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crookedt44th · 1 month

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JR.1 WELCOME HOME | LMH

PAIRINGS ➳ lee minho x gender-neutral reader (cora)

GENRE ➳ friends to lovers ◦ slow burn ◦ heavy angst ◦ horror ◦ psychological thriller ◦ fantasy ◦ slight humor ◦ ghosts ◦ will add more later!

WARNINGS ➳ mental issues (derealization) ◦ memory loss ◦ inappropriate language ◦ suggestive themes, but no smut ◦ death ◦ gore(?) ◦ smoking ◦ lots of drug and alcohol use ◦ cruel society ◦ adult life crisis ◦ bad life decisions ◦ religious themes ◦ class struggles ◦ hallucinations ◦ will add more later!

WC ➳ 3,000+

STATUS ➳ Ongoing.

ABOUT ➳ After dropping out of college, Cora returns home to their small town of Stormvillie with the hopes of reconnecting with their friends they left behind and resuming their carefree previous life. However, things have changed since then. Their friends have grown up and changed, and home seems different now. The wind is getting colder and the leaves are falling. As the night gets darker, strange things are happening.

And there's something in the woods.

NIGHT IN THE WOODS SERIES

CHARACTERS AND THEIR STORIES

Scott Street - Phoebe Bridgers started playing ...

Walking Scott Street, feeling like a stranger

With an open heart, open container

I’ve got a stack of mail and a tall can

It’s a shower bear, it’s a payment plan

Even though quitting college was the hardest decision I made, I was relieved to be back in my hometown. There I was on the train, listening to music and settled into my seat comfortably. I knew I had arrived in Stormville when I spotted the streets I knew so well and the cafe I used to go to every day when I was a teenager. As it reaches an intersection, a train blows its horn. Picking up my backpack and suitcase, I stood up from my seat and waited for the train doorway to slide open. I began to search around for my parents when I got off the train, but they weren't there. I sat down on the nearby bench to wait some more in case they hadn't arrived.

Well, this is great. I mean I didn’t expect a party or anything, but I figured someone would be here.

I reached into my backpack and took out the book I had brought from the city. Victoria Schwab’s City of Ghosts. My grandpa gave me this as a gift before he passed away, along with a touching note. This book was really special to me. I missed him a lot.

I cast a quick peek at the open train doors. I could have sworn there were plenty of people on the train, but it was entirely empty. It was really packed in the city two hours ago. Odd.

Once again, I did not see my parents when I looked up. They must have forgotten about me. Moreover, my phone just died. With a loud groan, I stood up from the bench, gathered my belongings, and headed to find the train station's exit. Looking to my left, I saw a janitor leaving the ticket counter with his toolbox, but I stopped him before he went anywhere.

“Hey, excuse me. Do you know where everybody is?”

"It’s 9:52. It’s closed," the janitor said. "And no one ever gets off the bus to Stormville nowadays." A loud notice stating that there would be a delay in the train from Stormville to the city. I suppose there was a breakdown. "Looks like I've got a job to do. See you around." He offered me a smile before entering the train to do his job. Looking up at the train station's building, I started noticing how much it had changed. The last time I visited, the trains weren't running well, and the ticket booths were abandoned.

I roamed around till I arrived at the playground, which was a spot I knew well. I rushed to play on the swings, experiencing a surge of nostalgia. Right as soon as I began to swing, I was taken back to the times when my friends and I would swing ourselves a little too high in the air and compete to see who could land the perfect jump. A chilly breeze blew in my face as I continued to swing higher and higher, moving my legs back and forth. I swung back, took my hands off from the chains, and jumped when I thought the moment was right for me to land. I was confident I would land perfectly on my feet this time, but instead I ended up on my knees, then my face on the rough mulch. With a sigh, I realized that no matter how hard I try, I won't ever be able to land on my feet and end up always hurting myself.

I laid there for a while. I rolled over so I could lie on my back and look at the dark blue sky with a large, beautiful moon. It felt strangely comfy, and I didn't want to get up, but I had a family to come home to. Just as I lifted myself off the ground, a flash of light shone on my face. I rubbed my eyes and glanced up to see my aunt standing there, still dressed in her police uniform, with a flashlight beaming on my face.

"Welcome home, Cora." Although Aunt shot me a blank look, I continued to send her a smile.

"Oh hey, Auntie. Been a while"

"Yup. And you’re still scurrying around like a cat." Shaking her head at me and letting out a sigh, she walked down the parking lot to her car. "Get in my car, it’s getting late." She shouted. I hurriedly got up, ran back to where my stuff was beside the swings, and made my way to her car.

A long, silent ride aside from a radio playing. I took a quick tour around her police patrol vehicle, noting the camera next to the rearview mirror, an MDT in front of the radio, and her walkie-talkie, which was still blaring. Afterwards, I cast a sidelong glance at her; she continued to give off a sense of severity that brought back memories of how I used to be scared of her. Because of this, it was difficult to try to get along with her. As we drove by, I gazed out the window, noticing the closed shops and lonely streets.

"Cora, why did you come back?" Her abrupt comments made me flinch, and I turned my head slightly in her direction. Aunt's expression remained fixed on the road.

“I just wanted to.”

“Oh. Alright.”

“...”

Here comes the awkward silence.

“Be careful around here this time.”

Nevermind.

“Okay? Thanks.”

"I'm serious," she replied, staring briefly at me before returning her attention to the road.

“Alright, alright. I heard you.”

“...”

“So–”

“We’re here.”

When she pulled into my driveway, I got out of the car right away. I stopped to wave her off and she grinned slightly. With a pout, I tilted my head and watched Aunt driving away. I shrugged and walked towards the front door of my house, ringing the doorbell. I crept to peer through the front door's window, and when I eventually caught a glimpse of my dad, I smiled broadly. I saw his stunned expression when he opened the door wide.

"Cora! Wasn't you supposed to come home tomorrow night?" Ah, I see why. I forgot he hardly remembers anything.

“No, dad. It was today. I kind of figured you’d forget.”

“Oh, darling, I am so sorry. Please come inside, it is really cold out.” Dad helped pick up your bags and brought them upstairs.

I was hit by a familiar aroma of cinnamon and vanilla as soon as I stepped into the house. Mom had to have lit that candle. There were still several framed pictures of me and my parents hanging on the wall beside the stairs. I glanced over to see the old television playing in the living room. Newspapers strewn out and a cup of tea on the wooden coffee table. I came to sit down on a couch to wait for my dad. After a while, he returned with another cup of tea and placed it gently in front of me.

"Be careful, kid. It's still really hot." He smiled warmly at me. I nodded, watching as the steam from my hot tea dissipated.

“Where’s Mom?”

"Oh, right! She's still working. You'll see her in the morning, so don't worry." Dad gave me a shoulder pat. With his tea in his other hand, he picked up his newspaper and started to read. It dawned on me that I was at last back home after spending two chaotic and busy years in a huge city. Although I had a good time, it wasn't where I wanted to be. I picked up my cup with care and sipped the tea before getting up to head to my room.

"I'm going to my room now. Thank you for the tea, Dad."

Again grinning, he looked up at me and said, "Alright! Have a pleasant dream, okay?" With a nod, I turned to head up the stairs. As I made my way to my room, I saw that it had a little whiteboard hung up and a door covered with stickers. "Not Here Anymore!" It read with a heart indented. I chuckled. It surprised me that it hadn't been erased yet.

I opened the door and there it was, my comfort zone. There were a few fairy lights and band posters hanging on the wall, along with an empty desk, a cleanly made bed with old white pillows and blue plaid sheets, and several books scattered all over the place. The tapestry of a skeleton over the desk is being used as a curtain to block the window. On the left, there's a record player on the top of the drawer and an abandoned acoustic guitar next to the mirror. Shutting the door, I hopped onto the bed. Not when I was lying in this extremely comfortable bed, did I feel the need to change clothing.

I rolled over in bed and examined every poster on the wall until my eyes were drawn to something, which caused me to rapidly sit up. The old friends, with whom I hadn't spoken in a long time, and myself on a Polaroid. I took a closer look by moving to the edge of the bed and snatching the polaroid. Minho, the brunette guy, wrapped his arm around my neck and waved a peace sign. Behind us were two kids, Jisung and Chan. After I left for college, we stopped talking for a while, but sometimes they would send me short messages like "I miss you" and "how are you." Even though they were the ones who were happy for me when I got accepted into college, looking at this polaroid made me a little anxious about seeing them again. It would definitely not be too bad to see Jisung and Chan again, but it would be with Minho.

The most heartbreaking thing I had to do was tell my best friend Minho that I was moving out of town and that we wouldn't be seeing each other for a while. Given that we had been friends since middle school, I could tell he was upset when I broke the news to him. I would be lying if I said I wasn't sad and that I wished he could come with me to college. But before I could talk it out with him for the last time, he suddenly cut ties with me after learning the news and made every effort to avoid speaking with me ever again. We’ve never bid our goodbyes together.

I felt even more sad as I thought back on the past memories. My polaroid was put back up on the wall. I stood up from my bed and opened my backpack. I took out the two cameras, my laptop, and my phone from my backpack together with their chargers. After charging the devices and placing them on my desk, I unzipped my luggage to find my pajamas and changed into them. I hopped back into bed after turning out the light, feeling more at ease and prepared to sleep for the next eight hours.

There’s helicopters over my head

Every night when I go to bed

Spending money and I earned it

When I’m lonely, that’s when I’ll burn it

September 22, 8:32 a.m.

I woke up to the smell of breakfast and coffee coming from the kitchen and checked my alarm clock, which read 8 a.m. Sitting up, I yawned and rubbed my eyes to see better. I dragged myself out of bed, grabbed my necessities, and proceeded to the bathroom to brush my teeth. After flossing my teeth and rearranging all of my stuff, I returned to my room to change.

I was going through my luggage again, trying to decide what to wear, when I remembered I had this band shirt that I had kept for years in my closet. I went to my closet in search of them, and that's where I discovered the gray The Smiths shirt. I changed into a black pair of ripped jeans and a shirt. I didn't forget the flannel, of course.

