time, I watched (safely) as friends got married, got sick, got older and fell in love. I watched, with great anxiety, as our country voted in the most important election of our lives so far and took the deepest breath I’d ever taken as I watched that man face defeat—although he’s yet to swallow it. I watched as ex-lovers had babies, got engaged and never really stopped to think twice about any of it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the safety (and not in a lame, “safety-net” sort of way) of having T in my life has turned me into someone who not only craves quiet time at home, but really also sort of fell right damn into it very easily, though unexpectedly. I’ve heard the saying so many times before, but you really don’t realize everything is different once you find the right fit because that place feels like it’s always been home. I am grateful to not only have that now and moving forward, but most certainly throughout the trying, unstable times of 2020. In fact, I don’t know how I would have survived without it.

The holidays always creep up on me, and after being dealt a shitty hand from work (don’t even get me started, I’m still fuming) they came that much quicker. T & I were lucky enough to spend the holidays back home in the swamp, visiting my parents and his Dad. The time went by fast but was relaxing, fun, and reenergizing. We spent New Year’s Eve playing giant Jenga and yard Yahtzee with my parents in the cool, tropical winter of Florida. It was nice. We got tired right around 11, so we laid in bed until midnight talking, staying awake just long enough to share our new year’s kiss. It felt right—a proper send off to such a strange and unusual year. I was exctly where I needed to be—wrapped up in a blanket of T’s embrace, comfy in a bed in my childhood bedroom.

So now, here it is: 2021—the supposed upgrade to 2020, or so everybody secretly hopes. So now, as I sit here, drinking a warm, soy-chai latte (homemade!) I find myself having great difficulty setting an intention for the days ahead of me. I feel so beaten and bruised and physically fatigued for no reason but the experiences of 2020 and the courses they ran all over my life. I’m feeling reflective of having finished yet another year of my life (and my Saturn return! Halleluj!) and finding it hard to be anything but fatigued. I guess it’s from the year that’s just finished—more so than any other year it physically pained me at times to be alive at times. I’m missing so many of my friends who I haven’t been able to see for extended months at a time now. I am craving a sense of normalcy, of safety, so that I can feel better about making plans, but as for right now I just don’t have it. I am quietly trying to make subtle changes within myself and how I react to the world around me, but just like the start of this new year, that process is a slow one.

One of my resolutions (though I’m growing to hate that word more and more with each passing year) is to get back to writing. I had a good, albeit stressful, thing going while still in school, and after finishing my novel and receiving feedback, I couldn’t shake the feeling of absolute failure. It’s still there—it’s really hard to try and celebrate an accomplishment when you don’t feel like your work was good enough to warrant anything at all—especially not a fine arts degree. I never said I was a fiction writer—I just wanted to get better at writing fiction—so I need to remember that and allow myself to veer away from that for a while, to work on something new. Something I’ve been saying I’m not ready to write for many years now, something that when I now say that is just a plain old lie: My memoir. I’m ready to close the chapter in my life where I am a flight attendant, so the timing feels more than perfect.

I learned so much about what I want to do within my career and what sort of boundaries I don’t want to place on myself—and I’m trying, I really am. T gifted me with my own pottery wheel for Christmas and we are going to set it up this weekend and I am so excited to get my hands muddy and start creating. Until this year, I didn’t realize how much I needed a creative outlet other than writing—I had been depending on it for too long, my little cup felt bone dry. So, I’m excited to see where this new hobby takes me and how it influences my ability to return to the blank page—quite literally.

I know this year will not be the quick fix that so many are hopeful for—I think quite the opposite, actually. But here are some things I know for sure will happen: I will move out of my apartment and in with T. We will then, immediately get a dog and a new apartment. This, alone, feels like enough to fill the pages of the blank year ahead of us. I will go long periods of time without seeing my loved ones, and without traveling (bleak as this lifestyle may be). I will write, even when it’s hard to. I will publish something—I’m at work submitting pieces as we speak, and though the process is slow, I can tell this is my opportunity—I am ready t fight for it. I will turn 32, and the numerology of my life will seem more aligned. I will spend my birthday at home, alone, because of course Moulin Rouge has now been cancelled (I’m fine with it). I will learn more about myself the more I use my hands to create, to plant, to sculpt, to mold. I will love with fervor. I will smile more, because it’s actually healthier for you, even though my black heart hates to admit it. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get to attend a live concert, though I realize this might be wishful thinking at this point. I will do mushrooms and giggle with the colors. I will cry. I will hurt and I will cause harm. But through it all, I will persevere. Because if 2020 taught me anything, it’s that I am capable of regenerating into new versions of myself that I didn’t even have the time to dream up. I can adapt to whatever is thrown at me, though it will often times feel impossible. I can, and will, create. I can be reborn (as many times as I’d like to, too).

So, thanks, 2020, for teaching me more about myself than any other period of five years has ever taught me. I definitely feel like I’ve been through the ringer a couple of times, yet I find myself still standing day after day. It must be the way a domino feels, standing up, time after time, knowing that something right in front of you is about to knock you down. But instead of thinking about what I’m bringing down with me, I’m thinking of the entire collective as a whole—we are all experiencing this together. And maybe, just maybe, on the other side, there’s a kid with a smile waiting to do it all over again. And that’s perhaps where the beauty lays: we have to tear everything down in order to do better, be better, make change. Nobody likes to catch fire, but everyone loves rising from the ashes. We’ll all get to where we’re headed, one way or another. And eventually, I hope, we’ll see that the other side is better than we could have ever dreamt of.

I hope that 2021 is a bridge that brings us from destruction to creation. I hope the journey is long, so we all appreciate the outcome.

I love you all and wish you warmth and wellness into this year and beyond.

Happy new year—honor the circumstances you have around you and let them help you grow.

