#expecting the viewer (me in this case) to be attracted to this???? it highlights just how much i do NOT find them attractive

[mithliya]

Tbh I think a lot of lesbians on here have a kind of performative disgust for men. It makes sense seeing as this is radblr and everybody hates men here anyway. But the whole “ugh men are disgusting and hideous and seeing a shirtless man literally makes me want to puke” is… extreme to the point where I’d nearly say this is a result of trauma (not being a lesbian, but having this level of disgust for men).

Like, I’m a lesbian and I’m not disgusted by men at all. I just have absolutely zero sexual interest in them. I obviously wouldn’t want to interact with one sexually in any way but most of my friends are men and I see them shirtless at the beach regularly. My brothers as well. I don’t think any of them are disgusting. When pictures of the latest handsome male celeb come up on my timeline I just scroll by, I barely even notice them. I don’t go “ugh how dare anybody make me look at this hideous mess!”. I have gay male friends who aren’t disgusted by female bodies in the slightest, they just, again, don’t want sex with them. I don’t want to see men naked or whatever but I wouldn’t literally feel sick if I saw one, I’d just be like “lol”. I also can objectively see how somebody could find certain men handsome, cause I understand symmetry and fitness and what humans find attractive. Not cause I literally find them attractive myself.

Just… based on any gay ppl I know in real life I feel like this unbelievable performative level of disgust for the opposite sex is in some way a response to your sexuality being constantly questioned (which I understand) and feeling the need to affirm yourself and prove to everybody that you’re actually gay. Like if I saw a woman I wasn’t at all attracted to naked I wouldn’t be like “ew puke omg disgusting”, I’d be like “whatever”. The whole “men are NPCs” to me feels like it’s more a product of you being a radfem than being a lesbian. And I say this as a lesbian who is also a radfem.

to me seeing men irl that are shirtless doesn’t bother me bc i will just look away. i don’t want to look nor do i care to look, if i make myself look then ill probably eventually be grossed out by it bc im sitting there staring at a male body. no thanks. but if someone is asking me to look and im being treated like this is objectively attractive, i do feel immensely disgusted and will say ew to it. in the same way, when i see men on shows that are clearly being put there to evoke a “omg he’s so hot” reaction from women, i feel disgusted. if a man sends me pics of himself, ik he expects me to be into that somehow, im also automatically disgusted. but i don’t walk around shitting puking dying when there’s a shirtless man in my vicinity bc ill simply look away and ignore his presence. my disgust often comes when there’s this expectation of “you should think he’s hot” placed on me, or when im being forced to look at men for prolonged periods, bc then it highlights to me how he’s definitely not at all attractive to me and in fact interacting w him whatsoever would disgust me, so as a result im disgusted. in real life i simply do not even look at men for as long, so i don’t get disgusted, i feel purely neutral.

i can also understand (not often but from time to time i can see it) why some women find some men attractive. 99% of the time i don’t, but also ive paid attention to what is considered attractive and can then be like okay he does meet the attractive criteria i guess. most times tho i don’t even understand why women find random men attractive at all and it’s baffling to me 😭

also u can think im pretending if u want dhdhshs most times i don’t literally want to throw up, i don’t think i said i do, but i do often think they’re v ugly bc they are. men being NPCs to me has always been the case im afraid, nothing to do with radical feminism there. if something is very male-centric i simply get bored.

[ledoc-archive]

Back again into reviewing what I would like to call the 'oroniverse', in the way this author's writings are 'puro oro'! And honestly, what a way of introducing themselves into the txtblr side of FF writers!

I think one of the best highlights of the writing had to be the characterization and their backgrounds. There's nothing more enjoyable than a well-written fanfic where you can discern the characters, which, mind you, may seem a bit silly, but for me, as a lover of the psyche in general, and the various aspects that distinguish one person from another, I find it pleasurable to come across writing where the characters are so distinctive and memorable, as opposed to other formats and storytellers (this especially happens in smau's because of the limitations of storytelling, and how in many cases the same personality tropes and humor are recycled for all characters, although as with any rule, there are exceptions). Even if some have similar characteristics or motives for acting, they can still be differentiated because they are that special in their individuality.

I can easily say that this story has pulled the right strings, as a 'homemade' music and small garage bands were music is made in its purest and authentic form, bringing people closer, and to the taste of some, not a quick cash grab that lacks meaningfulness and passion and devotion to the composition of music that speaks to one's soul. I haven't had the chance to form part of any band, nor to play any instrument in a way that I could call it mine. So the pent-up frustration of someone who was born in a world surrounded by music and it playing a huge role in my personal growth, this was a close call to what it could have been. I know it's not too late, my thoughts already come out in melodious hums of songs that someday could see the light. Especially when it came to Eurovision, that although I'm not a huge follower of, I have cherished memories of gala performances that I shared with the most unexpected people, but that brought us together just at the right time. The in-real-life experience of concerts/performances of any sort (having been from both perspectives: the viewer and the performer) is enough to send shivers down my spine, and send the most adrenaline-inducing goosebumps, so I can totally understand Beomgyu's fascination towards the group and what it represented to him. I would too become a down bad junkie for the performing arts and music recitals/concerts if I could afford it.

The characters were all so lovable. Since reading "A stoner's guide to Starbucks", I have been a huge Doper Heeseung fan, and this adaptation of it didn't fail my expectations, he even got the girl at the end, props to him!! Wish we could have gotten more of him! Jeongin's character was also super homely but enigmatic, with a kind of 'younger sibling everyone consents' feel to him. But I couldn't help but to wonder more about his past and his episodes of complete isolation and impulsive consumption and what could have led to them. A few disorders come to mind but I am no one to prescribe someone else's illnesses, at least not yet lol. Then we have Geonu, with his airs of grandeur and kind of a nitpicky leader attitude, and an explosive personality of all sorts. Much could be said about the main pair in terms of temperament, but I'd say he is a close opponent. Sungchan was lovely, and although he doesn't shine as much as others, he stands out in a rather passive but still attractive way. He is both the storm and the calm after it. And he is the brother figure the OC never truly had. I think their relationship is precious in the way she relies on him, when she has the whole world on her back. Very Atlas core of her. She is a beautiful spur of different coloured oil pigments that crashed upon one another and landed right into the canvas, forming an orderly, but disruptive picture worthy of admiration. Not many might get it just by looking at it, focusing on the quick, eruptive nature of the pieces, and not on the strength of the canvas, which has been violently thrown paint over and over again, but stands still, and presents itself with confidence. Wonderful is, how with its beauty, it can inspire other people to become rebelliously comely.

A very good development from their rivalry to an understanding of one another to the prospect of a growth into something else.

The final paragraphs leave you with a hopeful feeling, but the whole fic on its own, leaves you with a strange spunky melancholia, of a perhaps wish of a band that could have been, or the memory of a concert ingrained in your brain, now distant on time, but your heart is still beating along its BPMs.

UMAZANE MISLI | c.bg

STARRING: Choi Beomgyu x fem!reader

CAST: Lee Heeseung (EN-), Lee Geonu (Just B), Jung Sungchan (ex-NCT), Yang Jeongin (Stray Kids), Felix (Stray Kids), Choi Seungchol (SVT)

RUNTIME: 35.9k (sorry)

SYNOPSIS: Beomgyu thought that a life of academic excellence, popularity contests, and ego trips were left behind the moment he graduated from a prestigious private school. However, he found himself locked in an intense, three-year rivalry with you. He always had to be number one in everything that the two of you were involved in, but god damn, your band makes incredible music. Lord knows what would happen if one day, you find him moshing to one of your basement shows. Alas, you were oblivious, and he managed to convince himself that several streaks of messy, temporary red dye and ripped jeans immediately transformed him into a spy that infiltrated your band's smelly, sweat-infused, beer-rotting basement.

GENRE: Coming of age, slice of life, romance, comedy, band!au

WARNINGS: R15+ | Heavy substance abuse | Academic trauma | Familial and generational trauma | Profanity | Strong and explicit language | Crude humor and a flurry of sexual jokes | Honestly there's way too many explosive fights in this fic | Borderline existential | MC and the entire cast basically goes through a breakdown at some point in the fic | If any of these warnings trigger you then please DNI

DIRECTOR'S CUT: hi everyone !! this will be my debut into txt writing !! i hope you enjoy this fic, and as always, PLEASE triple check all warnings and make sure you read this work at your own discretion. You are responsible for the content that you consume. also !! of course, some facets of the band is inspired by the lovely joker out, the slovenian band that stole all of our hearts in esc 2023 !! the family dynamics and rich kid problems in this fic is inspired by succession, the HBO tv series. i also just wanted to give a quick shoutout to alice @jayflrt and her stoner's guide to starbucks smau, which inspired heeseung's character in this fic !! do give it a read if you have the chance !! she's vv funny LOL. also !! another shoutout to @jitaros for the e2l law school dynamics !! i tried my hand at the trope (watched too much better call saul for this LOL) !! this is an homage to crying lightning, and i hope reading this will inspire you to complete law school!hyuck :")))

SOUNDTRACK: Umazane Misli, Plastika, Demoni, Vem da Greš, Proti Toku, Carpe Diem, A Sem Ti Povedal, Bele Sanje, Katrina, and Dopamin by Joker Out (basically the entirety of Joker Out's discog tbh)

VISUALIZERS: Joker In // Law school Beomgyu

COPYRIGHT OIWXA 2023. DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

I. SHAGADELIC, BABY!

The studio has seen worse things. Pizza boxes covered in mold spreading toxic mildew across the entire room; broken drum sticks that were basically tetanus-inducing pieces of legos on the floor for the unlucky person sans socks or sandals; curled ends of guitar strings strewn across the floor like upturned nails; permanent stains of beer scattered in patches on the wooden floorboards; broken lightbulbs for more tetanus and other forms of infectious diseases; a nest of fruit flies concentrated on one of the leaking pipes next to the generator; an unidentifiable liquid etched on the edge of a dirty carpet with an equally mysterious source; crude graffiti filling up the bare cement walls; the temper of a lead singer with a god complex; and lastly, the simmering temperament of a guitarist that believes he deserves more credit than he is currently given. 

To call the basement of an abandoned house on the distant outskirts of Hongdae a studio was an insult to professional musicians who spend their entire lives in a well-insulated creative space. Your band barely had the budget to install acoustic foam panels across the basement—not like you needed it, though. Nobody in their right mind would dare take the last train to the station and hike at least an hour atop a closed trail to record music in a dilapidated house. It wasn’t like there was anything or anybody listening to the so-called “noise” you and your friends made at ungodly hours, too. If there were, it was probably the ghosts of those who once populated what you assumed was a small, forestry village before the war. 

Nonetheless, it became the meeting place that would house all of the band’s creative endeavors—and to be fair, you didn’t mind the musty smell or the murky leakages of dirty water. All of it to you slowly became a sanctuary that broke you free from the bondage of a degree you weren’t even interested in. What was even better was the people that occupied the rather decrepit space. Sure, there was a lot of infighting in the band that made you want to throw your drum sticks at each member or assault them and get charged with battery, but in the end, it was growing pains for the fruition of an otherwise decent band. For you, the disagreements everyone often faced were a testament to the band’s potential longevity. Even if you didn’t consider yourself the most vocal member of the ensemble, you had a reliable voice of reason that validated the input you’d give to every suggestion or performance discussed. 

“Disagreements should be normalized, you know?” You once remember saying when Jeongin would often cry about the heated arguments Geonu and Sungchan would have. “I don’t think we’d be as good as we are now if we never fought or stood up for what we wanted in this thing.”

A word had to be said about the duo before proceeding into important matters—after all, it was the two of them that had the longest overall experience in Seoul’s university basement scene. Geonu in particular was who one might call the “veteran” in your band. He practically grew up around independent musicians his whole life, and his brother was in the garage rock scene since Geonu graduated from middle school. It was the norm for him to show up underage inside bars, venues, taverns, and any place that reeked of spoiled beer, sticky sweat, and copious amounts of cannabis abuse. Of course, Geonu managed to stay clean save for a few sips of beer here and there; he was notorious for his inhumane self-restraint and resilience, after all. When Geonu was fifteen, around the end of his last summer as a middle schooler, he started a hardcore band and toured a couple of basements around Seoul and beyond. The problem, though, was that his lead singer was a late bloomer. Instead of obtaining the gruff, aggressive, and extremely hardcore (for lack of a better word) tone that was required for the genre, Geonu had to suffer through his band receiving “baby noise” status. To his credit, he took it extremely well, using the ridicule to his advantage. It became a common gimmick later on for the band’s cult following to bring pacifiers and cry like an infant during the breakdown of each song. He even began attaching packets of powdered milk with each tote bag or cassette tape purchased from his fans for extra humor. 

That period of his life closed when he was in his second year of high school, where he founded an indie band and completely changed the direction of his music. The hardcore punk to soft boy indie pipeline was a pretty common shift in many musicians in the current generation, and by then, Geonu had grown out of the nu-metal craze of gelled, spiky hair and repetitive power chords. He wanted something more out of his music and thus formed an unexpected friendship with Sungchan, who at the time was the star football player in their high school. Since then, the two had been in the same band together, often changing the lineup depending on where they were music-wise. The first generation of the band was called King Suit, and most of their shows consisted of covers translated from English to Korean. King Suit was perhaps the most radio-friendly iteration out of all the bands that Geonu and Sungchan were in, and they broke off for the exact same reason. 

“Nobody really wanted to write music,” Geonu explained one time after a freshman party. “I mean, I can’t blame them. It takes a lot of effort, and most of us were self-taught. Sungchan was the only one who was willing to make the academic sacrifice to write and produce music with me, so we broke off after graduating high school.”

From what you could tell, Geonu didn’t seem to look back at King Suit with the rose-colored fondness of nostalgia. Each time he complained about his former members in a drunken pursuit, his voice would drop an octave lower, seething bitterness and poison in his slurred cadence. Geonu also only complimented Sungchan when he was drunk. 

The second iteration of his attempts into the underground indie scene was with a short-lived shoegaze venture that was ironically named DARE. One surprising fact that you managed to squeeze out of Geonu was that Sungchan conjured the idea of starting a shoegaze band. He had been listening to a lot of my bloody valentine and Cocteau Twins owing to his nightly Naver scrolls and Spotify recommendations. According to an extremely inebriated Geonu, Sungchan became obsessed with collecting effectors and pedals, blowing his entire savings and part-time earnings into expanding his ever-growing collection of overpriced battery boxes. Truth be told, his obsession for pedals didn’t necessarily come from a place of musical interest—he just thought that some of the artworks plastered across the Keeley or Electro-Harmonix pedals looked cool. He managed to learn how to use them through deep research on YouTube and Reddit, but he would never admit that the sole reason for his collection was the pursuit of aesthetics. Geonu would also never admit that he wanted DARE to live a longer life, simply because his stubborn pride wouldn’t allow it. He would always argue with Sungchan about how the genre of shoegaze itself was a cut-and-paste replica of each other, and for Geonu, it would be embarrassing to admit that his opinions can change over time. He was too much of a staunch idealist in the sense that he stood by most—if not all—of his opinions, thus it would take an eternity for him to admit that he was either wrong or misconstrued about whatever statement came out of his loud mouth. 

Then, Joker In was born—at least, that was what the current band was called. Prior to the name change, the band didn’t have an official name, so each gig just listed your names as individuals. It was the only iteration of Geonu’s bands that consisted of you in the lineup, in addition to Jeongin’s replacement as the current bassist. Prior to Jeongin’s untimely recruitment, the band had an upper year who promptly had to leave because he graduating and he was an exchange student. You didn’t know what went inside Geonu’s mind theater when he recruited Felix, but you assumed that the short-lasting membership was worth it if he was that good of a bassist. 

And to your judgement, Felix was amazing. He was a veteran of the instrument and played the double bass at his university’s big band back in Australia. Naturally, he would adjust to the electric bass pretty quickly, mastering all the techniques and genres by the time the band scored their first gig. Felix wasn’t particularly good at Korean, but he didn’t need the language when his skills spoke for themselves. In addition to mastering the instrument, he was a phenomenal performer that captivated the audience through his laid-back playing style. Every note he plucked was effortless, and his deep, sultry voice complemented Geonu’s powerful vocals quite well. 

The first time you saw Geonu cry was when the band dropped Felix off at the airport, bringing Jeongin along despite the awkward, one-sided tensions between them. Felix didn’t mind Jeongin’s presence since he joined the band knowing it was a short-term commitment, but Jeongin thought otherwise.

“What if he’ll hate me?” Jeongin would lament. It was your job to comfort him whenever he would dive deep into his woes about filling such a big role. Geonu was too cutthroat, and Sungchan was too much of a deadpanner. There was no way those two could ease the noisy thoughts of an anxiety-ridden boy. 

“Felix doesn’t hate, Jeongin,” You’d reply as you stuffed his mouth with endless slices of pizza. “Have you seen the guy? I don’t think he could get angry even if he wanted to.” 

The band became Joker In after Jeongin’s obsession for Eurovision came to light. At first, the three of you eyed him with confusion and bewilderment, wondering how a boy born and raised in Korea could care about a Europe-exclusive song contest. After being subjected to an entire week or two of arduously rewatching past contests and performances, you’ve grown to realize that Jeongin never watched Eurovision for the quality of songs that each artist produced. Sure, there were some good hits that grabbed your attention, but Jeongin didn’t care about the meaning of the songs written for the contest. For him, Eurovision was specifically created for drama and political tensions, paired with ridiculous, overtly surreal, and over-the-top staging that made you question the infinite potential of the human mind. What initially started as Jeongin’s sole hyper fixation now influenced the entire band’s direction, and Eurovision became a pact of friendship in Joker In. 

“You have to watch Viktor Plushenko skating on a fucking ice rink on stage with Dima Bilan,” Jeongin said, pushing his phone screen on Geonu’s face. 

“I’ve already seen that performance dipshit. You’ve shown it to me like, I don’t know? Every single time we go to the studio?” Geonu would reply, then keep his eyes glued to the performance. He didn’t want to admit that his go-to stage costume of a wifebeater and loose, silver parachute pants came from endlessly watching Dima Bilan on YouTube, but the avid Eurovision fan could pretty much piece his inspiration quite easily. Luckily for him, Korea didn’t have a lot of people that were willing to watch four whole hours of countries they’d never heard of sending artists runnings around in hamster balls singing about dusting a turkey in 2000s-era technicolor. 

“They sure did bring a wholeass ice rink on stage, did they?” Sungchan said, using his tall stature to tower over Geonu and Jeongin. He kept his eyes focused on the Olympic figure skater as he gracefully slid around the small, constrained ice rink in Belgrade. 

“Anything for Dima Bilan. Anything.” Jeongin cooed, eyes never leaving the blue-tinted stage on his phone screen. “Look at him! He’s so… sexy.” 

“Take a shot every time Jeongin simps over Dima Bilan,” You interrupted, snatching the phone from Jeongin’s hands. You went on the search bar and typed in the keywords that led to your favorite Eurovision winner, Duncan Laurence. Once his deep, solemn voice began to reverberate across the vast emptiness of the basement, you felt the three roll their eyes in your direction. 

“Of course, you’ll always play Duncan Laurence’s performance,” Jeongin sighed as he shook his head. He yanked his phone back from your hands and paused the video, momentarily admiring the tall, Dutch man playing the grand piano before shutting his phone off altogether. You returned the sentiment and folded your arms, closing your eyes from exhaustion. 

“Jeongin, you know that people can enjoy the contest for the actual music they produce, right?” 

“Well… yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Jeongin replied, giving you his signature foxy smile. “You’re free to argue that Stefania won last year because of its musicality and experimentation with hip-hop and Ukrainian folk music, but man, you can’t deny that people liked it because of Mr. Pink Bucket Hat and MC Kilimmen’s breakdancing.”

“I don’t know, dude.” Sungchan interrupted. Whenever the topic of Eurovision 2022 came up, he always felt the need to join the conversation. “I think Chanel with Slomo deserved the trophy.”

Sungchan always had a penchant to enjoy female entries in Eurovision. When the band rewatched Eurovision 2010 and host their first sleepover in the basement for the first time, Sungchan fell asleep until Lena’s “Satellite” came on. The moment he heard her voice, he jolted awake as if someone shocked him with a defibrillator, posture immediately upright as he leaned his tall frame too close to the projector that they managed to hook up. For the whole week since, he kept replaying her performance whenever he had free time. When he was doing chores around the basement or setting up for practice, he would constantly hum the chorus of the song, following the singer’s odd, breathy cadence while swinging his hips to the rhythms in his head. It got to a point where it became an earworm for the entire band, and for a while, Geonu decided to ban the song from playing whenever they were together. 

“You can’t keep playing Satellite when Alexander Ryback was way better,” Jeongin would bitterly mutter under his breath. He would then pretend to hold a violin and prance around the floorboards, using his light, airy steps to do several failed pirouettes. 

Eurovision became the center of your band, and it became a gimmick to put at least one Eurovision song on your setlist—much to your chagrin. On the one hand, you would enjoy the songs that Jeongin would pick, such as “Believe” and Lordi’s “Hard Rock Hallelujah” for your university’s Halloween bash. In those moments, you were into it because you enjoyed the songs. On the other hand, the songs that were often chosen for your gigs were too “poppy,” for lack of a better word. There was not much you can do except keep steady beats intact while you watched Geonu and Jeongin mess around on stage. It was fun watching them get extremely drunk on copious amounts of cheap beer and vodka cranberries, but in the end, you were left performing basic 808s while the rest had their share of fun. 

It wasn’t unfair. It was just the way music was evolving. You weren’t much of a connoisseur to begin with as well, so you sucked it up and kept the musical harmony of the band. After all, what was important to you wasn’t the ability to execute flashy fills or steal the stage from the rest of the members. If you wanted that for yourself, then you wouldn’t be in a band in the first place. The sole purpose of forming a group is to produce quality as a collective, not as individuals—as such, you kept your role practical. So long as you sounded good as a band, that meant you were doing your job right. 

Maybe that was why you got along with everyone very well. Unlike Sungchan, who had a greedy streak of outdoing Geonu’s vocals with his shrill fills, or Jeongin, who had the opposite problem of staying behind and lowering the volume of his bass on the amp, you kept a good balance between showing off your skills and keeping the band’s overall sound in mind. That dynamic was also reflected in the way you interacted with the rest of the band. When you were with Geonu, you were an agent that showed him humility. You would always slap him in the back without any ill will, making sure he understood that there was no hierarchy in the band. 

“We’re not Geonu and friends, you jerk,” You would often say to him while pinching his ears. “We’re Joker In now, and I don’t recall seeing your name at the forefront of our group.”

“My bad, my bad,” Geonu replied, feeling the pain inflicted wherever you pinched him. Sometimes, it would be a drum stick thrown in his direction. When you were feeling generous, you just shook your head and taunted him. 

“I could do your job just as well, wanna bet?” You’d ask, pushing him to your drum kit in jest. Geonu could take jokes pretty well, but whenever this threat would reach his ears, he’d often see his life flash before his very eyes. Even if he prided himself in his skills as a multi-instrumentalist, he didn’t want to admit that he was terrible at the drums. 

You had a relatively peaceful relationship with Jeongin, owing to the fact that you were both in the same section. As such, you had to parle with Jeongin the most about the musical direction of each song Geonu wrote or translated. Since the genre that you often played with the band was along the lines of contemporary indie rock or pop, you didn’t struggle a lot with learning the songs or creating a soft, basic beat that can go along with Geonu’s vocals and Sungchan’s playing. Jeongin’s case was rather different. Although he was a great bassist that had an impeccable sense of rhythm, he lacked the confidence to properly execute all the bass lines he had in mind. Whenever he felt daunting, it would take him a few drinks or a few words of encouragement until he could finally swallow his insecurities and face Geonu. 

“Why are you so scared of that tiny angry man,” You’d often joke, sticking your elbow to Jeongin’s sides. He would look back at you with a flushed and nervous look, scrambling for answers in his fast-paced head while looking back at Geonu. 

It’s not to say he was scared of Geonu, because you can’t really be scared of a man who was his height. Rather, Jeongin was intimidated by Geonu’s presence—and you completely understood where that unfounded sentiment came from. Jeongin was the only one who did not have any experience with live performances prior to joining the band. Sungchan had been playing with Geonu since high school, and you paid your dues back in high school when you were forced to play jazz drums in the big band. Sure, you had a bit of a blank when it came to performing live, but it was easy to get back in the motions of it all when you already knew what to do. Jeongin didn’t have the experience; he only had skill. No matter how great he was at the instrument in theory, he often didn’t know what to do once he was on stage. Geonu would have to pull him back an hour before rehearsals and sound check just to tell him to let loose—which ironically wasn’t something anyone could teach. 

“Loosen up, kid. You just gotta get out there and play! Don’t think about being perfect or fucking up, because once you do, you mess up. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, so you gotta get in there with good vibes only.” 

Jeongin’s gotten better now, but he still shared the same meekness and apprehension when it came to Geonu. You were sure that it’d completely disappear with time, but you weren’t completely confident about the band’s status in a few years. There was a part of you that still considered it a short-term gig—something you’ll eventually grow out of once you graduate from university and get a “real job.” For this reason, you got along with Sungchan quite well. 

Another word about Sungchan: Though he had the longest track record of witnessing Geonu’s god complex, he was also someone that didn’t take the band seriously. In fact, your shock persisted to this day when Sungchan drunkenly told you that he planned to leave the band and music altogether after he graduated.

“This is just a hobby for me,” You vaguely remember him saying with overly dilated pupils and languid, hazy steps. “I think I���ll quit when I get my shit together someday.”

It wasn’t until you were four months deep into the band that you realized why Sungchan didn’t want to pursue music forever. At first, you thought it was an uncomfortable, yet silent and covert tension between Sungchan and Geonu. They’ve known each other for so long; it was natural to have disagreements. Then, you realized through Sungchan’s work ethic and his commitment to the Varsity baseball team that he simply had more going for him than a four-piece cover band. He wasn’t the smartest of the bunch, but he was extremely athletic—which was always a plus when it came to the unlikely colliding worlds of mosh pits and Olympic-level stamina. 

Joker In often had its moments of explosive fights and passive-aggressive silent treatments, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Usually, all it took was for Sungchan to complain that he was hungry, or for Jeongin to take his phone out and plug it into the projector, screening his niche obsession of odd European performances for everyone to see. 

Unfortunately for you, though, the topic of today’s fight was around the one thing that should have brought the band together: Food. 

“What should we eat tonight?” Geonu asked, adjusting the microphone stand with one hand while scanning the messy, crumpled, and coffee-stained lyric sheet in his hands. 

“Pizza?”

“Sungchan, we’ve been having pizza for the past six months. If we order the same shit again I swear I might throw up,” 

“Yeah, I’m siding with Jeongin on this one,” You added, leaning your head on Jeongin’s shoulder while clutching your unruly, growling stomach. “Pizza’s just not it right now.”

“Then what the fuck do we order, captain?” Sungchan snapped, heaving a sigh as he groaned in pain. 

“Hey, don’t call me that!” Geonu replied and returned the sentiment, scratching his head in frustration and confusion. He looked out at the sky and checked his phone, taking quick glances between all the furniture in the basement. The skies were dark, and the only source of light the band had was the dim, low glow of an ancient, yellow light bulb that was still there before they called the place their studio.

“Didn’t I say we’re all equals here?”

“Well, you’re technically writing all the songs that we’ve played so far, and you’ve been really anal about the solo I’ve considered for Butterflies and Katrina…”

To be fair, Sungchan was right. For the past three weeks or so, Sungchan has tried his best to add more input into the mixing process, but Geonu would either turn his suggestions down or ask him to play quieter in recent gigs. At first, Sungchan could understand the frontman’s qualms; it was never in his best interest for anyone to overshadow each member. However, he disagreed with the way that Geonu played favorites. Two nights ago, he caved in and allowed you to perform a drum solo—but then again, that was out of the request of the audience. You were lucky enough to have half your friend group and the entire law society show up to embarrassingly chant your name over and over again until you had the opportunity to strike. For Jeongin, it was much more forceful. Geonu had been trying to replicate the same charisma that Felix had brought to the band, and as a result, he has given Jeongin complicated bass lines that aren’t the easiest to execute in front of a crowd. Geonu had his own moments as well, but he chalked it up to being the “face” of the band. Disagreements between the two were commonplace, but it wasn’t common to completely diminish Sungchan’s role to basic chords and simple riffs. 

“Sungchan, for fuck’s sake,” Geonu replied in his usual tone. “I’m not being anal because I don’t like it. I’m being anal because  I know you could come up with something better. This is the same, lazy, cut-and-paste solo that you’ve been playing in every single show so far, and we need more diversity in our tune to get everyone to eventually listen to the stuff we put out.”

“Geon, we’re a cover band. Don’t you ever forget that,” Sungchan chimed. He was sick of hearing Geonu tell him the same thing since they were in high school. 

“So? Translation takes a lot of work! Besides, the only reason we’ve gained our following so far is that we do something unique and original that Joker Out don’t do on their shows.”

“Oh please, all the gimmicks you do on stage basically count as stealing. You see fan videos of Bojan online and regurgitate that.”

“Oh? Like what? Please give me an example, because from what I can see, the crowd loves what we already do.”

Usually, all it took was for you and Jeongin to step in and break the two apart. Jeongin would console Geonu on the sidelines, and you would take Sungchan out for a “walk” until he came back with a fresh perspective. Sometimes, it took hours—days, even—for both of them to set their differences aside and swear an oath of momentary truce. However, this was the first time you’ve seen their bickering evolve into a full-fledged fight. You snuck glances between a panicked Jeongin, who slowly unplugged his bass and turned off the amp. He looked like an ostrich that constantly peaked his head in all directions, eyes rapidly scavenging the best time to step in and do what he does best. 

“I don’t know? You call our music shagadelic sad boy rock—just like how Joker Out describes themselves,”

“It’s an original word!” 

“It’s not if they’re already using it…”

“Guys!” Jeongin finally screamed. “I’m hungry! Can we just postpone this little lover’s quarrel for another time?”

“Jeongin’s right,” You backed up, watching the two attempt to bicker amidst Jeongin’s ear-grating, dolphin-like screech. “We haven’t eaten anything since we arrived, you know? We’ve just been busy going through our setlist like, five or six times. Can’t we just call for a break and get back once we’ve eaten?” 

“I hate that you’re always right,” Geonu finally responded after a light, pondering pause. “Pizza?”

Before Geonu could start dialing the usual pizza place’s number on his phone, a light creak bounced back and forth between the gray, cement walls of the basement. It came in little waves, then echoed with a booming shriek. The four of you immediately looked behind you, catching the lanky silhouette of a man wearing an oversized rugby shirt with marinara stains all over its striped pattern. He tipped his cap off and gave all four of you a smile, the very definition of heavy embodied in the soft, yet dense movement of each footstep. He wasn’t even wearing leather boots or platforms; his sneakers seemed to shake the entire room with every step he took. Once you were able to catch a glimpse of the intense redness in his eyes, you finally knew why someone who appeared so light carried such weight with him. 

“Oh my god, you scared me, Hee!” You jokingly exclaimed, greeting him with a strong pat on the shoulder. He cocked his head back and forth, giant, glassy eyes adjusting to see the blurriness of your face. Once he was able to stay still, he returned the gesture with a wave that almost knocked him down to the ground. 