I ran down the stairs and to the kitchen, and when I finally saw my mom, I was hit by a wave of nostalgia again. She made pancakes today and prepared a mug of hot coffee for me.

“Welcome home!” Mom exclaimed with a big smile. “I am deeply sorry about yesterday, I really thought you were coming home tonight. I wanted to make up to you by making your favorite breakfast!”

“Oh, mom. It’s okay, at least I’m here now.” I picked up my fork and knife to cut the pancakes in four.

“Cora, sweetie?”

“Yeah?” I continued to eat.

“Is everything all right?”

I abruptly stopped, looking up at my mom’s concerned face.

“I’m fine, mom.”

“Well, that’s good. It’s just.. That’s not usually something a college sophomore does.”

“I know.” I continued to go back to eating.

“You can tell me anything-”

“Can we talk about this another time?”

I dismissed my mom's concern and continued to stare down at my nearly done pancakes, feeling instantly bad.

"Talk to me whenever you need, okay?" Mom said, sighing. After giving her a nod and finishing the last of my pancakes, I got up from my chair.

"Also, Mom, do you happen to know where my friends are? Jisung, Chan, and..." I hesitated, wondering if it would be appropriate to finally meet Minho after we had been apart for two years. But I won't be able to sleep easily unless I know how he's doing today. "And Minho."

"As far as I know, Jisung is working at the Safe in Sound record store! Chan probably works at his dad's outlet store as well." Mom said, picking up the plates and carrying them to the sink to wash them. I accepted her response with a nod and waited to find out about Minho, even

though I wasn't supposed to be worried about him because I knew he probably hates me. Honestly, it didn't really matter. Just as I turned to walk away, my mother spoke. "I was at Poppy's Coffee the last time I saw Minho. He works there."

"Oh. Cool. Guess everyone is at work these days."

"He will be happy to see you. He wouldn't be mad at his best friend for following their dreams." Mom smiled as she turned to face me. "Don't come home too late, okay? Have a nice day."

I decided it would be best to meet Jisung first, before everyone else, and before Minho. Strolling down the well-known streets, observing the stores and realizing they are now newly opened businesses. Well, it's still in construction. There are a lot of construction workers here. That being said, the doughnut shop, which I used to go to often, was still open. I pulled out my wallet to see if I had enough money to buy my friends a single doughnut or two, but there was nothing like a fly sticking out of it. With a shrug, I shoved my wallet into the back pocket of my pants and carried on walking around the streets.

Next to the statue of the founder that was pointing directly at me, there was a boy who seemed to be a middle schooler, playing on his nintendo ds. I approached him and saw what game he was playing. “Pokemon.. Classic.” He looked up at me, eyes widened.

“Oh, Cora right?” I nodded and the boy continued to go back, focusing on his game, “I’m Lori. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Awesome, I’m assuming they’re bad.”

“Well, everyone was saying you beat the kid up to the hospital. Even my mother told me to stay away from you.”

“Oh, boo. He was mean to my friend.”

“Is it that guy, Minho?” I gulped.

“...No. A girl.”

“Why are you being so awkward when I mentioned that guy?”

“I’m not- That’s none of your business, little dude.” Reminded that I still needed to meet Jisung, I walked away.

When I finally made it to the record store, I waited anxiously in front of the door for a minute, imagining what might happen. I relaxed and eventually made my way inside. There were numerous vinyl record boxes arranged on each table, and the speakers mounted on the wall were blasting loud rock music. And there were a bunch of band t-shirts in another area. CDs and cassette tapes were in the rear. I headed towards the classic rock section and browsed the records that I would purchase if I were rich at the moment. Then I heard the door shut from what I thought was the rear of the store, and that's when I remembered why I had come here in the first place. I looked up and walked to the location of the noise, where I saw a man locking the office door. His hair was blue, and he was wearing a leather jacket over a Misfits shirt with a few bands and drawing patches on his blue denim pants. Yup, that’s Jisung.

He froze and his eyes widened as soon as he spun around and looked up at me. I lifted up my hand to offer him a small wave and nervously chuckled at his reaction. I continued to stand awkwardly in front of Jisung, who massaged his eyes and then peered to make sure it was really me. That's when he started flashing me the big smile I used to miss so much.

“Oh. My. GOD!” Jisung exclaimed loudly, jumping up and down. For the first time in a long time, I laughed and raced to give him the longest hug I could give; he hugged me so tightly that I nearly passed out. "Cora! Holy shit!”

While holding me, he screamed in my ears. I attempted to withdraw, but he would not let me. "Hey! Not only are you suffocating me, but you're also making my ears go deaf!" When he finally let go of me, we looked at each other for a moment to see what had changed.

"And you're looking at me for an uncomfortable amount of time." I said as we laughed our asses off once more.

"Dude, can you blame me? It had been, what? Two years!" Jisung yelled once again, which made me cry with laughter. "Plus, you haven't texted us in a long time. We never forgot about you, you know? Not when you're our coolest friend."

Even though Jisung's comments were making me feel a little emotional already, it made me think of Minho again. If not every day, then at least occasionally, I wondered if he ever thought about me. Hell, I wondered if he ever felt bad for shoving me away like that. I wondered if he had ever cared about me. Jisung's voice stunned me after I had been zoning out for a moment.

"I am SO going to tell Chan and Vanna about this!" Excitedly, he took his phone out of the pocket of his leather jacket and began texting them, pacing back and forth.

"Wait, Vanna?" I frowned. It's been a while since I heard from her.

"Oh, right! That Vanna, yes. She’s sort of our backup for the drummer." He responded, illustrating every word with hand motions.

"You guys still play in a band?" I let out a gasp.

"Yes! But it's been almost a month since we last played since, you know, we've been pretty busy lately." With a sigh, Jisung peered around the shop until all of a sudden he stopped and held up his index finger at me. "Wait here. I have a gift for you.” I nodded, giving that air of confusion, and then I went back to the place I had been at before, looking through every box in the classic rock section. I eventually grew bored and started exploring the store's various categories. Punk, indie, R&B, metal, and many other genres were represented. As I browsed the indie section, contemplating which records to purchase later if I had an opportunity, my attention was drawn to a certain album. Young The Giant's self-titled album. When I remembered how often Minho used to play this record whenever I visited his place, I started to feel emotional again—for the hundredth time. To be honest, I could list a lot of bands that make me think of him. Why does he never text me? Not even an apology at least?

I exhaled deeply, carefully set down the record, and took another look around the shop. Then I noticed a piece of paper that was pinned to the bulletin board beside the entrance door. I moved in closer to examine the paper, and to my surprise, it was a missing poster with a familiar face. A photo of a young, attractive, long blonde haired man with freckles and a lovely smile. Felix Lee.

"He has been missing for a year now." The abrupt voice startled me, so I turned to face the redhead guy immediately. It took me a moment to realize, though, that it was one of my friends. Chan. He had on a black hoodie and ripped jeans with a chain connected.

"You scared the hell out of me. Fuck you." I gave him the hardest shoulder blow I could manage. His laughter got so loud, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I refused to look at him and crossed my arms. He laughed again, seeing that I was being a little whiny child. "Oh my god, stop it. I'm going to kill you."

"All right, all right. I'll stop. Come here." Chan invited you to give him a hug by spreading his arms wide. I smiled and moved to offer him the same long embrace that I gave Jisung, but this one was much softer and more welcome. "I missed you, kiddo."

"I missed you, too." We both pulled away from the hug, and I saw Chan's eyes shift to Felix's missing poster.

"Do you know what really happened to him?"

"Not really. Y’know at first, I thought he just disappeared without a word.” He sighed, folding his arms. “I can't stop worrying about whether or not he is safe, even if we are no longer friends."

"I remember he told me how he always wanted to escape this town." I recalled.

"Yeah." Chan muttered.

"Damn, no need to get too dark." We both turned to look at Jisung as he held up two vinyl records: Fleetwood Mac and Agents of Fortune by Blue Oyster Cult. "Sorry for the wait. I had to go through a lot of limited edition boxes and all that shit."

"My favorite albums!" I gasped and reached for the vinyls. "Wait, you don't have to give this to me for free."

"But I really want to! I'm just glad to have you back, so please have this as a gift." After Jisung's comments, my heart warmed, and I placed the vinyls down on the counter to give him another embrace. Chan then joined in. Moving to a new city for college and spending the last two years living alone in a dorm didn't go as planned. Especially, not having any friends meant that I had no one to talk to. Really, though, I'm glad to be back where I belong—among my best friends, with whom I've missed spending a lot of time with.

"Oh hey, Vanna!" Jisung said, releasing his hug to welcome Vanna. Chan and I also greeted her, though I was suddenly nervous because I hadn't spoken to Vanna since the last year of middle school. She appeared to be a lot different than before. Short black hair with micro bangs, dressed entirely in black. Denim vest over a long-sleeved top, fingerless fishnet gloves, and leggings. She wore a black pearl necklace around her vest's collar and carried a leather bag.

"Oh, did I just ruin your emotional reunion? Oops.” Vanna murmured, staring at Jisung and Chan with a blank expression before turning to face me. I gave an awkward little smile and waved. "Surprised to see you back, I guess."

Jisung began clapping with his hands and bouncing up and down. "This is going to be the greatest day, week, month, and year ever, without a doubt!"

"You're going to hear this a thousand times this week, but we're really happy to have you back," Chan jokes. "For real."

"Yeah. For real." Vanna agreed while maintaining her blank stare. "Amazing day to be back as well. There will be a party tonight. In the woods. If you're down." Vanna crossed her legs and leaned against the counter, waiting for anyone to respond. I turned to face Chan and Jisung, who both nodded, indicating that their work shifts end in the afternoon and that they were good to go. I wanted to ask a question before I even decided to go.

"Uhm, is Minho going?" The room went dead silence when I asked a question about Minho, who doesn't talk to me anymore and they knew that. Vanna frowned in confusion at the question, but she took it as an excuse to play on her phone and avoid being involved. However, Jisung and Chan appeared a little afraid to respond. I became afraid as well, immediately projecting the worst-case scenarios about Minho.