#me #personal

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likeawildthing · 4 years

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in full transparency, last night i asked for you all to share the things you’re missing and grieving. I thought I could hold a place on this blog for the collective grief we are all feeling, even for one ask session. but it became too much. everyone is properly upset and I apparently don’t have capacity right now to offer words of support to all. And I don’t necessarily think that I need to. It’s okay that this sucks. There is a moment of collective grief we’re all feeling, we are all missing different things. It’s okay not to compare your loss to someone else’s. A loss felt by you is still a loss. We’re all coping, yeah? but i did read all of your responses, and I’m putting them under the cut if anyone wants to read. I hope you do give it a read because it does affirm that we aren’t alone.

love you all <3 <3 <3

anonymous: My bf broke up with me cause he couldn’t handle the distance due to corona... now I grieve what we could’ve been. I miss him so much.

anonymous: grieving the loss of my senior year of college, my cancelled thesis, my graduation, my job, and my application to grad school which is postponed indefinitely while I work out the requirements. Would love suggestions on how to fill the void

anonymous: i'm grieving the loss of my racing season. i didn't think it was as devastating as it would be but losing all the work that my team put in for years to get where we are today and losing the chance to prove ourselves at nationals.... has been just that... devastating. i can say though that this quarantine has brought the team close together and i am finding myself. thank god i have the ability to but i am looking at myself as a person instead of just a student, athlete, etc. and figuring out myself in the process. whether that means hobbies, what to do with my future, or just what fulfills me, i'm learning a lot of things about myself. also the weather was gorgeous out today and i was able to get a walk with my dad in after my workout. beautiful!!! also made banana bread and have a zoom call with my teammates for sunday breakfast tomorrow. (GOOD VIBES!!!)

anonymous: Due to quarantine I can’t see my significant other for an indeterminate amount of time since we’re long distance and I’m an at-risk person. We’re trying to fill the distance with FaceTime calls but it’s still really hard, mostly because we’re just stuck and don’t know for how long :(

anonymous: I used to volunteer at an op shop every sunday with two of my favourite people. The customers sucked, but we played disney and had a blast and would sometimes do dinner or games after it. I miss it so much. To make up for it, we send regular pictures of our pets, do video calls on sundays and play an online pictionary type game to laugh at each other's terrible drawing skills :')

anonymous: In Germany we are allowed to see one other person at a time. I miss meeting more than one friend. As an autistic girl, communication can be hard and it's easier when you are with three people, cause you can just let them talk and no one focuses on you the entire time. You can just listen and not talk for a bit.

anonymous: I'm a costume designer and after a few years of assisting I finally finally got hired as the lead designer for Matilda. Which of course then got cancelled, and may be pulled from the season completly if we can't reopen by June. So I have all of these fabric samples and sketches that hurt my heart to look at but that I can't bear or risk throwing out.

@empiresprincess I’m grieving making music, running a musical, being with young weird enthusiastic youths, and my health. Also seeing my mom or a few my more beloved friends. I’m snuggling my dog, watching my fav youtuber, rewatching comforting media, trying to take care of myself and to let others know when I really need help. Oh and Im working on not judging myself too harshly.

anonymous: i was just finishing my second quarter at ucla when everything got shut down, and like.. it kinda sucks. i busted ass to get accepted to my dream school, pulled all nighter after all nighter at community college and finally transferred to ucla. i was JUST starting to feel like i had a place there. winter quarter was when i made some really good professor friends, started to get into the swing of things, adn that was when i realized i genuinely WANTED to go to grad school in the uk and get a phd and one day teach. then overnight im back home struggling w online classes and it just feels like im back to square one? they haven't cut our tuition costs either, and i feel like im paying so much for a whole experience, which now is just zoom university. ;~; i know its not the end of the world, but its sad and i miss my roommates. still, i guess it could be worse. i feel bad for the seniors who are ending their ucla journey with this. also my boyfriend and i have been doing long distance for nearly a year, and our one-year anniversary is coming up in a few days. i really thought we'd at least be able to spend that together, but he's an international student and he had to go back to india bc of covid. ;~; i miss him a lot and im terrified that the increased distance/time difference will cause us to just fizzle out. its not like we don't love each other a lot, but such limited contact (he can't ft bc his dad doesn't know about us, and so we only call like 3 times a week for 10 mins) makes it hard.. i haven't seen him in almost three months now, and it's just sad, even though i know its not either of us's fault. anywho!! this got really long; sorry about that!! in the grand scheme of things this isn't that bad though, so i'm trying to grieve the losses (and the loss of being back home, oof!) while still keeping an eye out for some of the good things to come. take care linds i hope you're safe and doing better

anonymous: On one level I am literally grieving the loss of a family member to the virus, but on another I am grieving the loss of my usual life (I had to move back in with my parents temporarily after being on my own for 4 years) and my student (our governor just announced that schools are closed for the rest of the year and I feel like I never ever got to say good bye). I've been filling the void by writing fanfic, but even that has been hard as I have no privacy anymore. I keep getting interrupted.

#grief #covid #good vibes 2k20

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vin-taege · 5 years

Text

low expectations

summary: after disappearing for six years to pursue law, you come back to Seoul, only to be hired by Jeon Jungkook, tattoo artist on the rise, and your high school ex

genre: angst, eventual smut, l2e2l (lovers to enemies [kinda?] to lovers)

pairing: tattoo artist!jungkook x lawyer!reader

words: 4 700+

Scattered boxes lay on your newly bought apartment. Some opened, most of them unopened. The only decent room as of now was your bedroom, and even that looked plain. Considering how organized you usually were, this was a severely chaotic. Even though the move to Seoul has been rough - some of your belongings even ending up in Daegu, but thankfully back where they belong now - you were ecstatic. Mainly because you were now far away from your overbearing mother. The increase in salary remained as a mere bonus. To say things between you and your mother were rocky was a bit of an understatement. She was heartless, manipulative, the perfect CEO. You had lived with your father after the divorce, and appreciated his company more. Life wasn't as luxuries as it was with your mom, but he cares for you more than anything. She did her part in paying for child support, funding most of your needs, compared to your father's salary as a small cafe owner. Going back to Korea has always been on your mind, ever since you graduated law school. If it weren't for the aforementioned salary increase, your mother would've never let you get that plane ticket. The new firm you transferred to was more than welcoming. They gave you a three week grace period so you can settle down, and even assigned you an assistant. It was just your luck that person happened to be Namjoon, your best friend since college. After graduating, you split ways. It was ironic how your reasons for going back to Seoul were direct opposites - him to return to his family, and you to escape from yours. He was probably the only person who had his shit together more than you. Not even two days after you landed, he already had your schedule organized for the next month. Even you didn't have enough patience to do that. Admittedly, you were a bit scared to go back. The last memory you had here was one in Busan, and it was far from pleasant.