“You losers didn’t call the shop so I got worried you died or something,” Heeseung said, passing the large box of pizza to Sungchan before slumping his entire body on one of the couches in the studio. “This place looks pretty gnarly, so I kinda expected a horror movie plot going on where one of you goes insane and murders everyone in the room.”

“To be fair, you did come at the right time,” You said, practically shoving a glass of water in Heeseung’s mouth. “Geonu was one step closer to ripping Sungchan’s head off just now.”

“Did you bring the usual?” Sungchan asked, knowing the answer just by the whiff of garlic, tomatoes, and mozzarella that wafted throughout the entire basement. 

“Yeah, so every single one of you better pay me back. This was out of pocket.”

“You have the employee’s discount though, so the total price was probably around like, 12,000 won or something,” Jeongin said, trying his best to hold his laughter while taking a slice of pizza out of the box. Whenever Heeseung came with pizza, the war zone between Geonu and Sungchan subsides into a peaceful truce. 

“Hey, shit’s brutal lately, okay? I gotta get my money back.” 

Heeseung kept his body within the crevices of the old, unwashed couch, sinking his body further and further until he practically disappeared from your current realm of reality. At this rate, you would be surprised if Heeseung could get up and go home on his own. Though he was notorious for smoking copious amounts of weed every day, it wasn’t like him to show up to work completely fried. While the boy had problems with addiction, he was perhaps behind Geonu went it came to self-control and resilience. One time, he was able to quit weed for an entire month to focus on his studies. In those four months, he refused temptation altogether like a patron saint. No matter how many people tried to tempt him with a single puff or a bong rip, he would cover his nose and run away from the room. So far, he’s never caved in during these periods of asceticism. 

“Fine, you stingy ass motherfucker,” Geonu replied, opening his phone to send a few Wons to the demanding pothead. “Broke ass bitch.”

“Can I talk to you real quick?” Heeseung suddenly interrupted. His brain shouldn’t be capable of multitasking in his current state, but the addition of money to his bank account was enough for him to forget about collecting his debt from the band. 

“If it’s about that guy then I don’t wanna hear it. Besides, that’s all you talk to me about.”

“Beomgyu’s not bad if you give him a chance, trust me.”

Beomgyu. Hearing the name alone was enough for you to reach the same levels of anger that Geonu and Sungchan had just presented. Whenever the topic of Beomgyu came into the conversation, Geonu and Sungchan’s outbursts seemed like nothing but child’s play. While their arguments could easily be solved between a slice of pizza or a pint or two, you could never imagine yourself sitting idly and peacefully at a dining table with Beomgyu. 

“Trust you?” You suddenly interjected, anger slowly seeping into your brain with each passing second. “Trust you? The person who gets insanely high and goes to Starbucks because you find the barista cute? No thanks!” 

“Hey, man,”

“Don’t hey man me, you prick.”

“But you’re gonna love what I’m about to tell you,” Heeseung shushed, doing his very best to lull your unquenchable temper. The funniest thing to him was how being quick to anger was never in your personality. Throughout all the times that he’s known you, he was sure that it took infinite attempts to get you to at least crack or start getting annoyed—not angry. This was why no matter how much he tried to restrain himself, he couldn’t. It was too much fun watching you explode over some guy that apparently made it his life-long goal to get under your skin as much as possible—the best, or worst part about it is that it worked too well. 

“I caught Beomgyu listening to Joker Out lately,” Heeseung started, barely containing the eruption of laughter that was bottled within the confines of his throat. “It’s probably your doing,”

“Of course he would,” You snapped, rolling your eyes at the thought of Beomgyu listening to your band’s idols. “He’s nothing without me,”

“You know what the better part is? He’s trying to learn Slovenian so he can one-up you and see them live in Europe or something,”

“I don’t care,”

“You clearly do,” 

When it came to Beomgyu, you were terrible at keeping your temper in check. This was a well-known fact among your bandmates and a funnier gag to Heeseung. While your bandmates tried their best to pretend Beomgyu didn’t exist in your so-called friend group, they counted on Heeseung to spark the dormant anger within you. It’s not as if they were afraid of you, per se. It was more so the idea of taking responsibility; they’d rather let Heeseung take the fall than have you endlessly scream at them throughout practice for even mentioning Beomgyu’s existence. To be fair, they were right. With Sungchan and Geonu, things were simple. Even if they were to start punching each other during practice, everything could be solved if they ordered a slice of pizza. With you, however, things were different. You would endlessly talk about how much you hated Beomgyu regardless of the occasion. Even if there were pizza or expensive tickets to see your favorite band live, you would never let your loathing for Beomgyu come to a timely rest. It was always in the back of your brain, itching to come out at every opportunity you had. 

“Look at you, little miss I have to be number one in everything,” Heeseung mocked in his inebriated state. He took a dab pen out of his pocket and inhaled its contents, watching the world around him slow down by the minute as your warped, contorted face continued to deepen its wrinkles. You were tempted to take a huff, but adamantly shook your head in absolute refusal. 

“Say that one more time and I’ll hit your already empty head,” You replied, already hitting him a couple of times on the shoulder. 

“Ouch,”

“Who the fuck does he think he is?! He’s the one who started this whole thing! I never even wanted it to be this way!”

“Yeah you kinda did,” 

“How?!” 

“I don’t know? Like, that one time you got angry because he beat you in a project,”

At this point, the band dropped everything to pay attention to Heeseung. He was already somewhat dangerous when he was sober, but he practically had no filter when he was high—which was, to be fair, about ninety percent of his existence. Whenever Heeseung was high, all social filters were removed, allowing him to gain access to all of the things that would incite anger in you. This time, it was the sacred project that sparked the endless rivalry between you and Beomgyu. The band knew to keep their mouths shut around the topic to maintain the peace that they kept between you, but Heeseung? The word peace itself didn’t seem to exist whenever he was too high to even think about what he would order at Starbucks. 

“Well, that’s because he kept rubbing it in my face! I wanted to congratulate him!” 

“He told me you got this close to beating him up in the lecture hall,” Heeseung replied, failing to contain the large grin that was permanently etched on his face. “One of the TAs practically had to grab you before you swung your knuckles in his face.”

“Well, that’s because he kept being annoying about it! He said I got a good mark because I sucked the professor’s dick!” 

“You should know him by now, though. He has no filter.”

“But he said it like he meant it,”

“Yeah… about that…”

Even if Heeseung was, indeed, high, he was not a snitch—at least, he believed himself to be a man of his word. Even if tormenting you with talks of Beomgyu was one of his favorite forms of entertainment, what he refused to tell you was that Beomgyu was doing it out of his weird ways of telling you he had the hots for you. Heeseung didn’t know much about Beomgyu, to begin with, but to him, obsession in all forms was a pure sign of attraction. 

“Look, I think you two just need to lock yourselves in a room and fuck,” Geonu interrupted, rolling his eyes at the scene playing in front of him. A part of him enjoyed watching you lose your cool at a single man that couldn’t even utter proper insults correctly. Whenever Geonu had the displeasure of seeing you and Beomgyu fight, he ironically laughed at the two of you without realizing that it was pretty much a reflection of his own battles with Sungchan. 

“Hee’s right,” Jeongin quietly muttered, breaking his silence after devouring the last pizza slice. “I think you just need to get laid.”

“Excuse me?” You replied, mouth agape at the thought that Jeongin out of all people would call you out in your endless musings towards Beomgyu. “For your information, I do get some.”

“Oh really? When?” Sungchan joked. “When was the last time you fucked?”

“Last month!” 

“Rebounds don’t count.”

“Yes, they do!” 

“No, they don’t.”

A word about your rebound: it didn’t count. It was just a quick hate fuck with an ex that you haven’t talked to in three years. There was no preamble; it was action without thought. You didn’t even bother asking for her contact information after, and the two of you parted ways in mutual acknowledgement to never cross paths again. In that sense, it didn’t count. 

“Anyway, you better sort whatever beef you got going on with Beomgyu out. It’s getting really annoying watching you two fight all the time.” Heeseung said, taking another puff out of his dab pen once he started to feel the ground on his feet again. 

“Why is it up to me to fix things?! As I’ve said so many times before, he’s the one who started this whole mess!” 

“Sure…”

“Why don’t you guys believe me?!” 

“Have you seen yourself?” Geonu interrupted, scratching his head at your poor attempts at salvaging your once calm demeanor. “You’re like, little miss perfect. You’re in like, a million different student clubs, you’re volunteering around campus to the point where you live there—hell, you’re even running for student government this year.”

“Well, that’s because I need to! I need my resume to look good or else I’ll be unemployed for the rest of my life! It’s not like I’m doing so much because Beomgyu does a lot too!” You rebuked, treating the basement like a criminal court. So far, all the witnesses acted as judges with a gavel, striking each of their hammers down to denounce your alibi. Even if you believed you were right, it was up to them to recite the final verdict: Sure enough, you were guilty. Guilty of the vice that is competitiveness. 

“I mean, I believe you when you say that, but you have to admit that you’ve been overworking yourself since you met the guy like, three years ago,” Sungchan admitted, shuffling his feet towards you to give you gentle pats on your back. 

“No I haven’t!” 

“Listen,” Geonu started with a deep sigh. “You’re in varsity, you’re in charity, you almost joined a cult, you’re in debates, you used to be a senior editor for the school paper, you completed your internship like last month, you’re acing all your classes, you’re in the administrative board for your faculty’s association, and you’re in Joker In. That’s overkill, and I’m betting my dick on you not doing this much had you not met Beomgyu.”

“He just brings out the worst in me!” You screamed to no avail. This was the dead end of your court case, and you had to leave the basement without the last word. 

“He brings out the private school overachiever in you that’s for sure,” Heeseung joked, his pupils consuming the whites of his eyes until they were overly expanded like obsidian marbles. 

“That was so uncalled for, Hee. Put a trigger warning before you make my PTSD worse,” 

“Sorry, princess, didn’t realize that going to a super rich private school would be the same as surviving the Korean War,”

“Get the fuck out, Hee.” 

You had to stand your ground. Every single time the conversation led to Beomgyu, you were always seen as enemy number one. To be fair, you were the more aggressive out of the two of you. While Beomgyu limited himself to crass insults, you elevated the threat of physical assault and a free boxing match for all of the university to see. Sure, it wasn’t your intention to want to beat him up into a neat, fine pulp, but there was something about Beomgyu that always made you so violent. 

“And tell Beomgyu that he’s a prick!” You shouted, after finally managing to push an incredibly high Heeseung out the door. Through the small cracks that you left open, you could see him stumbling on his feet as he began to walk away, waving your figure off with a haughty grin. As always, he left his hat in your basement, and once you descended to the meeting point, you picked it up and threw it out of the broken glass windows, watching it swing back and forth between its sharp shards. 

“You two really need to see a marriage counselor or something,” Geonu whispered, watching your rage slowly disperse into your usual calm. 

“Geonu’s right, and I rarely agree with that cunt,” Sungchan added, attempting to flail his elongated arms on Geonu’s shoulders. 

“Hey! We’ve been playing together for centuries and this is how you repay me?”

“My bad, captain,”

“I think you two need to go to couples therapy instead of them,” Jeongin interrupted, using his thin, fox-like eyes to slyly look at the pair. “I mean, you guys have been at it since high school. They’ve only been at it for like, three years.”

“Thank you, Jeongin. Thank you.” 

As always, it was up to Jeongin to fix things whenever the entire band was on the brink of disbandment. For Jeongin, though, it was another stressful addition to his reluctant ventures as a member of Joker In. First, it was his anxieties about keeping Felix’s legacy after he left. Then, it was helping you mitigate the couple’s quarrels that Geonu and Sungchan always found themselves in. Now, it was helping you calm down after the mere mention of Beomgyu’s existence. 

“Anyway, let’s get back to practice. Rhythm first,” Geonu snapped. The one thing about him that made him an efficient frontman was his ability to gather the team back into practice. No matter how many times he’d often want to throw his microphone stand in Sungchan’s face or duct tape your mouth shut whenever Heeseung would come in and deliberately bring Beomgyu up, he had faith that the entire band would succumb to obedience once he took control. 

“Why?” Jeongin grumbled. To his detriment, Geonu had asked the rhythm section to double their practice time for the past week. At first, he didn’t really see an issue with this, but now, he was skeptical. You, too, shared the same sentiment, looking at Jeongin in confusion before reluctantly shrugging your shoulders and picking your drum sticks from the floor. 

“I have to talk to Sungchan about something important,”

With this, you gave Geonu a salute and watched the two climb up from the basement and disappear altogether. Once they were gone, you started to hit your sticks together, counting from two as you waited for Jeongin to play the backing track. 

As for Geonu and Sungchan, they eased into the abandoned kitchen of the rustic house, watching Heeseung’s slumped, sleeping figure on the broken couch. They made sure to drop him home before you finished your round with Jeongin, and they hurried to one of the care packages they’d often pack for a bottle of water. 

“How do we tell her that Beomgyu’s been sneaking into our gigs?” Geonu asked in a hushed voice, his ears turned to the direction of the stairs that led into the basement. 

“I mean, I don’t think we need to tell her,” Sungchan replied. “It’s gonna ruin the band and everything we’ve got going for us so far.” He nonchalantly took a sip of his water and took a quick glance at Heeseung, who was knocked out cold. 

“What do you mean? I think she deserves to know so the two of them can finally fix things,”

“Geon, it’s not that easy,”

“How would you know?”

“I don’t, but I can tell,” Sungchan muttered, trying to keep his already quiet voice even lower. “It’s probably just them blowing some steam off because they couldn’t find a way to do it before,”

“Hate fucking?” Heeseung joked, keeping one eye open before slumping back down into the comforts of the smelly, tic-ridden couch. Geonu also reminded himself to tell Heeseung to visit the doctor and take a long shower once he got home. 

“Not quite,” Sungchan said, returning the sentiment while walking towards Heeseung with another bottle of water. “You know, if you think about it, both of them come from a pretty well-to-do background. They’re both in the same program, and from what I sort of know about her situation and from what I can guess about Beomgyu, they’re both just facing the consequences of overbearing tiger parents,”

“What did she tell you?” Geonu asked. He was always one for good gossip. Unfortunately, Sungchan wasn’t. 

“That’s not my story to tell, I’m just trying to see it from her perspective,”

“So we don’t tell her?” Geonu asked again, rolling his eyes at Sungchan’s tight-lipped nature. 

“I mean, if she finds out, then she finds out. Just let it happen on its own.”

“And how do we make sure that nothing too messy happens in our gigs?”

“I don’t know, let them fight it off if it happens,” Sungchan muttered after a long, quiet thought. He’s thought about the scenario one too many times, but he wasn’t one to stop the inevitable. “It’s good to let all that pent-up frustration out I guess…”

“You’re too nice, Sung.”

“I know, Geon. I know.”

“What?! Come again?!” 

For Heeseung to call Beomgyu’s voice a scream was an understatement. If a dolphin were to learn to speak, it would sound better than Beomgyu whenever the topic surrounded you and your entire being. It was for this reason that Heeseung sometimes loathed the idea of coming home; he supposed the price of free rent came at a cost of living with the earthly incarnation of wrath. 

“Gyu, I know you heard me the first time,” Heeseung said, attempting to cover his ears to no avail. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Hee. My ears are getting bad from hearing her name!” Beomgyu screamed again, fury visible in the twitches of his eyes. 

“Jesus, you don’t have to shout at me… I’m just your messenger boy,”

“And I don’t need to hear about her! So what if she’s playing their songs? She’s probably gonna fuck it all up anyway…”

“Says the person who went to their gig two nights ago,”

In the same way Heeseung knew all the tricks and tactics to turn you into a red, fuming ball of anger, he also knew how to push all of Beomgyu’s buttons. Then again, it wasn’t that difficult to get Beomgyu angry, for Beomgyu was the type of person to get angry at a mere fly that happened to land on his shoulder. It was very easy to tick Beomgyu off, but only you had the power to get him into a continual period of rage that never ceased to disappear the moment he hears your name or catches a whiff of your scent. Heeseung wouldn’t compare Beomgyu’s so-called hatred towards you in a predator-prey dynamic—to him, both of you were blood-thirsty warlords that could never come to terms with a ceasefire to the detriment of the rest of the world. 

“Hee, I swear, if you told her that—”

“Don’t worry, Gyu. I’m not a snitch.” Heeseung interrupted. “What I am, though, is a messenger boy, and if I’m being honest with you, I’m getting sick of my job. Just admit that you like her and I don’t know? Go fuck her or something,”

“Hee, I don’t like her. Let me correct myself: I will never like her. I like her band, not her.”

Beomgyu was an enigma in many, many ways, but what never failed to amuse Heeseung about his reluctant roommate was how hatred was stronger than attraction or any feelings of love. Beomgyu was the type of person to go through lovers like a page in a novel—fast, yet detailed, but never stuck on the same page for too long. And yet, when it came to you, he seemed to be an avid reader that ceaselessly consumed and repurposed every page of a novel, adding and subtracting everything that he could concentrate all of his energy on understanding the layers and complexities of a text revered by schools and institutions alike. 

“All you talk about is how impeccable the mastering is on the drums whenever you listen to their SoundCloud…”

“So? I just happen to like how she plays. That’s not a testament to me liking her,”

“Why do you hate her so much, Gyu? I don’t think I’ve had the chance to properly ask,”

Heeseung never had the chance to ask Beomgyu out of fear, even when he was high. That was the one thing that never went away no matter what state he was in. To be fair, he had every right to be scared or fearful in any shape or form; he’s never seen a type of hatred as intense and raw as the one Beomgyu harbored over you. 

“Because she exists, Hee. She exists.” 

“Can’t you just let it go?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Beomgyu took a deep breath. He hated that he always ran out of something so essential to life whenever you came up. “Because some dipshit keeps telling my parents that she’s basically beating me in everything! Her!”

“So…?” Heeseung replied, rolling his eyes at the underwhelming result of their rivalry. “Why can’t you just tell them to shut up and mind their own business?”

“I wish it was that easy, Hee. God, I wish. Every time they call me it’s like Oh that girl got number one again! Oh that girl’s president of the law society, why are you VP external? Beomgyu-yah, why can’t you be better?”

Another word about Choi Beomgyu: If it wasn’t as clear as day, then it would be helpful to explain it now. He was from a well-to-do family with no financial obligations or the threat of living a brooding, middle-class life chasing paycheck after paycheck to sustain the bare necessities in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. With this in mind, Heeseung begins to paint a kaleidoscopic diagram of the various reasons why Beomgyu may be so hung up on always being number two against you. He closed his eyes, allowed the remaining traces of cannabis to set the cogs in his brain into motion, and came up with an epiphany that shook him to the core: Beomgyu was a bored, rich kid that needed something to keep him at his toes, and you were the very stimulant that he was looking for. Sure, it was, in a sense, an underwhelming conclusion, but Heeseung could only digress. He wasn’t born into a family that had it all, and he reckons that if he didn’t have to worry about his finances, he would end up being a bratty, bored student out for blood just like the very person that offered him a taste of wealth in a sky-high apartment. 

“Yikes… Talk about Tiger King and Queen…”

“So yeah, it is personal.” Beomgyu spat. It would be rude to call the boy tone deaf—especially in his hot-headed state. Heeseung kept his mouth shut, something that he rarely did when he was inebriated in any form. 

“You don’t have to tell them about her, you know?” He asked after finding the right words to say. Beomgyu rolled his eyes and huffed under his breath, his hands twitching to throw his phone off the balcony. 

“I’m not! That’s the point! I’m not telling them about her! They’re just stalking me on their own!” 

At this moment, Heeseung thought of trying his best to reconcile the bad blood between you and Beomgyu. Then again, he pondered—another thing he never seems to do. If he were to succeed in getting you and Beomgyu to set your respective differences aside, then he wouldn’t have his very own source of entertainment anymore. As much as he would’ve hated to admit, he always looked forward to getting high just to hear Beomgyu complain about you. What made it even funnier to him was how you were nothing like the devil that Beomgyu pictured. It wasn’t to say you were an angel that descended from the heavens, either. You were, in fairness, just an average university student that couldn’t—and shouldn’t—care less about a rich boy that endlessly yapped about you. Without Beomgyu in the picture, you were just a drummer that had to deal with another pair of noisy rivals that needed to go to some form of couple’s therapy. 

“Hee, you don’t get it, do you?” Beomgyu suddenly spoke, breaking the short-lived silence that Heeseung tried to salvage. 

“Afraid not.”

“I can’t get along with someone like her. I just can’t. She gets on my nerves, and I wish she didn’t exist!”

It was common for Heeseung to hear Beomgyu complain about his parents and his brother in the few months or so of him living with the boy. In fact, it was a routine for Heeseung to hear Beomgyu complain. That was what he was good at, and he was glad that he was putting his skills to good use by choosing the right program and career path. Now that Heeseung had the chance to picture it, Beomgyu would make a fine lawyer, incessantly nagging his way through each court case until the jury rules in his favor so he would shut up. 

“Jesus, you rich kids are kind of an ick…” Heeseung whispered. He gave Beomgyu a quick wave and headed straight to the balcony, closing it to see his roommate flash him the middle finger. He returned it with a smile, and fished a lighter out of his jean pocket to light the stem of a dirty, unwashed bong that was filled with beer instead of water. 

“You should be lucky I’m letting you live here for free,” Beomgyu mouthed through the glass windows just enough for Heeseung to see. 

“Yeah, I guess hearing you pine about a fellow overachiever and trauma dump about your terrible childhood is better than paying for rent,” Heeseung replied, opening the door to let Beomgyu into the balcony. Beomgyu hated it whenever Heeseung would smoke. A part of it came from the stench that stuck to his hair and clothes despite three laundry loads in the washing machine, and another part came from his irrational fear of anything related to drugs—which was rather odd since he was the type of person who was pretty loose when it came to drinking copious amounts of alcohol at social gatherings. 

“Hee, if I go to jail one day, you’ll probably be out of this earth to witness it.”

“Oh, I’m so scared!” 

Heeseung tried his best to stifle a bout of laughter that began to accumulate in his lungs but to no avail. In an instant, he was a laughing mess with red-laced eyes, and all Beomgyu could do was cover his nose as the hooded boy continued to blow smoke on his face. 

“Close the fucking door when you smoke, you’re hotboxing the entire apartment,” Beomgyu screamed, storming out of the balcony to close the glass windows shut. Before he could go back to his room, Heeseung stood up and opened the door again, letting the stench of weed laced with moldy beer enter the ventilation system. 

“You should try it sometime, Gyu. It’d loosen the stick up your ass for sure,” Heeseung said with a languid touch to his cadence. Every word and movement he uttered was met with heavy restraint, and Beomgyu knew that Heeseung wasn’t on earth anymore. 

“Are you coming?” Beomgyu asked. He knew there was nothing he could do to reason with someone that was properly baked. 

“To what?” Heeseung responded, almost shattering the bong in his hands as he languidly danced back into the apartment. 

“Joker In’s gig tonight,” Beomgyu said reluctantly—almost too quick for Heeseung to catch. 

“Gyu, I deliver their pizza like, every day. I don’t need to go there again unless they give me shrooms for free.”

“Whatever,”

Beomgyu stormed off into the bathroom to grab the essentials that he relied on for the perfect disguise: a disappearing can of Manic Panic hair dye in neon red, a pair of scissors and a bunch of razorblades that he used to tear his jeans and his tank tops, a pencil of kohl eyeliner that he stole from one of his first hookups during freshman year, and a near-empty bottle of black nail polish. Heeseung often joked about how his so-called “disguise” was just a blast from the MySpace, scene-girl past, but Beomgyu refuses to admit that his go-to look to your gigs was less-than-perfect. He’s snuck into your gigs since he saw you secretly put posters of a Valentine’s bash on every crevice of the law faculty; he was sure a couple more gigs couldn’t hurt before the inevitable occurs. 

“You’re going alone?” Heeseung asked, waving at his reflection in the mirror while trying his best to stop himself from uncontrollably laughing. 

“Yeah, why?”

“What if she sees you?”

“Have you seen her play? She only focuses on rubbing two sticks. I doubt she’d even notice me.” Beomgyu replied, sharpening his eyeliner. Heeseung knocked the bottle of nail polish and caught it, a wide grin of pride on his face as he carefully placed it back in its original position near the sink. 

“See? You’re constantly horny for her,”

“I’m not, she’s ugly and she’s annoying,”

“And yet you’re going to her gig,”

“Man, shut the fuck up.” To Beomgyu’s surprise, this had become his way of saying goodbye to Heeseung whenever he would go to your band’s gig. He used to push Heeseung out of the bathroom so he could concentrate on applying eyeliner on his waterline, but he’s become desensitized to the stings that he would feel when he would accidentally poke his eyes. Sometimes, Heeseung was willing to help Beomgyu apply red dye to his hair, tracing the lines of his tattoos around his arms and calling them crude shapes such as dick nozzle or pee pee stains. Whether he liked it or not, it had unfortunately become a ritual to have Heeseung with him when he was going through his transformation, and now, he was afraid that Heeseung’s absence wouldn’t give him the push and comfort he needed to go through with his covert operation to see you play the drums.

“I’m calling out to you, I wish I could hide,

Oh, no one loves me tonight

It’s just my demons and I,”

This was supposedly the hundredth time that Beomgyu had seen Geonu sing, but he could never learn from his mistakes. Alcohol, nicotine, and Geonu’s voice seemed to give Beomgyu the worst cross-faded experience of his life. Contrary to what others might believe, Beomgyu felt like this during all of Joker In’s gigs because Geonu was too good at his job. His voice had an enchanting quality to it that made Beomgyu’s walls collapse into putty, turning the decrepit paint-job of the basement into one, giant quicksand that continually pulled Beomgyu in. It didn’t help that the rest of the band amplified Geonu’s hypnotic timbre; Sungchan’s guitar acted as a second voice that harmoniously meshed with the mystic melodies that left Beomgyu in a trance-like reverie; Jeongin’s bass didn’t act as a stabilizer with its own heavy renditions of weightless bliss—and, of course, you. 

Suspension of disbelief was something that Beomgyu thought he could never accomplish, and yet, the moment you started to strike each tom with your drum stick, he knew that everything in his life didn’t matter to him anymore. He supposes it was the power of music, but he also hatefully admits that your skills carried an unbreakable spell with each note you hit. Rhythm wasn’t even something he particularly enjoyed, seeing as most of the music he listened to was melodic and lyrical in nature. It was only when you took the seat to the drum kit that he was finally able to stand close to the speakers, in the very corner he saved for himself, just to see your tireless figure effortlessly match the energy of the rest of the band. He didn’t know what it was that made him nearly obsessed with the way you played: What it the nonchalance you brought to the stage? Or was it the fills you’d add here and there whenever there was an instrumental break? Was it perhaps the almost-melodic nature of your playing that aroused not just him, but everyone in the room into a mosh-pit frenzy? Maybe it was the way you looked when you played—but he wasn’t drunk enough just yet to admit something so… raunchy. 

The walls started to fade one by one, and the group of people that crowded all corners of the basement slowly blended together into various forms and colors. The neon, old gray test lights that dyed the room in a diverse spectrum of colors swirled into one, hazy, hypnotic vision that almost made Beomgyu nauseous. Geonu’s voice began disappearing into thin air, and all he could hear was the muffled bass drum that you kicked with patterned intervals. 

This was out of the norm, and Beomgyu’s recklessness amplified into tenfolds of fear. He couldn’t feel the sensations of his skin anymore; his eyes continued to swirl into an amalgamation of colors and people that looked like blurry amoebas; time seemed difficult to track as everything was moving too fast and slow for him to ground himself; each body he bumped into felt like he was getting crushed under its weight; Beomgyu couldn’t breathe; Beomgyu couldn’t see anything anymore; the only thing that Beomgyu could hear was an all too familiar voice that he wasn’t sure he hated or loved. 

“Hey, you alright?”

When Beomgyu opened his eyes, he was outside the concert venue, crouched down on the same levels of the tall grass that tickled his face. His cheeks felt cold to the touch, almost as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on him. He felt through his hair and tried to contain the fear that embraced his body, locked in a state of panic at the sight of bright red staining his palms. It took a while for him to realize that it was just the temporary dye that he’d placed on his hair, but the apprehension and trepidation came to haunt him again when he looked up to see your concerned, glassy eyes. 

“You don’t look too good,” You repeated, kneeling down to his level as you lit a cigarette and blew the smoke against his direction. There were several empty water bottles next to you, coupled with an entire cooler filled with soft drinks, fruit juice, and whatever Beomgyu could see in the dimly lit outdoors of the outskirts of town. 

“No, I’m fine.” He breathlessly replied, staring down at the soles of his scuffed, leather combat boots. There was no way he could look up now. He could tell that you weren’t convinced; your chuckles made the pits of his stomach dance with the bile that was piling up in the organ. You took a water bottle and gently held his face in the soft surface of your palms, letting the liquid slowly refresh the corners of Beomgyu’s mouth. The haziness that he felt in his vision slowly dispersed into clarity—which worsened the nausea that overwhelmed Beomgyu in waves. It was the first time he got this close to you without wanting to rip your head off. He didn’t know how he felt about it, but the remnants of alcohol that swirled throughout his bloodstream made his cheeks flush in a bright shade of red. He quickly took the water bottle away from you, drowning himself in its cool temperature. Maybe that way, he would wake up and remind himself that you shouldn’t be a friend. 

The cool winds of the summer night grazed his cheeks in a tender embrace as he tried his best to keep his head down. He relentlessly prayed that the dimness of the venue’s entrance would hide his worst-kept features from you, fearing for the worst. Ever since his first visit to your band’s gig, he’s never felt something so close to a palpable sense of freedom—a euphoric high that gave him the taste of being a carefree young adult caught up in the fast times of rock music and decadence. He’s thought about making amends just to keep his little, secret sanctuary intact, but his stubborn pride wouldn’t allow him to yield to someone like you. Now that he was sober enough to think about it, he found the irony behind you embodying both his shackles to parental approval and a one-way ticket to liberation quite laughably fascinating. During the day, you were the very picture of something his parents wished he could be, and during the night, you had all the qualities of becoming a musician he idolized. He cursed fate under his breath, wishing that you weren’t blessed with the gifts of intelligence and innate leadership skills. He refused to admit it, but in another life where all you were to him was a drummer in his favorite band, he would’ve given you the benefit of the doubt and let you into his life. 

He was reminded of your presence when you hovered a thin, white stick in front of him that glowed within the vast darkness of the night sky. He politely refused, shaking his head as a way to tell you that he didn’t smoke. You stifled a bout of laughter and tucked the cigarette back into its flimsy, dilapidated box, taking a languid seat next to the boy that you decided to take care of without realizing that he was the main source of your misery in your school life. 

“What was the last song that you guys performed? I think I missed it because I blacked out or something,” Beomgyu asked with slight hesitance. 

“A new version of Vem Da Greš that Geonu translated a few days ago,” You replied, humming the tune to the song that he wished he saw you play live. Something inside of him was telling him that he shouldn’t stay here any longer, so he got up and stretched his arms and legs, callously calculating his angles so you wouldn’t see a single hint of his face. He reveled in your denseness but despised your natural amiability. Once you got up and mimicked his stretches, he turned his head back and stuffed his hand in his jean pocket, fishing for his keys as he mustered a small goodbye in your direction. 

“Are you sure you can go home alone?” You asked. “I can drop you off at the bus stop or something, since this place is pretty far out from the nearest city,”

A part of Beomgyu knew that the city lights would reveal his identity, but another part of him also knew how stubborn you can be. Even if he were to tell you that he was fine, and that he’s been known to rely on drunk navigation a lot, he was sure you would ceaselessly insist on taking him home. That was another thing he hated about you—you were too nice, too caring, and too kind to be his rival. 