"Before you overthink, kiddo, Minho is alive and well." Chan scratched his head and sighed. "We just don't talk anymore." Head down, Jisung nodded in agreement with Chan. Oh, damn.

"But you guys act like he's dead." I laughed, causing them to both chuckle too. "But what happened?"

"Well, remember how he just cut you off after you told him you were leaving? So, when you left, Jisung and I tried to talk to Minho, and things got, you know, complicated."

“That doesn't really help at all, Chan. I'll never get why he was so mad at me for leaving. We have phones, so it's not like I was going to stop talking to him."

"He wasn't mad!" Jisung chimed in right away, saying, "It was something more, like— Dude, I dunno! If only his ass wouldn't be such a goddamn wimp, or at least be honest rather than so damned stubborn—" Chan quickly covered Jisung's mouth while Vanna, who was still engrossed in her phone, walked out bidding goodbye. But his outburst over Minho confused me even more.

"I really want to tell you what it is, though I'm sure Minho would like to talk to you now that you're back. He wasn't upset about you leaving, and he doesn't hate you. Just... maybe talk it out properly this time if you see him." Chan, like a sweetheart, gave me a tiny piece of advice while still covering Jisung's mouth, who begged him to let go. "Also, to finally answer your question, he'll definitely be there tonight."

I guess now is the time to discover the truth and solve the mystery.

Do you feel ashamed

When you hear my name?

Having spent a few hours at Jisung's workplace, I went home to change for the party. Because I was never a party or formal type, I didn't have a lot of party clothes. Wearing something a little more simple, though, shouldn't harm anyone. I then put on a pair of dirty black Converse, blue denim ripped jeans, and a long sleeve black and white striped shirt that I had tucked in. The floor was a little messy now that the clothes had been tossed around trying to figure out what to wear. Vanna texted me to let me know she was on her way, so I hurried to get a crossbody purse and stuff my Polaroid camera inside. And finally, I snuck into my mom's bathroom to use her antique floral perfume.

The sound of the honk from outside, indicating that Vanna was here, had me running downstairs. When I got inside the car, Jisung and Chan were also there, and so I sat next to Jisung. While the other three were chatting and the radio played random songs, I propped my head against the window and observed the several trees we passed. Throughout the twenty minutes of the drive, Jisung continued to move himself closer to the front to discuss his conspiracy theories with Vanna and Chan. Even though we were all adults now, we hadn't changed a bit.

When we arrived, it appeared to be a deserted camping spot where a group of kids had gathered for a party. After exiting the vehicle, Chan struck up a conversation with some of the kids lingering in the parking lot. Vanna, In the meantime, had vanished somewhere, and Jisung and I were attempting to find our way to the party. There was a band playing, a bonfire, lights strung from trees, and the party was held by the lake. The band started playing, and everyone in the pit began to dance along. To the left, a few tables were set up with snacks and drinks. The ice cooler, which holds beer, was next to the table.

Jisung shouted that we should start drinking before jumping in the pit. I knew I would regret this, but why not? You only get one chance at life. Jisung grabbed my hand as we went to the ice cooler to grab a beer for each of us. I started to sip a tiny bit and laughed when I glanced over to find Jisung drinking half a can already. It had been a long time since the last time I drank and that very same day I threw up a thousand times on Chan’s toilet, so I wasn't really sure whether or not to down today. Although I could already feel myself getting a little tipsy with each sip and decided to just fuck it and finish the can. After consuming the last of the beer cans and throwing them in the trash, Jisung and I joined in to dance.

We had been singing along to our favorite songs for quite some time, and I was laughing so hard at Jisung's headbanging that I lost my voice. Now when it was time to take a break and get some fresh air, I told Jisung that I was going to be by the campfire and he gave me the thumbs up. I made my way through the mass of people who were partying a little too hard and looked for a bonfire that was located up in the hill. I pulled out my phone and played on it for a little bit, only browsing social media, which I hadn't used in a long time, as I sat down on the log. I eventually felt that I was growing bored and chose to take in the gorgeous lake view from this location. I could feel myself about to vomit, but I had to contain it in order not to embarrass myself in front of people. Despite the fact that there was no one around the bonfire and just a small ice cooler. When I opened it, I thought maybe there might be a water bottle inside, but all I found was beer. Shrugging, I took another one of these anyway.

"Do you still not have a new shirt that you promised to buy me after you puked in it last time?" I froze all at once. Oh, that voice. I carefully set my beer down on my knee, afraid to glance up at the man I've been getting worked up over. He moved to sit next to me, took up the log sticks, and gave one to me. Bewildered and unwilling to look up, I took hold of the stick and watched what he was doing. There were crackers, chocolate bars, and packets of marshmallows that I was probably too drunk to notice earlier. He put a marshmallow on a stick and moved it closer to the flames. I finally compelled myself to glance up at his side profile as he was doing so, and I could feel my heartbeat quicken. It was really Minho. Plus, he was far more attractive. Wide-leg jeans with a plaid flannel worn over and a black shirt tucked in. This time, his hair had changed to a copper reddish brown color.

"You're here." After a while, I spoke.

"So are you." He laughed softly. I missed hearing that sound.

I was staring at the side of his face until he turned to look directly into my eyes. How pretty his eyes were. That lovely smile of his. Oh, dude, I really missed him.

"We also have a lot to talk about." Minho added, "and a big apology."

Anyway, don’t be a stranger.

NEXT JOURNAL

AUTHOR'S NOTE ➳ hi! i would absolutely love to hear ur feedback on this, so pls make sure to like and comment! im actually very excited to keep this going even tho my semester is starting next week, but its ok i have like two classes for this month LOL

TAGLIST ➳ @estella-novella @melanctton

Send an ASK or COMMENT to be added in the taglist!

#lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee minho series #lee know fanfic #lee know angst #lee know imagines #lee know smut #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #bang chan x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #kim seungmin x reader #seo changbin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #stray kids imagines #han jisung x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n

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eeveedel · 3 years

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can’t believe I can never be feminine in the way Harry was that one day during MITAM promo where he lost his voice and had to speak through a robot app

#welcome to my ongoing gender crisis

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axigailxo · 2 years

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— masterlist —

welcome to my masterlist! below you will find my series collection as well as my one shot collection. enjoy your stay luvs! <3 xx

Series:

m=mature

✏️= ongoing

X= on hiatus

Teacher’s Pet | JJK (M) ✏️

professor/dilf!jungkook x student!reader or jungkook x reader

forbidden relationship!au, sneaky links to lovers au, age gap

Hooking up every so often with your English Literature professor, what's the worst that can happen? Falling in love, perhaps. Embarking on a sexual-turned-serious relationship with your professor Jeon Jungkook a month before graduation, you are as happy as can be. You, Jungkook, and his 4-year-old daughter, Dahlia. Except there's just one teeny-tiny little detail Jungkook failed to mention... that detail being his ex-wife isn't so much of an ex after all.

Teacher’s Pet M.list

Pretty Like You | PJM (M) ✏️

feminine!jimin x female!reader or jimin x reader

enemies to lovers, feminine!jimin, self hatred au, slight identity crisis, self love journey, smut, sub!jimin, angst, fluff, heartfelt

where jimin is jealous of the beauty that is you, writes about it, and falls apart when you accidentally read it. struggling with the harsh barriers of gender rules, jimin struggles through his freshman year of college as he’s having trouble finding himself. what doesn’t help is that you’re there, in almost all of his classes, completely stunning him. channeling his frustration into his first ever thought journal, he’s almost at peace. that’s until you read it, unbeknownst to him, and everything falls apart. jimin adores you. jimin admires you. but most of all, jimin hates you.

Pretty Like You M.list

Cigarettes After Sex | MYG (M) X

yandere!yoongi x shy!reader or yoongi x reader

yandere, dark thriller, high school au, classmates to lovers, fast burn, introvert!yoongi, broken!yoongi, shy/introvert!oc, smut, eventual fluff, heavy angst

A limited series in which a new friendship turns into something uncanny and killer. Min Yoongi, he keeps to himself and struggles with accepting or even finding love. Emancipated at a young age and held back twice due to too many absences, he’s now 19 and in his senior year of high school, living off of the money he gets from making and selling beats online. You, 18, are also in your senior year. And just like Yoongi, you have trouble finding love due to a lack of feeling loved. It’s been a week since you switched bio classes, and your new classmate has caught your eye. However, just like him, you talk to no one. Can the shy girl get the shy boy? And if so, will she be able to endure getting much more than anticipated��

Cigarettes After Sex M.list

More series are yet to come. . .

One Shots:

☆= smut ♡= fluff ☾= drabble

Each of the works down below are below 10k words !!

a/n: each of the works on the lists are listed from newest to oldest!! (however the order of the members is completely random)

—YOONGI.

All Night | KNJ ft. MYG ☆

In which listening to music during a smoke sesh with your best friends Namjoon and Yoongi in the studio turns into much more.

Midnight Musician | MYG ☆♡

Waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of your boyfriend playing piano, you follow the noise and end up getting more from him than just a sideshow.

Sunday's Sunset | MYG ☆♡

You and your boyfriend Yoongi spend a lazy late Sunday afternoon in bed, attempting to make soft and intimate love that inevitably turns rougher.

—NAMJOON.

All Night | KNJ ft. MYG ☆

In which listening to music during a smoke sesh with your best friends Namjoon and Yoongi in the studio turns into much more.

Friendship & Erotica ☆

Your best friend Namjoon gets turned on while reading an erotica in your shared hotel room and decides to accompany you in the bathroom as you prepare for a bath.

Dainty Distractions ☆

While your boyfriend Namjoon takes a business call in the kitchen, you decide to walk out in lingerie and touch yourself in front of him.

—JUNGKOOK.

in my eyes | JJK ♡

Jungkook is tired of the way you look at yourself and decides to draw out exactly how he sees you in his eyes, in the end making you second guess your self-image entirely and fall in love with him all over again.

accidental | JJK ☾☆

In which your boyfriend Jungkook accidentally turns you on right before bed.