You refreshed your emails again, not used to the absence of the usual influx of "urgent" files. The first thing you unpacked was of course the coffee machine. The other labeled boxes still had packing tape on, and you were dreading to open them up. Your phone has been on silent mode ever since midnight. You'd rather deal with your mother later than answering all her pressing texts now. Thank God she didn't know your Skype account.

Sluggish from the jet lag, you began picking at the packing tape, finding the edge of it and ripping the package open. In all honesty, you could’ve finished all the rooms in one day, and even have time for a manicure and pedicure afterwards. But this day just seemed so slow.

You never were used to a non-busy schedule.

Box after box, you made your way through your belongings. Throw pillows, small vases, the succulent collection you had. You didn’t have time for a pet, but your cacti were the perfect substitute. They made you feel needed on a deeper level, even though they only needed you to water them once a week.

Lofi music played in the background, giving you a more relaxing atmosphere. You slowly got in the zone, not noticing the hours pass by until you finally decided to take a break and check your phone.

Immediately, you were bombarded with six phone calls from Namjoon. Panicked, you quickly called him back. “Hey, Joon! I’m sorry, my phone was on silent. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” In contrary to what he said, his voice sounded distressed. “I know it’s your week off, but there’s just this really pushy client. He’s demanding a meeting with you as soon as possible. I told him I’d give you a call, and here I am.”

You grimaced. This client was already leaving a bad impression on you. If anything, you hated unprofessional clients and often turned them down, but you felt sorry for Namjoon. “Does he want to meet today?”

“I can schedule him for next week if you want. Put him on the priority list. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” You considered it for a moment. You didn’t have anything to do tonight except to unpack, and your body was itching for work. “No, I’m free tonight. Did he give a time or a place.”

“He left me an address. Told me to come whenever. I looked the place up, and it’s a tattoo parlor. The customer reviews were nice, and it’s pretty popular here in Seoul too.” Here comes the unprofessionalism again.

“Wanna go at seven and have dinner after?”

“Sure. As your best friend, I wouldn’t mind catching up. As your assistant, I couldn’t let you die unless I want to get fired,” you both laughed. You heard typing in the background, followed by a few mouse clicks. “-And his case file’s done. Pick you up at six?”

“Damn, how long has this guy been bothering you? Case files take hours.”

“Ever since 7 am. This better be some god-tier dinner to make up for it,” he chuckled on the other line.

Somehow, the tattoo parlor reminded you of him again. He always wanted to run one, and you wondered if he ended up doing so. The call ended, and you started to get ready. Surely the client wouldn’t mind you dressing casually, it was a week off after all.

Namjoon picked you up exactly at six, pulling over in his freshly car-washed Mercedes Benz. He was donning a black turtleneck and jeans, mirroring your casual style. It was clear you both just didn’t give a shit anymore. A pair of black glasses sat atop his nose.

“Nice car. When did you start being a popular kid?” He scoffed at your teasing, remembering his skewed fashion choices back in college.

"Ever since I started hauling your drunk ass home after parties. Ever since I started making you nachos on thesis nights. Ever since-"