“I’ll be fine,” Beomgyu replied, trying his best to change the tone and cadence of his usual voice. As expected, your cackles echoed across the large stretches of grass and greeneries that surrounded the abandoned house that your band inherited, and you slowly walked closer to his side to poke his shoulders. 

“You were literally wobbling around the basement, and if it weren’t for a nice group of girls that nursed you back to health at the sofa, you wouldn’t be here standing up to go home,” 

Beomgyu covertly checked the time on his phone, afraid that the phone case filled with his cards and IDs would give his identity away. The time read 03:46 A.M., and he heaved a long, drawn-out sigh. He should’ve called Heeseung a little earlier to pick him up before he got absolutely wasted. In fairness, he could just call an Uber and hitch a ride home, but the transaction would raise another round of suspicion for his parents. He already had enough to worry about when he turned off his location and lied about going on weekly hiking trips with his friends, and he didn’t want to subject himself to another endless lecture and the threat of heightened surveillance from his parents. 

“Fine,” 

You jogged back to the venue and quickly came out with several water bottles in your small backpack, tossing one in Beomgyu’s direction. It was already bad enough for him that you out of all people saved him from his drunken downfall. The last thing he needed to end his night was to go on a long walk back into the city with someone he was supposed to hate. 

“So, where do you live, if I may ask?” 

Beomgyu pondered. He didn’t have to tell you his exact address. “Around Mapo-gu, near Mapo station.” 

“Oh?”

He didn’t like the lack of response on your end. A low, vibrating hum escaped your lips, and you snapped your fingers as your mouth widened in amusement. “That’s where my friend lives! I can ask him to pick you up once we get there!” 

You quickly took your phone out of your pocket and held it in your ear, too quick for Beomgyu to protest and stop you from doing so. Now, he was sure it was all over. The moment he heard the receiver pick up, he braced himself for what was to come. 

“Hee, are you awake right now?” You asked, impatiently tapping your foot on the concrete roads that led to the only bus stop in sight—a shadowy silhouette of a thin, metal pipe with a flat circle that read Supsok Village Complex 2. He took a quick glance at your fretful stance, fidgeting with the straps of your phone’s drum keychain while fiddling with the pair of sticks that were lodged under the straps of your loose, billowy joggers. A satisfied hum huffed out of his breathless mouth when he saw you irately throw your phone inside your backpack. Even if Heeseung didn’t pick him up from the venue tonight, he knew that he could always rely on his copious cannabis routine to fall into a deep, unyielding sleep around this hour.

“I’m sorry, my friend’s a bit of a pothead so he’s probably knocked out cold or something,” You apologetically muttered. I would know, he’s my fucking roommate, Beomgyu thought to himself, returning your regretful sentiment with the only form of forgiveness he was willing to give you. Now, it was just the two of you, and Beomgyu had no clue if he should take the long, arduous hike back to his apartment or be thankful enough for your clumsy attempts at assisting him back to his domicile. The fact that he leaned towards succumbing to your aid made him realize that he wasn’t as good with alcohol as he would’ve liked—and now, he was sitting right next to you, eyes glued on his warped reflection in the glass windows as he watched you idly fidget in your seat. He was more than willing to suffer through the entire bus ride to his area of town in awkward silence, but judging from the way you tapped your feet and snuck quick glances between his brows and the tip of his nose, he knew that there was no escaping your desires for a tangible conversation. 

“So… did you enjoy the show?” You asked after passing through six different bus stops. Beomgyu played with the loose hems of his tattered tank top, letting the seams go undone. He didn’t expect you to take your hoodie off in one motion, tossing it to the side of his neck as you quickly looked away. He tried his best to etch the rare shyness he saw written on your curved, cat-like spine; this was definitely something he’ll be bullying you for tomorrow. 

Was he at fault for catching you in your most vulnerable state? No. You were just too dense to realize that the handsome, messy, rocked-out, drunk stranger right next to you was the very bane of your existence. 

Beomgyu’s glory was short-lived, though. Now, he had to make the move. He remembered what his brother had taught him back in middle school, when Beomgyu was still struggling through incessant voice cracks and embarrassing one-liners that he’d religiously recite to get the girl of his then-dreams to bat a single eyelash in his direction. Step one, take a deep breath—because oxygen is the key to looking good, apparently. Step two, expand the diaphragm to fill the ribcage and beyond. It provided the facade of chest muscles. Step three, turn the chin low enough so the vocal cords could only register low notes—he didn’t know the science behind it, but he found that doing these three steps immensely lowered his already low, baritone voice into unknown depths (Beomgyu would like to add that he would never do this sober. It took courage for him to fall for his brother’s tricks, and he was only ever so courageous when he was drowned in eighteen glasses of tequila sunrise). 

“Y-yeah, you guys did great as always,” Did it work? 

No, it didn’t. The timid shyness in your slouched stature was gone, replaced with your best attempts at keeping your laughter within the confines of your throat. He couldn’t tell if you were choking on air, stifling your dinner and pushing it back into your stomach, or suffering through an intense, sharp pain in your abdomen. All he knew at the moment was that the tension that was once present in the air instantly dispelled into the flowery picture of two young adults failing to hold their laughter back in the empty seats of the night bus. It was certainly an odd experience for Beomgyu to not just share a ride home with someone he would very much murder in the confines of an empty, night bus, but he couldn’t deny how right things felt at the moment. Within the dim, flickering fluorescent lights of the shaky bus, all he could see was another universe through the reflections of the glass windows—a universe where he met you under different circumstances. A different reality where he would take you home and house you in his apartment, watching sad movies in his bedroom until the first sunrise. 

Are you more of an action person, or comedy? My favorite genre is melodrama, he wanted to say. Maybe in his “new” identity as a faux washed-up youth in leather combat boots and ripped jeans, he might have some leeway into managing his double life. Tirelessly hating you for three years straight certainly added tired him out, so perhaps it would be a new thing to try 

“Ah, a repeater,”

“That’s… odd? I don’t see you around a lot, though,” You replied. It was often common for your band to track and befriend those that constantly attend your shows—then again, you weren’t the best judge of that. Each gig always ended in 

“That’s because I don’t stick around after the encore. I just leave once the song is done,” Beomgyu replied, trying his best to alter the tone in his voice. He couldn’t tell if you were just extremely tired or if you had too much to drink, but the deep swirls of colors under your lids was enough for him to feel a sense of security in his identity being under wraps. Just like the milkiness of the dark skies that danced with several shades of navy, you swayed back and forth with the motions of the car, heavy lids slowly going in and out of sleep as you tried your best to stifle a yawn and pay attention to your somewhat new companion. The driver announced the last stop, acting as an alarm for you to slap yourself in the face and hop off your seat. 

To be fair, both of you were in an equal state of fatigue and inebriation. Beomgyu was waddling as he tried to balance himself on the railings of the exit door, and you placed your weary palm on the semi-wet surface of the bus, momentarily taking it away after the driver had angrily beeped at you until you did so. Once the bus zoomed away, you felt a wave of nausea hit you—at first, it began at the back of your stomach, then, it slowly climbed its way up until you were hunched over at the nearest sewer, coughing out everything that was supposed to fuel you for a one-hour set. Beomgyu turned away and reluctantly placed gentle pats on the small of your back, hiding his face from the city lights that threatened to blow his cover off. 

“My apartment is this way,” He muttered. You nodded after a few rounds of coughing, then doused yourself with the last water bottle that was inside your backpack. 

“Mine’s on the other end of the street,” You replied, wiping your mouth with your jacket and quickly waving off his concerns with a tired grin. He couldn’t imagine the toll it took on you, or any musician for that matter, to play intense, fast-paced songs back to back without any rest, but perhaps that type of stamina was what it took to become a professional of sorts. Maybe that was also why you were such a feisty fighter, because you needed the energy to carry yourself throughout the day. 

“See you around?” You asked. He didn’t turn to look at you. He simply stood still, lowering his head until all he saw were the messy, beer-stained surface of the degrading leather in his combat boots. He gave you a quick nod, then stuffed his sweat-ridden hands in his jean pockets. Somehow, he could still feel your presence lurking around, waiting idly until he entered the apartment. It wasn’t until he was within the comforts of his building, swiftly jogging up to the elevator, that you began to walk away. Through the large, glass windows of the apartment building, you were but a mere ant, eyes lingering on the path he took as if it were a complex maze. He could see you taking quick glances between your road and his, a satisfied smile on your face as soon as you confirmed that he was, indeed, safely home. That was another thing he hated about you. There was no need for you to have gone that far to make sure a stranger from your gig got home without getting mugged. 

He didn’t need to be cautious when he opened the door to his apartment. Heeseung was already fast asleep on the sofa, strewn with empty bags of potato chips and bags of Starbucks takeout that he probably went out to get once Beomgyu had left to go to Joker In’s show. In his current state, it was practically impossible for him to get up and pick Beomgyu up. Beomgyu was pretty much used to ending his night with the role of a babysitter, but now, he didn’t feel like he had the energy to keep up with his routine. Heeseung could probably manage fine on his own, and Beomgyu desperately needed a cold shower to refresh his head at the unexpected encounter. God, she’s so fucking dense, Beomgyu thought, smiling to himself as he plopped his body on the warm, soft surface of his duvet. The shower will have to wait until the morning, and until then, he didn’t mind the extra load of laundry that came with massive spots of red dye on his pillowcases.

II. VOTE NO.24 ON EUROVISION! GO SLOVENIA!

To your luck, Geonu didn’t announce a practice session today. Normally, the band was privy to five hours of practice every single day—including the weekends. A part of it came from Geonu’s penchant for perfection, but another came from the growing bond that the band had developed over time. While Geonu and Sungchan didn’t necessarily need more time together, the daily sessions helped the entire band get to know each other and experiment with compatibility in the most esoteric way possible. In your first sleepover with the band at the eerie, decrepit basement (Heeseung would call it a horror movie set), you were able to call Jeongin a friend after he gently sat you through one of your first acid trips, gripping your hands tight as you endlessly cried about the visions and voices that still manage to chain themselves in your nightmares to this day. Another thing you learned about Jeongin that day was that he had a problem with mushrooms during high school, only quitting in his second year after an intervention that led him spiraling into a near-death experience of impulsively taking his car out in the middle of the night. You didn’t ask him for the specifics, nor did you mention that you were surprised that someone like him had gone through rehab, but you learned that Jeongin had trusted you with his story. 

“Believe it or not, but Eurovision was what got me through that entire ordeal,” You remembered Jeongin telling you at some point. He was confined in a psychiatric ward for nearly a month, his schedule and time dictated through therapy sessions, group activities, and worksheets that he haphazardly filled. He also told you that time passed differently when one was locked inside the same, white walls every day, and so the only time started to move for him was when the person next to him invited him to watch several Eurovision performances in preparation for the finals in Rotterdam two years ago. 

“I knew nothing about Europe then, but the guy next to me was married to a Swedish woman for a decade before she passed. They made it a routine to watch Eurovision every year, and he still tries his best to keep up with it even when she’s gone.” 

You expected him to mention Maneskin as the band that got him through his slump, but Jeongin was a man full of surprises. For someone with beady, glassy eyes and a geekish demeanor, you didn’t think that Finland’s Blind Channel would be the one that would get him out of the institution. 

“I mean this sounds like an edgy fourteen-year-old’s confession on an anonymous forum, but man, I’ve never really seen a band like that go so hard on live television, you know? Every time I see crazy antics or bands that had the same energy as Rage Against the Machine, it was always in the 90s or the early 2000s, when things weren’t too radio-friendly. And it wasn’t just them being hardcore like that, but it was how down-to-earth they all were—almost like they really loved what they were doing.” 

Jeongin didn’t tell you why he started taking mushrooms or what led to him getting institutionalized in the first place, but it was enough for you to know that what you once perceived as an odd affinity for Eurovision was to him, an important getaway that cemented him back into the ground. Since then, the topic of Eurovision had become a daily part of your life—and now that the 2023 semi-finals were coming, Jeongin and the rest of the band had been keeping tabs on the latest culmination of the contest. In your downtime, Sungchan would update the Discord server with his ever-evolving tier list of entries, and Geonu would log on just to argue and contest Sungchan’s opinions. Of course, both would know their places once Jeongin would enter the conversation, but nonetheless, it came to a point where your days would feel empty without someone mentioning anything Eurovision related. 

There was Eurovision, and then, there was Beomgyu. 

Oddly enough, your days also felt incomplete without Beomgyu. Ever since you made the bold mistake of scheduling the same office hours as Beomgyu, the two of you had been in a constant stalemate of academic excellence. For you, it wasn’t necessarily the fact that you needed to prove something; you initially enjoyed seeing someone get so riled up and bothered at the fact that you were always better in everything you did. In a sense, your goals, ambitions, and fortitude didn’t come from a place of parental pressure or identity-building—you had to be on top of your game to the detriment of your well-being. While Beomgyu may have seen it as a competition, you saw it as a zero-sum game. To you, your entire livelihood basically depended on being the best at whatever, whenever, and wherever—excluding your role as a drummer in Joker In. 

“Good morning, dipshit,” An all too familiar voice rang in your ears. You didn’t need to turn your head around to see who took the spot next to you in the vast lecture hall. Keeping your head to the busy tabs on your laptop, you heaved a sigh of both relief and exhaustion. Despite the absence of practice, you still had another part of your daily routine in check. 

“What the fuck do you want, Gyu,” You coldly spat, knowing that the response you were going to get had to do with your gigs last night. 

To the surprise of many—yourself included—your persona as the drummer of Joker In had been one of your best-kept secrets. Sure, being in a band was something most college kids got to experience, and student musicians were a common phenomenon across all facets of campus life. You nonetheless kept those two aspects of yourself as separate as possible, creating a clear divide that made sure none of those parts of your world intertwined and meshed together in any way. The law society didn’t need to know about the nightly debauchery you involved yourself in within the confines of the basement; those were stories that you kept to yourself to your grave—a musical pandora’s box that was meant to stay a secret. 

“Heard through the grapevine that Little Miss Perfect got shitfaced last night,”

This time, you closed your laptop and snapped your head towards Beomgyu. Heeseung was terrible at keeping his mouth shut, but he wasn’t there to bear witness to the copious amounts of alcohol and weed that muddled your body that night. In a flurry of panic, you did your best to remember everyone that was present at the gig, scouring through the entirety of emails on Eventbrite that signed up for a ticket or two. 

“And?”

Then again, what consequence would you get if you got caught? It wasn’t like the Law Society could strip you of your position; you were single-handedly the only president of the contemporary generation that managed to revive the organization from near death. If you told any of your professors about your musical ventures, you doubt they would look at you differently. In fact, they might even check out your gig or look up Joker In’s several sites across the internet, either becoming a fan of the band or not. Truthfully, there was no certain risk that threatened your current position and reputation on campus as the face of the Faculty of Law. The only thing that mattered to you was the unpleasant nature of combining your professional life with one that you exclusively created to escape the shackles of boundless perfectionism and tireless efforts to maintain all that you had built. 

“That’s not a good look for the law society,” He grinned, perching his chin on his palm as he flipped through his notes. You did the same, clearing your throat as soon as the ten-minute mark on the digital clock succumbed all students into a quiet, dreary dread of a two-hour lecture. 

“Last time I recall, you’re the one seen at a super sketchy rave last summer,” You whispered, keeping your head low enough so the professor couldn’t see you. “If you’re ratting me out for my band, then I’m ratting you out for doing lines with Heeseung at the Seoul Jazz Festival,”

“I only did one line, mind you,”

Another odd occurrence between you and Beomgyu’s rivalry was how both of you had accumulated so much dirt on each other, that it was practically impossible to call everything a truce. For the past three years, each intense battle between grades, essays, and projects was met with threats of outing the other for reckless behavior. Whenever Beomgyu would bring up your period of weed addiction in first year, you would rebut with some of his worst speeding incidents. If he were to draft an email to the program coordinator about your experiments with DMT when you just began your friendship with Geonu, then you were ready to send pictures of him doing lines with his rich friends at a yacht in Mykonos. Three years of constant rivalry also meant constant surveillance, and now that the two of you had reached the finish line to your respective degrees, the tension and threat of total exposure increased tenfold. 

“A line’s a line,” Beomgyu silently spat through gritted teeth. “I’d never do coke, so you should be thankful I’m not kicking you out as president,”

“Fuck you,”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I’m lucky, then.”

“That’s the only luck god’s gonna give you, Gyu.”

Three years of unyielding pride and egoism also meant that the two of you knew when to stop arguing. Even if most of the people around you saw you and Beomgyu as a pair that didn’t know when enough was enough, there were certain limits that introduced a silent armistice in the war that Beomgyu had waged on you. For one, if fights were to occur before a lecture began, both of you were willing to swallow your feelings of pride and pay attention, ushering the competition elsewhere in the form of aggressive keyboard smashing and who could raise better questions to the professor. This was one of those instances, and as always, you left the lecture hall as the main victor, even being called after class to discuss the prospects of constitutional reform with the professor. Beomgyu simply stood to the side instead of leaving—another trait about him that you grew too accustomed to. Every single time you were either called after classes to discuss further questions or network with the professors, Beomgyu would always be behind you, scanning through every nook and cranny to seize any opportunity to either sabotage your efforts or present himself as the more eloquent and intelligent version between the two of you. Usually, professors didn’t mind this type of engagement—in fact, many academics would thrive in an environment where their students would actively contest and participate in the discourse surrounding topics that interest them the most. However, between you and Beomgyu, this would be a strenuous experience for any professor that was unlucky enough to be caught in your competitive mess. 

Luckily, in every case, Heeseung would always be the savior, dragging the two of you out of the lecture hall in the nick of time. 

“You two should just make out already,” He would often say while muttering strings of apologies to the meek, slouched professors that would hastily grab their bags and rush back into the comforts of their own offices. Albeit humiliating at first, you were now too accustomed to the lanky, tall, and especially inebriated man taking both you and Beomgyu’s collars throughout the ends of the campus, only momentarily seating both of you at the edge of the cafeteria to either laugh or complain. 

“That’s giving him too much luck, Hee,” You bitterly retorted, giving Beomgyu the middle finger as a late greeting. 

“She’s privileged enough to be a rich private school nerd who sucks people’s dick on LinkedIn. I can’t give her too much action,”

“You’re the nepo baby, Gyu! Last time I recall, you got in because of your brother’s recommendation letter,”

Talks about Beomgyu’s brother were what always riled him up the most—of course, second to talks about you. 

Here’s the thing about Choi Seungchol: Though he wasn’t in the Faculty of Law, he was a memorable student that continues to be the face of the Faculty of Medicine. An accomplished oncologist with a prestigious tenureship at John Hopkins, he was one of the few Korean medical students who were able to break the difficult threshold of Western-dominated academia, proving himself with his tenacity, wit, and ever-expanding knowledge of cancer research. From the young age of seventeen, he had already graduated high school and shortened his study as an undergrad, dedicating his entire life to an ambitious—but certainly commendable—dream of finding an affordable, accessible, and efficient cure for cancer. Coupled with a look that was universally easy on the eyes, having a brother like Seungchol would have definitely sparked a deep-seated inferiority complex in anyone who had the displeasure of being his younger sibling. 

Tit-for-tat seemed to be the game that you and Beomgyu often engaged in, and if his kryptonite was his brother, then yours would be the long line of lawyers that you descended from. 

Unlike Beomgyu, who chose to study law out of an intense desire to separate his identity from his brother, you treaded onto the same path that marred your family name with generational pride. Sure, it wasn’t to say you wanted to become a lawyer, but rather, you wanted to become the best lawyer out of your family. Rich people had a different set of issues that they needed to face—a constant, mental battle that cut all ties between blood and family. In your family, there was no such thing as a maternal or paternal bond; every one that bore your name was wrought with the constant pressures of living up to it. Each generation was always compared to the last, and each brought the troubles of the past to the realities of the present. All the woes, infighting, and distasteful pride have unfortunately been a product of an entire familial generation that fought hard to keep its legacy intact—and for you, that meant your ticket to leave all of that behind was outdoing the family altogether, reigning supreme in the lifelong struggle of succession. 

With you, your family wasn’t family anymore—they were stepping stones. A key to success and freedom that can only grant liberation once you did everything to prove yourself. 

In a sense, all rich families were Darwinian. The Chois were a household name in medicine, and yours happened to dominate the legal system. One wanted to break free by independently taking another route in life, while the other aimed to destroy an old empire from within. To those that didn’t have the taste of prestige or the amount of free time to comprehend the psychological detriment of wealth, it was a simple case of money bringing too many unnecessary problems. Why worry about such minute issues like reputation and status when your windows didn’t work? 

To you and Beomgyu though, things were different. Too different, in fact. When both your lives were mapped out to success and filling in the shoes of the past, it was inevitable that you would define yourselves and your actions around your family’s troubles. Something as simple as joining a band would cause immediate ruin to the decades of perfecting your role as the ideal candidate to take over your family’s law firm. 

What Beomgyu didn’t know, and what you kept as an even deeper secret than your nights of musical debauchery in the basement, was that you were a bastard—the only child to a second, hidden marriage that broiled your entire family’s law firm in a mess that led to buying out several news outlets and tabloids who eventually took the money to erase all evidence regarding the scandal. You were paraded as the legitimate daughter of your family, and every single facet of your life had been broadcasted to the public since. From bagging first place in an essay-writing contest as a child to constantly making headlines as one of the best debaters in each high school debate competition, you had maintained the aura and image of a perfect successor. And now, all your accomplishments throughout university had been scantily advertised in university newspapers, online gossip forums, and local magazines—from your events in the law society, the talks you’d organize and give in legal seminars, down to the minuscule acts of charity you would do with the Cold Case Foundation. All of your life was documented for the world to see, prepping you up so the family could contain its skeletons within the safety of its closets. 

This was why you couldn’t contain the hatred and anger you’d managed to keep to yourself for so long when Beomgyu would bring your family into the conversation. An inferiority complex paled in comparison to a family secret that threatened to bring the mighty walls of your family’s empire down to the ground with a single slip-up. 

“News flash: I’m not the one who comes from an entire family that practices law,”

Ah, there it was. You stood up from your seat like always, never looking back as you stomped out of the cafeteria in blood-curdling, fuming anger. It was natural for Beomgyu to assume that you had an uncontrollable temper—after all, to him, you were a figure of contempt. Someone who was lucky enough to be born into a profession that he took up just to escape his lack of medical skills and affinity for science and mathematics. 

“Jesus Christ, she’s so entitled,”

“Not cool, dude. Not cool,” Sungchan suddenly appeared as he always does, carrying a carton of coffee milk and sipping its sweet contents into his throat. Heeseung never really understood why Sungchan would always come to defend you whenever it came to any mentions of your family, but he chalked it up to the behavior of a secret admirer. Spending time together every day in the basement and playing in a band is a great way to get to know a person, and an even better chance to fall in love. If that were the case, then Heeseung certainly felt bad for the guitarist. Although you were already perceived as a picture of admiration, awe, and intimidation from afar, nobody truly knew how cutthroat and blunt you were behind the sheer curtains of model excellence. Heeseung was one of the few that bore witness to how ruthless you can be, and if it were him, he would thwart all chances of attempting to woo you. If Beomgyu was already enough of a testament to your mercilessness, then it was the strict, iron command you had at the law society that made you a less-than-ideal lover in bed and beyond. 

“So I’m the bad guy for bringing up her family,”

“To be fair, she was the one who brought it up first…”

“Thank you, Heeseung!” Beomgyu exclaimed. Sungchan rolled his eyes and tossed the carton of coffee milk; a perfect shot right into the plastic opening of the bin. Heeseung watched with envy, lamenting at his failed basketball career. If only he had been taller, then maybe he might’ve had the chance to skip college altogether and fly to the US to sign a contract with the NBA. He’s always wondered why Sungchan didn’t opt for basketball as a sport, playing for the university’s varsity baseball team instead. He had the height and build to quickly gain ranks as a star player, and he certainly had the agility and aim to entrench himself as one of Korea’s best three-point shooters. Whenever Sungchan would look in Heeseung’s direction, the sense of being tinier than an ant in the entire universe maximized tenfold. It wasn’t just Sungchan’s height, but his general aloofness coupled with his nonchalance made everyone feel small under his presence. 

Sungchan raised his hand at Heeseung, waving goodbye once a mutual high five was sealed and locked—a pact of honest brotherhood, as one might say. He mustered a quick, awkward bow in Beomgyu’s direction and ran off the same way you treaded, ignoring the pair’s curious gaze as he scoured through the maze of crowded young adults and intertwined hallways to catch you in your usual spot. 

Beomgyu trailed Sungchan’s tall frame, watching his forehead graze the entry of the cafeteria. He huffed a sigh and grabbed his backpack, slinging it on his shoulder while knitting his eyebrows in frustration.

“Gyu, you’re not red anymore. You’re green,” Heeseung joked. Before Beomgyu could land a clean, painful hit on Heeseung’s neck, the boy quickly waved and ran past the swarm of students that crowded the hallways, waving his dab pen in the air as a quick sign of surrender. Beomgyu rolled his eyes and stared in the direction that Sungchan treaded, wondering if he should follow along. 

Then again, what was it to him? Why was he so angry over something that didn’t even concern him in the first place? You were the one who brought his brother up constantly, so it would only be right for him to hit you where it hurt the most. He didn’t know much about you, but an aching, swelling pang of guilt began rising up in the form of acidic bile, swirling like rough tides in his stomach until a bout of nausea overwhelmed his entire body. Why the fuck do I care? She’s the one who started it all, Beomgyu thought. He gave the hallway that led to the Law Society’s office one, last glance, completely turning his back in the other direction. He had another lecture to catch; he shouldn’t be worried about you.

Once he found your figure crouched under the table of the Law Society’s main office, he knelt to your height, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. You swatted it away with faux bravery, rigorously wiping the soft tears that marred the apples of your cheeks. 

“Hey,” He greeted. 

“Leave me alone,”

“I can’t,” Sungchan laughed under his breath. “I’m witnessing you cry like a baby for the first time,”

“Shut up, Sung.”

For Sungchan, striking a friendship with you was unexpected. He’d at least expected himself to be on good terms with Jeongin before even attempting an acquaintanceship with you. When he initially met you, he had to admit that you were a deplorable person of sorts. You carried an air of superiority wherever you went, treated everyone like they were below you, and you always had a ruthless, competitive streak that turned everything sour with a single blink of an eye. From the moment he laid eyes on you, he was sure that he was going to tell Geonu to look for another guitarist. 

“I can’t work with her,” He confided right after he heard you play the drums in a mock-up audition for a new recruit. “She’s… bitchy.”

“Sung, she’s a professional,” Geonu would often retort, ignoring Sungchan’s complaints about his own strict standard of musical perfection. “I’ve never seen anyone play with so much dedication and tenacity. If only you took this shit more seriously, then I think you can learn to put those feelings aside and actually play the way I want you to.”

For a while, Sungchan did his best to avoid you. Every time you would ask him to play with you so you could synchronize your playing style with his, he would politely decline, opting to send you recordings of his guitar practices from home or outright pretending he didn’t hear you. Granted, he anticipated that you were the type to not let passive-aggression go. One thing he knows about all law majors was their argumentative streak—to him, that was the reason why so many of the people enrolled in that program were born under the star of Aries. Hot-headed, independent, and defensive—those were all the characteristics that aligned with Aries Suns and anyone practicing the legal field. 

It wasn’t until he got too drunk to stand that he experienced your rare displays of kindness. Though it was common courtesy to take care of drunk people at parties, you and Geonu were the only ones who actively checked up on him, closing the door to one of the rooms that became his personal infirmary while constantly feeding him water and a few, light snacks. Whenever he felt like throwing up and Geonu was unavailable, it was you who took him straight to the bathroom, lifting his head of hair as he lurched out his organs into the once pristine, white ceramics of a toilet bowl. Instead of asking him why he hated you, you simply kept your mouth shut, actively giving gentle massages on the crook of his neck and on the small of his back, gently feeding him more water in timed intervals as he continued to hurl and belch in the tiny, squared space of someone’s bathroom. 

“Aren’t you gonna ask me why I don’t like you?” He asked, completely aware of his slurred words. You laughed and pretended you didn’t hear him—the exact same way he behaved whenever you would ask him to practice some of Joker In’s parts with you. 

Perhaps he had too much to drink, or perhaps he just felt safe in the small, cramped, yet cozy spaces of the bathroom, but the first thing he told you—sans re-introductions—was the fact that he wasn’t sure if he was attracted to Geonu or not. In what felt like hours of him trying his best to keep his voice down amidst the blaring, muted, and bass-booted music that streamed into the tiny cracks of the wooden door, he sobered up in a crying fit, watching your figure transform from blurry blobs of wooziness into swirling, tear-soaked waves that made you look like you were submerged into an ocean of his woes and worries. He admired your silence; he admired the small smile that you gave him throughout his entire episode; he admired the way you screamed at whoever was banging at the front door to fuck off; he admired how head-strong and confident you were, even if he knew that you didn’t return those qualities to yourself. 

From that day on, there was a mutual, unspoken pact that formed into a true, life-long bond between you and Sungchan. Whenever Geonu or Jeongin would ask him why he suddenly changed his mind, he would simply shrug, mimicking the same silence you gave him when he spilled his entire emotional journey of sexual discovery inside that holy bathroom. You did the same, giving subtle looks of confusion or outright denying the bad blood between you and Sungchan. The two eventually suppressed their qualms about Sungchan’s drastic shift, nodding in reluctant agreeability that this had to happen eventually for the band to continue. 

“Anyway, I’m pretty sure Beomgyu didn’t mean it,”

“To be fair, I brought it up first. I got what I deserved,” You whispered, careful eyes scanning through random bystanders through the small creak of the agape, wooden door in front of you. Sungchan stood up to close it, but you grabbed the hem of his sweater, begging him to stay. 

“Shh, don’t say that to yourself,” He replied, humming lowly to himself. “I think this is the point where you realize you should probably just get over it all. I mean, it’s been three whole years. Shouldn’t you just get over it and be the bigger person?”

Sungchan’s words hit you like a knife that slashed and hacked at an open wound. Each pause of silence brought another ounce of pain in your chest, and you couldn’t pinpoint if those feelings were a guilty conscience or another byproduct of your massive pride. You hated it when others were right, and you hated it even more that you continued to do the wrong thing despite knowing you could just ignore Beomgyu and get on with your day. Certainly, if you had kept things at light insults three years ago, then you shouldn’t be as riled up or hurt by Beomgyu’s actions and words by now. What bothered you even more, though, was how you didn’t seem to know who made things worse. At this rate, the rivalry between the two of you had gone on for far too long. You couldn’t pinpoint a true start that fueled your spite for him. It was almost like you had always hated Beomgyu from the start, even if there was a part of you that wholeheartedly disagreed with that predicament. 

“You know what, you’re right, Sung. I should stop giving him any of my attention if I want him to shut up,”

“See, it’s not that hard!” 

Before you and Sungchan could shake things off with a friendly hug, your phones buzzed in unison. With a quick nod, the two of you burst out of the Law Society’s office, ignoring the wary eyes that watched each of your steps with confusion and suspicion. You declined the call and swiped right on Sungchan’s phone, popping your head near the camera to see who was on the other end of the line. To your relief, it was an excited Jeongin, carrying crescents in his eyes as he huffed on his earphones’ microphone. 