All Mine | JJK ☆ *COMING SOON*

Showing up to the annual company banquet in a risque outfit, Jungkook can't stand the amount of eyes on you. Eager to channel his frustration, he takes you to his office.

—JIMIN.

sleepless | PJM ☾☆

Hundreds of miles away and unable to sleep, Jimin calls you from his hotel room to help with his loneliness and neediness.

Remind Me | PJM ☆♡

After a dinner where Jimin’s cousin was a little too infatuated with you, you assure Jimin that your heart is set on him and only him and he proves his love back to you in bed.

—TAEHYUNG.

(on hold)

—JIN.

(on hold)

—HOBI.

(on hold)

More one shots to come soon.

Do not translate or repost my work to other websites without my permission.

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peachy-writings · 3 years

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Over My Head ↷ Preview

I had a series that followed a Doctor!Younghoon oneshot on my old account. Since it was nearing its end, I’ve decided to post it all together in oneshot format for easier consumption and less work on my part lmao. If you had been tuning into the series, I’m glad to finally be giving you a conclusion to a long ride!

Member ➝ Kim Younghoon of The Boyz

Special Cameos ➝ Ex!Juyeon; Frenemie!Sunwoo; Chanhee; Changmin; Jaehyun; Eric

Content ➝ Flangst; Drama; Unrequited love; Nostalgia; Friendship | Gender neutral reader

Warnings ➝ Crying; Perhaps an identity crisis; Language

Word Count ➝ 2.4k

Masterlist

Send an ask to be added to the tag list!

↳ @opaquevity @rindomo

Synopsis ➝ Brought together by his decision to give up his career as a doctor, your best friend Younghoon is on a mission to make up for the time he’s lost in those hospital corridors. As you complete the tasks on his Fuck-It List together, you find yourself silently falling hard. You have your reasons for keeping these feelings under wraps though, especially with the ongoing inquiries from your friends about the ambiguous relationship you seem to have with your ex, Juyeon.

Preview ↴

“Why are you here again?”

A heavy sigh punctuates your sentence, coming when you get a good look at his face.

Younghoon stands in your doorway, dark circles under his eyes and lips pouted out in an attempt to gain your sympathy. His clothes look to have been pulled on with little effort, his jacket barely hanging onto his broad shoulders and his shoelaces tucked in rather than tied.

“You can shut the door if you don’t want me here. I’ll probably fall asleep on your welcome mat, though.”

Your eyes roll at the fact that he can still find his humorous side on negative hours of sleep paired with far too much caffeine to be speaking in full sentences. It’s jarring to you how much doctors preach moderation and healthy habits and then live like this.

The door widens. “As tempting as it is to do that when you’re being such a smartass, you know I’d never shut you out.”

“And that’s why I love you,” he murmurs as he slips past you and heads straight for the couch, landing face down in the cushions.

You shut and lock the door, blinking at the man that looks as if he has knocked out on the spot. If it weren’t for the regular rising and falling of his back, you’d think he was a dead body.

“You really need to take better care of yourself, Hoon,” you finally say after a minute of observing him.

A halfhearted hum answers you, and another when you drape a blanket over him. Finally, he shifts his head to the side and looks up at you, bleary eyes silently begging you. But for what?

“What do you want? A lullaby?”

“As nice as that would be, I think a pillow will suffice.”

“Why don’t you just take the bed? Your back’s gonna be killing you tomorrow if you sleep here,” you counter, a hand landing on your hip.

“No, no. It’s fine.”

“Look at you,” you cry. “Your feet are hanging off the end of the couch. That can’t be comfortable.”

“Y/N, I sleep wherever I can, whenever I can. And this is far from the worst place I’ve slept. I’ll be fine.”

A resigned puff of air leaves your mouth when you realize that you’re not winning this battle. And a few moments later, you're placing a couple pillows under Younghoon’s head.

“I asked for a pillow.”

“Just shut up and be grateful.”

His lips curl up and the edges of his eyes crinkle. For a small sliver of time, you get a glimpse of the side of Younghoon that rarely has time to shine these days. So many hours spent in the hospital, witnessing more tragedies than miracles and dedicating most of his life to his career has whittled him down to… The same person you once knew, just a hell of a lot more stoic.

When you first met, he was just a guy that dreamt of being a doctor. He spent a lot of time on his studies back in college, but there was still this sparkle in his eyes. And he was such a softy, too. Always sending pictures of various baby animals to your group chats, as well as paragraphs detailing how much he loved all of his friends and why. Just because.

Now, he barely talks to any of your college buddies. Even if he wanted to, he simply doesn’t have that kind of time anymore. Friends grow apart, it’s natural, is what he says when you bring it up in situations where the two of you are able to talk normally. Usually, it’s just quickly exchanged greetings, or half-coherent conversations before he passes out on your couch. And very rarely, lunch dates on days where you visit the hospital and his coworkers practically toss him into your arms.

Other than that, you’re absolutely convinced that he has no non-work related human interaction. It saddens you, leaves you wondering if he is as happy as he claims to be. Leaves you confused as to why he frequently shows up at your door after a long shift instead of going to his own apartment. They are nearly the same distance from the hospital, and in entirely different directions too. Still, though, it makes you happy that for whatever reason, he makes the effort to be around you. Even if that reason is to sleep on your coach and then raid your pantry when he inevitably wakes up.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You pause, halfway out of the room.

“Yes?” The word stretches out, warily entering the air around you.

“... Do you think I have a personality?”

Your eyebrows draw together at the sudden question and you carefully make your way back to the couch, sitting on the floor so that you’re at eye level with him.

“What’s this about? And do you think we could talk about this after you sleep? I don't even want to ask how long you’ve been up.”

“74 hours. And I don’t think I can go to sleep if we don’t talk about it.”

You frown and lean back on your hands, getting comfortable. “Alright, then… Yes. You have a personality, Hoon.”

“Presently?”

“What?”

“I mean, do you just associate me with the person I was in college, or do you think I’m—different now?”

The way his voice dips nearly breaks your heart. It sounds as though he’s been pondering this for a while, dwelling on it and letting it fester in his sleep deprived mind until he was able to get it out.

You sigh. “Of course you’re different from your college self. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a personality. I don’t understand why you’re asking me these things.”

Younghoon stays silent, looking down at the soft blanket that covers him up to his chin.

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “I just feel like I’ve been so wrapped up in work for so long. And I don’t really have a social life. And you know how people say you aren’t the same person you are at work—that you have, like, a persona when you’re working, but you’re really you when you’re around your friends?”

“Younghoon…”

“I don’t think I know who I am anymore, Y/N,” he finally admits, lips pulling into a thin, punctuating line. You can tell he is holding in his emotions, or at least attempting to.

The tears that make his eyes glisten as they manifest are a dead giveaway to the emotions he attempts to keep hidden.

“What makes you say that? You’re a doctor, Hoon. You interact with patients all day long and they love you because you’re you. You can’t manufacture a whole personality with that line of work. It’s just not possible.”

“I know that,” he whispers. “But that’s not what this is about. Who do you think I am? Right now?”

The question catches you by surprise and you have to take a moment to think about it.

“Well… You’re Younghoon. You’re the guy that sleeps on my couch at least twice a week, even though he could easily go to his own apartment after work.” He chuckles softly and you send him a mellow grin before continuing, “You’re the guy that talks on and on about how passionate he is about saving lives. Who loves ballads and pop rocks and can annoy the shit out of me without lifting so much as a finger—”

“You got that right!”

“Shut up, I’m complimenting you.” A pause as you figure out where you were in your mini-rant. “You're my best friend, and I wouldn’t have you any other way than who you are right now. Or who you’ll be in a year! I don’t care about you because of the little things. I care because of the broader things. You make a huge effort to be around me even though you barely have time to take care of yourself….”

Your voice softens as you say this and he nods, recognizing the truth in your words.

“You call me when you’ve had a bad day but always ask about me first and listen until I’m done. You’re a sweet person, and you’re my hero. That’s who you are, Younghoon. And no matter if you think you don’t have a personality, believe me—You do.”

“Wow, Y/N,” he murmurs. “That’s more than I expected.”

The glistening in his eyes turns into full-on tears at this point and he quickly moves to wipe his face with the sleeve of the jacket he hasn’t bothered taking off. A sad smile lifts the corners of your mouth as you watch him fail to hide his emotions. You aren’t having it. Knowing Younghoon, you assume that he hasn’t let himself cry in a very long time. Maybe not even when he’s alone. So you push for more from him, wanting to encounter his more vulnerable side almost selfishly.

“Well, that’s what I genuinely believe,” you tell him, grasping his hand to halt the rough way he rubs his cheeks.

He looks at you, eyes red and bottom lip bitten down on to aid in ceasing it’s wobble. And in that moment, he appears so small. So absolutely vulnerable and sad. For the first time in a while, you are looking at the Younghoon that lies within all of the exterior armor he carefully puts on. And he lets you. Tentatively, you use your own shirt sleeve to dab under his damp eyes. After a few moments, he sits up, appearing antsy at such a tender gesture. He sniffles and screws his eyes shut to make the tears halt, but they don’t.

“Stop that,” you quietly chide as you move onto the spot next to him. “Just let it happen. The more you fight it, the longer you’re gonna cry.”

He huffs petulantly at your comment but still follows your words, letting his shoulders relax and releasing his now-bruised lip from his teeth. A grunt of discomfort, maybe annoyance, leaves him when he doesn’t stop crying in the next moment. You click your tongue and reach out to him, tugging him by his collar until he goes limp at your touch. Younghoon’s sobs get more intense once he is in your arms, his nose finding purchase in the crook of your neck as if to hide himself.

It’s almost comical, and at the same time very endearing, how such a big man can become a fraction of his size in your embrace. You hold him close, one hand smoothening his hair as the other languidly runs up and down his back. Repeatedly, you murmur encouraging words to him. You aren’t sure where you picked up this habit or if the things you’re saying are relevant to this situation, but your repetition of it’s okay’s and i’m right here’s seem to do the trick in eventually calming him down.