"Okay Namjoon, I get it. College ___ was a hot mess," you conceded. "You got that case file ready?" "Yeah. I forwarded it to your email," You checked your inbox, and indeed received the file from him. You browsed through it quickly, skipping client details and diving straight into the case. False accusations of tax evasion and illegal substance import. The case seemed simple enough, could be handled with a few counter-suits here and there. Just as you finished the case details, you decided to finally check the client info. "You know what makes this case so complicated?" Namjoon spoke up, ripping your attention away from the file. "What?" "Evidence tampering. From the rival tattoo shop, I think," You scoffed. Typical behavior from two business trying to climb to the top. "They, what, planted cocaine packets under the ink refills or something?" Outside, the sun started to set. It's been a while since you've last seen a sunset, long work hours demanding you to be in your office more. It was one of the things you missed in Korea, especially from Busan. "Yeah, something like that. The guy seems too young to be the head of the shop. Must be very good at what he does." You opened the file again, checking the client info. Jeon- "We're here." Sighing, you closed the file again, getting out of the car. You'll have to read up more on him later. Not even a month back in Seoul and you already have a possibly big case on your hands. This could really make or break your career. However, that name sounded familiar. Familiar enough to leave a bittersweet taste in your mouth. Jeon. The memory of soft brown hair came back to you, long enough to frame his big brown eyes. The same eyes that would crinkle each time he showed his bunny smile. There was a pained twinge in your heart. Namjoon knocked on the glass door. There was a purple neon sign hooked on it, blaring a bright "open" to entice customers to come in. On top of the building was a huge sign, lit up by LED lights. "Seoul Ink." The shop had a large glass pane next to the door, resembling a barbershop style. The inside was dimly lit with light pink, giving the shop a retro vibe. You could faintly hear music blaring from the inside. Not long after, the door was opened, revealing a short, yet muscular man. His hair was a vibrant pink, in contrast to the dark tattoo sleeve spanning his left arm. A worn tank top draped from his torso, not doing much to hide his skin. The man looked like the shop personified. "Good evening, we're here for Mr. Jeon. He told my assistant to set an appointment for today." "Oh, you're the lawyer he hired? Come in, please," He stepped aside, making way for you. "Jungkook! Our lawyer's here!" You froze. No, this can't be the same Jeon Jungkook from high school. Who knew how many Jeon Jungkooks were out here in Seoul? You were hoping, praying, he wasn’t the Jungkook you knew. "Wait. Goddammit, Jimin I told you to sterilise the needles." A lean, young man came out from the curtain-covered hallway. His hair was black, swept back to show his forehead. Sharp, doe eyes stared straight at you. His features became more angular, but it was clear he was the same boy you knew all those years ago. "___?" His eyes widened, expression hardening. "___. Pleasure." "You two know each other?" Namjoon whispered to you, loud enough for Jungkook to hear. "We went to high school together," He dead-panned, leaving it at that. Your cheeks heated up, the atmosphere soon turning awkward. "Come inside. We have a lot to discuss." He led you through the same hallway, pink lighting kept uniform throughout the whole building. Tattoo designs were plastered on the walls; Designs of the same motif grouped together on each tattoo booth. Each door had a different feel to it; one monochromatic, another one clipped with Polaroids and fairy lights. They really brought out each tattoo artist's identity, gave you an idea of their style and aesthetic. You counted four of them in total, including Jungkook and Jimin. Jungkook stopped at the last door. Just one look at it and you knew it was his. Lush roses were stuck to the black-painted wood. At the very center of it was a small, golden bell with two red ribbons tied to it. You were too busy staring at it, not noticing the rest of the boys come inside. "___," Namjoon called you. "Yes. Sorry," Jungkook stared at you, eyes glassy. You were the first to break eye contact, shutting the door. °°° 6 years ago "You told me it was my turn to pick the movie!" You whined, Jungkook only laughing at your annoyance. It was your annual Friday movie night. You usually took turns picking the movie, but Jungkook already had one prepared when you came to his dorm. "But this one's really good, I promise," he pouted. "I'll let you pick two movies next time. His offer sounded tempting enough, prompting you to begrudgingly accept it. It was another anime rom-com. You recognized it, seeing enough pictures of the poster saved in Jungkook's phone gallery. He'd talk about it a lot, the mere existence of it shaping his entire understanding of true love. "Your Name?" He grunted, arm wrapped around your waist. You were cuddling on the couch, body on top of him. The popcorn bowl was neatly balanced on your back. "I've always wanted to watch this with you," he whispered, fingers threading through your hair. "Accidentally downloaded a shit-ton of viruses on Tae's laptop just trying to pirate this." "Hey, support artists. Pay for art," You repeated his motto. He rolled his eyes, bringing you closer to his chest. "I want to. I just wish I didn't fall in the stereotypical broke art student category," His tone was sharp. You knew better than to push it, knew this conversation would only lead back to his unsupportive parents. The moment Jungkook told his parents he wanted to open up a tattoo parlor, they shut him out. He didn't talk about them much, but you knew enough to know he didn't exactly have the best relationship with them. His brother helped him pay his high school fees, but only up to that point. Once Jungkook hits college, he'll have to support himself. He's picked up a few commissions here and there to save up, but it was nowhere near the money he needed to take an arts course. "Hey," you brought your shifted, bringing your hand to his chest. "My mom's offering me a part-time job in her firm. She could get you a spot if-" "I don't want to," His eyes were on the screen, though you felt him tense up. "Leave it, ___." "The pay is good. I'm just saying, you should look into it, Kookie," you frowned. It was always difficult to talk to him when money or jobs were involved. You couldn’t even recall how many times you fought over either college or job-related problems. He was so hell-bent on taking an arts course, but too stubborn to accept any help, especially from your mother. He exhaled deeply, dropping his arm from your hair. "Leave it." You watched almost half the movie in silence. He was right next to you, but sometimes he just felt so unreachable. You felt his soft lips against the crown of your head. "I'm sorry, I'm just not in the best mood to talk about that stuff." You reached over, pausing the movie. He sat up, mirroring you. "What's wrong?" His eyes were dull, refusing to look back at you. "Jungkook." "Nothing," he rubbed his eyes, running both hands through his hair. "It's nothing." "Tell me," you placed your hand over his, him enveloping it immediately in his large ones. His thumb drew small circles on your knuckles, just like he did when he was nervous. "My dad is signing me up for a med college in Seoul. I don't want to leave Busan. I don't want to leave you," he lowered his voice in the last part. You cupped his cheek with one hand. "You won't. We'll be together until college, and until after college. You'll always be my own Da Vinci, I'll always be your-" "Muse," he finished, lovingly meeting your gaze. "You'll always be my muse." °°° "So they did plant cocaine packets in the ink refills!" Namjoon burst out. You facepalmed a little, gaining weird looks from the boys. "Ignore him. Where did you say you got your refills from?" "California," Jimin responded. So far, over the course of the discussion, Jungkook remained silent, arms folded as he stared at the table. Jimin was more than enthusiastic to cooperate with you, answering your questions as detailed as he could. "We've been getting our refills from there for three years now. Taehyung knows the dealer, and we're all positive there's no way in hell he shipped us that." "Taehyung?" you glanced at Jungkook, whose mouth remained pinched in a thin line. You were relieved to find out they remained best friends after everything that happened. You knew Jungkook needed a strong support system, and Taehyung was more than enough for that. "Yeah. He just finished his shift today, but if you need to talk to him, I can give him a call," Jimin offered. "No, it's fine. I talk to him in personal some other time," you scribbled some notes on a scrap piece of paper. "The drugs must've been planted here in Korea. If it were from abroad, it wouldn't get pass customs." "That's exactly what we've been telling the police, but they wouldn't listen to us without a lawyer," he rolled his eyes. "Any suspects?" "Minho. Jung Minho," Jungkook's voice surprised you. He sat up, placing his hands on the table. "He runs the tattoo parlor down the street, that sleazy son of a bitch." "Must've gotten a hold of the package before we did," he continued. He was twiddling with his thumbs, a habit you recognized he never got rid off. "Don't jump to conclusions." "I'm not, but sometimes we have to make decisions, ___." He spat, voice raising slightly. He noticed the everyone staring at him uneasily and slid back down on his chair. "I mean, no one else would've done it aside from them." "Do you have any evidence, at least?" you passed Namjoon the notes so far from your hour-long discussion. He took his laptop out to summarize everything in a single document. "No. But we got the coke bags out. Made sure to use gloves so we won't leave prints behind and give the police the wrong idea," Oh so now he wanted to talk. Though you felt guilty for everything that happened in the past, you can’t help but get annoyed at his attitude right now. He was the one who