“Guys!” 

“What’s up, Jeongin?”

“The finals!” He screamed, loud enough for you and Sungchan to mute the phone and cover the speakers. 

“What about it?”

“It’s streaming right now on YouTube!” 

You gave Jeongin a look of confusion, arching your brows and poking Sungchan with your elbows. Despite only getting close to each other for a short time, both of you mastered the art of silence. You didn’t need to tell him to look up the ESC’s website to check if Jeongin was right; there was a certain telepathy that linked your brains together. There was no need for eye contact or physical gestures, it was as if thinking was all it took for Sungchan to understand what you wanted him to say or do, and vice versa. If you were to picture it, then there would be a thin, invisible wire that connected your soul to his, matched with telephone cups where you each whispered your thoughts and actions back and forth. 

“Oh word?” Sungchan muttered once he reached the homepage of the ESC. The semi-finals happened too fast, and it didn’t occur to you that you missed the entire ordeal. Sungchan nodded along, shrugging his shoulders while using his height to push past the sea of students who fell victim to your band’s antics. The key to the exit was Jeongin jumping up and down at the entrance to the university’s main gate, fighting his way out of the security guards trying to calm him down. 

“Come on!” Jeongin exclaimed with infectious glee, grabbing you and Sungchan by the hand and taking the two of you to the nearest train station. 

“Jeongin, where are we going?” You asked. You were sure that Geonu had pinged the entire group chat about the absence of practice that day. Sungchan checked his phone and showed you Geonu’s message once the three of you slowed down and tapped your transit passes to the gates. There was indeed, no practice at the basement today out of Jeongin’s incessant pleas to cancel it. Geonu would have never imagined canceling practice over a singing competition held in Europe, but Jeongin threatened to leave the band if Geonu and the rest didn’t comply with his wishes. Considering how Jeongin was the most compliant member who never seemed to ask for much unless it had to do with Eurovision, Geonu granted the boy’s wishes. 

“The watch party!” 

You scrolled through Joker In’s Kakao group chat with Sungchan, only to find no mentions of a Eurovision watch party anywhere. By now, the entire band had figured that Jeongin was the impulsive type. While you had access to his hidden story of mushroom addiction, the rest were privy to Jeongin’s sudden online activity at the crack of dawn. He would send a barrage of memes and videos on the group chat only to disappear for a week. The only times he would come back was if Geonu had made a practice announcement in the chat, or if the band called him to the meeting place. 

Ergo, Jeongin was not the type of person to organize an entire watch party with his sporadic communication patterns. 

Once the three of you had reached the apartment, a barrage of cannabis hit your nose. Of course, Heeseung was on the side with a bong in hand, while Geonu was already absorbed into the couch, eyes red artificial bliss. Before you could take off your shoes to step inside Jeongin’s apartment, you halted your steps, blinking several times to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. Some people say that hate was just another form of obsession, and the last thing you wanted was to see Beomgyu in your dreams. 

“Why is he here? 

“Beomgyu is Heeseung’s roommate,” Jeongin meekly replied, keeping a small smile on his face as he kicked his shoes off to dash into the kitchen. Sungchan reluctantly followed suit, taking a bowl of potato chips and popcorn to the small, glass coffee table that was at the center of Jeongin’s rather spacious living room. 

“So? Heeseung never brings him to the basement when he delivers pizza,”

“That’s because Beomgyu doesn’t work at the pizza chain,”

Instead of sitting in the empty space next to Beomgyu on the couch, you opted to take a random spot on the couch, sitting behind Geonu’s legs. Normally, he would complain about you using him as a headrest, but at this rate, he was too high to comprehend that there was something leaning into his calves. 

“Whatever. Since when did you like Eurovision anyway?”

“Before you did, that’s for sure, fucking poser,”

“Oh my god, you son of a—”

Before you could stand up, Sungchan placed a firm grip on your shoulder, entrenching you within the surface of Jeongin’s soft, fur carpet. You took a mental note to ask him about his tastes in furniture. On the other side of the couch, Jeongin had hurried back from the kitchen with a few packs of seltzer that he struggled to carry, pushing one of them into Beomgyu’s lap before he could retort in violence. 

“So everyone in this room is voting for Slovenia, right?” Jeongin asked with an eerily large grin. 

“Yep! Number twenty-four!” Sungchan confirmed, making it his duty to make sure you didn’t lash out throughout the entire song contest. There was no use in fighting back; the hands of a varsity athlete cannot be contested with the likes of an occasional charity player. 

“I’m voting Finland…” Beomgyu huffed, rolling his eyes in your direction.

“Gyu, you literally listened to nothing but Carpe Diem last night,” Heeseung retorted in languid, heavy breaths. If one could guess the lightness of his lids, it would be comparable to a bodybuilder’s daily dumbbell perched on top of his eyes. 

“Shut up. I vote for whoever I want, and my money goes to Finland,” Beomgyu replied, cracking a can of cherry seltzer open with his hand. You followed suit, prompting the boy to roll his eyes once again. 

“He’s voting for Finland because he wants to be oh so special like the rest of the world who’s basically riding Käärijä’s dick!” 

This time, you gulped the can of seltzer down in a single sip, crushing the weak, malleable material between your fingers while raising a middle finger in Beomgyu’s direction. Instead of chugging his drink, he took a deep breath, pacing the amount of alcohol that entered and exited his throat. He knew what he was like when he was drunk, and even if the need to punch you into oblivion was there, he had to control himself—at least, for Jeongin. 

“Shut the fuck up, you two! It’s starting!” You and Beomgyu immediately behaved accordingly, exchanging silent death glares while Jeongin ushered to the middle of the large, flat-screen television mounted on his wall. Even if you knew how serious Jeongin was about anything Eurovision related, you didn’t know that he could exude a level of anger that outmatched you and Beomgyu’s squabbles. 

The introduction to the Eurovision Song Contest lined up with the flurry of buzzes that attacked your back pocket. Upon seeing the caller ID, your fingers automatically hovered over the red button. However, the ringing didn’t stop. No matter how many times you’ve tried to dodge each call you got, it would only come back in waves, accompanied by a barrage of text messages that caught your eye,

Dad’s in the hospital.

To be fair, all your memories with your father had been non-existent at best. The only time you’ve ever seen him was in a pristine, neatly-ironed business suit, gallivanting around the meeting rooms of the law firm or taking the same behavior with him on the dinner table, only allowing everyone else to lift their forks once he was seated. Your father’s presence had a shroud of mist around it—mostly because you couldn’t remember a time when you genuinely bonded with him. To call your father a father only suited you best when you were writing your college application essays or passing interviews for internships and research opportunities. Outside of that, you addressed him with utmost formalities, keeping his power trips unbridled by addressing him as Sir or President. He used to like being called an attorney, but after he began to realize that everyone in the firm held the same occupation, he opted for something more. As such, the news of him being in the hospital was shocking, but it was the least of your current concerns. To you, he was just your lifelong boss, slipping you into the legal world with a guaranteed, secure career filled with success and everlasting wealth. The only reason you had to visit the hospital was to discuss the potential inheritance papers that might have to be negotiated on his deathbed, not because of a familial, patriarchal bond that was never even there to begin with. 

“Hold on, I have to take this call,” You said, hastily getting up while balancing yourself on the carpet. You whispered a mute sorry in Heeseung’s direction, who was suddenly sober at the sight of his bong tipping over. 

Once you were in the bathroom, you locked the door and turned on the lights, keeping your eyes away from the large vanity mirror that enhanced the brightness of the entire room. Closing your eyes, you allowed a mouthful of oxygen to enter your lungs, slowly breathing it out as you dialed your brother’s phone number. It didn’t take a single ring for him to pick up. 

“Hey,”

There was always something about your brother’s voice that irritated you. It wasn’t too nasally, but it wasn’t the most clear-cut pitch either. There was a certain grating quality to it that made listening to an obese chain smoker for hours on end a better feat than hearing your brother in a firm meeting or a case discussion. This was probably the reason why you could tolerate Beomgyu, because you’ve lived with people you genuinely despised for as long as you could count numbers and read the alphabet. 

“Why the fuck are you calling me?” You spat, anticipating the worst. You could hear your brother’s breath hitch on the other end of the line. Of course, a situation like this would stress him out. 

“You know I only reach out if it’s important, so get your ass to the fucking hospital right now. Dad’s going through a hemorrhage, and it’s the worst one we’ve seen so far.”

“Oh,”

“So hurry the fuck up. I’ll write your uni up so you can take an academic leave. Shit’s pretty serious,”

Whenever your brother classified a situation as pretty serious, it usually had to do with money. Talks of a potential merger, a big case that’s worth billions of won, or the acquisition of smaller firms that soon became a part of your family’s legal empire. Anything that had to do with money was serious to your brother, and of course, anything that had to do with money was discussed between the family, beneath the nose of your father. 

“What do you mean?”

“You know what this means, right? Dad’s dying, his fucking secretary had just been named the sole trust to the firm, and the entire family’s basically going to war over this fucking fiasco.”

“What the fuck do you mean he signed over the trust to her?”

This was the only time you agreed with your brother about the nature of serious situations. The entire firm and the family were aware of the affair he had with his secretary, but you didn’t know how bad of an impact his senility would have on the future and well-being of the firm and beyond. You kept the phone latched between your shoulders and your chin, taking a seat on the toilet cover while crossing your legs. 

“Just come to the hospital. One of the Choi-owned clinics in Gangnam.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.” You curtly replied. “I’ll be there in twenty,” 

Family ordeals were things that Geonu forgave when it came to skipping practice, but you weren’t sure about breaking the news to Jeongin. Perhaps if you simply told him about your father’s condition, he would let it slide. After all, he was the caring sort. Anything that tugged his heartstrings would render him in a thick, melted puddle of tears. All it took was a story of an old, dying man, and you were sure that Jeongin would let you go. Taking another deep breath, you counted to three and opened the door, slowly making your way from the kitchen and into the living room. Instead of taking your seat back next to Heeseung, you stood still, placing your hands on your waist. Despite Geonu’s current state, he managed to groggily sit upright, eyes peering straight into your soul. The rest of the people in the living room followed him as an example, eyes switched from the television screen to your leveled posture. 

“Guys,”

“Look who’s back from her makeout session with the prof,”

“Beomgyu, not now.” You interrupted, clearing your throat as you mentally ran through the quick story you conjured up in your head. My dad’s bleeding out, and I have to go to the hospital to make sure he’s okay. I hope you guys understand. 

“What, you can’t take a joke? Jesus, I never knew little miss perfect was a softie…”

You would usually let your temper subside and give Beomgyu the benefit of the doubt, but this time, he had crossed the line. It wasn’t to say you cared about your father, but it was still a dire situation that needed to be taken seriously. For all the intelligence that Beomgyu prided himself in, he was not the type to understand basic social cues. As if remaining still wasn’t enough of a message, you let the frustration you’ve built up for years wash over you, closing your eyes as you unleashed three years of pent-up irritation and vexation escape your lips in a shrill shriek. The only thing you felt sorry for at the moment was how this was directed at Beomgyu instead of your family, but you needed to release it all before you eventually exploded. Heeseung dropped his bong and alerted himself awake, leaving his mouth agape while his eyes quickly darted past your forehead. Even Sungchan, who was privy to your bursts of anger, lit up in static shock, rendered in a frozen state that made him glued to his seat. Everyone in the room now had their eyes on you—including Jeongin’s roommate who peeked his head out of his door. 

“Seriously?! My dad’s dying, and this is how you react? Look, I don’t know what the fuck I did to make you hate me this much, but this isn’t a game anymore. I’m done, and I’m out of here!” 

In a flash of a second, you were out the door, letting it swing before reclining into a loud thud. The entire room was now drowned in an ocean of silence, and Beomgyu was the only one who gasped for air. He tried to stand up and chase after you, but his legs were stuck to the cotton of Jeongin’s carpet, pulling him deeper and deeper until his entire body was one with the ground. Geonu exchanged glances with Heeseung and the rest of the band, taking a nearby glass of water and gulping it down in a single sitting. Sungchan quickly climbed up to the couch and sat beside him, patting gentle circles on the boy’s back before directing his attention to the sole, uninvited guest that ruined the watch party. All Jeongin could do at the moment was take the remote from the coffee table, lowering the volume of the television until the entire apartment was laced in another wave of deathly silence. Even if the living room was packed, it felt as if he was the only one in the room, stuck between the carpet and the technicolor screen that showed the first performer of the night. Glimpses of red, black, and white dyed the entire space in ominous colors, flashing images of Edgar Allan Poe in the empty, white walls that surrounded the entire group. The only time someone spoke up was when Jeongin’s roommate passed by to turn off the lights, quickly rushing back within the safety of his room as he locked the door shut. 

“You fucked up,” Heeseung started after a few rounds of unspoken guilt. “Hard…”

“It’s not like I can tell her that I’m mad at her because I don’t know? My parents always yelled at me for not being like my brother?” 

No, that’s not what I wanted to say, Beomgyu thought, but it was too late to take his words back inside his mouth. Now, the initial state of shock that occupied the room was replaced with pure, unbridled resentment. 

This time, he was sure he fucked up. 

“Why did you keep this up for so long, anyway? It’s not like it’s that hard to say sorry or something,” Geonu retorted, slowly sobering up. 

“Look, whatever. I’ll get going now, because apparently, I’m always the bad guy,”

“Gyu!” 

Jeongin tried to chase after Beomgyu’s silhouette, only for Sungchan to hold him back. With two silent nods, Jeongin let go of Sungchan’s sleeve, fiddling with the hems of his sweater while watching the tall, lanky boy jog out the door. He didn’t know if he should end the watch party then and there, or if all of them should continue from where they left off. By now, the second performance had started. Flashes of green and red brightly encompassed their eyes, and they remained seated. Geonu texted the band’s group chat and pinged your user to give them updates on your father’s situation, while Heeseung swiftly took his lighter and lit the stem of his bong, deeply inhaling the glass rim in what was going to be his biggest rip to date. 

What was going on outside of Jeongin’s apartment was a different story on its own. You had called one of your drivers to pick you up from the nearest train station, and now, you were zooming past highways and fast cars, reaching your destination as soon as Beomgyu had stepped out of Jeongin’s apartment building. He tried to rush past the flurry of people during rush hour that crowded the station, but the only person he could see was Sungchan, who had managed to chase him by the tail of his jacket. 

“Hey,” Sungchan uttered, never letting go of Beomgyu’s jacket. 

“Here to defend your girlfriend?” Beomgyu spat. Sungchan was used to this by now,

“No, but I’m here to let you know that deep down inside, I know you’re not a bad person,”

The two were now in front of a vending machine behind the station, a place where drunken white-collared men would drink their sorrows away. It also happens to be the place for a rendezvous to hide under the neon lights of the city—high school couples that secretly meet after the academy for a kiss goodbye before going home, college kids that are too drunk to scan their passes at the gate, office workers that feel the need to have a drink or two before being welcomed back home by their kids, smokers who hide their vices under the surveillance system, and people that are waiting for their online saint to whisk them off their infinite suffering. The vending machine was witness to all facets of society, including Beomgyu and Sungchan’s conversations that would have never seen the light of day. Before the two began, it was a natural ritual for any that chose the vending machine as a meeting place to treat their interlocutors with a beverage or two. Sungchan chose a sizzling can of lemon cider, tossing a couple of loose change he had jingling in his pockets and inserting it in the machine. He tossed the can in Beomgyu’s direction, who accepted it with a meek, small bow. Then, Sungchan fished for the last few coins he could find in the deep trenches of his slacks, pressing the bright, green button that displayed a tall bottle of water. It didn’t occur to him that he had a half-filled water bottle that he took with him in his tote bag for baseball practice; the movement was as automatic as the vending machine dispensing a plastic water bottle in its hooded container. Once Sungchan had the water bottle in his hands, he twisted the cap and waited for Beomgyu to snap the can open. The two clinked their beverages and consummated a few sips. 

“Sure, you’re insufferable and bratty as fuck, but I know you have the heart in you to listen,” Sungchan said, after he was finished with his water bottle. Beomgyu took the can back to the side of his arms, holding it tightly to make sure its fizzy contents didn’t spill out into the streets. 

“She’s been going through a lot, so you should probably cut all of this and apologize if you still want to go to our shows,” 

Beomgyu slowly nodded, taking the can of lemon cider up to his lips once again. For a big city like Seoul, his bright, neon yellow can stood out from the masses of commuters that passed the duo to get to their destination. Sungchan kept his water bottle under his arm, tapping on the plastic cap twice to make sure that he sealed it properly. With a satisfied hum, he cleared his throat and eyed the boy who couldn’t take his can off his lips. 

“I know you’ve been sneaking out in your really shitty disguise, but for my sake, hers, and yours, you should talk it out and hopefully fix whatever you got going on,” He continued. His fingers found themselves at the edges of his pocket again, and an exasperated sigh escaped his lips upon failing to feel through a small, rectangular carton that eased all of his woes with a single huff of smoke. What he found instead was a small, cheap plastic lighter that he didn’t remember purchasing. Granted, he probably stole it off Heeseung’s collection or took it with him when he helped Geonu light his joint. Whatever the case, he found no use for it now. 

“If not, I’m gonna have to ban you from ever showing up again,”

Beomgyu finally took the can off his lips, wiping his mouth with the thick decor of his jacket’s sleeve. Considering the weather, he should’ve probably opted for a lighter cardigan that didn’t graze his lips with leather. Nonetheless, he ignored all feelings of discomfort. He should be used to it by now. 

“Whatever,”

“It’s not whatever, and I’m sure you know that too,”

Beomgyu watched Sungchan’s tall, lanky frame stand upright from his slouched posture, waving his transit card in his face as he started to walk towards the station. He didn’t know if Sungchan was going to go back to his place or if he would pay a visit to the hospital. The only way he would find out is if he bumped into him in the white, putrid halls of a place he’d been avoiding since he left home to attend university.

Beomgyu had always hated hospitals. For as long as he could remember, the smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol would always overwhelm his nose, rendering him in a trance-like state that made everything around him a blurry haze of fragmented memories. He could try to recollect the countless hours he’s spent waiting for his father to get off his shift, but all he could gather was the car ride home, sitting silently beside his brother while the driver played an old rockabilly tune from his time. His father wasn’t even in the car with them, and he was probably doing another late shift in the operations room with his mother on standby. When Seungchol was old enough to shadow their father’s sessions, he would be on these car rides alone, carrying the same, putrid odor that reminded him of a distant family that never had dinner together once. When Beomgyu would get home from the hospital, he made it a habit to call his maids or helpers to set up a dinner table with him, each member of the cleaning team acting as his father, his mother, and eventually, his brother. This was the only way he could sleep at night, because the scent of antiseptic would be replaced with dish soap, cleaning tools, and remnants of flower-scented detergent. If the cooks were available, they would also join Beomgyu at the large, family dining table of the Choi household acting as external relatives that he would only see in family functions. 

Now that he was back at the hospital, the memories of a lonesome dinner came flooding back to him in tidal waves. First, his father’s tall silhouette would come into full view, for he was never the type of person to turn his head towards his second son. Then, he could see his mother’s side profile, eyebrows knitted in a constant frown as she would scan through each clipboard and envelope with a mixture of confusion and exhaustion. When he was in high school, his brother had already begun shadowing for one of the several hospitals that were under the Choi name. He would initially tag along, but opted to stay home once he realized that this wasn’t a game of doctors that he would play with his brother in one of the many playrooms they were granted as children. Seungchol had patients to attend to, and he was a mere nuisance to the inner workings of his family’s craft. 

This was also the point where he figured he would try his hand at the humanities, shifting from an interest in stock brokers and the financial sector to settling for the legal field. In earnest, he never found an affinity for anything political. The newspaper was one of many things that made it so difficult for Beomgyu to remember his parents’ faces, since they would spend their mornings jeering at the headlines in disgust before rushing out to work. Seungchol started doing the same once he was old enough to understand the weary woes of the world outside of their wealthy life, and at that point, Beomgyu had already resented the news enough to block it off his phone and other devices. 

If his lifelong grudge had taught him one thing, it was tenacity. It was a trait his parents exhibited when they went from performing surgeries to managing hospitals, and it was the same trait that Seungchol inherited when he began his own medical career. For Beomgyu, tenacity meant suffering through a lot of the things he disliked—whether it was politics, the news, or medicine. To him, tenacity came in subtle ripples. At first, it was the several scandals that he would hear about at the academy regarding big pharmaceutical companies patenting life-saving medication and selling it at a higher markup. He didn’t even know what a markup meant, but he did know that it was something he could use to destroy his family once and for all. When he entered university and applied for the law program, he used his tenacity to climb to the top, even when the humanities weren’t the strongest set of subjects in his CSAT exam. He didn’t understand how money worked, and he certainly couldn’t care less about the politicians he would see campaigning on the streets during election season. The only thing that mattered to him ever since he was a child was to do whatever it takes to get his family back in a single piece—even if it meant destroying the legacy and generational prestige that the Chois had built for themselves since the Occupation period. 

Places like the hospital were what made Beomgyu’s tenacity disappear into thin air, replacing it with irresolute shakiness. It didn’t occur to him that a single whiff of the hospital’s chemicals immediately turned him into mush—a walking, wandering blob that’s place was always behind his parents or his brother. Here, he didn’t feel human at all. He felt like a visual display—a name tag that bore his family name in shame. It was for this reason that Beomgyu refused to call an ambulance or take himself to the hospital no matter how hurt he was. Every episode of alcohol poisoning would always end in several over-the-counter drugs that would end up in the toilet with the remnants of bile that trickled up to his mouth, coughing up every stint of regret that failed to leave his system. No matter how drunk he would get, he would always berate Heeseung for threatening to dial 119, constantly reassuring him that he could cure whatever he could on his own. 

Now, he was back in the very place that he spent his entire life avoiding, hiding behind the metal railings of a hospital bed once his eyes caught a familiar, white coat sported by the outline of someone he hasn’t seen in years. 

Apparently, years of playing doctors with Seungchol worked against him, and now, he was faced to face with someone he had the displeasure of calling his brother. 

“Hyung,” The word used to come out naturally, but now, it felt too foreign to him. At this rate, he was more comfortable calling his own brother “Doctor Choi” than by any other name that he used to call him. He tapped his tongue twice inside his mouth to feel its insides squirm, then, he restfully let his eyes sit at the crown of Seungchol’s jet-black head, watching the luster of his healthy hair shine under the bright, fluorescent lights of the hospital that always managed to invoke a certain nausea within him. 

“Beomgyu-yah,” Seungchol replied, his voice barely a weak whisper. “It’s been a while,”

“Are you in charge of him?” Beomgyu asked, jutting his chin towards the emergency room. Seungchol looked back and shrugged his shoulders, resting the clipboard on the hilt of his belt as he longingly stared at his younger brother. 

“Who?”

“Him,” Beomgyu asked again, pointing to the patient’s profile on his clipboard. Seungchol adjusted the thick, rectangular frames that slid down his nose, squinting his eyes at the tiny fragments of characters that he could barely read. Beomgyu didn’t know that his older brother’s eyes had degraded past his early problems with astigmatism. 

“Ah, you mean Kim & Lee LLC’s current head?” Seungchol asked. 

“Yeah,”

“Yes, I’m in charge of him. My department assigned me to him since our family sort of owes them in some ways,”

Beomgyu didn’t question the Choi’s relations with yours. None of that concerned him in the slightest, and he was aware of the magnetism that many rich families often exhibited—birds of a feather flock together, especially when feathers were made of gold. 

“How’s school?” He asked. He began walking towards the emergency room and stood outside of the door, peeking his head inside the tinted windows while he vigorously tapped his pen on his clipboard. Beomgyu kept his hands in his pockets and followed suit, peering at whatever he could read in Seungchol’s report. 

“Alright,”

“I’ve heard his daughter’s faring better than you at school,”

Speak of the devil, and she shall arrive. 

By now, a single sliver of your presence was hard for Beomgyu to miss. If tenacity was one thing he had, then perseverance was the other. Throughout the three years he had known you, he’s learned one, giant lesson: to persevere. No matter how much he dreaded the preparations for the bar exam, no matter how worn he was over countless hours of dedicating himself to reading pages upon pages of ancient Roman law, a part of him embraced the sheer hard work that he dedicated to each and every aspect of his academic career. 

Then again, none of that mattered when he was always second best when it came to you. Even if the number of hours both of you had put into a project or an essay was the same, he would always fall short of a mark or two, forever trailing behind your shadow the same way he had always trailed behind the success of his ancestors, then his parents, and now, his brother. 

“This is why I’ve always hated you, hyung,”

“I know, I know,”

That was another thing that Beomgyu noticed about the people that managed to do better than him in every facet of his life. From stories he would hear from his mother, the Choi ancestry was filled with quiet, blasé doctors whose first and only priority was to tend to each patient that required assistance. The same trait was replicated tenfold in the way his parents would berate him; both of them would shrug their heads in blatant displays of disappointment instead of yelling at him. He was sure he was never hit as a child, but the string of pain that came from the sheer looks of despondency was imprinted on his shattered ego, forever sinking their sharp fragments into the throes of his heart. When his brother reached the age of twenty, he had mastered the same, cold look that his parents would often give him, doing the same whenever Beomgyu interrupted him at the hospital. 

How did it all come to this?

Beomgyu wished he knew the answer to a question he had been pondering since he was old enough to think for himself. 

“So you’re not even gonna say sorry? Apologize? Admit that what you and our entire family’s put me through is wrong?”

“Beomgyu, that’s just how it’s always been. I don’t really know what to say other than how lucky you should be right now,”

Luck. Being born a Choi meant a lifetime of financial security and a plethora of career options knocking at the foot of his door, and yet, Beomgyu couldn’t see how this luck was worth the feelings of inferiority that plagued him to no end. 

“How the fuck am I lucky, Hyung? How the fuck am I lucky?! Because from what I know, I’ve been the one that just so happened to be born with the inability to do math and science!”

Seungchol slid the pen he was tapping inside his breast pocket. He placed the clipboard on one of the empty, leather chairs that lined the entrance to the emergency room, adjusting the rims of his glasses in the process. 

“All my life, I’ve studied so hard, went to the academy, and never complained about it—hell, I sucked it all up and gave up on getting friends, having fun, and basically being the best example of what mom and dad wanted. But no! Apparently Seungchol-hyung is always better! That law girl is always better! Inseong from fifth grade is always better! Everyone is always better than me! If they wanted someone better, then they probably shouldn’t have asked for another son!” 

The only thing that Beomgyu could hear was his own voice bouncing back and forth between the walls of the vast hospital. Seungchol stood in silence, taking his glasses off and wiping the lens with the hems of his white coat—a pure semblance of their father. 

“Beomgyu-yah,” He whispered with a lower voice. “Just know that I did all this because I wanted you to be free. I care about you, you know?”

He waved his younger brother goodbye, pushing the large doors to the emergency room where people dressed in blue scrubs awaited his command. Beomgyu tried to chase after him, but he stopped in his tracks. All his life, he was always behind his father, his mother, and his brother. Now, he was behind you. Through the small creaks of the door, he traced your sulking silhouette, seeing himself in the way you bowed down to your own brother, who stood upright with a phone and several envelopes in his hand. Maybe if he let his pride aside a long, long time ago, then he would’ve come to the conclusion that the two of you weren’t so different after all. 

“This is Kim & Lee LLC’s associate speaking, and we would like to file an academic leave as soon as possible.” 

Throughout knowing you, he had seen you cry for the first time, mimicking the exact same sorrows and anguish that plagued him since he was a child. There was nothing to be done, so he left the hospital, never turning back once.

III. VENUS PLAYS WITH MARS IN A GAME OF CHANCE

Nearly three months had passed, and you didn’t show up since. The band was aware of your periods of being a recluse, but none of them anticipated how bad it was until you stopped responding to their texts and calls altogether. The meeting place felt like a barren wasteland in your absence, and none of them could start practicing without you chanting the counts before every song. Heeseung would come by with a slice of pizza from time to time, and it has become a ritual for them to leave you a slice even when you’re gone. It didn’t matter to them that the offering would turn into mold in a few days—what mattered was how the last slice or two was always going to be meant for you, almost as if you’d come back in the crappy basement to devour your slice and complain about how it’s practically inedible. 

  The band wasn’t the only group of people that felt your absence, though. Beomgyu never realized how important you were in the law society until you gave him a passive-aggressive email that relinquish all your responsibilities as president to him. While a part of him felt happiness at the thought of finally taking over, there was an inkling of guilt within him that felt too unqualified to assume your role. Yes, he’s often lamented to Heeseung that he would’ve been a better president than you, and he even told his parents in a bitter argument that he was doing more as one of the vice presidents than you actually were as president, he had to admit that your absence caused an impending upheaval that practically caused the law society to implode. At first, it started with self-fulfilling prophecies stated by the other executives that were anxious about Beomgyu’s ascension as the de-facto president. Some said he wasn’t suited for the role based on academic performance alone, and others have already made predictions about his eventual impeachment from the board of executives. Your rivalry with Beomgyu was a well-known gag in the law society, but now, it didn’t feel like an inside joke anymore. In your absence, nobody knew what to do—and Beomgyu began to realize that perhaps he didn’t have it in him to be an effective leader and a prolific communicator. 

In some ways, Beomgyu finally realized why you were so effective in a group setting. For one, your ability to make compromises with the rest of the team elevated your status and competence from a newbie to a reliable figure. The same could be said for your band. From what he’s heard from Heeseung, Geonu only recruited you because of your background in jazz. He never considered your dynamics with the group or if you were a difficult person to work with, and he chalked it up to luck that you were good at mitigating all sides of the argument whenever he and Sungchan would bicker. Your effectiveness as a team player was further highlighted in the dashing performances that you and your band would deliver as Joker In. Despite all the arguments and horror stories he’d hear from Heeseung, the Joker In he saw on stage didn’t evoke a single ounce of disagreement or discord. Once the four of you were on stage, it was as if you were a single unit with the rest of the band, seamlessly playing melodies as a natural instinct more so than hours of relentless practice and infighting. 

Rhythm is the pillar of music and poetry, he once heard you utter in your conversations with the band. Though he initially disagreed and tried to back up Sungchan’s lamentations of playing a bigger role in the group, your absence has instantly highlighted why you were a stable foundation in everything that you were involved in. Sure, you weren’t the flashiest of both the law society and Joker In, but your absence placed a large dent in the operations of both. Even if you were a quiet figure in the law society, often staying on the sidelines to approve or reject event proposals while everyone was fighting for credit, everyone would always look to you as a final figure of approval. Once you either accepted or rejected an event and started dispatching the organization committee to plan and make these events come to fruition, all elements of disjuncture ceased to exist. It was the same with Joker In. Sure, you were often in the background trying to maintain stability while Geonu and Sungchan played the lead in each performance, but he was willing to admit that the band’s sound was nothing without your invisible hand guiding each melody and verse into perfection. 

In a way that the band and the law society needed you, Beomgyu realized—albeit with denial and extreme hesitance—that he needed you as well. Without your presence, he couldn’t care less about his academic performance. Nothing mattered when the certainty of him being at the top was secured. The astonishing irony behind all this was that, in some ways, he did ask for this. He did ask to become number one in everything, and yet he failed to realize that perhaps being number one in itself was never something he could ever be. 