And for a chunk of time that feels eternal but could actually be a couple of minutes, you sit there, holding him as he sniffles every once in a while. You bury your face in his hair, not caring that he smells of a sterile hospital, and you close your eyes. Somehow, you’ve ended up on your back with him curled up on top of you, but the pressure of his body weight feels unexpectedly soothing.

“I’m okay now. You can let go,” Younghoon tells you after clearing his throat. His voice is raw though, and it wavers and cracks over that handful of words.

“You sure?” You ask as you pull away, tilting your head to look at his puffy face.

His mouth opens but no words come out. Instead, he lets out a choked sob and you frown.

“Alright,” you decide, standing up and grabbing his hands, “you need some good sleep. C’mon, we’re going to bed.”

“W-what?”

You sigh. “Get up. C’mon.”

You tug at his hands until he stands, and then you pull him into your room. He plays with his fingers as he watches you peel back the covers on your bed, standing in the corner. A hand waves him over and he slowly approaches, suddenly shy.

“Don’t act like a stranger,” you chuckle out, sitting him on the bed. “And take off that damn jacket.”

He raises his arms and gives you an expectant look. Usually, this behavior would irk you a little, but the look in his eyes melts your heart. You find yourself tugging his jacket off for him before you realize it. Again, you sigh, and take a second to run a hand through his hair. He looks down at the floor and you swear you see his ears turn red.

“Surprisingly, you don’t have any pajamas here, but I’m sure sleeping in jeans feels disgusting, so do what you want,” you tell him before gently pushing his head to the side as a signal for him to lay down. “I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

You don’t even make it to the living room before you hear Younghoon calling for you. Your heart flutters—that’s new—and you rush back to the room to find him lying with the covers pulled up to his chin again.

“Need something?”

Younghoon gives you that big-eyed look that causes you to soften on the spot.

“... Don’t judge me for asking this.”

“Hoon-“

“Can we cuddle again? Please? I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

Your lips pout out and your brows raise in the center. He sounds so vulnerable, and the way he’s acting tonight is so different than usual. You can’t help but to cave and climb into bed beside him, completely ignoring the flashing warning sign that is your racing heart. Younghoon blinks at you, mirroring the way you lay on your side, facing him. Neither of you move, which makes you stiffen up, nerves acting up for some reason. Just do it, you tell yourself. But another part of you wishes for him to reach out. You don’t want to be the one to do it.

To your relief, Younghoon raises an arm, prompting you to scoot closer to him. You carefully lay your head on the pillow his head is on, faces far too close. He ducks down and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in close. A hand comes up to smoothen his hair again, and he hums contentedly. In less than five minutes, he is fast asleep and you are left alone to process why you’re suddenly feeling this way toward him, your best friend, of all people.

#tbz #the boyz #the boyz oneshots #the boyz au #the boyz scenarios #fluff #angst #kim younghoon #younghoon #juyeon #jaehyun #sunwoo #changmin #eric sohn #fanfiction #preview #peach.pen

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orindas · 3 years

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SOO TRUE welcome to da club bestie <3

ty beloved So True of us all great minds do think alike or smth

I love that my sexuality crisis has been ongoing agony for years but gender basically went :/ yeah not going to stress too much about this is a vibe for now jakdksakdk

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newdayslinguine · 3 years

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Welcome back to another episode of a show i like to call: is this difficult because i might have autism, because of anxiety, because of my ongoing gender crisis, or because i am simply young and inexperienced in this world?

Today’s episode will be: getting a haircut

#my parents keep telling me to get a haircut #i realised today that i have liked getting my hair cut at exactly one place before in my life and everywhere else has been the most #miserable experience and they suggested like a haircut where someone comes to the house and the relief i felt at that thought cannot be #put into words it’s just like oh shit thats the problem! there we are!!

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empressofkalumina · 4 years

Link

Adèle will be part of a panel discussion with Nadège Beausson-Diagne, and Rokhaya Diallo.

ABOUT THE EVENT (some excerpts via google translate, you can read the whole thing on the link provided)

Paul B. Preciado

A NEW HISTORY OF SEXUALITY

October 15 - 19, 2020, at 5:00 p.m.

Large hall, Small hall, Cinema 2, Forum - Center Pompidou, Paris

Free admission, limited seating available

Every year since 2017, the Center Pompidou has offered a guest intellectual the opportunity to develop a thought project. For the year 2020, the institution is pleased to welcome Paul B. Preciado: philosopher and curator, he is one of the most important contemporary thinkers in the studies of gender, sexual politics and the body. On this occasion, Paul B. Preciado offers a public and performative seminar around a new history of sexuality, more than forty years after the fundamental work of Michel Foucault. Started last March and interrupted by the coronavirus pandemic, the seminar returns in compact form from October 15 to 19, and is transformed into a “revolutionary cluster.”

“When we started the seminar at the Center Pompidou at the beginning of March, my objective was to make a new history of sexuality after Foucault, with Foucault and against Foucault. This new transfeminist, queer and anti-colonial history, starting from an analysis of the patriarchal and colonial infrastructure of modernity and intends to reflect on the ongoing transformations of technopolitical devices of violence and control of the living, but also on the different modalities of subjectivation critical. The first session was a huge constituent assembly of bodies against the norm. Then all of a sudden the virus and containment arrived. The sessions planned for the seminar have been suspended. The management of the virus has not only caused a health and economic crisis, but also a political and aesthetic crisis.

On the one hand, inequalities and forms of control and violence against sexual, racial and migrant minorities were amplified during the crisis. The unexpected interruption of the rhythms of production and consumption of neoliberal capitalism has allowed us to experience another life. The death of George Floyd in the United States at the hands of the police, and the trial of Adama Traoré in France quickly generated waves of protests, followed by an international movement of criticism and demand for the restriction of racial violence and institutional sexuality, both on the part of the police and other state administrations, inequalities and forms of control and violence against sexual, racial and migrant minorities were magnified during the crisis.

In this context, I decided to modify the initial program and move from a new, more theoretical, solo story of sexuality to a choral narration of the current revolutionary process. It is now a question of appealing to a multiplicity of politically active voices and bodies, in writing, philosophy, cinema, dance, contemporary art, theater, music ... which participate in the dismantling of the patriarchal and colonial infrastructure of society.

Here are the voices and bodies of the CLUSTER:

Sarah Diehl comes to speak to us about the new reproductive emancipation movements and the responses to neofascist sexual policies in Poland, Hungary, as well as in other apparently democratic contexts. Maria Galindowill share with us the challenge of the struggles of indigenous sex workers in Bolivia. François Vergès, Elsa Dorlin and Elisabeth Lebovici will help us read this process of emancipation in the context of a longer history of decolonization of feminism and queer struggles. Nadège Beausson-Diagne, Adèle Haenel and Rokhaya Diallo invite us to proliferate anti-patriarchal and anti-racist strategies within cinematographic and audiovisual representation in France. Shu Lea Cheang presents a performance that criticizes gender, gender and racial discrimination in rape trials. Kengne Téguía denounces the supremacy of the valid body and calls for an urgent critical organization of feminist, trans and anti-racist movements with disabled minorities. Virginie Despentes, Yseult and Melissa Laveaux, with writing and music, give shape to anger and summon the forces of poetry as engines of transformation of desire. And Volmir Cordeiro and Pol Pi make the body wounded by patriarchal and colonial violence dance and begin to compose a dance for the coming revolution.” ---Paul B. Preciado

With:

Nadège Beausson-Diagne, actress

José Celestino Campusano, director

Shu Lea Cheang, artist

Volmir Cordeiro, choreographer

Virginie Despentes, writer and director

Rokhaya Diallo, journalist

Sarah Diehl, writer, filmmaker and activist from Berlin

Elsa Dorlin, philosopher

María Galindo, writer, artist and co-founder of the feminist collective Mujeres Creando in Bolivia

Adèle Haenel, actress

Mélissa Laveaux singer and Canadian composer

Elisabeth Lebovici, art historian, journalist and art critic

Pol Pi, Brazilian choreographer

SMITH, photographer, filmmaker and visual artist

Kengné Téguia, artist

Françoise Vergès, political scientist

#adèle haenel #paul preciado #centre pompidou #fyi #adele haenel

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propheticfire · 4 years

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Noticed that I have a bunch of new followers lately, so if you’re just joining us hi welcome to my blog, it’s a mess, currently reblogging just random shit and posting about my ongoing gender crisis lol. No worries or pressure if you unfollow, as I literally do not check. Hope you enjoy your stay, whatever you decide. Many good wishes!

#Prophetic thoughts #new followers #hello new people

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madstars-festival · 4 years

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HIRA MOHIBULLAH: “WITH ADVERTISING, I HELP THOSE WHO DON’T HAVE A VOICE”

Hira Mohibullah is an expert is telling stories that have a positive impact. We’re delighted to welcome her to our Final Jury this year representing BBDO Pakistan, where she is Executive Creative Director.

As the most awarded female creative in Pakistan, Hira Mohibullah believes that storytellers have a responsibility to tell the right kind of stories – especially in an industry as influential as advertising.

Her most notable campaigns include #BridalUniform, which raised awareness of the prevalence of underage brides; #BeatMe for UN Women, which challenged men to “beat” women (at something they excel at; and Chai Ka Nishaan (The Hot Tea Stain), a campaign that raised awareness on child burns caused through negligence around hot tea."

Since joining BBDO Pakistan four years ago, she has won more than 170 international awards for her work. A mother of two, Mohibullah is also an advocate for gender balance in the workplace and helped set up a day-care room at BBDO to encourage more working mothers to join the workforce.

You live and work in Pakistan. Did you grow up there, too?

I’m a third culture kid, and so I don’t really know what place I call home. I grew up in the Middle East and moved to Pakistan when I was 14. I have very fond memories of my childhood and, quite contrary to popular belief, it was fun being a kid in Saudi Arabia! I had friends from all over the world, and from a very young age I was exposed to different cultures and languages, which I feel has shaped who I am today as a creative.

What led you to a career in advertising: did you always dream of impacting positive social change through your work?