wanted your help in the first place. "I see. I'll take a look at them after this," you looked over to Namjoon, who returned a curt nod. He was still focused on his laptop. "We appreciate your cooperation," your sarcasm directed to Jungkook. He scoffed, abruptly standing to rustle at his desk. He aimlessly picked up pencils and markers, putting them in their respective holders. "We'd appreciate it more if you won this case." With just one statement, Jungkook managed to push all your buttons. You stood up as well, Namjoon holding your arm down. "Why don't you check on the cocaine bags while I interrogate Jungkook more? Mr. Park-" "Jimin's just fine," The pink-haired boy offered a kind smile. "Jimin, please guide the way." One of Namjoon's winning traits was being calm under pressure. He was the one to hold you back before fights erupted, or the one to retrieve deleted files whenever the computer crashed and you had a presentation in two hours. Basically the one to keep you impulsiveness and short temper on watch. You followed Jimin out Jungkook's workplace. He led you back into the waiting area, and into the employees only room. The room itself resembled more of a hangout than an employee lounge. They had all their stocks and spare equipment neatly placed in cabinets off to one side. The center had a round table covered in sketch designs and discarded pencils. Those were about the only things that made the room look professional. The other side of the room was a whole different world. On the opposite side was a small vending machine next to an arcade game of Tekken. You recognized a D.Va styled jacket slung on one of the chairs. The walls had video game labels and band posters plastered all around. "Oh wow, how you did you get all this?" You blushed, immediately realizing how arrogant you must have sounded. Jimin didn't mind though, even laughing at your awe-struck expression. "The tattoo shop burst in popularity two years ago. We had money to spare, so Jungkook thought he'd pamper the employee lounge a bit," He put a black glove on and reached into one of the drawers, bringing a small sealable bag out. You picked up a stray glove, wearing it before picking the baggie up. It looked about five grams. You crinkled your nose in disgust. After finding some tissue, you carefully wrapped it up and placed it in your bag. Jimin let you check the lounge once more, patiently giving you space. "I'm Jimin, by the way," you looked at him questioningly. "I mean, I know you already know my name, but I wanted to give you a proper introduction." "Hello, Jimin. I'm ___," you smiled. "I'm a lawyer who used to be America-based, but as you can see, I moved here to escape from my insufferable mother." He laughed again, eyes crinkling. You never truly got a good look at him. His cheeks were full, like his plump lips. Although he was shorter than Jungkook, he looked older. It was clear he worked out, but you soon found out he was also very open as a person. "I'm a tattoo artist who specializes in traditional and blackwork styles. We each have our own thing here in Seoul Ink. Tae's good in watercolor and illustrative styles. If you like monochromatic designs, the right person to go to is Yoongi hyung." "How about Jungkook?" you told yourself you were asking out of curiosity, and only curiosity. You were to remain professional, to not get involved with your ex. "He's a well-rounded guy, but likes realism and new-school designs more. Not to pry, but is everything okay with you guys?" he gestured for you to sit on one of the chairs. "Well, I suppose we do need to be open with our clients." Jimin waited for you to continue, the pink light making his features softer. "We used to date in high school. It ended right before college, and I'm pretty sure it ended badly." "I'm pretty sure it ended badly too." You gave him a pointed look, to which he held his hands up in defense. "I mean, you looked like you were gonna tear his throat off a while ago." "I was trying to be civil. I guess I didn't know any better and thought he'd grown out of his childishness or something." "Maybe he didn't get over the breakup? That usually happens when it ends badly." He didn't know, but Jimin got it straight on. Even you haven't gotten over it yourself. You always wished the best for him. A selfish part of you even wanted to get him back, even after all those years. But you weren't here to get him back. You were here to finish the job. You had to push your feelings away. Jimin noticed your silence. "Do you believe in fate?" "I think?" Truthfully, you used to a dreamer, like Jungkook. Law school beat it out of you, giving you a cold facade to put on. "I want to believe in fate." "Maybe fate brought you here so you two could have a second chance then." he smirked. You glared at him, wiping the smile off his face. "At least make up a little. We couldn't get through this if you're constantly at each other's throats." "I'll talk to him." "Great! He already gave Namjoon his number, but here's mine for when you can't contact him," You gave him your phone, his fingers tapping away to input his number. "Thanks for putting up with us," His eyes were filled with sincerity, and you couldn't help but give him a small grin. "Of course." It's my job, you wanted to say, but couldn't find the heart to. You met Namjoon in the waiting area, laptop tucked away in his satchel. He was checking out one of the designs - a man wearing a suit, a bouquet of roses sprouting from his neck instead of a head. "Do you wanna get one or...?" He jolted at your voice. "Jesus Christ, ___." He never really grew out of his nerdy persona. Maybe people never truly change. "Jungkook seems like a nice guy. Lay off him a little, okay?" "I was actually planning to talk to him real quick, thank you very much." With that, you disappeared behind the hallway curtain again, leaving Namjoon with Jimin. You quickly found his room, knocking thrice before opening the door. You gasped, shutting it quickly again. Jungkook was sitting by his desk, shirt off and tattoos on full display. You didn't see much aside from a blur of black and splashes of reds and blues. Your cheeks were heating over, and you guess you must've surprised him as well. There was a thud behind the door, along with rapid footsteps. Slowly, the door opened slightly, enough to reveal a shirted Jungkook "Can I talk to you for a second?" you murmured. He stepped aside, opening the door wider. Wordlessly, you let yourself in, awkwardly standing behind him when he sat back on the swivel chair. "Hey." "Hey," he replied plainly. He always got this difficult sometimes, even back then. "How are you?" You settled for the customer seat, attached to a tray holding needles and a tattoo gun. You took a closer look around his workplace, recognizing messy sketches pinned on a corkboard. The same designs he used to draw back then. He fidgeted for a bit, eyes downcast on the floor. "Good. Been running the shop for a while. My brother calls me twice every month now." He looked up at you, eyes dark. You couldn't tell whether was anger or pain. Or both. He let out a long sigh. "I made it, ___." "I'm sorry," you choked out. You didn't know what else to say. You cursed yourself for not asking Namjoon for more information on the client before accepting the case. But did you really want to give this away? "I never stopped thinking of you." "Do you expect a thank you?" he folded his arms again. Why did he have to act so difficult? You shamed yourself for having these thoughts. It was your fault after all. He had every right to be angry at you. "Jungkook, I'm sorry," you tried again, tone softer this time. He blinked back what looked like tears, or he could've had something in his eye. The light made it hard to see. "Let's just act like adults, okay? Finish the case. And if you want to talk about more personal things, we can do that after." "You never did change, huh? As goal-oriented as ever," he smiled bitterly. “Job over everything else.” "You're still as stubborn as before," you grimaced at him. He chuckled, leaning back, tilting his chin up to the ceiling. He hummed, stretching his back. "I miss you," He opened an eye, peering at you. Your facade has crumpled, and you felt like the same girl six years ago after the breakup. He didn't say anything. Jungkook had so many thing running through his mind. Out of all the lawyers in Seoul, he just had to get you. Even after all those years, he still wanted to see you. But now that you were right in front of him, he felt nothing but pain and sadness. He loved you so much, but now that you were here, the only thing he could remember was the day you ran away from him. The day you left him. He shifted in his seat. Jungkook knew he had to get himself together for the tattoo parlor, for his friends. He thought he cut you off already a long time ago. "You can win this thing, right? I worked too hard for too long just to lose this. I crawled my way up here. I’m finally doing something I love," His voice was low, masking his wavering tone. You nodded determinedly. You weren't going to disappoint him again. "I know you can, ___. I've always believed in you. Would've appreciated it if you believed in me too," The way he said it was so quiet, you almost didn't hear it. But you did. It felt like he wanted to say something else, like he was ready to tell you everything that happened after the day you left, but he stopped himself. He spun the chair, facing away from you. "I have a full schedule tomorrow. I should finish the rest of these designs." You slowly got up. Your chest felt heavy, heart in your throat. All the pent-up emotion hit you all at once. "It's good to see you again," he lightly said. You looked back, seeing a sad smile on his lips. The second you got in the car, Namjoon was looking at you worriedly. "Are you okay? You look like you're about to cry." "The lighting was too much for me," you lied. You've made your mind up. Case or no case, you were glad to see Jungkook again. And you weren't willing to let him go this time. “Let’s get that god-tier dinner.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bangtan smut #bts #bts scenarios #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #bangtan scenarios #bts au #bts angst