The reason he got this far was because of his intense rivalry with his brother. For as long as he could remember, he was always vying for attention from his parents—practically pleading to be seen as anything but his brother’s shadow. Then, it was the several rivals he’d encountered in school once his brother was off to university. They were no match against your unyielding nature, but he would be lying to himself if they didn’t push him to further heights. 

Competition was something that he was always surrounded with, and with you gone, he didn’t know where to start. Nothing mattered to him anymore, and he hated that feeling more than hating you. 

For someone that prided himself in intelligence, he certainly fell short of common sense. Throughout all his years of trying to chase after your success and your achievements, he wasn’t ready for the loneliness and emptiness that would overtake him once he reached the top. Maybe that was why you decided to play in a band, even if doing so would result in parental disapproval. Sure, he didn’t know your life story, but that was at least what stopped him from starting his own band in high school.

What the fuck are you thinking, you bastard. Starting a band? In high school? This is why your brother was always better, Beomgyu-yah. 

“Shut up, Dad,” He whispered, remembering all of the GPS trackers laced on his phone and the strict curfew he had to maintain in his teenage years. Even if he knew nothing about you, it was perhaps the freedom and carelessness you had in you that made him envious of everything you had. To him, you were the epitome of a life he could’ve lived had he not been born into his so-called family—a breath of fresh air that tempted him with the fruits of liberation and rebellion. 

In some ways, he loathed you because he idolized you. He wanted to be you in any shape or form. That was, of course, until he rested his eyes on each news headline that managed to damage your reputation bit by bit. 

KIM & LEE LLC’S GOLDEN HEIRESS DEMOTED AND DISOWNED FROM THE FAMILY TRADE: HER SECRETS ARE REVEALED

The news came out roughly three months ago, right after he caught a glimpse of your brother making a call to the university’s board of directors. A part of him wished that you would fight back the same way you did whenever Beomgyu would cuss you out or make your life a living hell—because to him, you were always a fighter. 

He was aware that hospitals could change a person from the moment they entered into its sanitized walls, but he wanted to believe that you weren’t privy to its wicked curse. Above all the families that wept and got their morale weakened by an undesired diagnosis, an incurable disease, or an exorbitant bill that took a lifetime to pay back, he was sure you were immune to it all, keeping a headstrong demeanor in any situation. 

But all rich children were doomed the moment they were born, and you were just like him, a victim of circumstance. 

All he could do now was to continue dialing your phone number, even if the reply he got was the same, automated, female voice that told him your digital existence was erased from its archives. 

I’m sorry, but your call cannot be completed at this time. Please try again later. 

What if he gave you a chance? What if he got to know you instead of letting his bitterness get the best of him? Could things have been different between the two of you? Or would the rivalry persist in a different, more amiable form? Flashes of images were reflected in the large, bathroom mirror that he constantly gazed at, and in these times of automated mundanity between attending classes and fulfilling his new duties as the de facto president of the law society, all he could see was your smiling silhouette imprinted on the chair that he occupied, telling him again and again that he didn’t belong there. 

He contemplated visiting your father, but the nurse at the reception would always get back to him about your absence. You hadn’t visited him since the day your family withdrew you from university, and now, he didn’t know where you were. The band refused to talk to him altogether, and Heeseung hadn’t been to the basement since he quit his job at the pizza place. Sungchan’s whereabouts were also unknown, and whenever he would bump into Geonu in the hallways, he was met with firm resistance. 

“Don’t talk to me unless you’ve figured out a way to fix this entire mess.” The lead singer’s voice looped in his head. 

Beomgyu didn’t believe in a lot of things, but now, he believed in one thing and one thing only: Pillars and foundations of a building can be broken, but they can also be repaired. If you were what kept everything from falling apart, then maybe it was his fate to be the carpenter that rebuilt all the things that he had managed to destroy. Donning the same, neon red hair dye and scuffed combat boots, he decided to live out his life as the boy who simply wanted to see his favorite band play one, final show in the place where he knew he could be himself, free of the shackles that bound him in a life of academic rigor, a lack of identity, and an endless battle of finally finding who he truly was.

“So you weren’t joking about Dad giving the trust to his secretary instead of us, his goddamn kids…” You remember saying to your brother when you saw your father laying unconscious in the hospital bed. To you, your father was a figure of utmost respect and order, someone who didn’t suit the strings and tubes of IV drips and an oxygen mask. He was an innovator, a natural leader that was always meant to stay seated right in the middle of everything—whether it was the dining table or the main meeting room of Kim & Lee LLC. It was your first time seeing him outside of his usual pristine, tidy suit, and you didn’t know what to feel about the sudden change in appearance. Sure, he has aged, but even in old age, you had at least expected him to live and fight for his life for ten more years, still donning a black, expensive suit with utmost pride. 

“Isn’t this ridiculous?” Your brother replied, crossing his arms. The one thing that separated you from your brother was how difficult his expression was to read. Even in the face of adversary and doubt, he always managed to carry with him an aura of unyielding demonstration, refusing to display his woes on his sleeve. 

“Yeah, I guess,”

“You know, I never wanted to consider you as a part of the family,” 

“I know,”

“But this is a crucial time for all of us, and—”

“So what? Are you gonna create a fucking coalition of sorts within the family and try to sue Dad? The current owner and founder of the firm?”

It didn’t even scathe you one bit that your brother had, for the first time, openly shown his disdain towards you. It was always evident in the way he would avoid you around the house, never uttering a single word to you unless it had something to do with your academic achievements or the future of the firm. When your father announced that his solid line of succession had been broken by your existence, your brother moved out to America, only coming back when news broke that your father’s health was waning. It had always been that way since the two of you were children; the two of you were only siblings by family name and nothing more. 

“If it’s several against one, old man, I’m sure we’ll win,” He coldly stated, flipping through several documents that outlined the future of the firm. There were many things you hated about your family, and your brother was the best example of why that was the case. Even if you refused to believe it, the opportunistic trait that carried your family’s name for generations was a genetic plight that even you couldn’t escape. 

“Don’t you even have a shred of humanity within you? That’s our Dad, and he’s dying!” 

“You didn’t look like you cared enough to arrive at the hospital on time,”

I was spending time with my friends! The only people who cared about me! You kept your mouth closed, demonstrating a pensiveness that only the law society and Beomgyu have seen you perfected. As always, your brother’s lips were pressed in a firm, thin line, eyes never acknowledging your existence. To him, the papers were more important than whatever was in front of him. 

“You didn’t look like you cared enough to even be there,” You retorted, mimicking the same nonchalance that soon became your family’s trademark. 

“My point exactly,” He hummed. “You know how terrible he was to us when we were children, right?”

“That doesn’t excuse ousting him from his position, though,”

“If his so-called leadership and stubbornness is what’s bringing the firm down, then I think it’s about time he left his post,”

“And you’re telling me that you’re the better alternative?” 

It was one thing to admit that your brother was right, but it was another to acknowledge him as the next best option in the line of succession. Despite your father’s rather tumultuous decisions that came as a result of senility and burgeoning egoism, he was a natural at micromanagement. Even in his old age, he still commanded an air of elitism that only leaders had. Your brother, on the other hand, lacked such charisma. For all his smarts and his efforts, he simply didn’t have it in him to wield the same charm and authority that your father did in his younger years. Even if he was a spitting image of him, there was no denying that the resemblance was only in the skin. For what your father had in terms of innate control and governance, your brother fell short of such defining qualities. While you had made a name for yourself as a promising air, he was forever tainted in the tabloids as your father’s shadow, forever chasing behind the outline of his pointed shoulders. 

“Well, I mean—”

“Shut the fuck up,” You spat. “I got better grades than you when you were a kid. I was first place in everything, and you were second at best. I attend the best school in the country, and, as always, you got rejected, opting for inferior schools. I’m already getting offers to attend law school in Ivy League institutions, while you had to beg your professors for a recommendation letter to even try to get into Columbia or Yale. You had your first internship at our company? Motherfucker, I worked at Morgan & Stanley Korea when I was nineteen. You think you’re the only alternative? You think you’re the next best option? Grow the fuck up and sit down. You’re just lucky to be where you are right now because you’re Daddy’s first.”

Now, three months later, you wished you could say more—not to your brother, but to your unconscious father lying down on his eventual deathbed. You wanted to cuss him out; you wanted to tell him how horrible he was; you wanted to plug his life support off then and there; you wanted to maul him into pieces; you wanted to slap him the same way he did when you would do every little thing to disappoint him; you wanted to take all his money and run away; you wanted him to experience the same pain and suffering of being a bastard child that should have never been born in the first place. 

But, by doing so, you were admitting defeat. You were succumbing to an ideal scenario of revenge that would leave you unsatisfied even when your father would die on the spot. As much as it tempted you to destroy him when he was chained by his disease, you were in the game long enough to know that there was a better life out there waiting for you—a life of a true winner. You’ve wasted your entire existence on being the perfect heiress, but now, it was time for change. Now that you were disowned, you were free, and in your eyes, this was a victory in disguise. 

And luck would have it that your pleas for freedom would be answered in a single phone call that sealed the deal. 

“We just got a deal from DooRooDooRoo, they got back to us about the record deal,” Geonu had called you a month later, when you were spending every single day under the comforts of your duvet. Back then, you couldn’t even tell that a month had passed, because everything had remained frozen in time. Each passing sunrise and sunset meant nothing to you when seeing your father’s bedridden image would always feel like yesterday. In a sense, time had been completely difficult to track, and you opted for stopping your clocks altogether, tearing off the calendar in your apartment, and replacing it with its original white walls. You didn’t think that the newfound sparseness of your apartment would worsen the lagging of time that hazed your entire being, but it didn’t matter to you. You were out of school, and you didn’t have a schedule to follow anymore. Why place a calendar on the wall when all the dates are merged into one? 

“What do you mean record deal?” You replied, keeping the phone on speaker to hear his voice. “Geon, we’re a cover band, I doubt they’d even want to sign us because we didn’t send them an original demo,”

Truthfully, the only thing that made the time pass was when you were in front of the electric drum kit in your room, replaying the same songs that once brought you joy in the basement that you managed to call your sanctuary. You contemplated leaving your apartment to visit it once in a while, but there was something in you that didn’t allow you to face Geonu, Sungchan, and Jeongin. What were you going to say to them? They already knew everything the moment the tabloids embarked on a journey of defamation, bearing their voracious fangs on another opportunity—a good story that would destroy the stronghold of your family’s empire. All they needed to know were in the headlines of each news article that was displayed on their television screens and their phones. If Geonu was right about signing a record deal with one of Korea’s biggest indie labels, then it would be bad press to have a fallen heiress as its core member. 

“I sent them the track you worked on,” He stated an amalgamation of static breaching your ears. He was definitely in the basement—most likely alone. The day you disappeared, Sungchan had also gone missing, turning off all his devices and blocking off any form of contact. The same could be said for Jeongin, sans the drastic effort to cut all ties with everyone else. You could still get a hold of him, but it would be in inconsistent lapses of time where he would either sound groggy or overtly happy—nothing in between, and especially nothing like his usual self when he was active in the band. Word had reached your ears from his roommate that Jeongin was admitted to the psychiatric ward a few weeks ago, the culprit being psychosis and his sudden relapse into the same, old habits that marred him in his younger years. 

Ironically, the news you would get from the people that you usually surrounded yourself with when you were a student didn’t come from themselves, but rather, from Beomgyu. Even if you didn’t answer his incessant calls, he would always leave you a voice note every day, detailing his new life as the president of the law society, the current status of your bandmates, and even little tidbits of his life. Without fail, he would always send these in at around six in the evening, making that hour the only way you could tell time. Before you knew it, you kept your watch active, setting an alarm with your smart home monitor to alert you whenever the hour was coming. Then, you would hide under your covers, pressing your cheeks on the cool, glass surface of your phone to hear his voice. Sometimes, you would close your eyes, watching fleeting images of a life that could’ve stayed intact had your father not succumbed to old age. Beomgyu had the voice of a narrator, and each description and detail he provided painted a picture of fragmented memories that felt distant yet so far away. 

“What?” You screeched. You didn’t know how to talk to Geonu, and it was a shame that someone you played music with every day suddenly felt like a total stranger. You were too used to Beomgyu’s soothing voice giving you a glimpse of the outside world, that it didn’t occur to you that the current phone call you were having wasn’t a product of one of Beomgyu’s scheduled voice messages.  

“The track that was in our drafts like, before you went MIA,”

“You mean Carpe Diem? That’s just something I wrote when I was bored, though,”

There were too many sessions in the basement that led to unfinished songs and fragmented drafts, but there was one, concrete product out of all the practices you’ve had as Joker In that never left your head. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact date of writing and actively composing the song, but it was certainly around your sixth or seventh night as Joker In when you began to voice more of your creative inputs into the musical journey that Geonu commanded. 

It was perhaps around the summer season when Jeongin had just replaced Felix as the new bassist of the band. You were sitting on a draft that you had carried with you since high school with your covert experimentations with the adolescent underground music scene. The song was obviously incomplete, but you had the drum track narrowed down to perfection after years of working on it and rearranging some of the fills and sections, experimenting with complex time signatures while retaining a certain sense of replayability that many radio-friendly songs had. At first, it was just a side project that you conjured up after Beomgyu had challenged you to write a song. It may have counted as cheating to repurpose a draft that you made before meeting him, but so long as you changed and updated the song, then it could’ve counted as a new song. By then, you were still on shaky terms with Sungchan, so you opted to ask Geonu to play both the rhythm and lead sections of the guitar. Felix had happily worked on the bass when he was still in Korea, changing a few things here and there to suit his rather intricate playing style. You had worked with Geonu for a few weekends to complete the lyrical bits of the song, but each draft left you in an uninspired mess. Being eloquent in your essays and your courses certainly didn’t translate well into poetry, and even Geonu’s longtime experience with writing lyrics couldn’t quell the dissatisfaction you had with the piece. 

That was until you decided to write your frustrations about Beomgyu, matching up each word, rhyme, and cadence with the tune that you believed you had perfected. You showed Geonu the first draft, solidifying your efforts with his nod of approval. He worked on rearranging a few words to fit the bridge and the chorus, and then, the song was suddenly scrapped. You didn’t know if it was because the band got busy with a surge of live shows and activities, or if you just didn’t want to work on the song any longer. All you knew was that by the time you decided to let go of the song, Beomgyu had replaced your brother and the rest of your family as enemy number one, making the song a daily reminder of him and his deplorable antics. 

“Well, Sungchan completed his bits and covered Jeongin’s bass parts. I sang through it with some of the lyrics I came up with when I was listening to the initial track,”

“Wait… you got a hold of Sungchan?”

Sungchan's whereabouts were kept under wraps since the day you left the hospital and your university for good. At first, you tried to call him, but his number was non-existent on the third ring. Text messages led to nowhere, and his account on Kakao had been defunct when you checked the band’s group chat. The only remnant of his identity was left in Beomgyu’s daily voice messages to you, where he speculated that he might have gone back home somewhere in Seoul.

“I saw someone who might have looked like Sungchan at the station near Mapo-gu today, but I could be wrong. These days, high schoolers are basically giants now, and it’s pretty hard to tell, but I’m still searching for him nonetheless. Did you know? He chased after me when I tried to go to the hospital to see you. We had a long conversation by the vending machine, and then, he just disappeared like that. I think I owe him a lot, really, and if it weren’t for him, then I doubt I’d have the conscience to make things right. Once again, I’m sorry for being a coward that could only apologize through these stupid voice messages. You deserve so much more than that, and even if you don’t wanna see me, the least I could do is try to make amends. You can forget about me after that, but I just wanted you to know that I never hated you—really. I did say that a lot, and Heeseung might disagree, but I don’t think I hated you. I think it was a bit of the opposite.”

You could vividly picture the outlines of Beomgyu and Sungchan by the vending machine near Jeongin’s apartment, sharing a drink or two as they talked about the sudden turn of events. Without Geonu, who often brought out the best and the worst in him, Sungchan was the diplomatic type who disliked conflict. You were aware of him giving warnings here and there to Beomgyu whenever you would storm off from a heated argument with him, but you didn’t know that he would go to such lengths to make things right—and now, the only trace you had of who you could finally call your best friend was in the images that Beomgyu would leave in his voice notes and an unknown text message that read I got rejected. 

“It’s a long story, but he signed the deal. You’re the only one that needs to sign it—of course, if you want to. I mean, I know how much your career and all that matters to you, so it’s no pressure. If you want, I can—”

“I’m signing it,” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m signing it,” You repeated without preamble. Back then, music was just a hobby for you—a way to escape the fast-paced, yet unchanging life of perfecting your image as the ideal candidate to lead your former family’s firm. In your younger years, the thought of pursuing music full-time and escaping the legal field to attend a music college in the heart of Seoul had plagued you, but you let the only thing you’ve known your entire life take over. Now that the foundations of your identity were shackled, you believed it was high time for you to rebuild everything you had lost in the process, facing forward to a newfound pursuit instead of constantly staying in the present. 

“Damn…” You could hear Geonu slowly sniffle in the distance as if he were right next to you. The empty walls of your bedroom had suddenly transformed into the decrepit, unpainted cement that lined the basement. The scent of rotting, molding pizza and lukewarm beer wafted your nose, bringing you back to the sanctuary that you would now call your one, true home. 

“What?”

“I just… You know… it’s been a while since we’ve last seen you, and I just didn’t expect you to sign the deal…”

Now, you could tell that Geonu was crying—something he never did in front of anyone unless he was drunk enough to let his tear ducts do the job. You took the phone away from your cheek, taking your comforter to dab a few splotches of wet tears that slowly trickled down your face. 

“Well, a lot can happen in three months. I’m not in school anymore, I’ve been disowned, and I’m out of the line of succession. I’ve been given an apartment and some hush money to do whatever the fuck I want, and my so-called family has nothing to do with me anymore. I’m free to choose whatever I wanna do, and I think I’d like to tour with you guys for the rest of my life. I never thought I’d be saying this, but fuck, man. I need you guys.” 

“I could say the same for you, asshole. Now quit moping around and get your ass in the studio. We’ll be recording and perfecting our debut album until we can all get a house in Europe and live with fast cars, big houses, and a nice life on the hillside.”

“Sounds like a cult or something,”

“Joker In is basically a cult, and we’re nothing without our founding member, so hurry up and get your ass to the studio. Now.” Before you ended the call, you could hear Geonu’s wide smile welcoming you back to the studio. You ended the call and tossed your phone on your bed, taking your bag of weary drum sticks with you. The map that led to the basement was entrenched in your head, and for the first time, you kicked your sneakers back onto the soles of your feet, jingling the keys to your apartment between your fingers as you heard the click that confirmed the safety of your house. You didn’t even check to see if the door was fully locked. None of that mattered when you were finally coming home.

Sungchan had told you personally that Geonu rejected him in the most “Geonu” way possible. A few days after the band’s reunion in the basement, he had invited you for coffee in one of the cafes near campus. At first, you wanted to change the location of your meeting. After all, being seen as a dropout was the last thing you wanted in your gradual return to life. However, the curiosity within you didn’t seem to die down when you breathed in the air of young adulthood and fast-paced trains. The cafe had always been there since you were a first year, and yet it had only occurred to you now to visit it and see what it had to offer. 

It was a quick, heartfelt conversation between slices of apple crumble and hot cups of warm, camomile tea. He didn’t even give you a greeting; he just sat you down and told you that Geonu didn’t like him back. 

“He said it was to keep the band intact, but I’m sure that’s just his way of telling me that he still wanted me in his life—you know? Even if he didn’t like me that way,”

You would’ve expected an underlying tension in the room during your first few practice sessions with the band, but the moment you entered the basement, everything was left as it was. The rotting boxes of pizza continued to collect mold and mildew, dyeing everything in a murky shade of green. All of the instruments collected dust—a remnant of a time when everything was actively used. Curled ends of guitar strings were strewn on the floor, uncleaned and unscathed since the moment everyone decided to take a break from the basement’s security. The only thing that struck you as a testament to time was how clean the abandoned house looked, perhaps due to a lack of usage. Conversations persisted the way they usually did, and before you knew it, everything was back to normal. Jeongin looked thinner than usual, but he had the same, bright aura of joy and the same passion for Eurovision that he did as before. Sungchan and Geonu continued to bicker in the same manner that they always did, letting the elephant in the room stay dormant. There was no awkward tension or uncomfortable silence that engulfed the entire band, and before you knew it, Joker In was coming closer and closer to perfecting their debut album. 

Today was a different story. There was an announcement by Geonu that practice would commence as usual, and it was granted that there would be a couple of sleepovers in the basement since the deadline to pitch your demo to the label was coming to a close. Being one of the more punctual bandmates out of the rest, you decided to show up an hour earlier, carrying several backpacks filled with toiletries, instant food, and a comforter that held you in your worst breaks. 

“Guys?” You called, only to hear your voice bounce back to you. 

It was normal to hold pranks in the studio, but hide and seek wasn’t the band’s forte. Even if Geonu used his height to his advantage and crept behind small cracks of furniture and large amplifiers, you would always manage to find his mop of hair sticking out in the distance. Sungchan’s footsteps were too loud to ignore, and Jeongin was terrible at keeping his laughter at bay. None of those remnants of your bandmates was present in the studio, and all you could do was heave a sigh at the fact that they might be late. 

Then, there was an eerie feeling that began to consume you. No matter how many times you’ve run up and down the entire house to see if anyone was there, you were left with an empty feeling of solitude, even if you were sure that you weren’t the only one in the building. There was an unshakable presence that made it too difficult for you to ignore, and after ceaselessly checking the same hiding spots again and again, you decided to halt your search altogether and give up. Heeseung often joked about the basement’s ideal location as a horror movie set, so maybe he was right about a few lost souls from the war that lurked in the corners of the basement. 

“You know, this place could have been a burial ground or something, right?” You remembered him saying amidst a flurry of smoke from his bong. Perhaps he was right, and it was about time that you coined yourself a believer of the paranormal. Dropping out of school and throwing away your potential degree was the last thing you imagined, so if the unpredictable managed to stir your life in a completely different direction, then maybe ghosts did exist. Right? 

“Hey…” A voice that only existed within your phone’s voice messages popped up behind your ears. You managed to let out a shrill shriek, quickly turning around to see a man with bright, red hair. His black nails were chipped to the edges, and his dark, grey jeans were distressed to reveal his protruding knees. The scuff marks on his combat boots were accentuated by the dull luster of leather that shone in the sunlight that seeped into the basement. 

“Oh, hi there,” You replied, clearing your throat as you collected yourself. It didn’t occur to you that three months could change anyone this drastically, but seeing your former rival in an outfit that didn’t suit him eased all of the apprehension that was built up in your system. 

“I know I’m the last person you want to see right now,” Beomgyu whispered. You weren’t used to seeing him so solemn, and you certainly couldn’t shake the dissonance in the calmness that he exuded. Even if you hadn’t seen Beomgyu in a while, you always associated him with a ball of anger that threatened to explode at any second, and now, the only thing that resembled his fiery passion was the bright, poorly dyed red dye that stained his head. 

“Well, not really. You’re up there, don’t get me wrong, but you’re definitely below my half-brother, my father, and basically every single person in my family.” You said with a small, awkward smile. 

“Oh, well, that’s good to know, I guess?” Beomgyu asked. He expected you to question his disguise or his presence, but perhaps you weren’t as dense as he thought. Maybe you knew who he was right from the start, even in your drunken state when you decided to send him home from a gig that felt like ancient history. 

“Did your brother tell you what happened?”

“No, but your face was all over the internet for a while. Some tabloids saying Kim & Lee LLC’s star daughter had been removed from the line of succession after it’s been exposed that you were in the underground music scene,”

“Jesus…” You couldn’t help but laugh. “Out of all the reasons that they could’ve chosen, they chose that,”

“Yeah…” His voice was barely a whisper now, and he stuffed his hands in his jean pockets, the same way he did when he nervously walked home with you from the bus stop. “I also heard that your band got signed.”

“Through Heeseung?”

“No, through Sungchan actually,”

“Wow, I never expected him to talk to you like that,”

“I know, right?” 

The light in Beomgyu’s eyes had disappeared, mellowing him out into a completely different person. Now that you had the chance to think about it, his newfound rebellious look suited him more when he would incessantly curse at you and call you by all of the profanities that the Korean language had to offer. The clean-cut, professional air of arrogance that he carried was reserved for the silent meekness that Beomgyu now exuded. 

“So, why are you here?” You asked. 

“The boys told me you were coming,”

“Ah…”

You checked the group chat and saw a flurry of texts from the rest of your bandmates detailing their tardiness. Geonu never went to the music shop since he would usually borrow instruments and equipment from his vast network of student musicians, and Sungchan was never the type to be late over a visit to the record store. Jeongin was a bad liar, and it was evident in his texting patterns that he tried his best to cover everything up with a rather believable excuse of waking up late from a nap. 

“They set us up, didn’t they?” You scoffed. Beomgyu slowly nodded—the confirmation that you needed to finally piece everything together. 

“I mean, three-ish years of basically wanting to kill each other needs to come to an end at some point, right? And it’s not like I’m graduating since I’ve already dropped out of uni…”

Beomgyu continued to fidget with the edges of his pockets, whistling a low, barely audible tune as he lightly kicked the can of empty beer that landed on the sole of his combat boots. When the can rolled over to your feet, you returned it to him with a stronger kick, initiating a simple game of soccer that allowed Beomgyu to display his years of practice in the varsity team. 

“I quit the Law Society, and I also quit the debates team.” Beomgyu interrupted, keeping the can to himself instead of kicking it back to you. He began to do a few tricks and keepy-ups, stopping at the fifth pass to kick the can back to you. 

“Oh,”

“I’m off student clubs for a while, and I’m just focused on getting my degree,”

“What happened to the Choi Beomgyu who wanted to be the best at everything?” You retorted with a grin, turning the can into an impromptu volleyball. 

“You get to a certain point where none of that even matters anymore, really.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah…”

Now, the can was on the ground. You kicked it into a nearby corner and used your bag as a seat, taking your comforter out to wrap yourself around its soft surface. Beomgyu hesitated before joining you on the floor, maintaining a sense of empty space between the two of you. Your eyes traced the thin, sheer curtains that flowed back and forth with the gust of wind that cooled the basement, tracing its trajectory until your eyes landed on Beomgyu’s lonesome outline. 

“Wanna… you know? Talk about it?” You asked, wrapping the comforter tighter around your shoulders. 

“I think we should talk about you first,” He replied with a smile that used to be reserved for everyone else apart from you. 

“Right… Well, I’ve been disowned! Yay!”

“You’re a full-time musician now, though,”

“Another yay!”

The basement had always been a place where you would escape Beomgyu for the simple reason that people like him brought you back to the familial infighting that plagued your childhood. It was a place reserved for music and music only, not a place to recall the copious amounts of studying and perfectionism that you allowed yourself to suffer through in your three-year rivalry with him. You would’ve never imagined that one day, you would be able to share this place with someone like him, but something about having him sit a couple of spaces next to you as you caught up with him felt right, rendering the intensity and tension that you associated with him into an evaporating mist. 

“Man, you’re actually funny,” He said behind a light chuckle. 

“And you’re actually pretty nice behind all your stupid dick jokes,” You retorted with the same, gentle sentiment. You took a can of lemon seltzer out of your bag and tossed it in his direction. He caught it mid-air and gave you an even brighter smile, glassy eyes scanning through the can with awe and nostalgia as he opened it and took its nectarine contents between his lips. 

“Anyway, what about you? What’s going on?” You asked, taking a water bottle out and twisting the cap open. 

“I think I’m gonna stick to being a lawyer, but I’m definitely staying out of the family drama,” Beomgyu replied. The can of lemon seltzer was now on the ground. 

“I thought big pharma and the medical industry didn’t have as much fun as we do in the private sector,”

“After I kind of got over my brother being cut out for the job more than I did, I just felt the need to stop being bitter. I mean, it’s whatever. I don’t really care anymore about my parents telling me that I’m basically a disgrace to the Choi name. I overcomplicated my entire life by focusing on that the moment I started breathing, and I think it’s about damn time I act like a fucking lawyer and defend myself from them instead of constantly looking to them for approval.”

“That’s not a very Choi Beomgyu thing to say,” You laughed, rolling the water bottle until it knocked over his can of lemon seltzer. Its contents began pouring out into the wooden floorboards, and you knew Geonu was going to scold you about it later. 

“Well, the Choi Beomgyu now is not the same as the Choi Beomgyu three months ago,” He replied with a smile, as if to tell you that he’d stick around to help you clean up the mess once everyone else arrived. 

“I still don’t get why you hated me so much though,” 

If Beomgyu were to apologize to you at the hospital or right after the Eurovision watch party, you weren’t sure if you had it in you to forgive him. This wasn’t out of the bitterness and pent-up grudges that you managed to hold onto for so long, but rather, it was more so out of your own pride. You were sure that you would take his apology as is and never speak to him again out of a failure to admit that you, too, had crossed the line when you brought out the same traumas surrounding his own family and his brother. 

Three months of silence was all it took for you to admit that a three-year rivalry felt like a childish game. In essence, the two of you were one and the same, both marred by the heavy expectations of generational wealth and status. Even if there were slight differences in your respective stories, perhaps the intense hostility that characterized the two of you came from the same place—one that made it rather difficult to see each other as equals or separate people. You didn’t know if Beomgyu felt the same, but the peak of your aggression with him certainly came from a hidden, inner dilemma that came from seeing yourself in Beomgyu’s glassy, beady eyes. 

“I actually came down here to explain all that, to be honest—then again, I already feel like I did it pretty well when I talked about my brother and whatnot.”

“Some sort of innate, deep-seated inferiority complex since you were always compared to everyone around you?” You retorted and whistled, prompting Beomgyu to muster a dejected nod in your direction. 

“Yeah, that.”

You know, I had the same thing with my own brother too. Crazy, right? You thought but kept those words to yourself. Words weren’t needed between the two of you anymore; you knew him long enough to understand that he could probably guess what was on your mind. 

“Can I be honest?” You interrupted, taking your comforter and tossing it between his lap. You shuffled closer until the space between the two of you ceased to exist. Beomgyu reluctantly nodded again and took your blanket in his palms, feeling through its seams as he stared at the setting sun. 

“I thought you already were,”

“Well, I mean, really honest.”

“Shoot,”

“I actually knew you were sneaking into our gigs.”

A part of Beomgyu wanted to get up and run out of the basement, but another part of him knew that he should’ve trusted his gut from the start. Though he was aware of socially dense, book-smart academics, he was sure you weren’t of the sort. From managing the law society with impeccable leadership down to being a core member of a band, he knew deep down that adept communication and management skills came with social awareness. Nonetheless, he took the confession with ease, admiring the events at the night bus with a newfound perspective. 

“I played dumb because I didn’t wanna ruin things for you, you know? Music is something that brings people together, and I can understand that in some ways, being in this basement was a safe space for you—some sort of escape from all the bullshit that your parents put you through,” You explained, heaving a sigh as you kicked the now empty can of lemon seltzer towards the same corner where the crushed, dented beer can had landed. 

“And at first, I thought you weren’t so bad. I mean, you actively came to our shows even if, for whatever reason, you hated me at school. I think my thing about the entire ordeal is how I can’t wrap my head around you being so mean to me.”

He always knew you were honest, but he didn’t think you would be honest in such a raw, authentic way—especially with him. 

“Like I’ve said, the Beomgyu three months ago is a different Beomgyu. I didn’t really know how to process the grudges I’d held against my parents since I was kid, so I guess I took it out on the people I’ve been compared to,” He replied, after a few seconds of silent pondering. 