Growing up, I’ve hopped (all too rapidly) from one dream career to another. One thing that I’ve always known about myself is that I get bored with one thing real quick, and so the versatility that advertising brings to my life every single day is what makes it such a perfect match. Right after I completed my A Levels (after having taken every subject under the sun), I chanced upon the communication design course. There it was, my love for creative writing and design brought miraculously together. Advertising was the most obvious choice after that, and I’ve never looked back since.

In my twenties, while my friends were writing their personal statements for college applications full to the brim with life-changing struggles, I was wishing I had more of a story to tell. I grew up in a house with parents who did not believe in gender discrimination. They had two daughters and they gave us the best education to the best of their abilities. There was absolutely no pressure on us to fit a certain mould. With a great support system, I grew up living a sheltered life of privilege. But today, I realise that’s what my story is: with advertising I use my position of privilege to help those who don’t have a voice. It's all come full circle.

#BridalUniform was an incredibly powerful campaign, which won countless awards – including several at AD STARS. What challenges did you face in bringing it to life?

As with most pro-bono campaigns we do at BBDO, we had absolutely no money to spend on this one. So getting the word out to the entire nation, that it was not okay to marry off underage girls, seemed impossible. That challenge gave birth to a genius solution: we hijacked the biggest bridal fashion show of Pakistan, one that was already being covered by all major media channels in the country. We partnered Ali Xeeshan, Pakistan's foremost bridal wear designer and launched the Bridal Uniform: a merger between a little girl's school uniform and embellishments from a typical bridal outfit. Amidst the pomp and show, out walked the showstopper: a little girl wearing the #BridalUniform, symbolising the trade-off that happens when a child is deprived of her right to an education and instead is dressed as someone's wife. Without spending a dime, we were able to rack up one billion organic impressions.

Creativity can help to bring people together in times of crisis: are there any inspiring initiatives taking place in Pakistan right now? What is BBDO doing to keep its staff motivated during the coronavirus crisis?

It’s overwhelming to see everybody fighting on the same front, for the same cause. It’s brought the industry together in a way nothing ever has. Every brand I work on is doing their part to help the nation cope with this unprecedented struggle. We’re all working from home currently (being amongst the first few to implement the policy) and besides a few teething issues in the start, we’re meeting all our timelines even when the work has doubled in amount. My team and I usually get the brainstorming out of the way earlier in the day and then go our separate ways to finish off the pending tasks. Keeping meticulous checklists of individual workflows has helped me stay afloat by giving me a good visibility on the tasks lined up for the entire week.

What does your typical day look like?

I have two kids who I bring to work with me (a 6 year-old and a 7 month old) and in pre-COVID times, I used to joke about “traveling” to work because I would lug around all their stuff in a mini carry-on... everyday! These days in lockdown, I start early, get my 6 year-old’s homework done and ship him off to another room for his online classes while I find myself a quiet corner to tackle my checklist for the day.

Do you have a process – is there a way you work through a problem? How much of your creative process happens subconsciously?

I’ve hardly ever had an idea strike me in a dream or in the shower, unlike many other creatives I know. For me, cracking a brief requires a formal session (always with a notebook in hand) where I start from a pain-point, deep-dive into real-world insights, colloquially unlock the idea for relevance, and finally tell the story in the voice of the brand. Also, being bi-lingual helps me tackle the creative process from two different vernacular angles.

Who are your creative heroes and why?

Fernando Machado. He’s brave, unapologetically relentless, he has an eye for what will absolutely shake the world and he’s not afraid to do it!

You recently spoke at TEDxLahore. What did you talk was about?

My joint talk at TEDx was about the importance of telling the right kind of stories. The stories we hear growing up shape us into the people we are today: they define our limits, our fears and our dreams. As advertisers, we call ourselves storytellers, and so imagine the kind of power we hold to change the lives of those around us. Moiz Khan and I talked about the stories we’ve told in our time at BBDO Pakistan, and how they have positively impacted our society.

As the most awarded female creative in Pakistan, do you have advice for others hoping to ‘make it’ in advertising?

No one makes it in advertising on their own! Find your tribe. Go out there and look for like-minded people and a place that matches your vision.

Are you working on anything interesting right now?

Pakistanis love their tea. They have tea for breakfast, tea in the afternoon and then in the evening. There’s tea with snacks and tea over gossip sessions. In a shocking revelation, we learnt that 80% of child burns happen due to hot tea spills. Now in a country where tea consumption is at an all-time high, there is considerable talk around removing tea stains from clothes but none around the perils of being negligent while preparing or drinking that tea. After a successful first leg of the campaign where we were able to bring down the number of accidents by 50%, we’re now working on Round 2 this year!

You attended AD STARS in 2018. Do you have any favourite memories of Busan?

My fondest memory of Busan is going to The Library of Mystery Literature, a quaint little place which is a library, a cafe and a museum all rolled into one. Due to an ongoing book-club, they were closed at the time I wanted to visit. I called up the owner, and with my receptionist translating everything for me, told her it was the only day I could come visit and she generously opened up the cafe especially for me. There I met the famous crime novelist Kim Seong-jong, read a crime novel with a cup of buckwheat tea offset against a book-reading in a foreign language… it was really something else.

Hira Mohibullah will judge the Brand Experience & Activation, Creative eCommerce, Direct, Media and PR categories at the AD STARS 2020 Awards. To enter, submit your work before 15th May via adstars.org.

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zenxenophilia · 6 years

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Megatron versus Customer Service

(Submitted by @captainfanfuck)

I tried to keep this one as gender neutral as possible, but some pronouns may have snuck in…

Also! Anyone is welcome to continue on, or add on to the ideas here (I don’t want to sound arrogant and assume that anyone wants to add on to this, or assume that anyone is inspired by this idea…but I have had such a positive experience being inspired by the works on this blog and other blogs like rocksinmuffin, yes-I-write-fanfiction, that I just hope that I can contribute to the ongoing headcannons and wonderful character work that people have done all out of the love of giant robots).

Warnings: out of character Megatron?

Okay but imagine in the TFP universe, the reader is a sort of secretary working for Fowler. When Megatron comes into the base for the temporary alliance, he stays a little longer than he does in the show. Fowler is away on business and it’s up to the secretary reader to call on his contacts to help with the crisis:

The agent on the other end demanded to speak to someone with more authority, despite the calm professionalism of the secretary. At this point, Megatron had been watching the human for a while. This was the one who didn’t even acknowledge the Decepticon leader as they were too busy dealing with the bureaucratic nightmare that is human government. They had been at it for hours, trying to get useful updates on the situation and aiming for certain permissions. Everyone in the base was tense at his arrival, except for this one. Their lack of attention to him was somewhat jarring. They should have been cowering from Megatron, not appeasing some lesser being of importance with undeserved courtesy.

For the most part, they have been successful in doing what was basically Fowler’s job, but this last agent was giving them a hell of a time. Now, they’re yelling at them and demanded to speak to someone in charge- “Because a low-level, coffee fetching idiot shouldn’t have access to this information- no, I don’t care who put you in charge-”

“Sir, please, you need to listen-”

The man on the other end started yelling and the human covered their face with their hands, wondering how their life got to this point. They assumed that this would be the last and easiest call to make, how wrong they were. And to make matters worse, this call could be heard throughout the entire base because of course the agent on the other end wanted to be put onto the largest and loudest platform. They didn’t have control over that as he was above their station and Fowler made it very clear that to make it easier for themselves, it was just better to give into the demands of these types. If he were here, he would probably disagree.

Thankfully, there was no camera access because that would breach the privacy precautions, much to the agent’s dismay. The human was so preoccupied trying to calm this man down that they failed to notice the looming presence of the warlord who had been observing them and their role here.

He had never seen them on the battlefield with the Autobots. He was familiar with the one called Fowler, but not this one. Did Soundwave even know about them? Clearly, they knew what they were doing and could perform the tasks of their superior officer while he was away. However, their competence was short changed by their low ranking. Megatron understood exactly what he was seeing.

Optimus was watching the scene, silent and helpless, uncertain if his interference would be helpful or not. In the past, the autobot leader had been burned for trying to approach humans concerning the allowances of the government. He didn’t want to cause more trouble for the secretary either.

When the agent began to shout abuses at the poor secretary was when something snapped in Megatron. He’s not sure what possessed him, but suddenly, he was the one talking to the man. “You wanted to talk to someone in charge? Well, here I am.”

The secretary full on flinched when the warlord suddenly came up behind them, slamming a large metal servo down next to their chair. They didn’t even hear him creep him behind them. Ratchet had told them to stay out of here when Megatron came, but this was the best place for the signal, and of course, the agent had his ridiculous demands. They were more concerned about their job than their safety. They were felt immense regret as Earth’s usual number one enemy, who was displaced by the greater threat in the food chain, stood far too close to them.

Now the man’s voice was much quieter than it had been, even on the large speakers. “Um. Who-who is this-?”

“That piece of information is far above your clearance, human. But not above the one who has been dealing with your utter nonsense for this whole time.” Megatron’s sharp digits drummed against the metal platform, and the human wasn’t sure if they should be looking for a way out or not. If they ran, then they would lose the person on the other line. If they stayed, then they could become a corpse in the next few seconds…

“Uh, s-sir, I just needed to know if-” The man began to babble but Megatron cut him off, and he cut off the secretary’s escape by placing another servo on the other side of the chair. He leaned in close and they tried not to shutter at the feeling of the mech’s warmth radiating off of him, down their back.

“What you needed to know is not a concern of mine, and if you possessed competence you would have already had the information that you needed long ago.” He hissed into the speaker and into their ear. The sound of his voice and the sensation of warm air venting out onto them made the secretary hunker down even further. They nearly choked on the air when his servo rested on their back.

What. The. Hell?

So much for their silent escape. Megatron was touching them.

“Instead, you dare to waste my time, and the time of my associate, whose importance to me is so laughably much more than yours.” Megatron liked to speak with his hands. It was part of the package of being able to deliver speeches with such energy. He also liked to touch those to get them on his side. Now usually he kept his servos to himself when he was dealing with his loyal followers or inferior servants, but the human was a different matter.