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bb-92 · 6 years

Text

THE MEANING OF TRIXIE AND THE CORRELETION BETWEEN REYLO AND DANTE/BEATRICE

The news of yesterday the title of the work on episode IX has been changed to "Trixie", has shocked everyone and leaving the fans perplexed about its possible meaning. Some have noticed that "trixie" is a diminutive of the name Beatrix / Beatrice, and the link and reference to the inspiring woman of the poet Dante Alighieri, was immediate.

This theory did not leave me indifferent, on the contrary, it hit me immediately and I liked it very much. I am an impassioned of Dante and for my graduation I did a thesis about the divine poet and his works. So I could not write a "reylo meta" on the points in common between Dante's love for Beatrice, and the relationship between Kylo Ren and Rey.

So let's start with the name that I know well what it means, because it's my name.

.TRIXIE / BEATRIX / BEATRICE = carrier of bleatitude

Usually it is said that "Beatrice" means "the one who brings happiness", but it is not an entirely correct explanation because the term "beatitude" refers to something much deeper and more complex.

Beatitude is a condition of a very high spiritual level that only the greatest mystics have managed to achieve: it consists in a feeling of infinite peace for the vision and union with God.

There is no god in the world of Star Wars. The only superior and spiritual entity is the Force who can access only people that, since birth, have a predisposition in using it. Given "trixie", so Beatrice, like the momentary title of episode IX, one might think that someone (Rey? Kylo Ren and Rey together?), will be able to open the doors of the Force to the whole universe, so that everyone, humans and aliens, can discover it and learn how to use it. It would not be a completely wrong assumption since, as we saw in the TLJ finale, there are many Force-sensitive subjects and as Luke says it is not a Jedi-only prerogative. Or maybe the true power of the Force balacing, will be show to all the universe

.DANTE ALIGHIERI AND HIS LOVE FOR BEATRICE

It will not be enough a small post to talk about the platonic love between Dante and Beatrice and its complex allegorical meaning, so I will limit myself to highlight the essential points that we will need then to talk about Rey and Kylo Ren.

The "Vita Nova" (New Life) is the work in which Dante tell how was born and developed his love for Beatrice. The title is not given by chance: Dante explains, at the beginning of the book, that he decided to entitle the book like this, because his first meeting with Beatrice was a turning point in his life. From that lucky and beautiful encounter, he began to change to be more and more worthy of being able to be in the presence of this angel woman and to support her powerful and mystical love.

Beatrice was not an ordinary woman. His human features enclosed his true angelic essence and since he was an angel, Dante informs us that he had come to earth with the mission of purifying the hearts of people to elevate them to God. Struck by the real and inner beauty of the woman, Dante is more and more in love with her but the love for her is also painful since he has a cathartic power: he must change, overcome his vices and his human mentality if he wants to continue to love and understand Beatrice.

The two most terrible events for Dante and dangerous for his love for the angel woman are two: when Beatrice decides to take away the greeting and, especially, her death. It is in fact this last event that will bring Dante to perdition, to the loss of the right path that is his spiritual journey towards the good (God) aroused by the presence of Beatrice.