“Is that really it?” You asked, repeating his pensiveness with your own rendition of a long, drawn-out pause. 

“Yeah, that’s it, I guess,”

“Are you sure?”

“What are you trying to say?”

You grabbed your comforter and tossed it into his face, running behind the drum kit in anticipation of an attack. Instead of seeing your comforter fly across the studio, however, Beomgyu remained still, slowly taking off the cotton blanket and neatly folding it into a pile beside your backpack. 

“That you were obsessed with me,” You finally joked. The sun had completely set, and there were no signs of your bandmates coming into the basement anytime soon. Heaving a sigh of relief, you took a seat on the stool that saw the best of your musical abilities, grabbing a thin, 7A drum stick that was worn down in an amalgamation of splinters and cracks. You twirled each stick around your fingers, humming a light, jazzy beat on your head before hitting the ride cymbal and placing your feet on the hi-hat pedal. 

“You’re not entirely wrong,” Beomgyu retorted, taking a seat on one of the amplifiers as he watched you perform a small solo that reminded him of the bossa nova records that would often leak out of his maid’s earphones.  “I did find you pretty cute, I just wished you didn’t show your cards as a teacher’s pet in our first classes together,”

“Little boy couldn’t handle being bested by a girl?”

“No, more like little boy couldn’t handle being bested by a nepo baby,”

The crash cymbals rang in Beomgyu’s ears, but he didn’t step away from the noise. After hearing your band’s studio sessions on several online music streaming platforms for so long, he couldn’t resist the opportunity of watching you play live in such close proximity. To him, you were surely a one-of-a-kind musician, one that managed to turn senseless beats and fills into a melodic journey. 

“Not anymore!” You yelled, tapping your sticks to the side of the snare drum while kicking the bass drum’s pedal to accentuate each rhythmic interval with timed, yet deeply dispersed vibrations. 

“Ex-nepo baby,” Beomgyu corrected. He wanted to pick the acoustic guitar beside one of the larger amplifiers in the basement, but he resisted the temptation to play alongside you. 

“That’s more like it,” You said with a smile, halting your drum solo and slipping your sticks back into a small, slender bag. Pushing your weight off your stool, you leaned backward until you could reach the hilt of the acoustic guitar, gently handing it over to Beomgyu as you readjusted the towel that lined the entire snare drum. He took it and admired the woodwork, recalling the chords that he had taught himself when he was a teenager that had the ability to dream. 

“So, what do you wanna do?” He asked, bitterly scrunching his nose as the dissonance of untuned strings reverberated in his ears. You tilted your head to the side, but Beomgyu took his palm up in the air to stop you from getting up from your stool again.

Thom Yorke was right, everyone can play the guitar. 

“Can you sing?” You asked, leaning your chin onto your palm while keeping your elbows leveled onto the cotton surface of the towel on top of the snare drum. 

“Sorta?” Beomgyu replied with a shrug. 

“Can you set up the mic on your own?” 

“I think so?” 

“Great, show me what you’ve got. I’m sure being a big fan also means belting out notes like Geonu, right?” Once Beomgyu was confident enough about the tuning of the guitar, he started to strum the chords that lined each stanza to the song you wrote. Instead of playing along, you deepened your trance and kept your eyes on his slouched figure, watching a man that could’ve been a musician with you in a different world. The basement had always been a sanctuary for the two of you, and now, free of all the ills of wealth and familial obligations, you openly shared your secure liberation with him, watching him play a song that was written for him.

EPILOGUE: CARPE DIEM

Wе'll play our love against your hate

Don't you count on us to let you win today

Today

Through the corners of your eyes, you could see Beomgyu in his so-called disguise: bright, long, red hair sprayed on with less than perfect agility and accuracy, torn sleeves that revealed his stick-and-poke tattoos across his arms and chest, ripped jeans to match his long legs, and a pair of combat boots that made his walk turn into awkward waddles between the dance floor and the bar. God forbid you found him attractive in the daylight, but the nighttime brought out a different beast in him. He wasn’t the snobbish, prideful boy that you would bicker with during your law modules; he wasn’t the sharp-tongued asshole you wanted to fight in the middle of the hallways; he wasn’t the man that made you feel less than a woman whenever he unluckily graced you with his presence; he was just Choi Beomgyu—a lost boy under the dark, neon lights of the disco ball of fate that spun the two of you together in a distorted, complicated mosaic of trials and tribulations. 

You wouldn’t dare admit it, but you found him rather attractive from the start. That was the reason why you wanted to catch his attention when you first met him in your first-year orientation. Back then, he had sleek, black hair, trimmed to perfection to explicitly embody his status with a single look. While you presented yourself as the exact opposite of who he used to look like, there was no harm in trying, right? 

Who knew that your lack of courage to speak to him and befriend him from the start would spur a three—almost four-year—rivalry of academic battles and hurt? You certainly didn’t predict it, but perhaps fate worked in wonderful ways, as he was now doing two-steps to a song that you wrote, composed, and poured all your heart into. 

A song about Choi Beomgyu. 

We danced and played until the sun came

Writing a story using our names

About a generation not afraid to seize the day

Geonu’s voice was the perfect touch to the lyrical prose and intricacies you communicated through the song. It was sweet, yet packed a pang of pain in each syllable—something that you always applauded him for. What made his performance better was how it made Beomgyu’s wasted presence look like an angel—as if Geonu’s voice was the spell you needed to finally see the man as a divine, untouchable being in your eyes. The test lights of all different colors glowed like a halo on the crown of Beomgyu’s head, and with the last cymbal to end the song, you immediately got up and dove to the crowd, throwing your drum sticks behind as your lips grazed the man you’ve hated for the past three years. 

Beomgyu couldn’t tell if he was too drunk or if he’s waited for this moment since he saw you on the edge of the row at an introductory elective he chose to fill his schedule, but he took your arms in his in one, fell swoop, catching you in your fall with the sturdiness of his grip. In an instant, all of the feelings he had for you blended into a single word: love. 

Who knew that hate was not the opposite of love? He certainly didn’t. In a sense, he should’ve listened to Heeseung from the start and swallowed his stubborn pride—then again, he also knew that life didn’t work that way. At this moment, he thanked his unyielding nature for allowing him to be with you for three, long years. Even if there was an incessant voice within him that complained about the prospects of being with you earlier had he not been so difficult, there was an equal part of happiness within him that was completely satisfied with the way things were. Chance worked in wonderful, albeit unpredictable ways, and maybe if he didn’t hate you so much, he wouldn’t even know of your existence from the start. 

The crowd around the two of you cheered as they watched you engulf Beomgyu in another, languid embrace. Their voices were mere whispers filtered with the booming sound of Geonu’s speech in the microphone and Sungchan’s own guitar solos; all you could see was Beomgyu’s angelic face between your soft, sweaty palms. The rush of adrenaline that usually came with playing shows was now replaced with the gentle hums that echoed across the cages of your chest, aching with a pulsating pain that threatened to implode inside of you. 

“You’re such a loser,” Beomgyu whispered, taking the back of your hands in his as he caressed the surface of your knuckles with his thumb. You could feel his rapid pulse quicken by the amount of alcohol he consumed, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t need to be inebriated to feel a certain way. 

“Shut up,” You retorted, touching the tip of your nose on his before climbing back up to the stage to finish the song one and for all. 

With the band together, arm in arm, the four of you gave the crowd the last bow you’ll ever give them. Salty tears were shed, roaring claps and cries for an encore were heard in the distance, and the only person in your eyes was Beomgyu, who was sober enough to stand still and spill his drink in your face. In return, you blew him a kiss and threw a single drum stick in his direction, watching him effortlessly catch it and twirl it between his fingers. As the chants for an encore grew louder, you stared at each of your sweat-ridden bandmates—all of them nodding at the last request. 

“Alright, assholes,” Geonu began, taking the mic stand apart and throwing it to the side. “You asked for it, so we’ll give you one more performance. One more, yeah?” 

Sungchan didn’t even need to play the first chord to the song; Jeongin didn’t need to pluck the strings to his bass; you didn’t need to go back to your drum kit to strike the first beat; Geonu didn’t need a microphone to signal the first note of the song. Everyone knew what the next performance was going to be, and they crowded around the stage, forming a circle with Beomgyu at the center. 

This one’s for you, prick. You mouthed with a wide, ear-to-ear grin on your face. You took a can of lukewarm beer and pierced it right in the middle with your teeth, watching the crowd gaud you to finish it all in one go. Then, you crushed the empty can in your fingers and threw it to the side, rushing back to your band as they all sat on the edge of the stage. 

“You guys know the words to this one, right?” Geonu shouted. The crowd roared with approval and kept their feet still in anticipation despite the hazy inebriation that turned their vision into a mere collection of blurred movements. The alcohol had rushed past your bloodstream and circulated in your head, forming a telescope that pointed to Beomgyu as your one and only North Star. 

Look me straight into the eyes,

When I truthfully lie to you

For a graduation gig, this was perhaps one of the best gifts you could ever ask for. No amount of material desire could replicate the sense of community felt within the tiny, decrepit basement that your band has called home. Now that you’ve thought about it, this basement didn’t seem to belong to your band anymore. It belonged to everyone in the room. Those who wanted to escape a life of mundanity and academic pressures, those who wanted to forget about the time they fucked up their jobs, those who wanted to remember their youths with rose-colored lenses and shagadelic sad boy music, and those who just wanted a place where they could be themselves. The basement was a home—no, a sanctuary—that welcomed everyone with open arms—even the likes of Choi Beomgyu. 

Dreams are of your taste,

Mornings smell like you

You took control of the chorus and screamed to your heart’s content. Everyone’s voices blended into a harmonious blend of heartfelt solidarity. There were people making out in the corner of the bathroom, those that were too drunk to stand and yet muttered the lyrics in the best way they could, and the strongest soldiers of your long setlist remaining still, arm in arm with each other as they continued to sing the lyrics with you and your band. Beomgyu was still in the middle, eyes glued to your swaying figure as you slowly descended from the stage again with a microphone in your hand. 

The compass fails to listen to me,

My lost soul’s wandering,

And searching for the path that leads to you

Geonu, Sungchan, and Jeongin descended the stage too and started interacting with the crowd. You could see Heeseung in the distance waving at you with two joints between his fingers and a girl clad in a bright green apron in his other arm. He gave you a thumbs up and bowed before going to the bar, and you returned his gesture with a fervent scream of gratitude. You then took Beomgyu’s head and ruffled his hair, letting the residue of his red dye stain your palms. 

“So that’s what the song meant,” Beomgyu whispered right next to your ears, watching your panting figure gulp down an entire bottle of water in one go. He took the microphone from your hands and sang the last verse to the of his best abilities, letting his mind scavenge through all the times he’s secretly listened to your band’s discography on Soundcloud. There was no use in pretending he didn’t know any of the words when he’s spent every waking moment listening to Joker In on his commute to and from campus. 

“Yeah, kind of funny, right?” You replied, tossing the empty bottle to a nearby trash can. Beomgyu tossed the microphone back to Geonu, who was now being nursed back to health by Sungchan. You gave the two a nod and took Beomgyu’s hand to leave the confines of the basement. 

Now that the two of you were outside, you breathed in the fresh scent of grass and greeneries that surrounded the abandoned house. The night sky in hues of navy evoked divine iridescence with the hymns of the crickets and fireflies that sparked the outskirts of town into a bright, starlit grove of secrecy. You took another can of beer that you hid inside the pockets of your overalls and crushed it open, offering a sip to Beomgyu once you were finished taking a large gulp. He refused, leaning his tall frame on the unpainted walls of the house. The noise from the basement echoed into the vast, empty skies. Everyone’s voice seemed to repeat the chorus of the song in muffled hums, and you joined their choir with a quiet rendition of your own, humming the song that brought you to Beomgyu in a gentle lullaby. 

The compass fails to listen to me,

My lost soul’s wandering

And searching for the path that leads to

You stared at Beomgyu before finishing the last line of the verse, twirling the cool can of beer between your fingers. It was impossible to hate him under the moonlight. 

“Do you still think I’m that sexy stranger that you almost took home with you from the bus stop?” He asked, craning his neck to look at you with his glassy eyes. 

“Dipshit, we went over this a long time ago. Did you really think I was that stupid?” You replied, returning the rhetoric while fishing for a pack of cigarettes in your pockets. Beomgyu scratched his head and cleared his throat, averting his gaze to meet the destroyed leather of his combat boots. 

“Well, you’re still kind of dense…” 

“A face like yours is difficult to hide, you know? Even with your dumb excuse of a disguise.” 

A light chuckle escaped your lips. Beomgyu always wondered what you’d sound like if you laughed with him instead of laughing without him. Perhaps it was the remnants of alcohol that remained in his bloodstream, or perhaps it was the irresistible, honey-like tone in your voice that made him want to hear you laugh again. 

“Can we start over again?” Beomgyu interrupted. This time, he positioned himself at an angle that made him face you regardless of where his neck was aching to go. You gave him a small smile, followed by a middle finger as you let the fizz of beer emulsify within the confines of your mouth. 

“Seriously? I thought seeing your dumbass play guitar in the studio was already enough?” You replied, letting the embers from your lighter reflect its yellow flames in Beomgyu’s marble-like eyes. 

You were not one to waste a cigarette, but a single puff engulfed you in a woozy feeling of nausea and turbulence. As you stubbed the light out of the long, white stick on the dying grass around it, you turned your attention back on Beomgyu—the most patient he’s been since the two of you first met. Everything with Beomgyu felt long and drawn out, but this time, you didn’t mind. The night was long, and you wanted all the time in the world to start over, even if it meant confessing some of your deepest, dirtiest thoughts to him. 

Carpe diem. Seize the day. 

And so, you did. Beomgyu’s cheeks felt like satin feathers ruffling and tickling each of your fingertips, electrifying you with a gentleness that lulled you closer to him. There was nothing to be afraid of from the start, and even if it took you three years to overcome that unbridled, irrational fear that is Choi Beomgyu, you were nonetheless glad that it was all over. Another day was about to come, and who knows? Maybe Beomgyu wouldn’t be an enemy anymore.

—CREDITS: @writingmochi @gyvhao @chocorenchin @michipan @hsgwrld (hi meg !! also tagging you on this because this is a eurovision fic lMAOO this is vivian on her txt blog btw !!)

[sadviper]

Woo Do Hwan: Interview with Kankoku TV Drama vol. 97 (Aug 2020)

Once again, much thanks to @staidwaters​ for graciously reviewing and correcting!!! This was a really hefty interview, hope you enjoy~

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Woo Do Hwan

Sword, bow, and horseback riding for the first time

A “Monstrous Newcomer” in a career-making, historical drama debut

In 2016, in the movie “Master”, Woo Do Hwan played the role of Lee Byung Hyun’s subordinate. Even though he appeared onscreen for just three minutes, he left a strong impression, attracting attention. Since then, he starred in “Save Me” (2017 OCN), taking on the nickname of “Monstrous Newcomer” and setting out on a brilliant career path. The next step he takes will be his first historical drama “My Country” (2019 JTBC).

Tackling a historical drama is an ideal chance for young and promising actors to grow; they have a rare chance to study in depth with multiple superb veteran actors over the long filming period. Woo Do Hwan did not miss this opportunity. His new work “The King: Eternal Monarch” (2020 SBS) leverages 120% of what he learned from “My Country”, and his popularity is surging.

Struck by a midwinter waterfall, the most dreadful and frigid opportunity to showcase yourself

--What kind of work is ”My Country”?

WDH: Each of the characters clash with the others for the sake of their personal convictions. This drama depicts their love and friendships. The country they are each reaching for … in a way, you could say they seek the same goal. Everyone wants a country in which they can live happily, but each person has a different path to that goal. This work skillfully depicts the conflicts that arise in the midst of this.

--Please introduce the role that you play.

WDH: Nam Seon-ho is an illegitimate child born to a family of nobles (yanban), and he has suffered greatly because of his birth. The poor guy is only able to relax his guard and laugh when he is with Seo Hwi (played by Yang Se Jong) and his younger sister Yeon (played by Jo Yi Hyun). However, even under such circumstances, he holds onto his ambitions. He doesn’t want other people to experience the same kind of pain that he has endured, so he strives to become the right-hand man of Yi Seong-gye (played by Kim Young-cheol), the future founder and king of the Joseon Dynasty. However, it doesn’t go as expected and I end up in opposition to Hwi, my dearest friend.

--What things did you pay attention to when creating the role?

WDH: Since it’s a period drama, it was difficult to get used to the way of speaking and tone of voice. It took me a while to get the hang of it. Now  I have the opposite problem, I’m doing my best to shake off the historical tone (laughs).

--The gorgeous hairstyles and clothing were a sight to behold.

WDH: Honestly, at first I thought “Long hair probably won’t suit me…” (laugh). So early on, I participated in many concept meetings and tried out different hairstyles. Even with long hair, there are many different hairstyles that can be made, such as wearing with armor or tying it up. I collaborated with the director to choose the most suitable style according to the situation in the drama. I was able to try on as many outfits as hairstyles, but I really enjoyed being  able to wear the special costumes such as the armor and the inspector’s garments; things we normally don’t get the chance to wear.

--How did you practice horseback riding, swordsmanship, and archery?

WDH: Before filming started, I studied martial arts for about two months. Filming lasted nine months, so in total I was focused on this work for a whole year. While filming action, it’s important to skillfully capture the scene, but the most essential thing is to not to get hurt. For that reason, the cinematographer, my co-stars, and I always had to be in perfect sync. It took time to match movements for the sword fights.

--You became the topic of much discussion when you revealed your magnificent physique in a waterfall during the opening of the drama. What are your secrets for managing your fitness?

WDH: I train on a regular basis. If I only started working out when I knew there were going to be scenes with skin showing, it’d be stressful trying to build up my body in a short period of time for shooting. After all, I don’t know when or where I will have to strip down for a scene! (laugh) Usually I play a lot of soccer, and I’ll go to the gym to train if I have time. If I take care of myself properly as a habit, then I don’t need to worry if my body looks good or if I should put in more effort during acting; I can just concentrate on my performance.

--Was the director’s reaction a good one?

WDH: He was extremely happy, hahaha. They keep trying to make me take my clothes off, so I was like, “Come on, give me a break!” The road to the filming location for the waterfall scene was rugged and steep and it was incredibly cold; it was the most difficult scene. Se-jong even said “I never want to go into water that cold again”.

--A lot of viewers said that “Nam Seon-ho is the most pitiful man in the world.” How do you personally feel?

WDH: I wanted to present Seon-ho as a tragic figure, so I was glad that the audience saw him the same way; it encouraged me to put in even more effort and I worked hard to build up his character. Seon-ho constantly stands on the boundary between life and death, living a life where he might die at any moment. He never manages to accomplish any of his dreams, and it is only at the very end that he realizes what is most precious to him. However, even though Seon-ho is a tragic character, if we just focused on the sadness the drama would be hard to watch and it wouldn’t be interesting at all. Therefore I wanted to show many things with him, such as him being a powerful figure, and the loneliness his power hides.

He was able to finish the drama because he was with Se-jong, his co-star of the same age.

--At what points did you sympathize with Seon-ho?

WDH: There is always a conflict in Seon-ho’s life in that he always has to sacrifice something in order to get something he wants. Seon-ho’s situation is an extreme case, of course, but I think that in our lives there are many moments like his, even if they are small and trivial. Moments when we desire what we can’t have, or throw away things we shouldn’t throw away. There are also moments when we all have to give something up for the sake of a goal that we are reaching for.  In the midst of that, I worried about the things that I should protect, so I deeply sympathized with Seon-ho, whose ideals and emotions were in conflict with each other.

--Your portrayal of the character’s emotions was well-received. When was Seon-ho the most emotional?

WDH: It would be when he heard that Seo Hwi was alive. I had a deep rapport with Se-jong in all my scenes with him. From a certain point onwards, the events in the drama truly felt real, and I fell more and more in love with Se-jong (laugh). I deeply empathized with Seon-ho’s emotions, which made me want to perform even more intensely in this work.

--Concerning expressing emotions, are you the type to do a lot of preparation beforehand? Or are you the type to perform what you feel on the spot?

WDH: I think I am half-and-half. Beforehand, I’ll think, “So we’re filming this kind of scene today”,  why is this happening, and what was the situation before this scene? However, it’s difficult to continuously hold onto emotions because there are rehearsals and blocking out our positions with the director. So I will concentrate on creating the emotion in the moment when acting.

--And what about your mutually dependent relationship with Yang Se-jong, who played the role of Seo Hwi?

WDH: I believe it would have been very difficult if Se-jong hadn’t been there. I relied on him a lot. The make-up room was set up in a large van onsite, and while our hair was being done, we would go over our lines. If one person said their lines, then the other person would just naturally respond with their own lines. We are the same age, not just in the drama but also in real life, so in both the Goryeo and modern eras, we were always communicating well, back and forth.

Se-jong always helped me, and even though we were together on location for very long periods of time, not once did we fight or have a conflict of opinion. We spent our time together as good friends, always being considerate of each other.

--There were many scenes of Seon-ho and Hwi’s friendship that brought out tears, but was there a particular scene where you especially felt the friendship between the two?

WDH: All those scenes where we rescued each other. Especially that scene in the latter half, where Hwi took Seon-ho out of Yi Bang-won’s (played by Jang Hyuk) house; that was memorable. Then in the first half, during the massacre of the Liaodong Punitive Expedition advance party, there’s a scene where we cross swords in the midst of combat and I recognize my dear friend Hwi. That scene was very good and had a big impact.

--What is your impression of Seolhyun (AOA) as Han Hee-jae?

WDH: Seolhyun was truly a “celebrity” to me (laugh). She is one of Korea’s top idols; I’ve seen her movies. When I heard that she would be co-starring with me, I was very much looking forward to it. Once we were actually performing together, I was amazed that her acting was even better than I expected. Seolhyun was the youngest on location, but she had a very mature attitude during filming. In front of a large crowd of her seniors, she played a bold and strong woman. I was impressed.

--The antagonism between Seon-ho and his father was one of the highlights of the drama. How was it like to co-star with Ahn Nae-sang, who played the role of your father?

WDH: Ahn Nae-sang sunbae was like a real father, a very interesting person. Although he’d say “Seon-ho is an impertinent son” (laugh), he worked well with me, and did a lot for me. During breaks, he tells jokes and lightens the atmosphere on set, but once filming starts, his gaze radically changes and he becomes a terrifying father. He’s not someone who hands out advice left and right to juniors, rather, he is a person who reacts kindly and looks after us. 

Extremely jealous of Se-jong’s Japanese fanmeet

--What are your thoughts on successfully wrapping up your first historical drama?

WDH: I wore hanbok, long wigs, and armor--I got to experience all of these things for the first time. I’ve also never done things like swordsmanship, archery, or horseback riding, so each one of those was a new challenge. Because I have never lived in that time period, I worried about how I should portray it. Despite that, I enjoyed everything. The remote locations that I visited were very beautiful, and during breaks it was a wonderful experience to enjoy the scenery and watch the seasons change instead of sitting in the dressing room. I’ve heard from my seniors that once you’ve done one historical drama, you’ll want to do another, and now I know what that feeling is like for myself.

--What was the most memorable location?

WDH: In the opening scenes, I often went to the countryside, but first I filmed the waterfall scene and the cliff scene. That cliff scene was absolutely terrifying. I scaled the cliff and did the action scene, but I thought...I might actually die if I fall (strained laugh).

--Watching the behind-the-scenes footage, you seem the quiet type but at the Japanese fanmeeting, I feel that you were skilled at speaking onstage. What is your actual personality?

WDH: Do I look like someone who doesn’t say much? I’m definitely not the talkative type, though. Hahaha. I talk a lot when I’m with Se-jong, but the interesting thing is, how much Se-jong and I will say changes depending on the day. On some days Se-jong speaks more than I do, and on other days I won’t shut up (laugh).

--Since filming continued for about a year, was it difficult to break free from the role of Seon-ho?

WDH: Honestly, I wouldn’t have thought about Seon-ho without today’s interview. However, Seon-ho’s sword is in my living room, so whenever I see it, I’m going to remember (laugh). But because I can’t use historical speech in the drama that I’m currently filming, I try to forget as much as possible.

--Currently you’re in the middle of filming the drama “The King”, right?

WDH: In “The King”, one person plays two different roles. The show depicts parallel worlds. In one world, Lee Min-ho sunbae plays the emperor and my character, Jo Yeong, has been by the emperor’s side since childhood and is the captain of the Royal Guard. In the other world, I am Jo Eun-seop, a social service worker whose personality is the complete opposite to Yeong’s. I’m having a lot of fun filming this, so please look forward to it.

--What does “my country” mean to you?

WDH: I believe it’s the people around me. I have family, I have friends, and I also have colleagues. A life where I can live happily with all of them, that is my dream country, I guess. No one goes on without desire, so I want to live together while caring for each other.

--You’ve been called the “Monstrous Newcomer”. With this kind of recognition, do you feel pressured?

WDH: I’m always under pressure. However, I tell myself I can’t lose to it, I have to work harder to overcome it.

--Finally, a message to your Japanese fans.

WDH: 2020 was the year I definitely wanted to meet all my Japanese fans, but filming for “The King” started earlier than expected and hasn’t finished yet. I was incredibly jealous when I heard that Se-jong held a Japanese fan meeting at the end of 2019. When “The King” finishes, I would like to meet you all. Until then, please take care of yourself and be happy. I will do my best to finish my work and greet you in good form. If you haven’t seen “My Country” yet, I definitely invite you to watch it.  I also hope you look forward to “The King”.

You can direct fan mail to:

KEYEAST / 30, 11-Gil, Hakdong-ro, Gangnam-gu, Seoul 06042 Korea

[roublardise]

my "Crowley isn't attracted to women" take

for @spnprideweek - day 2 - mlm

cw: dicussion of homophobia & transphobia all in all I wanted to highlight how canon gay Crowley is bc I love him 💕 thank u spn for Crowley even tho he deserved better

in the last weeks I've realized there's a huuge consensus in the fandom for pansexual Crowley. if you're pan or not and wanna hc Crowley as pan, power to you! but what's bothering me is the non-discussion of it all. the way it seems obvious for everyone. whereas, to me, Crowley has been canonically gay all this time.....

disclaimer: I'm aware Mark Sheppard alledgely said he saw Crowley as pansexual, however I can't even take these words for canon without context. Especially not when a year later he'd say Crowley's sexuality didn't matter. The way Mark Sheppard talks about characters' sexuality is more a "why are people making a big deal let them be" than "the character doesn't care." Moreover, actors pov can't be taken as canon imo. Jensen Ackles thought Dean straight for so long when Dean's been bi all this time as well. Sometimes actors are biased by their own experiences & stereotypes!

disclaimer #2: on god I don't wanna start discourse lmao. I just wanna share my silly thoughts about a tv show & question the way Crowley's sexuality is written in this silly homophobic tv show. don't @ me about what's making you think Crowley is indisputably pansexual bc I assure you I already know your points

That being said, here's why I think Crowley is a bear, a gay man, a trans gay man actually, a homosexual, who isn't attracted to women & some food for thoughts about why the unquestioned consensus towards pan Crowley could have roots in both homophobia & panphobia.

I don't think we can think of Crowley as your usual demon. We know too much about Crowley's life as a human, and the numerous ways in which he acts un-demony, almost humanly after. Considering him simply like a demon with no concept of gender preference who would be pan “by default” wouldn’t be right with his character. But we also can't question his sexuality in the exact same way we would a human's.

It also can't be thought in the same way as angels': as once-humans demons do have a concept of gender. Crowley especially cares a lot about his gender presentation and the way he's addressed. Not only does he literally sell his soul for a bigger d*ck as a human ; as a demon he uses the same vessel where other demons are shown to move once they had to leave one ; and for the few hours Crowley's possessing a woman, he clearly states he should still be referred to as king.

This will all be used for homophobic & transphobic jokes in the show, but I'll get back to that later on. Gender does matter to Crowley's identity, and I think it could be extended to his sexuality.

I've seen numerous descriptions of it all saying Crowley's sexuality was "ambiguous" and I guess it is, as he never explicitly used any label. However "ambiguous" doesn't mean bi or pan. It doesn't mean anything besides the fact we can't draw a clear-cut conclusion of his sexuality.

Imo we can actually draw a clear-cut conclusion of Crowley's sexuality but yeh, I'm getting there.

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Let's take a look at canon events around Crowley & sexuality!

His character introduction is him enjoying making a homophobe man kiss him for a deal

It is rumoured that he was a demon's lover (Lilith's)

He heavily flirts with Bobby

He french kisses Bobby for a deal and takes a pic

He never kisses a woman on screen (tell me if I forgot anyone!)

He flirts with every single man he sees, and even more strongly when it's making the other uncomfortable

The other parent of Crowley's son is never mentioned nor even brought up

He has two orgies that we know of

He has sex with a demon who's possessing a woman (Lola) when he was addicted to human blood

He dates, has sex with, and asks Dean to rule Hell with him. He's in love with Dean

On late spn he drinks fruity drinks

He flirts with and implies he had sex with an angel (Naomi)

He flirts with Death (Billie)

He's into BDSM

I'm not gonna go into details with all the sexual stuff he says bc there's a lot.... But it's always about gay sex. (once again, if I'm forgetting smth pls tell me nicely)

Now, with all that I'd like to question specifically the elements people use to say Crowley is canonically attracted to women.

He has two orgies that we know of

There’s the one Crowley has while he’s himself possessing a woman ; iirc it’s a foursome with two other men and one woman. Crowley still counts as a King, as the show makes sure we know, admitedly this dialogue implies we should still think of him as a not-very-manly-man.

Honestly, if one is convinced Crowley is attracted to women based on this scene.. okay. Personally I don’t see it because the orgy is unplanned, it’s an opportunity Crowley takes. Is he even attracted to the two other men?? Who knows. We don’t even know if Crowley even touches the other woman, there’re so many ways to have group sex. Even if he did, having sex with one woman doesn’t make it impossible for him to be homosexual.

The second orgy is with Dean. Crowley describes it then: “We've done extraordinary things to triplets.” It’s interesting how before I went to check, I thought it was clear the triplets were women. But not at all! I’ve been tricked by heteronormativity myself. So this is up to interpretation. Even though the way the show doesn’t make sure we know the triplets were women is pretty telling (as I’ll talk about later).

It is rumoured that he was Lilith's lover

Well, this is a rumour. In this relationship Crowley would know Lilith as a demon possessing a woman, and Lilith would know Crowley as a demon possessing a man as well. Who's even to say they met in their vessels to sleep together. That's the kind of cases in which the ambiguity of Crowley human/demon situation makes it impossible to draw any kind of conclusion towards Crowley's attraction to women. Also if anything Lilith is clearly a lesbian lmao.

He has sex with Lola when he was addicted to human blood

Same thing here, the relationship is one of demon/demon. Though we do now they do meet in their vessels to sleep together. Besides that, the sex happens while Crowley is at a low point. She's the one bringing him human blood, which makes the sex more of a transaction than anything. It does fit a very grey area of consent which would be fair to question.

We can't know for sure whether the demon possessing the woman was a woman as well, but let's say she was: 1/ Crowley having sex once or twice with a woman doesn't prevent him from being homosexual. 2/ What is he seeing if not a demon's true form? 3/ Wasn't he in a self-destructive mental state?

It's a stretch, imo, to assume Crowley was attracted to her.