He kept his grip on them, not hard enough to hurt them but hard enough to keep the human there. “And for what? Just to posture and throw what little significance you have around? You will do as they ask and if you cannot, then you will respectfully refer them to someone who can. Is that understood?” His face loomed in even closer as his voice dropped to a deadly whisper as his hand curled fully around their torso. They resisted the urge to squeak as their heart hammered in their chest. Sharp digits rested lightly against them, almost poking through the material of their clothing.

They could count the times on one hand that any of their alien visitors had ever lifted them up or even touched them. Usually, they were too afraid to hurt the human, or they weren’t quite on that level with them. The human felt dizzy, exhausted, and oddly absent.

“Yes, sir.” The man sounded like he was going to cry. “Right away.” The line clicked off.

For a moment, silence weighed heavy in the whole base.

Megatron glared at the panel, and then exhaled, taking his hand off of the human when he realized he was holding them. When had that happened?

Now the human would go running and screaming. He waited for that, but instead, the secretary turned to look at him and say, “Thank you for that.”

Megatron had seen Optimus inch nearer to them, ready to draw his weapon. He was too close to the human after all. He should have moved away. But for a moment, he regarded the lesser agent who had turned to face him. Clearly they had been trained to sound nice, regardless of whom they were speaking to and how they were being spoken to. Unacceptable. And yet, understandable. “How you manage to keep calm in that situation is beyond my comprehension, little one.”

Even now, they remained calm, staring into his optics with a serene expression. Practiced to be sure, but what if it wasn’t?

Then, they smiled and shrugged, “I used to work at a call center for warranties, trust me: that was not even bad compared to what I have heard.” And with the warlord staring down at them, they could attest to the old adage of sticks and stones, or in this case Decepticons and evil gods may break their bones but words would never hurt them.

No words could hurt them like Megatron physically could. But he didn’t hurt them. Instead, his eyes flickered down at their whole body- tiny and fragile, yet intelligent and capable. He shouldn’t have touched them. He should not have found them even slightly endearing. They were disgusting, parasitic creatures. He should not have wanted to gather them up in his servos to protect them from the horrors of customer service.

Megatron shouldn’t have wanted a lot of things that he wanted in that moment. He backed away, allowing the human the last word. In truth, he wanted to escape the confrontation with some of his pride intact as uncertainty filled him. Something changed.

///

#gifts #tfp #maccadam #megatron #omg!#I love this!#perfect for black friday and the holiday season no?#thank you so much for sharing your words with me #it makes me so happy whenever I get stuff like this #you can't even imagine #<3 <3 <3 #^__^#I wouldn't mind having a scary decepticon warlord to scare off angry people for me lol #submission

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briangroth27 · 6 years

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Goosebumps 2 Review

I liked the new Goosebumps film a lot, but I did feel like it fell a little short of the first film. I think it’s that a few characters could’ve been more fully utilized and the frights could’ve been scarier, but it wasn’t enough to hamper the fun I had watching it.

Full Spoilers…

I liked the new cast! Madison Iseman (Sarah) was great and very likable as a very different type of teenager than she played in Jumanji Welcome to the Jungle, which was a nice surprise. I definitely expected her brother Sonny (Jeremy Ray Taylor) and his best friend Sam (Caleel Harris) to drive the movie with her being dragged along as an annoying older sister, but that wasn't the case at all. She has agency, we know what she wants out of life, and her arc is all about achieving those goals. It’s true that her quest to find something to write about for her college essay was a little cliché, but I liked that the adventure the film takes her on gives her more than an essay: it gives her a career. She also gets to be an active player in the climax, which was great. One of my few notes about the first movie was that while Stine's (Jack Black) daughter wasn't passive or a damsel exactly, she also didn't offer many ideas when she easily could've instead of the guys. Goosebumps has never been afraid to feature kids regardless of their gender or race, so it was awesome to see that continue with Sarah being so active here.

Sonny & Sam felt like true Goosebumps protagonists and I liked how Sonny’s science experiments and knowledge played into Slappy’s plot (making Slappy something of a twist on Sonny’s personality too, just like he’s Stine’s dark side). Sonny, Sam, and Sarah's problems being solved (initially) by Slappy felt like the first act of a classic Goosebumps novel (and the bully they boys were dealing with (Peyton Wich) felt like he was pulled right from those books), while all three kids readily accepting that Slappy was in fact a living dummy was a nice and realistic beat given what they’d seen. I liked both Sam and Sonny, but it would’ve been nice if Sam had more to do: after his moving/cleaning business gets them to Slappy and Sarah’s brought into the loop, it felt like he faded into the background somewhat. Maybe this is just because Sonny’s technological skills and Sarah’s growing writer identity were more integral to the ongoing plot, but I wish Sam had a role to play in the climax that was specific to him as well. Of the characters that weren’t used to their full potential, his felt like the biggest loss.

Wendi Mclendon-Covey was great as Sarah & Sonny's mother Kathy and I thought she brought a perfect awkward/embarrassing yet caring "mom" vibe to the role. Chris Parnell’s Walter, possessed by the iconic Haunted Mask, was unfortunately underwhelming. He got a few funny lines and I liked his awkward chemistry with Kathy, but didn't the mask in the book make the wearer meaner, not sillier? Mr. Chu (Ken Jeong) was a fun character, but I feel like they could've done more with him, particularly his excitement to be living a Goosebumps story. Send him out into the chaos to casually soak it in while everyone else is running and screaming in terror or something! I thought it was a little odd he had so much time to make the kids costumes in the middle of the crisis, but I guess the existing costumes might've been brought to life, so maybe there's internal logic to them not just using pre-made disguises (ultimately it doesn’t bother me either way, though).

I liked Jack Black's return as RL Stine here (though I wish he also voiced Slappy again, even if Mick Wingert sounds enough like Black’s Slappy for it to not be jarring at all). Stine worked really well as a mentor/inspiration to Sarah, even though he didn’t have a lot of screentime (they definitely made the most of his time here). His return to his hometown—forcing him to face his monsters in the place that created so many of them for him—was well done (if not elaborated on). More of that definitely would’ve been appreciated, but I’m content with what they did give us. I'm also definitely down to follow the story where Slappy leaves it, with Stine locked in Slappy’s book (also making the dummy a dark mirror for Sarah, if they want). Maybe Stine's been put into Horrorland? If they're about to take us into the world of Goosebumps after letting it invade the real world twice now, I'm all for that! It would be awesome if the younger casts of both movies teamed up to save RL Stine and wrap up this trilogy! He does have a daughter who used to be a character in one of his books; combine that unique experience with Sarah taking up the writer torch and I think we’ve got a rescue party forming.

I liked that this felt like a lost Goosebumps story (whereas the first movie was more of a meta-celebration of the franchise) and Slappy’s twisted desire for a family worked really well for me. He’s a great villain and forcing people to be his family was a nice, understated tie back to his implied status as Stine's evil alter ego (Stine himself having been a lonely kid according to the first movie). I wish they’d played that up more, though. Using Slappy's incantation to bring all the Goosebumps monsters to life was a fun twist on the lore and made it feel like a sequel to “Night of the Living Dummy.” Slappy using Nikola Tesla's technology to achieve his goals was a nice touch too…and a possible reflection of Stine and his status as an ignored genius in comparison to his rival Stephen King (this features a great IT joke, btw!)? As for the rest of the Goosebumps monsters, it’s always nice to see them, but aside from being recognizable as the franchise’s villains, these monsters could’ve been any thugs. If they’re going to keep bringing every monster in, I’d like to see more Goosebumps-y twists on the classics with defined abilities and unique scares instead of mobs of essentially interchangeable creatures. The ravenous gummy bears were a real threat, but also a lot of fun (and cute!); they’re a good example of an original Goosebumps twist on monsters. I did like that these monsters seemed to be mostly practical costumes/makeup rather than CGI creations this time out.

I think the biggest drawback was the same as in the first movie: I wish these films were more concerned with putting more actual scares on the screen. Slappy does get a bunch of creepy moments, though, and Kathy has an extremely unsettling moment as a human ventriloquist dummy, but I wish it had gone on longer and/or amounted to more. The Goosebumps books and TV episodes had actual thrills and scares alongside Stine’s humor, so I wish the movies would dip their toes in frights just as much as they exist in the “horror adventure” space. Despite me wanting more scares, however, the comedy here landed more often than not and there's no denying that it's a great time at the movies.

I love Danny Elfman's theme and score, but I do wish they'd include the TV show's theme song at some point in this franchise too. The CGI was really good: there was only one shot that looked a little dodgy (when the pumpkins took flight), but otherwise I thought it was convincing. While not explicitly scary, there is a fun spooky vibe here that makes for an enjoyable watch. The pacing’s also on point and moves the story along at a brisk pace.

Goosebumps 2 is out in Blu-ray this week and I'll definitely be picking it up! I'm excited to see it again and it's definitely worth a watch if you're looking for a fun Halloween adventure. Whatever they do for the next movie, I love this series and hope it continues!

Check out more of my reviews, opinions, and original short stories here!

#goosebumps #goosebumps 2 #haunted halloween #rl stine #jack black #madison iseman #sarah quinn #slappy

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yasbxxgie · 6 years

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In the wake of Kavanaugh’s confirmation, the consequences of the 2016 election are settling in at a whole new level for white women. As a result, many are revisiting the post-election statistic that showed 53 percent of white women voted for the candidate who spewed racial vitriol and actively emboldened violence against people of color, tolerating his vile misogyny in the process.

We know Trump’s election only exposed more brazenly what’s always been true: White women have always sided with white supremacy.

Now we’re reckoning with another devastating truth, and this one pertains to all white women—including that other 47 percent of us. If we had ever collectively worked to create sustained solidarity with women of color, instead of consistently aligning with white men, we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. Why? Deep, robust multiracial women coalitions would be an unstoppable force.

Another report knocked the wind out of some us. Though swarms of white women rose up publicly enraged, it was only among women of color that a clear and strong majority believed Christine Blasey Ford. A Quinnipiac poll showed that white women only broke 46 percent for Ford (and 43 percent in favor of Kavanaugh, a statistically insignificant difference). On the question of whether Kavanaugh should be confirmed anyway, 45 percent of white women said “yes.” Wow.