From this state of loss and for the desire to continue to see and love Beatrice, Dante conceives the Divine Comedy, which is the story of his journey through the three kingdoms of the underworld in which, through the discovery of places and meetings with souls, he will begin a new interior journey to purify his soul and be so again worthy of meeting Beatrice, who awaits him to lead him to Heaven, the kingdom of light and of the higher spirits. So Dante Alighieri passes trough a state of darkness from a state of light.

In the Divine Comedy also Dante completes the meaning of the name "Beatrice", because his work ends with the vision of God defined by the great poet as "the Love that moves the sun and the other stars" (so the entire galaxy).

.KYLO REN AND HIS LOVE FOR REY

As for Dante the meeting with Beatrice marked and changed his life, the same happened to Kylo Ren when, in the Takodana forest, he saw Rey for the first time. This meeting and the mental contact with the girl during the interrogation, is certainly a turning point in the life of Kylo Ren who, from that moment, begins to doubt about his condition of obscurity.

Rey, in fact, like Beatrice, is not an ordinary woman but a very powerful girl in the Force who fully embodying the Light, the benevolent side of the Force and, for this reason, has the task of bringing hope and joy into the universe to counteract and balance the darkness represented by Kylo Ren.

Kylo Ren is attracted to Rey and to what she represents: in her presence his attitude changes completely, he feels respect and compassion for the girl so much, so that he expresses moments stronger in the Light. Rey is his source of Light and good, as was Beatrice for Dante. It is therefore clear that Kylo is in love with Rey in fact, he loves her so much that he proposes to join him to dominate the universe. However his gesture, though is sincere, is full of pride and obscurity and Rey can not accept it, because she represents the Light. She can not give in to obscurity and accept an impure love ( Do you remember Paolo and Francesca in the Inferno? Their passion represents a bad kind of love, and we can say it's the same with Kylo Ren and Rey in the TLJ. They need to find another way more pure to love eachother: love eachother in the Force?).

The moment of the refusal of Beatrice's greeting and death, could be compared to the moment when Rey closes the doors of the Millennium Falcon in the face of Kylo Ren to signify her removal and refusal.

Kylo Ren has lost his source of light, the one who was driving him in the "right way" and the scene where the dice disappear from his hand, expresses all the pain and remorse for the consuences of his actions. However this pain and this momentary state of loss, will be precisely those that will push Kylo Ren to a definitive change. Like Dante for the love of Beatrice, he found the courage to face Hell and his inner condition of sin, so even Kylo Ren, for the love of Rey, will defeat and destroy the evil that resides in him with her help. And, in the end, through union with Rey, create the balance in the Force.

PS: Dante's love for Beatrice was secret, to avoid scandal because Beatrice was married. Even the Force bonds is the secret of Kylo Ren and Rey, just to avoid scandal among people. But Dante wrote the Divine Commedy to let people know about his love, so the love between Kylo and Ray will be show to all in the last episode?

.THE NUMBER 9 AND THE NUMBER 3

The number 3 is the perfect number. Since it represents perfection and in Christianity the Trinity, it has been used by Dante to structure the Divine Comedy: 3 are the Kingdoms and canticles (Hell, Purgatory and Paradise), and the canticles contain 33 songs.

We can say that the same structure is in the Star Wars saga: 3 are the series (prequel, original and sequel) made up of 3 films each.

The number 9 was very dear to Dante and it possessed a meaningful meaning for the poet because, as he tells in "Vita Nova" (New Life), every event linked to Beatrice took place on dates in which that number appeared. So for Dante it became a symbol of Beatrice and of love for her.

And what is the last episode number? Is the 9! That which also in the term "trIXie". So: if TRIXIE stands for Beatrice and this title has been chosen also in reference to the muse of Dante Alighieri, there are many hopes that the whole expresses the happy ending of love between Kylo Ren and Rey.

Sorry for my bad english but I come from Italy and wasn't easy for me to write about Dante in another language. So I hope you like this meta and... JJ makes the Reylo come true!

#reylo meta #reylo theory #reylo #episode ix #trixie #dante alighieri #save ben solo

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blckdtd · 3 years

Text

"Train"

i had a crush on a college friend for like three years already... maybe longer than that. im writing this post because ive dreamt about him this morning. i tried to sleep again as i still want to continue that crazy dream since it was a bit beautiful. we were happy in that dream. but im not sure if because we are together as a couple or as something else.

i actually really like seeing him smile most of the time, thats why whenever we go home together i try to talk to him and make him laugh or smile as much as possible. but, being a funny person was not my best asset, so its always... awkward. it also fascinates me whenever we dont talk at all, or when his face is blank with unreadable emotion, though sometimes im having anxious thoughts that maybe he was annoyed on why do i kept talking and talking when he is clearly not interested. those moments taught me to shut my mouth most of the times.

but how did everything started? ill try to recall everything dont worry.

it was summer, and we were still freshman in college, group chats for sections in our department were already made and people were already having some clicks and groups. i also found our class' group chats, and while scrolling on the member's list, he was the first person i added on facebook since i noticed he was quite good looking (young me dumb me. always lookinh for the face. apologies). but i never messaged him personally on facebook.

first day came in, he was the first person i talked to actually since he was the person i first recognized. but, during freshman year, he was not my seasonal crush. had a crush on two person on different sememsters, one for each sememsters, but i dont think theres a need to elaborate on that i guess. maybe another time.

sophomore year is starting to come in. summer after fresh man year, i found out that the four of us will be in the same section, me, him, T, and A. the thing is, we actually belong in the same group of friends, we also have the gc (group chat). when i found out that the four of us are in the same class, i started to have some panic or thinking, that "oh shit. he is my classmate. this year. he ll be on the long list of my seasonal mandatory crush (i know. it sucks to have this mentality, like i cannot move forward to my life without having a crush on anyone or anything). i tried to avoid the feelings because he is quite a nice person. but it happened after that event.