He flirts with and had sex with Naomi / flirts with Billie

This one is so ridiculous to me bc Naomi is an angel and as a demon, Crowley sees her true form. We don't even know who was her vessel when they had sex.

The flirt thing is interesting however, bc iirc Naomi and Billie are the only "women" we see Crowley actually flirt with. During the orgies or the demon sex there's no flirt involved. It's interesting bc, as Cas would say: "Naomi's vessel is a woman. Naomi is an angel."

Same case for Billie who's a reaper then Death. Spn is pretty unclear about how the whole thing works but we know reapers are kind of angels. In any case, I won't go as far as saying Billie has any connection to gender.

Moreover, the way Crowley flirts with them is pretty light next to everything else Crowley says to men. It's pretty personal, I'm aware, but I do relate a lot with the way Crowley flirts with them VS how I flirt with men just because (and I'm a lesbian).

Anyway! Both Naomi and Billie are supernatural creatures, which brings the count of women Crowley flirts with to... zero.

-> What I take from all that is that Crowley is attracted to men for sure ; to angels and demons ; and doesn't care about the genitalia involved in the sex he has. We have nothing about the kind of relationships he had as a human. His gender presentation matters a lot to him. The only long-term commitment he has is with Dean. I wouldn't even say he had a committed relationship with Gavin's other parent bc we don't know anything about them.

----------------

But what's my deal with homosexual Crowley? One can wonder, if Crowley doesn't care about bodies, doesn't that mean he can still be written as pan?

No! First because sexual attraction isn't about genitalia (even if transphobes would argue the contrary but they're transphobic so...). And second, well....

I would refer to this point as "how do I know Crowley isn't attracted to women? bc Dean is"

I'm convinced that if the show wanted to write Crowley as anything other than a gay man, it would have been way more obvious.

This is a show who wrote Dean catcalling a faceless woman on the street, for no other reason than to remind the viewers Dean was attracted to women & to balance it with the following homoerotic scene.

One could say spn doesn't have lots of women characters to begin with, but that's my point exactly: when spn wants to show attraction towards women, they do find women for people to be attracted to. Hell, they even give Gavin some girlfriend but never ever bring up the topic of Gavin's other parent. Even though an entire episode is dedicated to learning about Crowley's past.

What's important to understand Crowley's sexuality isn't the people he slept with ; it's the people he doesn't show interest in.

The absence of something is the presence of the thing, blablabla. It's a way to look at homosexuality that heteronormativity makes hard to see because, unconciously, we don't tend to question attraction towards the expected gender. One would ask for a 10 pages essay on why a character is gay, but one would need only a 2 sec kiss to assure a character's heterosexuality or attraction towards the expected gender.

----------------

In Crowley's case, his attraction to men is a huge part of his character right from the beginning (thanks god, at least no one's questioning that). Spn as a show that hears what the fans are saying and twists writing accordingly, is perfectly aware of that. Yet rather than pushing women at him along the course of the show to remind everyone how Not Gay Crowley is - the opposite happens.

Yeh, Lola, Naomi, Billie, they all happen in the later seasons. But even then, the show somehow can't write Crowley as attracted to a human woman.

What happens then is: not only does Crowley fall for Dean ; he engages in some BDSM play with Lucifer : and he switches from drinking only the finest Scotch to fruity cocktails.

The BDSM thing as well as the drink thing are choices rooted in stereotypes, that's how spn is! But it does canonize Crowley's homosexuality. They're depriving him of his "masculinity" as the show goes on, because they purposely write him as homosexual. I don't think spn would have ever written a bi or pan character that way.

We learned a few days ago that Crowley died in a gutter. He died in a gutter for a bigger d*ck. I'm just gonna refer to Oscar Wilde & Mika on this : "some of us in the gutter are looking up at the stars."

The "referred to as king" scene isn't about Crowley being a demon and so not caring about gender - it's the opposite. Other demons are the ones poiting out Crowley's vessel. This is a transphobic joke. It's the demon edition of the "gay boy in a dress" transmisogynistic trope.

Viewers aren't supposed to be on Crowley's side ; we're supposed to be giggling with the other demons while Crowley is being emasculated. Crowley gets a woman vessel because he's a not-very-manly-man, because he's a trans man, because he's homosexual.

And I know that bc Dean is written as bi, and all they're doing is reaffirming the way he does like women while being extra subtle with his love for men.

Meanwhile Crowley is losing influence and power, loses his authority as he loses his throne in Hell, gets humiliated by Lucifer, until all his character revolves around is his love for Dean. The way Crowley is then protrayed as some lovesick ex who can't move on is, imo, a straight man fantasy. Crowley's love is both used as predatory and as a tool to validate Dean's Peak Masculinity.

Spn has been burying their gays all along, and Crowley was right there being punished for not only being in love with Dean but for not being attracted to women. For never being able to be a "normal" guy. For never being able to be seen as a "normal" guy. For checking every homophobic stereotypes in the books. Crowley as a human dies because he's a trans man. Crowley as a demon dies because he's homosexual.

----------------

That's what leads me to be uncomfortable with the way the fandom seems to have a consensus towards pansexual Crowley. (Once again: idc about people's personal hc of Crowley as pan, I just want to think critically about the way no one thinks twice about it & accepts it as canon so easily. Hell, just bc I dared to ask what started the pan Crowley confirmation I got accused of erasing his pansexuality. All I did was ask a question.)

To me, it feels like erasing everything his character went through because he was gay. And it seems to be taken from a reasoning which is going to assume Crowley is attracted to women.

I mean: the reasoning would go "oh, Crowley clearly has a non-straight sexuality -> he's attracted to men -> he's pan" His attraction to women being accepted by default, without needing any backup. And when I look at the canon I see nothing implying he'd be attracted to women. Taking Crowley's attraction to women for granted is following an heteronormative thinking.

Being into people isn't all about who one sleeps with. It's about love. And when we look at what spn shows about Crowley's close relationships, the only meaningful one he got is with Dean. When Rowena wants payback for Crowley making her kill Oskar, she goes for his son.

And it's SO interesting to me because if angels can't be in love because they don't have a soul - can demons? as they're beings with a destroyed soul? And if so, how powerful of Crowley to still fall in love with Dean Winchester.... the power of gay love :) (Crowley 🤝 Cas)

----------------

To conclude all this with some more stuff to think about if, like me, you love questioning everything:

While it's not wrong per se to hc Crowley as pan, it can be worth questioning what's making us so sure we collectively just vibe with it? To me there's a few things: - As I was saying: heteronormative bias - Crowley being a non-fully-human character - Crowley being masculine (despite the show's attempts to erase that) - Crowley being into BDSM - Crowley flirting and making sexual remarks in every context

These, unconsciously, gives a vibe of a character who's "outside" of the gender norm, not making big deal of their sexuality, not even questioning it. This creates this idea of "ambiguity" around Crowley's sexuality. The way Crowley particularly seems to be really chill about sex, is a demon (so what does he know about gender?), and heavily flirty, ... is what most people will link to pansexuality. That doesn't mean thinking of Crowley as pan is being problematic™ ; this means in western medias that's what fills the "pansexual character" imagery (like basically: the Jack Harkness type).

However, when we look at it like that, none of these elements are defining of pansexuality. None of them are excluding him from homosexuality. If not stereotypes.

That's where it gets personal ; but it does make me feel like the huge consensus towards a pansexual Crowley (when there is no clear-cut evidence of it) is erasing the complexity of homosexual experiences. As I said at the begining: I'm happy if pansexual people can relate to Crowley ; everone's free to headcanon. But saying Crowley is canonically pansexual is a stretch - and a take rooted in homophobic stereotypes.

Imo Crowley may have been created with all these traits pushing towards a pan reading of his character. However, as the show went, he was clearly written as a homosexual man. The changes in his portrayal took a turn to be specifically homophobic. He gets imagery that only strictly homosexual characters got (such as drinking fruity cocktails like Aaron. Meanwhile Dean, on the same scene, is allowed beer & whiskey.)

We're used to taking spn's homophobic rep and jokes to make it our own. Yet it seems, when it comes to Crowley, the fandom doesn't see it.

Sometimes people aren't attracted to the gender heteronormativity expects them to be attracted to.......... sometimes people are gay and it's not an umbrella term.

[anotherescsite]

The Eurovision Song Contest we had to have

The journey from Tel Aviv to Rotterdam was an unexpectedly long one. Who knew that when Duncan Lawrence raised the trophy in May 2019 that another Eurovision Song Contest Grand Final would not take place for another 736 days? Having to wait such a long time between two Eurovision (excluding 2 x Junior contests) was excruciating, soul destroying and plainly depressing. And just like that, Eurovision 2021 has come and has now gone.

As the title says, it is The Eurovision Song Contest we had to have. It is a bold statement and I considered it for a day before putting it there. In reflection the song contest in Rotterdam was a wonderful event for many reasons which I’d like to discuss a bit. So this may take a while, but bear with me and hopefully, I’ll make it worth your while.

THE HOSTS

Four hosts was two too many, but let’s talk about them. Chantal is beautiful and the most professional of the foursome. Jan was the token male and while his performance was contained to a very small potion, it was nevertheless, fine. Edsilia was much more chilled than I expected and provided a warm presence amongst these people. Nikkie was probably the most down to earth of them all, possibly the most personable, but also somehow cold.

In actually effect, while there were four of them, they worked. No one took a lite load but they each had an equal presence in the show. As many other people have mentioned, everyone would have preferred more Edsilia and Nikkie to Jan and Chantal, but I’m not terribly fussed. They were all well practiced and very on point for the event and as a viewer I was pleased by this.

THE STAGE 

Like most Eurovision stages, they do not look like anything unless you turn on the lights. That was definitely the case for this one. The lights were on, the stage sparkled, and the stage was alive in every way that it was asked. The screens provided everything that were needed for each of the songs and other performances. The transparent screen in the middle of the venue added so much to some of the performances and was the masterstroke that made some of them visually exciting.

There was one thing about the stage that felt like they were reminiscing stages of the Dutch past. I felt a hint of the Amsterdam 1970 stage on the sides. I don’t think it was a co-incidence, but I liked the fact that the paid homage like that. Everything else was state of the art.

POSTCARDS

The postcard films were well put together to present a place in the Netherlands, a tiny house structure with items that belong or relate to the act coming up and then a green screen appearance of the act in the tiny house. 

While the postcard as a whole were well put together and cleverly created, I felt I missed out on seeing more of the Netherlands because they were focused more on what was coming and less with the airport, the canal, the lighthouse, the field, the tulips and whatever else was presented. So it’s only a small thing in a small film, but I wanted more of a Netherlands tourism experience in the films.

THE INTERVAL ACTS

It’s a funny thing about this year’s interval acts, and to be completely honest, I happy about it. If you asked a fan about Eurovision 2014, people will say that they remember ‘Love love peace peace’ and Justin Timberlake. In 1994, people remember ‘Riverdance’. In Tel Aviv, there was Madonna. I like that the intervals this year did not overshadow the entrants to the song contest. They were a time filler, a light refreshment and then it was over. For the most part well performed, entertaining and gone before you know it

I recall there was something about water in the first semi final, there was a dancer and a bike in the second, the former winners sang on Rotterdam buildings and some unifying song and dance. Nikkie did some little films about losing, and behaviour in the green room during voting. All were quality performances that were well constructed, organised and presented. They held the viewers attention while we waited for the votes to commence/announcement of the qualifiers and because they were each engaging, they seemed to go quickly.

THE OUTCOME

In most cases, things went as expected in the semi finals. Fans were disappointed with Croatia not qualifying, but I don’t think the betting had them qualifying. Romania was expected to qualify, but Roxen could not sing the song and move at the same time. Ireland suffered the same fate with an impressive staging. Semi final 2 went as expected as well; maybe Austria was expected to get through in place of Albania; i disagree.

The results/placings in the final were a bit of a surprise to me, but there was one certainty for me and that was that Italy deserved their win. There is a very simple reason for it’s success too. It’s not that it was a loud song or that the song was outlandish, or the way they were dressed. The reason that Italy won was that the performance of the song was a natural performance. I’m sure there was choreography of movement, but they were not outside of what they usually do. There was no gimmick, no dance routine, no green screen to worry about, no spinning diamond or large gimmick hanging from the roof of the stadium. It is also why the French entry was such a success and for a lesser part Iceland and Ukraine. Finland and Portugal also presented an entry that was in essence what was expected for that type of song.

Switzerland was a vast success in my eyes. They rolled the dice and they came up on top with the juries. Switzerland have rolled out a prop in the past to highlight a song, but this year they added lighting and camera work to add to the tension of the entry and it worked. Gjon looked a bit clumsy at times, but it was  excellent captivating three minutes.

There were some countries that were dependent on a large prop. Some were there to attract votes as they went with the song while others to distract from it. Russia and Cyprus had several well placed props that worked well and were relevant to the song. Greece had a large invisible prop that made what was a good song appear like a joke entry. Malta had a prop that didn’t make sense to the entry being performed. Bulgaria’s rock was both inspirational and strange to me. Moldova’s revolving diamond worked for her also, but it was just a surface to perform choreography on. 

I want to spend a moment of praise on Serbia and Belgium that had very different performances, but appropriately performed. Serbia took their sexy manic, hair choreographed selves all over the stage gyrating and moving like they had drunk 15 cups of coffee. Belgium, on the other hand, was very intense and sedate in their presentation mainly because most of them were playing instruments that were unmovable. 

Of the countries that retained their choreography from a national final, other than Iceland, was Lithuania. They had varied it only very little from the national final and in their case, the performance was crazy perfection to match the theme of the song.  I was disappointed with Norway, Azerbaijan and Sweden for retaining almost identical choreography to their songs from the film clip/national final, but I wasn’t a big fan of either song in the final. They seemed tired in appearance and in formatting. Azerbaijan needs a further slap for submitting their 2020 song with a new name.

I feel some disappointment for a few of the entrants. I’m going to start with the United Kingdom. Poor James Newman. He had a thumping good song that fans liked. There was enthusiasm from the fans that the UK would do better this year and they did worse. What I find astounding is he does not appear to be a shy person, yet he allowed someone in the United Kingdom delegation to produce that choreography, that outfit and those props for that song. To my ear, James sounded sad and dejected in the final and I was unbelievably disappointed that they didn’t score something from somewhere.

I’m disappointed for San Marino too. Senhit has showed she is a class act and has spent the last year enthusiastically covering Eurovision songs. But at the song contest, she appeared to be a forgotten entrant. Even with the addition of Flo Rida did not give the song some cred. I have a recurring image of Senhit’s shoulders slump and physically shrink on hearing that her efforts accounted for 50 points.

I’m also disappointed for the Netherlands. They most likely did not want to host again and it is a sad curse that countries that host usually end near the bottom of the scoreboard (excluding Super Sweden). But to score so terribly for what was a gloriously performed entry was unconscionable. I praise the Netherlands for choosing such a wonderful cultural performance for the stage.

At the bottom end, Spain and Germany had very different entries, performed with contrasting enthusiasm and it got them both a very low level of support. Spain had the most tired song that was boring as all hell and the presentation of the entry gave the audience nothing in return but a large grey beach ball in the sky. Back to the drawing board?  Germany was destined to fail in March. The charisma and fun of their film was completely missing from the staging and it was never going to go well.

Albania had the misfortune of being ignored, given a terribly bad draw for the second year straight and not given anywhere near the appropriate amount of votes required. Anxhela gave a good stylish and appropriate performance. She was on-point vocally and in her performance on stage.

Israel, on the other hand, was a spectacle. The song was kind of meh, performed with a lot of choreography to distract from it. She did a whistle note; so? I’m sure she had to get noticed somehow with her t-shirt dress, her nude illusion reveal and the headdress she stole from reigning RuPaul Drag race winner, Symone. (Did she not no know where she was coming and who would be watching? Picked that up immediately)

IN CONCLUSION

There is one other things that I have not mentioned so far and it only occurred to me after re-reading some of the above comments. The Dutch were very time conscious. They said they were keeping the final under four hours and they pulled it in and got it done. In my opinion, it was a Eurovision that was very breezy, and very light experience because while the experience of Eurovision was 8 hours of your week watching the shows, this year did not seem like an ordeal. I felt that the shows progressed quickly without fuss or propaganda. As a package it came together well across the board.  

It was a good Eurovision year and had something to cater for the taste of everyone. Some songs were not suited to everyone, but that happens. Below is how I saw this years song’s after the three shows and believe me I have changed it a few times before settling on this list. Looking at it, I want to move them around again.

So that’s it. Next year it will be somewhere in Italy; maybe Turin, maybe Rome, Milan or Bologna. It won’t matter. Feel free to comment, complain, debate. I’m happy to back myself and for you to convince me otherwise. I haven’t got anything else to do. : )

[deliciousscaloppine]

Consistent Patterns of Behavior as a way to create horror and dramatic tension:

The character of Jin Guangyao in The Untamed.

Nothing is more attractive in villain behavior than their capacity to control their destructive powers. In fact it’s not so much how clever or preverse their evil is that creates tension and horror, but rather how it's distributed through the story. And it's most frightening when they lose control, when they themselves are no longer sure if they are going to kill or not.

 A villain has to be consistent enough for their behavior to be readable by the viewer. We must be able to discern what rules govern their behavior and who at any time is in danger of them. A villain establishes themselves by demonstrating their killing behavior. We must be sure that they have no respect for the lives of others, if we are to be horrified by them. This is usually established by “harmless” killings. Killings that are descriptive of the villain’s behavior, but not relevant to the plot.

In Jin Guangyao’s journey, there is a wide variety of such killings. He kills several disciples of the Nie Clan, a Clan he belonged for offending him, and then progresses to the murder of members of the Wen Clan, which he also belonged. So from the beginning he establishes himself as a murderous traitor. But the treasons here are “light”. At first he kills as retaliation for offenses. 

And then he kills because that is what is expected of him.

However, Jin Guangyao manages not only to be duplicitous- something that can be boring- but dual in nature. His refinement and brutality co-exist perfectly. All his vengeances are slick, characterized by economy, and unpredictable remorse. He is both poison and sword, suicide and execution. What is frightening is not his evil, but his decision to act on it. It’s this ambivalence between empathy and cruelty that chills the most. 

Choosing to kill demonstrates a loss of control. A control he will have to assume again only by killing. And this is the horrifying element in his behavior.  Guangyao’s character usually is presented in intimate and elegant settings with his most loved ones, seemingly placating them, even as he designs to kill them. Even as he enters civilization and establishes himself at the top of his world, he carries this traitorous nature within him. At any time the most intimate partner can become an enemy. In the world of civilized society it’s frightening to think that its worst antisocial enemy is someone who is fully integrated to it.

Just as the bedroom appears refined and elegant like his public persona, the secret torture chamber behind it, especially where he seats Qin Su, is full of knives and swords, reminding his martial, killing side. The swords in the background bring to mind the ruthless, unemotional Meng Yao in the Sun Scorching Palace where in just a very short amount of time, swords fly in and out of frame, and two people die. It’s the same here, all the swords in the background are pointed in Qin Su’s direction betraying the true killing nature of her husband/brother.  

And this portrays the abuses Meng Yao relatiates against. He knows how cruelty, deceit and dirtiness are ingrained to the finest things in his world. The wealth and success of his family would be impossible without murder, and it’s destructive tendencies ran rampant with Guangyao’s father, whose disorderly mating produces incestuous or nonexistent relations between his children.

Good villains do not push people away in order to be villainous. They draw them impossibly in and then destroy them. Watching characters struggle against villains is always a key moment in tension. Should they accept the villain they can remain safe, but then won’t they too become compromised and sucked into the cycle of violence. And if everyone is bad then that’s just depressing. If anything the victim is an indication of hope. Evil is not universal, like the villain thinks, it’s not an instictive reaction that threatens the foundation of the world.

Except in the case of Jin Guangyao. Then the victims themselves become facets of evil. He attributes it to them so that he can seduce them into complaissancy and silence to preserve and prolong the suffering that he deems a natural extension of the world.

“If I am so horrible, then you by association you are the same as me.” he seems to say to Qin Su. And he asks Nie Mingjue to consider the same. “Why does your morality allows you to execute others and mine does not? We are very much the same thing.” 

And this betrays his motive for the extermination of the loved ones. He finds them to be similar to him in some degree. He kills them for their perceived likeness to him, something that echoes in the off-camera destruction of his child, his father, and even the prostitutes at Blossom Pavillion. 

Jin Guangyao even reminds Lan Xichen of his own evil- ingratitude. The following statements are accusations, highlighting the uncomfortable truth about the villain’s progression. Evil is unavoidable, and anyone can become its agent willingly. Anyone can destroy a loved one no matter the sincerity of their emotions. Lan Xichen becomes the killer of Guangyao precisely because of his fond feelings for him, not despite them.

During these intimate judgements, he moves closer to Lan Xichen driving the sword deeper inside him. He moves closer to him both physically and mentally. Enough to engange him so he can better destroy him. Intimacy is a facet of his destructive nature.

And controlling the lovers, forcing degradation on them and compeling them to death is the greatest intimacy he can share with them. It’s the only time he can present his real self, a vacant self. A self with no thoughts or feelings, but horrible instinctive reactions patterned after his own abuse. His remorse over destroying them is just as real as his impulse to do it. And that’s frightening. Because the villain’s empathy and love is the spider’s net that finally condemns them.

Jin Guangyao needs to victimize his loved ones in order to regain something of his own destroyed humanity. And that’s even scarier. But it is not just a game of giving them pain and taking their lives. Through them and their judgements he replenishes his reserves of evil and prolongs his own non-existence, the emptiness he experiences when he can no longer compete with them. Their grief, their wrath, their anguish motivate his instincts of self-destruction. 

And being his own connections to a sense of self they are the first to be endangered. When the victim differentiates themselves, there is a small moment of acceptance. The acceptance of this demolished self that maybe is not worth living. 

This scene is very reminiscent of the scene at Unclean Realm when Nie Mingjue also realizes the unpleasant truth about his beloved. Meng Yao defends his sense of worth with death, but it’s not always the death of others he is after. 

Jin Guangyao has no objection dying if he is to be loved for it. And this betrays that killing his loved ones, is his own affirmation of love. In Unclean Realm he readily offers himself for execution if he is to preserve the fondness Mingjue felt for him. But Mingjue having lost that fondness says no. Not killing him is also a form of rejection.

Similarly in the final scene where he is stabbed by Lan Xichen, he himself drives the sword as deeply as he can in an effort to approach Lan Xichen and confess his love to him. He offers himself again for execution. Only to be met with the indecisiveness of the beloved. And that’s precisely where his killer instinct kicks in to prolong a reasonable end to new heights of cruelty and torture.

However when Lan Xichen accepts dying and by extension his own feelings of love towards Jin Guangyao, the sacrifice is no longer needed. The loved one has accepted him despite knowing the extent of his disturbance. Lan Xichen even seeks to appease this suffering with his own life and for this reason he manages to escape. Jin Guangyao knows he can live on in Xichen’s tortured consciousness as a far better version of what he was so he gladly accepts his demise. 

And even calls for it with great vigour. Again antagonizing Mingjue in death is an affirmation of life through him. The torture he visited upon him was again his method of living in him. He really seeks to shape the victims into fearsome memories of who he was.

[bopinion]

Book of the month / 2021 / 02 February

I love books. Even though I hardly read any. Because my library is more like a collection of tomes, coffee-table books, limited editions... in short: books in which not "only" the content counts, but also the editorial performance, the presentation, the curating of the topic - the book as a total work of art itself.

Phaidon Design Classics (001-999)

Alan Fletcher (and Phaidon Editorial Staff)

Encyclopedia / 2006 / Phaidon Press

I love design. On paper and in three-dimensional space. After winning the lottery, our home would look like a mix of a high-end furniture store and a modern gallery - Bauhaus meets Apple, Philippe Starck meets Eva Solo, Ligne Roset meets Alessi, Alvar Aalto meets Le Corbusier. And I would finally meet BoConcept ;-)

I tease my wife by crowing loudly "The chair!" or "The lamp!" every time I spot an Eames Alu chair by Vitra or a Tolomeo lamp by Artemide in a movie or series - because that's exactly how her desk is equipped. And I crow often, because after all, the set designers have at least as much style in their blood as I do. But significantly more budget.

To this day, I still weep for the Wagenfeld Lamp on the Eileen Gray Adjustable Table, which didn't end up with me after the divorce. Now they have found their destiny as ambassadors of good taste. There's so much "Gelsenkirchen Baroque" - as we call the Germans' favorite taste aberration - out there, most furniture stores are a scarier experience for me than the ghost train. There is a difference between cheap and inexpensive. So for the time being, I continue to dream of a Hardoy Butterfly chair and ottoman in black calf leather and stainless steel.

Phaidon, the British eminence for reference books, obviously understands me. And has documented the 999 most important designs of the last hundred years in a compendium: Three volumes with 3,300 pages of beauty. Already on the title, the claims are made clear:

Industrially manufactured objects of aesthetic value and timeless quality:

1) Definite Models of lasting influence and enduring quality

2) Objects that are innovative in their use of new materials and unite technological advances with beautiful design

3) Objects characterized by simplicity, balance and purity of form

4) Objects that are perfect in their design and have remained unchanged since their creation.

Wow - I'm in love!

Of course, the selection of design objects is subjective, but the compilation presented here can certainly be considered recognized and comprehensive. The product areas range from furniture and lamps to household goods, toys, tools, packaging and transportation. Among the icons considered are the Moleskine notebook, the Thonet Chair No. 14, the Peugeot Pepper Mill, the Swiss Army Knife, the Steiff Teddy Bear, the VW Beetle, the Tabasco bottle, the Mont Blanc fountain pen, the Rolleiflex camera, the Bialetti Mika Express coffee pot, the Model 300 telephone, the Savoy vase and the Slinky. A wealth of design highlights - and I only took the first volume "001-333" off the shelf for these examples.

The illustrations are of good quality as well as neutral and documentary in their simple pictorial language. Construction sketches and design studies are not missing and one or the other gag appears: for example, a picture from Martin Scorsese's "Taxi Driver" is shown for the famous New York Checker Cab. The depth of information in the accompanying texts is perfectly measured - one learns everything essential about the object, its design and its creator, all well in context.

We learn: Design accompanies all of our daily lives. Design transports functionality. Design positions the individual in the omnipresent. Design creates value. Design attracts and creates expectations. Design communicates with the viewer. Design builds the bridge from sober "form follows function" to animating marketing. Design has an effect. By the way, this also applies in reverse: the absence of design - whereby one should actually speak of "accidental physical manifestation" instead, because an actual absence would be invisible and intangible - also has an effect. But just negatively.

The lasting value of good design is demonstrated, for example, by Coca-Cola, whose lettering and typical bottle shape have remained basically unchanged since 1937. Anyone who looks at Pepsi in comparison will understand what this says about the quality of the design. And even such everyday self-evident things as crown caps, zippers or pencils were once created by designers.

Of course, a reference work on design must itself be appropriately designed. Thus, none other than Alan Fletcher is responsible for the layout of the three books. Fletcher was described by The Daily Telegraph as "the most highly regarded graphic designer of his generation, and probably one of the most prolific". Born in Nairobi, Kenya, Fletcher moved to England at age five, and studied at four art schools: Hammersmith School of Art, Central School of Art, Royal College of Art and Yale School of Art and Architecture. The Phaidon Design Classics was his last major work before his death in 2006.

By the way, the three volumes were delivered in a specially designed transport case. Created by Konstantin Grčić, a renowned Munich-based industrial designer of Serbian descent. And that, in order to get to the contents, actually has to be broken. I remember that I didn't want to believe it and even wrote to Grčić's studio - unfortunately without feedback. After a few days of patience, I then proceeded to the destructive work and have since wondered if this was meant to be a deliberate statement. According to the motto "Nature is the best designer - I'm only human". Who knows...

Here is the website of Phaidon Press - the section "Magazine" is worth more than one look:

https://www.phaidon.com

[immaculate-benediction-batch]

Sorry this is so long......How TV Creators Are Handling Subtext And Shipping

TV series creators have a hard time not tailoring content towards a strictly heteronormative audience, refusing to lean in to queer context, no matter howlarge an LGBTQ following a show may have.

Once a fictional character is put out for public consumption, it ceases to be the one thing it’s described as on paper. This is especially the case with TV and film, where said character goes through so many hands before hitting the screen and becoming public property.

There are three kinds of creators when it comes to queer content on TV. The first (and sadly, most typical) is the creator who will deny any intention of creating queer content, and who will also refuse to acknowledge a queer audience’s interpretation., This often results in an instant backlash, as the Supergirlcast and creators experienced after an embarrassing interview with MTV last summer. When prompted to recap the latest season, the cast broke into a cringeworthy song that mocked fans’ interest in the Supergirl/Lena Luthor pairing, with Jeremy Jordan repeatedly exclaiming that the two will never get together. It continued despite Katie McGrath’s attempt to save the interview saying, “The great thing about what we do is, like any art, anyone can read into it what they want.” Chris Wood then chimed in with “Sexuality is all about others’ perception of yours, right?”

Supergirl is a show with a large female following that from the beginning has gravitated toward the female relationships it portrays, with emphasis on those relationships with strong queer energy. At first, there was a group of internet fans that were drawn to the chemistry between Melissa Benoist and Calista Flockhart, which was maximized due to the characters’ intense mentor/mentee relationship, and that was fine, and for the most part went unacknowledged by the show.

However, upon Flockhart’s exit, Lena Luthor was introduced, played by Katie McGrath. Kara Danvers and Lena Luthor became fast friends, and fans’ fascination with Supergirl’s queer vibes grew strong enough for the the cast to take notice. One would think that by having Alex Danvers and Maggie Sawyer, two queer characters already in their orbit, fan speculation about others wouldn’t be such an inconvenience that it would have to be addressed by aggressively singing “They’re only friends!” over and over, as if the pairing were unfathomable.

But Supergirl hasn’t been the only show to outright reject queer interpretations. In fact, a few years back, the long-running series Supernatural was called out by its fans for purposefully inserting homoerotic subtext within storylines pertaining to male characters Dean and Castiel, and for rather indirectly addressing said subtext in interviews. In one of them, Misha Collins (Castiel) stated that in certain scenes with Jensen Ackles (Dean) he was directed to portray his character as a “jilted lover.”

During a Toronto Con panel in 2013, it was revealed that a line was changed by Ackles — who last year specifically requested no questions about the popular pairing be allowed during the Q portion of a panel for the show at New Jersey Con–from “I love you” to “We’re family. I need you” because the Actor didn’t think it suited his character. Despite fandom’s interest in the pairing, it hasn’t been enough for Supernaturalto follow through with an actual queer storyline, aside from the one recurring lesbian character, Charlie, who was ultimately killed off. It turns out our tolerance for queerbaiting does have its limits.

Another show that failed to address the sapphic energy between its leads, in effect rejecting a great opportunity to add a bonus layer to an already complex relationship between two women, was Damages. The thriller starred Glenn Close as powerhouse prosecutor Patty Hewes, and Rose Byrne as her protégée, Ellen Parsons. The series went on for five seasons and throughout, though it benefitted from incredible writing, its highlight was clearly the tension and undecipherable relationship between Patty and Ellen.

While there was never any doubt that their connection was what kept the the show’s palpable tension dial at a 10, anytime the subject was brought up to either cast or creators it was denied or waved off as “wishful thinking,” as Glenn Close put it. When pressed further, she added, “I think there’s something seductive about Patty and she just seduces people and she’ll lead people on. I think that can come across as pure seduction.”