Here we sit, with ever more evidence that massive racial failure on the part of white women is at the center of this political crisis. At the root of it all is our collective choice to not learn, prioritize, or consistently live in public antiracist solidarity with communities of color, and especially with women of color.

In short, we’ve never bothered to learn calculus.

(For clarity’s sake, please know I’m purposely not talking about white men — yes, the ultimate perpetrators — here. I am not blaming white women for white male violence. I am also not disparaging the incredible courage of all survivors, including Blasey Ford. I am simply focusing on what white women collectively do and do not do, have and have not done, when it comes to race, racism, and antiracism.)

This is where (one) peril sets in. The longstanding failure to choose calculus that allowed this crisis leaves us wholly unprepared for a political moment where nothing less than brilliant mathematical abilities are required.

For women of color, that cuts deeply.

As we reel, more white women seem to say, “Oh shit! I really do need to learn calculus.” But women of color don’t have the time, energy, or patience to teach us. They certainly can’t trust us. And while women of color have distinctly individual perspectives on and responses to white women in this current moment, it’s safe to say that collectively they’re beyond outraged and all but done with us. Why? Because they’ve been demonstrating the life-or-death urgency of white women learning calculus for decades now.

And yet here we are.

Ongoing apathy toward making the work of antiracism a central priority of our lives as white women has allowed the school building to burn.

My fellow white women, there is nothing not bad about this moment.

Calculus is hard to learn in a regular and relatively calm school situation. Now we need to learn calculus in a school building that’s on fire.

Even for the most willing and earnest student, there’s no way around it: It takes a long time to learn calculus. And, yes, so many of us are deeply hurting, furious, raw, triggered, and afraid. But the building’s still on fire.

Students, sometimes have to actually screw up math problems to actually learn calculus. Screw ups are part of any learning process. But, again, the building’s on fire. And every white woman’s mistake pours more gasoline on a blaze that’s consuming us all very quickly.

The task here is as essential as it is herculean. We need to stop pouring more gasoline on this fire at the same time that we get belatedly serious about the long, slow, mistake-laden work of learning calculus—and we have to do it at lightning speed.

From one white woman to another, here are 10 concrete steps to take right now if we hope to ever do math with women of color—which is not optional if there is any hope of calling into existence the deep, robust, multiracial coalitions all our lives depend on.

No particular order here. Some of these steps fall in the category of “for the love of god, stop pouring gasoline!” Some fall in the category of our long, slow work. None are adequate. All are critical.

1. Stop saying ‘women’ anything.

When the phrase “women must…” or “women are…” is about to come out of your mouth: Stop. Commit to the discipline of being racially specific in your speech. “White women must…,” “white women are…,” or “women of color and white women seem to be…”—at which moment you may notice, “Oh, wait. I really can’t say anything about women of color because I don’t know.”

You may not understand why this discipline is important. Do it anyway. It’s important because there is no non-racialized woman. Committing to this practice will make you more likely to notice gaps in your awareness. You’ll be more likely to notice the racial assumptions embedded in your own claims. This will help you gain clarity about where you need to focus as you do your homework. It will also necessarily rein in your claims about “generic” women, which is one small but critical way to stop pouring gasoline on this fire.

2. Do not participate in any public action called by white women with a reflexive ’yes.’

Stop, seek out, and then listen seriously to what women of color say about it first.

That “women’s blackout” action? Serious douse of gasoline. Yes, a very small number of women of color in my life sent me the invitation, too. (Remember. People of color don’t speak in one voice on anything.) If more white women had slowed down and listened to what women of color had to say publicly about all the problems with that “black out,” well — I don’t need say more about its problems. Go read what feminists of color themselves said about it. They were clear.

3. If you didn’t take a knee during the anthem in support of Black lives for the last two years, don’t share the meme suggesting all women and girls should now take a knee (see item number 2).

Even better, invite other white women sharing this meme into public conversation about why this is a problem. Don’t yell at them. Ask them to talk it through.

But make sure some version of what’s wrong with this does get explained: If we haven’t been taking a knee for Black people already, then kneeling now exposes whose humanity we actually care about. Not to mention white people co-opting a Black people-led movement is a problem, along the lines of what happened to Tarana Burke. Gasoline.

4. Transfer the vast majority of the time you spend reading and engaging in media to reading and engaging with feminists of color.

Literally and almost exclusively read feminists of color (feminist men and other genders of color too) every single day as you try to figure out what the hell is going on in our country right now. Don’t worry, you’ll still get the news. But, you’ll get it through the analysis you’ll need if you want to move beyond basic addition. Do an audit of who is in your feed; choose to follow the many diverse and brilliant people of color who are public thinkers, writers, and activists. Engage their knowledge and wisdom (and their disagreements with each other). When you don’t understand what they’re saying or why they’re saying it—keep reading. Know that it’s going to take a while before the basic vocabulary of calculus makes sense to you. But it will come, if you stick with it.

5. When women of color write about white women, do not privately message them with questions or rebuttal…

…Unless they explicitly tell you they are cool with that.

If they invite public response and you decide to say or ask something, cool. But be ready then to just sit and listen deeply to the response, whatever it is. If the response makes you uncomfortable or isn’t in the tone you were hoping for, don’t proceed to tell them how it made you feel (more gasoline). Sit with those feelings and then keep reading, thinking, and engaging. If you need to talk about those feelings, cool. Find another white person who’s also trying to learn calculus—maybe someone who’s been at it for longer than you have—and talk it through with them. Then keep reading and listening and sitting with your feelings some more.

6. Don’t just sit there with your feelings. Take your actual physical self to an organization led by people of color who are working for justice—and show up in person.

(Assuming that organization welcomes white participation, of course; most do.)

Don’t say you’re too busy. If you volunteer at your kids’ school, do stuff for your church, are part of a book club, spend time on Facebook, whatever else—this is the moment to transfer hours in your given week from white people (even time spent at your own kids’ school; your kids are going to be fine) to people of color.

The obvious reason for this is to put more labor toward the disproportionate heavy-lifting people of color are already doing for justice. The added benefit is that you’ll start to learn calculus in a way that reading alone doesn’t make possible. Show up. Do what is asked of you. Listen carefully. Don’t overspeak. If you’re uncomfortable being one of the few white people in that space, good. Do it anyway. Don’t flake out.

(Join the NAACP—they’re doing voter mobilization all over right now. Put in volunteer hours to people of color groups working to decrease the presence of police in schools. Get active in a sanctuary network for which Latinx activists are calling the shots; white people with citizenship are needed desperately for all kinds of work. Show up. Wherever people of color live, they are organized and acting. Figure out where and go.)

7. Read ‘So You Want to Talk About Race’ by Ijeoma Oluo.

Seriously, do this right now. If you have the means, buy a copy for another white woman in your life; for all the white women you know. Read it alone. Read it together. Talk about it. This book is a crash course in calculus. It’s brilliant, truthful, funny, loving, difficult, nuanced, and more. Read it with your teenager. Ask your teenager what they think about it (start inviting them to learn calculus, too). See if your co-workers will talk about it with you over lunch.

8. Make a concrete commitment to reallocate resources to women of color organizations. Donate to women of color running for elected office.

Now I am talking about money. This part isn’t so much about you and calculus. It’s just the right thing to do. It also may be the best hope we have to save this “democracy.” I don’t mean that in a “women of color are going to save us” kind of way. But, seriously, we don’t get to just run around giving Facebook shoutouts to Black women voters in Alabama for saving us from predators like Roy Moore, and then not go all in for them. We owe women of color something, and this includes being all-in in terms of having their backs as they step up and out into leadership (taking huge risks as they do so). We owe actual time, energy, and resources. Get your white women friends (and the men) to give money too. Do it.

9. Some white women, white queer folks, and a handful of white feminist men have been working for a long time to learn calculus. Find and follow them, too.

They are imperfect and make mistakes. But being white and trying to learn calculus is different from being a person of color and learning calculus. There are unique challenges. Your learning will speed up if you engage some of the white people who have been on this learning journey for a while.

Be careful who you listen to. Vet those white people to be sure their calculus-learning is legitimate and on the right track. See who they’re in dialogue with. Notice what feminists of color say to and about them. (Hint: If mostly only other white people like their work, don’t learn to do math the way they’re doing it.) Find the white folks who are obviously in relationships of accountability with people of color—these people do exist. Get with them.

10. Take an inventory: Where do you shop? Who cuts your hair? Where do you take your kids to the dentist? Where do you eat out?

Find ways to move your personal participation in the economy over to Black, Latinx, and other businesses owned and operated by people of color. This includes medical offices, stores—as many establishments as you can. Urge others in your life to do so, too. This not only actively reallocates resources you are already expending to communities of color and their economies, it also brings you into more frequent contact with people who our deep and wide white-segregated enclaves typically prevent us from being in contact with.

That’s no quick math formula. But it is critical pre-context for calculus-learning.

***

Here we are.

When you’re in a burning building, every step you take must be purposeful. We’re not going to be collectively calculus-fluent anytime soon. We’re also going to have to live with the consequences of our collective behavior. Namely, we’re going to be divided from women of color for a very, very, very long time. And there are no guarantees here. When I said there is nothing not bad about this moment, I meant it.

But I also know this. Standing still in a burning school building isn’t an option. And I know there are lots of white women and white queer folks (and a few white feminist men) right now who want to take purposeful steps. As much as we don’t quite know what to do, don’t totally get it, are ourselves hurting, fear making mistakes that pour gasoline—there are many of us ready to roll up our sleeves and learn the math. Let’s get purposeful. Together.

If this is you (and I commit to you, it is also me), know you are not alone. I offer this essay in a spirit of love, anger, urgency, and partnership. Let’s pull out our pencil and paper now—and a shitload of erasers. And let’s get to work. [x]

#jennifer harvey #ijeoma oluo #so you want to talk about race #white women #black women #race #racism #medium #white supremacy #white men

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