swimming class, this was the first day i guess??? i cant remember. but i know it was the swimming class. the four of us were kinda huddled together since we dont rrally get alonv with everyone yet, and the instructor said to group ourselves in to two. to be honest, during the time, i quite sure o dont have the feelings for him yet. so me and him like automatically paired ourselves, since t and a automatically paired themselves. then he said "lets go there". then we grabbed each others hand, under the water. i can still remember that time because after that day, i did not exactly have it in mind, but the longer the time passes, the more i can remember, and im pretty sure he dont even remembered that day.

we hold hands under water and he lead the way. it was not the romantic type holding hands, the one where people actually intertwined their hands, it was just simple holding hands. then we let go, and started the routines we need to do.

being that im the fat one, i did feel how his hands are kinds bony since hes quite thin. and he is also lighter, i even believed that i could piggy back him if he ask me too. i know that he is lighter when our instructor ask us to do a simple floating where we simply lay flat on the water surface. it was fun knowing that he actually cant do that given that he is a really good swimmer and he is lighter too, but i can, a non good swimmer even if it could save my life. i almost like carried him in my arms to guide him how to float, thats how i found out he is light, but thats okay, i also liked that about him.

then one day, i woke up, i said to my self. "shit. im having a crush on him. this is not good". what i hate about this, is because i have the constant need to show off or have his attention or be in the same grouos or anything with him... like? we are already going home together cause we take tge same train or something, im so greedy, attention seeker, obsessed, annoying. i also chat him on facebook most of the time, like i always need to find a reason to talk to him or something. almost the whole year of second year college was me being a bother to him or something, and i just fully realized it now. and if ever for some reason you read this, yes, this is about you, and im really sorry for bothering you all these years thinking that you might, well, "reciprocate" the feelings, in short, sorry for being immature.

til this day, some parts of my heart, wished that there are times where he did enjoy our small talks on the train, or if he did enjoy having me as a "friend".

i can still remember how we talked about the girl you almost become girlfriend, about how you felt when one of our classmate gave you something on valentines day, how i fucked up and confessed of having feelings for you, and how we somehow remained as friends even after that day. i know you told our other friends that i confessed my feelings for you, thats why they started teasing me about it.

i missed you needing me to go somewhere sometimes because youre not much of a streetsmart or always forgets how to go some certain place. i remember how i said that you can rest your head on my shoulder when we were on the train on our way to one of our friends house to make a costume, how i lend my earphones to you so you can listen to some music even though i actually love listening to music, how you waited for me on train station even though i was late. we had a meet up.that day because you want to buy something that we found while looking for some naterials to make the costume, well you waited because you barely remember how to get there in the first place. not gonna lie, i was kinda happy how you waited for me on that station.

i can also remember how we talked throughout our jeepney ride on our way to the station, im sorry to say this, but during that day, i somehow had a hunch that you were just talking to me because i kinda led our way on how the two of us will get home, because you dont always talk to me in first place, ever since that day you knew, which i did understood, but i dont know why i still.stood my ground on seeking yoir attention. ha! but yes i can still remember how i take you to your station on your way home because you dont know your way, i got off of the train even though i could have just stayed and have my way home. it was fun though, and so foolish of me.

why am i even head over heels on you even after all this years? yes until now.

third year college, i promised my self that ill try to stop having feelings for you. but i didnt. but we were on that level where we just accepted that yeah i know that you know thatbinhave feelings for you but we will just be civil about it. we were kind of a pair tbh, you can use my phone whenever you want since that was the time when yiu dont have your own phone. you actually have more photos on that phone than me lol. we were in a civil state to the point we even became automatic pairs on an activity in botany class. we even became thesis groupmates. you probably had the most contribution on that thesis so i still thank you even till this day.

i also remembered when you asked me to come with you to get your birth certificate since you actually dont know how to get one, not gonna lie again, i was kinda having a moment back there since we were in the middle of thesis day, more like finishing it up, but you asked me to come with you. we travelled like for almost an hour for that, fell in line just to have your id photocopied, then i instructed you on which line you should take next, how to get this and that, then i waited for you, again. so we can also go back to the university. i had some realizations that day. on the lengths that my feelings for you drove me.

i also remembered how we went home together like we usually do after that earthquake since the station had a bit of crack on its foundation. but we went to separate ways you rode a jeepney on your way. i walked to mine.

one of the things that touched me was when you asked me about my favorite band, why did i liked them, and you somehow, had some small history, that you listened to them before or something.

but there are also those days where we dont even talked about anythibg at all. we just stayed silent. and bid our goodbyes and take cares. maybe those were your favorite days, just kidding.

im not trying to paint you as bad guy for not reciprocating or anything. im just remembering things, and i need to let them out.

it kinda sucks when i didnt saw you on the last day where we need to return our graduation gowns because i need to leave early that day because of an emergency family trip to the beach. just a celebration because i just graduated.

im sorry i still havent picked up your drawings that i said i will buy just to help you. because i had a job that time and you still havent because youre supposed to go to a medical school.

our company had a job opening but i was too shy to send the invite to you, idk why. i did tried to talk to you again just like a normal friend but, i know i cant. even while writing this, i can attest that im still not in the best condition to talk to you because i still... cant move on. this sucks.

there are parts of me that wished i didnt approached you on the first day of class. or maybe i shouldnt held your hand under water. or maybe... i shouldnt have just let this.feelings swallowed me.

i dreamed of you last night. but dont worry, nothinh sexual. i dreamed of holding your hand again. and seeing your smile. softly playing your hands until they were intertwined. it was a good dream. i wish i didnt woke up. but i need to.

your smile was so beautiful, i rarely saw them actually even after hundreds of train trips we had together. i loved the sound of your laugh actually that will soon give your smilling face. i can even remember your eyelashes they were so beautiful, though i hope you werent freaked out when i looked at you.

youre a beautiful person, your smart, you sometimes dark humor, you being lowkey gentleman, your creativity and artistry. everything about you.

to end this, i hope you know that it is not late to pursue your artistic passion or to go to a medical school. youre a brilliant person Eli, i hope you know that also. and i loved you, as person, as a friend, as someone who i went head over heels. right now, i do wish we meet again, but in a different time, but now, i only wish you happiness and success. thank you for being part of my life as a simple college student.

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