With Person of Interest, Sameen Shaw (Sarah Shahi) and Root (Amy Acker) first connected under very unique, very dark circumstances in which one was holding the other against their will in a life threatening situation. But there was a sizzle there that the audience immediately responded to, and while both cast and writers admitted that was not their intention, something amazing happenedthey took that audience reaction and ran with it. In the end, Shaw and Root’s romance became one of the show’s more compelling storylines.

Jane the Virgin did the same. When a character, Petra, who wasn’t intentionally written as queer read queer to LGBTQ viewers, the writers saw no problem taking the interpretation and adopting it as canon. After years of keeping Petra as a sort of peripheral player within Jane/Rafael storylines, the character of Jane Ramos was introduced as Petra’s defense attorney and eventual love interest.

The third type of creator is everyone’s favorite. This is the one that takes whatever gay subtext or context there is, embraces it, and expands upon it, recognizing that it’s there from the beginning. In the Flesh and Killing Eve are true representatives of queer entertainment that isn’t trying to steer its characters toward a path they weren’t organically wanting to go.

In the Flesh, a BAFTA-award winning series from BBC 3, was easily one of the best shows that no one watched; a zombie show with depth, which isn’t easy to accomplish. The story takes place years after a virus epidemic that turned the infected into flesh-eating monsters is cured, and the rehabilitated are returning home. Its main character is Luke, one of the former infected, suffering from memories of the terrible things he did while sick, and tortured by his own suicide, which was prompted by the loss of love interest, Rick.

The series ran for only two seasons, with a total of nine episodes. It was inventive and creative and stands as one of the greats right next to shows like Hannibal and The Exorcist, which was unfortunately canceled by Fox this year after only two seasons of sacrilege, beautiful cinematography, Alfonso Herrera (Sense8) and a bisexual Father Marcus, played by Ben Daniels.

Killing Eve is a female-led thriller that proves that the secret to making great TV is treating characters like human beings with the capacity to change. Eve, who, when we meet her, is living a life that doesn’t seem particularly terrible, whose marriage appears to be solid, her job secure, is lured into potentially life threatening situations for the sake of following her inexplicable attraction to a female assassin. As if beneath the surface there is a dormant unrest that is awakened with the arrival of Villanelle in her life, and though she does not stop to examine exactly what she expects to get from it, she craves and wants more of these moments that have stirred her awake. She’s both excited and frightened by Villanelle’s audaciousness, by the intrusion into her life,

both figuratively and literally.

The season’s got a few episodes left, yet the most compelling, and most attentively queer moment is part of the fifth episode, in which the two women finally come face to face in Eve’s home. Eve is sopping wet in a gorgeous dress Villanelle’s purchased for her, she’s cold and visibly uncomfortable, therefore Villanelle suggests Eve should change, before proceeding to peel the dress off her herself. It is a scene that doesn’t downplay the very real danger Eve is in by having Villanelle in her home. However there is also an erotic aspect to it that is very purposeful, and as series creator Phoebe Waller-Bridge points out, the attraction is definitely mutual, “I knew that the first moment they see each other. I labeled that moment as ‘love at first sight.’ But I didn’t want it to be constrained to romance, or to lust, or anything like that. There’s something waking in Eve every day that she spends imagining what this woman is doing.”

This type of storytelling allows characters to evolve the way that they want to evolve as opposed to forcing them into a first page description. There is loyalty to the authenticity of the story, which comes from meticulous attention paid to the writing, which Waller-Green explains is all about going against cliché: “The moment something feels predictable, there’s a roar in me to just go to the most surprising place. I don’t want to bore myself.”

Often times, when female queer characters are introduced, it is done in order to titillate, and their storylines are the product of a male gaze fantasy. Killing Eve manages to avoid all of that with Villanelle, a character who seems to have no specific preference when it comes to sexual partners, and yet doesn’t feel the need to use her sexuality to get what she wants. In addition to that and the meaty tension between the two leads (Villanelle and the titular Eve, played by Sandra Oh), the attention paid to the very queer theme of the show is evident in backstories of characters that would normally go without one, like that of Eve’s former boss and best friend Bill, an older man in a heterosexual relationship who casually reveals he’s loved “hundreds” of men, much to Eve’s surprise, and further reveals he is in an open relationship, and happily so.

The series proves not only that queer characters are marketablethe BBC series was renewed for a second season before the first even airedbut that straight creators are capable of writing queer content that isn’t offensive or over-sexualized. Phoebe Waller-Bridge credits the authenticity of the series to a collaborative effort, stating, “Because it’s all about the characters, the little details that link the two worlds, everyone’s really made it a psychological piece rather than just an artistic painting of two different people’s worlds,” but it really just goes to show that that negative aspects of queer representation that include the dreaded male gaze perspective can be avoided as long as the bar is set high enough by the showrunner.

It only takes a little bit of creativity and imagination, and a willingness to challenge the idea that heterosexual-based television makes for the best and most successful stories.

Alex Velazquez is a writer, photographer, and queer Mexican living in Los Angeles, CA.

[mexcine]

Trials of an Okinawan Village (1971) review: This film is known under several English titles: perhaps most prevalent is Trials of an Okinawan Village, but this doesn't seem to be a literal translation of Nippon Jokyȏ-den: Gekitȏ Himeyuri-misaki (note: the Nippon Jokyȏ-den part of the title refers to the series "Tales of Chivalrous Women"), so perhaps Battle at Cape Himeyuri is more accurate.  There's not much information available in English (the most complete I’ve found is http://www.weirdwildrealm.com/f-trials-okinawa-village.html) and my Japanese language skills are nonexistent, so I guess we'll never know. 

One odd and mildly annoying aspect of the film is its indefinite chronological setting.  Although the United States ended its occupation of the main islands of Japan early in the 1950s, it didn't turn over control of Okinawa until 1971 (possibly an inspiration for this film's production).  However, the film's script strongly indicates the story is taking place within no more than a decade after the end of World War Two: Junko Fuji and Bunta Sugawara are shown in wartime flashbacks and do not look that much different in the contemporary scenes.  Other characters refer to their wartime service, and a teenage girl says she was injured during the war when she was "very young," so a reasonably good guess would be that the film's main action takes place no more than about a decade after the war's end.  And yet the clothing, hairstyles, and--most noticeably--the motor vehicles are definitely much newer than that.  This was probably a Catch-22 for the filmmakers: the script had Fuji and Sugawara meet in 1945, and it wasn't feasible for them to be 25 years' older for the bulk of the movie, and yet recreating 1955 Okinawa was either too expensive or simply not considered important enough to attempt. 

Trials of an Okinawan Village begins with World War Two footage and printed titles which read (in translation): "April 1937; U.S. troops advance on to Okinawan soil."  This is clearly erroneous: the battle of Okinawa did begin in April, but it was 1945, not 1937.  I don't know if this is a translation error or if the original titles also contained this misinformation.  The footage changes to colour, with images of the U.S. flag, airplanes, and military bases; the titles read "Okinawa in state of recovery under U.S. Occupation."  

Yuri Yonamine (Junko Fuji) runs a trucking company in post-war Okinawa, taking over from her late parents; she has vowed not to consider herself a "woman" (i.e., not get married or assume a traditional female role) until the company is rebuilt.  Yuri and her employees visit a restaurant to celebrate the purchase of a new truck, and clash with yakuza from the "mainland" (according to the titles--this means the main Japanese islands) who are hassling Sachiko, a teenage girl selling flowers.  Boss Iwamatsu calls off his thugs.  Yuri drives Sachiko--who uses a crutch due to a war injury--to her village the next day; coincidentally, it's the home village of Yuri's late mother.  Asada, the mayor, tells Yuri the village is very poor; they've planted sugar cane but had to borrow a large sum of money against the crop.

When Yuri learns a lot of wartime scrap has been unearthed near the village, she sees this as a chance to earn money to retire the debt.  However, Iwamatsu's gang has the sole right to sell such scrap to the U.S. government, and is also shipping scrap illegally to Hong Kong.  Asada threatens to report the yakuza to the U.S. authorities, but is killed by a hit-and-run driver.  The villagers are put to work loading the scrap for Iwamatsu, but a bomb explodes and kills 3 women.  Iwamatsu refuses to accept responsibility or pay an indemnity.

Tetsu Nakagami (Bunta Sugawara), a yakuza fleeing from Tokyo police, arrives on Okinawa and discovers his wartime friend Asada is dead.  Yuri asks him to delay his revenge on Iwamatsu--whose men clearly murdered Asada--until they earn enough money to pay the dead women's families.  Nakagami, stationed on Okinawa during the war, knows where a large cache of artillery shells is stored.  As it develops (shown earlier in flashback), Nakagami met the young Yuri (who was serving as a nurse) in a cave during the final battle for Okinawa: he gave her a wristwatch and urged her not to sacrifice herself.

Iwamatsu orders his men, including Okinawa native Iba, to stop Yuri and the villagers at all costs.  They blow up a truck loaded with scrap, killing two of Yuri's employees.  Iba and Nakagami fight; Yuri convinces Nakagami to spare the other man's life.  Iwamatsu's men force the villagers to retrieve the scrap from the hidden cave.  However, when they bring Sachiko to the site--intending to rape her--Iba intervenes.  He's mortally wounded, but takes the girl to Yuri's office before he dies.  Nakagami sets off for the cave site, and Yuri follows.  

Nakagami and Yuri wipe out Iwamatsu's entire gang, including the boss (who is savagely hacked to death by a sword-wielding Yuri), but they are then both arrested by U.S military police. Yuri is acquitted but Nakagami is convicted of murder and shot to death by a firing squad.   

Junko Fuji, daughter of a film producer, began acting in the early 1960s, and appeared in a number of yakuza films in this era.  She had her own yakuza series, "Red Peony Gambler," but retired when she got married in 1972.  She came back a decade later and has continued to work to the present day, sometimes under the name "Sumiko Fuji."  As Yuri, Fuji repeatedly declares her desire to postpone being a "woman" until her business goals have been reached; nonetheless, she is depicted as caring and responsible, in contrast with the violent Nakagami.  At the conclusion, of course, Yuri and Nakagami are pushed too far, and Yuri more than holds up her part of the final battle, firing a rifle, tossing a grenade, and wielding a sword with deadly effectiveness, her face distorted by rage. 

The "romance" between Yuri and Nakagami that standard film conventions would seem to demand never progresses, even to the point of a kiss, despite the obvious attraction between the two.  [This could be (a) a Japanese cultural convention, (b) a yakuza film convention (this is what Wild Realm Reviews suggests), or (c) something deliberately done by the filmmakers in this particular instance.  Western viewers will likely have their expectations confounded, in any case.]  As Nakagami is being led away to his execution, a weeping Yuri repeatedly shouts "Don't die!" (the same thing he'd told her in 1945 during the battle for Okinawa), and the film concludes with Yuri honouring Nakagami's memory with a ceremony next to (presumably) his grave marker on an Okinawan cliff. 

Nakagami is a "noble yakuza" (a Sixties trend that was largely replaced by more negative, realistic depictions of gangsters in the Seventies, represented by Iwamatsu and his gang here): in one scene he even says his gang "never harmed commoners!" [Presumably meaning non-yakuza; “civilians” might be a better word.] He arrives in Okinawa illegally (fleeing, as we later learn, an unjust accusation from a rival crime family), but has the ulterior motive of visiting the island where he fought during World War II (he later tells Yuri that he came back to find her, although this seems like an afterthought).  Iwamatsu asks him to collaborate, but Nakagami demurs (he doesn't refuse outright, and even borrows a car from the gang boss!).  When Iwamatsu won't pay an indemnity for the woman killed in his employ, Nakagami prepares to go into action, but Yuri asks him to wait, hoping she can get money for the women's families without violence.  She later convinces Nakagami not to kill Iba, an Okinawan native working as a yakuza for Iwamatsu, apparently feeling the man has a good side (possibly just because he's Okinawan--the film makes a point several times of highlighting the differences between Okinawans and Japanese from the "mainland," even including a comedy scene in which one of Nakagami's aides arrives on the island and is perplexed by the Okinawan dialect). 

In a somewhat contrived scene, one of Yuri’s men is trapped when a stack of old artillery shells shifts suddenly.  One of the shells starts to tick--it’s a delayed action bomb!  Fortunately, Nakagami (who was an artillery officer during the war) has the know-how to defuse it.  The scene is tense even though the audience knows that Nakagami (and Yuri, who runs back into the building to be with Nakagami and her employee) aren’t going to get blown up with half the film left to go!

Nakagami learns he's free to return to Tokyo (the rival gang admitted their falsehood and cleared him with the police), but he decides to stay on Okinawa, turning over his criminal gang to his assistant.  It's implied that he is thinking about marrying Yuri and settling down, but his death puts an end to those plans.

The U.S. presence in Okinawa is overt in several scenes, although the occupation of Okinawa (and thus, its status as an island governed by the Americans rather than Japan) is referenced frequently.  Early in the film, Yuri and her assistant Isamu fleece a Military Policeman out of several barrels of much-needed gasoline: the man wagers the fuel against a date (later raising the ante to "and a kiss") with the attractive young woman, but loses a game of cards (Yuri cheats by viewing the reflection of the man's cards in Isamu's belt buckle).   Later, Iwamatsu betrays Nakagami's presence to the U.S authorities, and a large group of Military Policemen (with one Japanese-American who acts as translator), arrive at Yuri's house to arrest him.  Nakagami hides in Yuri's bedroom, and she distracts the Americans by allowing them to "catch" her with her blouse off.  "Wow!" one MP says, but then has the decency to say "Excuse me," and leave.  

Nakagami's aide Hide arrives from Tokyo and starts to run when he sees a jeep full of MPs--they hold him at gunpoint (he says "Why am I running? I didn't do anything!") and he babbles about his birthplace, etc., before he's spotted by one of Yuri's men, who takes him to Nakagami.  This scene suggests that the residents of Okinawa view the Americans with some trepidation: without recourse to their own system of laws, they're at the mercy of the occupying troops. 

At the conclusion, Yuri and Nakagami are arrested by a horde of Military Policemen (who arrive after the one-sided battle is over).  A military judge pronounces judgement (curiously he begins speaking in English then switches to Japanese): "Okinawa belongs to America!" Nakagami will be executed.  When Yuri protests, the judge says "Take her out!" and has the protesting Yuri dragged away by several MPs.   

Trials of an Okinawan Village does not go out of its way to attack the American presence on Okinawa--in none of the previously-noted scenes do the MPs actually do anything illegal or brutal (well, Nakagami is executed but it appears to have been done legally)-- but the film makes it clear that the Okinawans are under military occupation and have few legal rights of their own.  The American military is the largest "business" on the island and has a number of exclusive rights, and the native inhabitants have to accommodate these, to their own economic detriment.  

Iwamatsu and his yakuza are the overt villains: they have a license from the U.S. to collect scrap, and exploit the Okinawans because of this.  However, they're not satisfied with this, illustrating their dishonourable nature by illegally exporting scrap to Hong Kong. 

Trials of an Okinawan Village makes good use of location shooting and is generally quite slick and professional.  The script does get bogged down a bit in the middle section, as Yuri and Nakagami (and the villagers) keep finding different sources of scrap metal, Iwamatsu and his men keep taking it away, and so on.  The performances are all good, although the comic relief provided by Nakagami's aide Hide (who only appears briefly) is somewhat out of place. 

Generally entertaining overall, and of additional historical-political interest because of its setting and the depiction of the U.S. occupation of Okinawa.

[michelles-garden-of-evil]

Essay: The Broadcast History of Strange Paradise on WKBF-TV (Cleveland, OH)

WARNING: This essay contains spoilers for several episodes of Strange Paradise, the latest being Episode 94. If you do not wish to be spoiled, disable images and reload.

When Krantz Films’ now-obscure Gothic soap Strange Paradise premiered in the United States in September 1969, the company’s president Steve Krantz expected it to be a hit much like the similar, wildly popular serial Dark Shadows. “You thought every possible idea for a daytime drama had already been used?” one copywriter wrote in a trade magazine. “How about Colin Fox playing the dual role of a millionaire industrialist and his 300-years-dead ancestor, in a show set in the Caribbean, involving voodoo? Don’t laugh. Wait until you see the ratings.” Despite this initial optimism, Strange Paradise’s ratings failed to live up to anyone’s expectations, leading to an early cancellation in most American markets. The Cleveland, Ohio station WKBF-TV (Channel 61), an ultra-high frequency (UHF) channel owned by Kaiser Broadcasting, was no exception. The broadcast history of Strange Paradise in Cleveland provides a typical example of the quick decline and premature cancellation that the show saw on most networks that carried it in the United States.

In this essay, we will use the Cleveland newspaper The Plain Dealer to trace the short broadcast history of Strange Paradise on WKBF-TV from its beginnings in the 7 p.m. prime-time slot to its cancellation. After that, we will examine an anecdotal account of a second run of the show’s first arc in 1971 and determine whether the series aired again in Cleveland during that year.

Strange Paradise in The Plain Dealer

Banner advertisements for Strange Paradise from the Friday, September 12, 1969 issue of The Plain Dealer (pp. 107, 110, and 118, respectively).[1]

In the lead-up to its premiere on Monday, September 15, 1969, Kaiser Broadcasting promoted Strange Paradise heavily in the Friday, September 12 issue of The Plain Dealer. Banners appeared at the bottom of the television schedule’s pages, referencing the show’s voodoo theme and encouraging the newspaper’s readers to “meet Quito and Raxl,” two of the show’s major characters. The Selections section of The Plain Dealer’s Friday TV guides ran episode summaries to entice viewers to tune in. The show aired in the 7 pm timeslot, pitting it against Gilligan’s Island, Truth or Consequences, and other popular programs.

Excerpt from the TV schedule for Monday, September 15, 1969, from The Plain Dealer (September 12, 1969), p. 110. In this listing and all subsequent others, the listings for WKBF/Kaiser/Channel 61 appear in the far right column.

Summary of the pilot episode from the same issue, p. 117. The timeslot is listed inaccurately as 7:30 pm.

In theory, Strange Paradise’s original timeslot put it in a position to get good ratings. Bryan Gruszka writes that “initially, the series enjoyed strong ratings,“ but this seems unlikely to be the case in Cleveland. As a UHF channel, many televisions (particularly older sets) did not pick up reception from Kaiser, leaving the viewership low for all of its programs compared to the very-high frequency (VHF) “Big Three” networks of NBC (Channel 3/WKYC), ABC (Channel 5/WEWS), and CBS (Channel 8/WJW).[2] Every one of the Top 30 highest-rated programs of the 1969-1970 season aired on the Big Three television networks, further suggesting a low viewership for WKBF and other UHF channels. Disappointed by the show’s ratings, Kaiser moved it to daytime and scheduled Star Trek reruns in its place, which attracted far more prime-time viewers.[3]

3 pm listings from the TV schedule for September 29, 1969, from The Plain Dealer (September 29, 1969), p. 39.

Episode 11 summary from the same page.

Strange Paradise made the move to daytime television by Monday, September 29, when WKBF rescheduled it at 3 pm. In this new timeslot, it competed against two other soap operas, Another World (NBC) and General Hospital (ABC), which attracted 9.6 million and 8.5 million viewers, respectively, during the 1969-1970 season. Ratings for Strange Paradise do not appear on the list of soap opera ratings for this season, although it aired on the Big Three networks in some other markets. Because of this, it is impossible to know exactly how it fared against its competitors, but it most likely attracted few viewers.

During this period, episode summaries continued to run on the Selections pages of the weekly TV guides released on Fridays. Many of these are identical or nearly identical to the “Lost Episode” summaries from the Newport Daily News and The Fitchburg Sentinel documented on Curt Ladnier’s blog Maljardin: Tales from the Desmond Family Crypt. These summaries described early drafts of the episodes before the show’s producers mandated major rewrites, meaning that the events described in the listings did not correspond to the plots of the broadcasted episodes. Notable changes included the death of one character whom the summaries indicated originally remained alive, the omission of a flashback nightmare sequence about another character’s previous incarnation, and the focus of the main plotline shifting to the discovery of a mysterious black rabbit with a bloodied locket around its neck (which the summaries do not mention). The “Lost Episode” summaries continued through Episode 50, after which the published descriptions once again accurately reflected the episodes’ contents.

Summary of the original Episode 36, from “Monday Selections,” The Plain Dealer (October 31, 1969), p. 121. The description nearly matches this “Lost Episode” summary on Ladnier’s blog.

The original Episode 37 ("Tuesday Selections,” p. 125). The description is similar to the one discussed in this post, save that this version indicates that Holly is unaware of the Temple’s purpose.

Episode 46 (”Monday Selections,” The Plain Dealer (November 14, 1969), p. 84).

Episode 50 (”Friday Selections,” The Plain Dealer (November 21,1969), p. 76).

In early December, the series disappeared from Channel 61′s schedule, most likely because it struggled to compete against General Hospital and Another World for viewers. The show is absent from the "Television Today" guides as early as Tuesday, December 2, although summaries for that week's episodes appeared in the weekly guide from the previous Friday's issue and the other schedules from the same week still listed it in its 3 p.m. timeslot. The paper for Tuesday, December 9 included a summary corresponding to the plot of Episode 62, despite Strange Paradise’s replacement with The Huckleberry Hound Show. By the release of the Friday, December 12 paper, the show no longer appeared in neither the TV schedules nor the selections, indicating its cancellation.

Episode 62 summary from “Tuesday’s Selections,” The Plain Dealer (December 9, 1969), p. 30.

The revised schedule for 3 pm, according to the schedule on the same page. Note “Huck Hound” in the far right column.

After a month of absence, Strange Paradise returned to the channel on Monday, December 29 in the new timeslot of 11 pm. Airing resumed with Episode 56, which may indicate that Episode 55 was the last to air the previous year. Over the course of the next two months, WKBF broadcast the conclusion of Maljardin, the series’ first 65-episode arc, and began showing the second arc, the overtly Dark Shadows-inspired Desmond Hall.

However, the show’s viewers would not get to watch Desmond Hall through to its conclusion. On February 10, 1970, television columnist William Hickey wrote, “’Strange Paradise,’ the strangely bubbling soaper, will disappear from Channel 61 tomorrow night at 11 and will be replaced by reruns of ‘Alfred Hitchcock Presents.’”[4] This cancellation coincided with the introduction of the character Agatha Pruitt and the beginning of a new subplot centered around her blackmail and attempted seduction of protagonist Jean Paul Desmond, leaving that plot unresolved, not to mention the second arc’s overarching plot about the mysterious disappearance of Jean Paul’s brother Philip.

Summary of Episode 87, the last episode confirmed to have aired on WKBF, from “Tuesday’s Selections,” The Plain Dealer (February 6, 1970), p. 95.

Nevertheless, episode summaries of Strange Paradise continued to run in the highlights sections of the paper’s TV guides over the next week. The last episode summary to appear in The Plain Dealer describes the plot of Episode 94 and is noticeably more detailed than most previous summaries:

Summary of Episode 94, originally scheduled to air on Thursday, February 19, 1970. From “Thursday’s Selections,” The Plain Dealer (February 13, 1970), p. 103.

Strange Paradise’s run on WKBF ended abruptly in the middle of the second arc, leaving all of its plots unresolved and many viewers uncertain of the fates of Jean Paul, Agatha, Raxl, and others. WKBF-TV would disappear from the airwaves in 1975, leaving Cleveland-area fans unable to watch the series again until its release on VHS in the 1990s. That is unless an anecdote about its first arc re-airing in the Cleveland area is true.

A Second Run?

After Strange Paradise finished its original run in May 1970, a handful of stations available in the United States, including Canadian and Mexican stations based near the borders, rebroadcast it in syndication. It is possible that WKBF may have also rebroadcast it, but we have only anecdotal evidence. In a 2007 post on the Strangeparadise2 Yahoo! Group, user Larry M. (larmic1) claimed to have watched syndicated re-runs of the series’ first arc in 1971. He wrote,

I was living in Cleveland, Ohio [in 1971], and the "new" show came on about 7 or 7:30pm weeknights, so that leads me to believe it was syndicated. I believe that time is also when I used to watch Strange Paradise, so the station was obviously after that audience. It was just such a surprise when I finally came across the show after coming home from winter break from college, and totally pissed that I pretty much had missed the whole series! It was probably on for all of 3-4 months total. Seems like nobody else watched it either!

If the show did indeed air again in Cleveland in 1971, no evidence exists of its rebroadcast in The Plain Dealer’s listings. Here is an excerpt from the evening schedule for Wednesday, January 6, 1971:

And here is another from Tuesday, December 28 of the same year:

Although the schedule writers abbreviated the names of most shows, one can still tell in most cases what shows they refer to: “Jeannie” must be I Dream of Jeannie, “Hogan” Hogan’s Heroes, etc. (It helps that many of these shows are still well-known today, largely because of re-runs on various networks.) Given that neither Strange Paradise, any abbreviations of its title, nor anything to the effect of “Island of Evil” appear in these listings, one can safely conclude that no Cleveland-based stations re-ran the show during that period.

Even so, evidence exists that residents of northeast Ohio could tune into broadcasts from the Windsor, Ontario-based Canadian station CKLW-TV in the early 1970s. Federal Communications Commission (FCC) records from the 1970s indicate that CKLW-TV, based near the Ontario-Michigan border, was available in the Cleveland-Lorain-Akron market on Channel 9 in 1972 and possibly earlier as well. Larry M. most likely would have viewed Strange Paradise on this Canadian channel in 1971. However, even this is doubtful, because, thus far, we have been unable to uncover any evidence of its re-airing in 1971 on CKLW or any other Ontario channels.

Conclusion

For five months from September 1969 to February 1970, the Gothic serial Strange Paradise aired on WKBF-TV (Channel 61) in the Cleveland area. Premiering at 7 p.m. on September 15 after heavy promotion, it changed time slots twice--first in the same daytime slot as two more popular soaps and then in the late night--before its cancellation on February 11. Part of the show was allegedly re-broadcast the following year, but thusfar no evidence exists of listings of Strange Paradise on any channels based in the Great Lakes region in 1971. Although it quickly fell into obscurity in northeast Ohio, Larry M.’s post is evidence that it had local fans and that, even long after its cancellation, it was not forgotten.

Notes

[1] All clippings from The Plain Dealer come from the NewsBank InfoWeb database Historical Cleveland Plain Dealer (1845-1991). They are all reproduced under fair use for the purpose of education.

[2] Many people alive in this era, the author’s parents (born 1964) included, insist that “there were only three channels” in Cleveland in the late 1960s and early 1970s. This attests to the obscurity of Channel 61.

[3] According to Wikipedia, “the most popular and most profitable program on WKBF were syndicated reruns of the original Star Trek. It was well known that WKBF had rebroadcast the entire 79-episode original series in the exact order of play that had been originally shown on NBC when it aired on that network, and had also paid out of its own pocket for the special high-contrast black-and-white prints of the show in order to do so. In another bold move for the times, the show also ran in its original length, without additional editing for commercials.”

[4] William Hickey, "Tony Winners Promise a CBS Drama Delight," The Plain Dealer (February 10, 1970), p. 20 (6-B).

[paperclipninja]

Younger post-ep ramble 6x11

I may be on holiday but if you think that’s going to stop me offloading some thoughts and feelings about this week’s episode of Younger, ‘Holding Out for a SHero’, then you’d be sorely mistaken (any chance to over-think and over-analyse my fave fake reality). In saying that, this will be a briefer version of my usual post-ep ramble, what I shall refer to as Ramble Lite™. There were parts of this episode I really liked and parts I felt disappointed with, but it largely played out in a way that I expected, with the exception of that twist at the end! Hats off to Joe Murphy for that fab misdirection, I may have gasped.

This episode opened with Maggie in her tomato garden looking radiant and Liza filling her in on the decision not to see Josh anymore because it’s complicated and feelings and that undeniable thing called chemistry (or something like that). I applaud Maggie’s consistent use of Chaz (I really hope we get to hear her say it to his face at some point) and Liza stating out loud that she chooses Charles, but this scene also delivered one of the two big moments of disappointment I had in this ep. If anything was ever going to be out of character on this show it would be Liza, a writer and editor, being unable to come up with decent adjectives to describe the man she is supposedly in love with. Yet here she is describing Charles as ‘a peer’ and ‘appropriate’ as reasons for choosing to be with him. For real? I understand the effort to paint him as the sensible choice vs. the less sensible, the head vs. heart, in this triangle that’s been resurrected. This particular way of describing men has always served a clear purpose in the Youngerverse and ngl, my alarm bells went off in episode 7 when Michelle referred to Charles as ‘appropriate’. Liza uses this exact term to describe Richard, the horrendous man Michelle sets her up with in S1E2 who starts reading emails at the dinner table on their date, he’s ‘age appropriate’. She also described Jay as nice, viable, legitimate prospect, sure, but she also sobbed on his shoulder because she was so in love with Charles that her heart was aching at the thought of missing the chance to be with him.

It feels so painfully deliberate, Charles has gone from intellectually invigorating and romantic and been relegated to safe and ‘appropriate’. My disappointment comes from the fact that if this triangle must remain in play, there can be two men who are vibrant and compelling and really different, without painting one as ‘boring’ and one as ‘fun’. Knowing the way Liza talks about the important people in her life, with such admiration and affection, I feel she would at least say Charles is intelligent and romantic or kind or thoughtful or SOMETHING better than being ‘a peer’ and ‘appropriate’. I do believe that as viewers we often form our own interpretations of characters and when they don’t behave the way we imagine we are disappointed, but in this case it’s the disappointment that Liza’s entire reason for being attracted to Charles is being reduced to the idea that it’s sensible when we have been shown this is simply not the case. Phew, glad I got that off my chest (and so much for Ramble Lite™ lol).

Once in the office Liza is running Diana through the wedding planning, which frankly I cannot wait to see all come together. I love that Liza’s already secretly planned a bachelorette party and really does know Diana well enough to know she’ll want one (so many lols @ Diana’s, ‘yes that’s why I was bringing it up, because I don’t want one’ and could Liza look any more pleased with herself that she’s managed to pull the wool over her eyes? Adorbs). Charles arrives looking for Kelsey and is wanting to see how she would like to break the news that he is once again publisher, because that’s how they work now that they’re the dynamic duo and have I mentioned this week how much I LOVED seeing their dynamic last week? Kelsey proves that she has indeed kept her head and announces that Millennial secured a new investor and that Charles is once again in the boss seat and I am once again extremely impressed with Kelsey this season, as is Diana (and honestly if you have the D.Trout stamp of approval, what more do you need?).  I will also never tire of seeing Diana, Kelsey and Liza as true peers and now friends, it’s undoubtedly a highlight of season 6.

The book pitch of the week is extremely timely (as always), a manners for millennials piece that aims to counteract the generation’s greatest shortcomings, such as ghosting exes and not RSVPing to weddings. This episode really did have some stellar lines and the fact that Liza can now drop jokes in meetings, such as her ‘neither was I’ response to the author’s ‘I am not proud to be a millennial’, is the kind of goodness I am here for since the lie is no longer a thing. Naturally Liza and Diana are both very interested in finding out more about these topics and it turns out the best way to get some finality with the ex is to write a good ol’ fashioned Dear John letter (best way to get those RSVP’s -unknown). This is reinforced nicely in Charles��� office, when Liza leaps off Charles’ desk as though she and Charles were caught christening the damn thing (which would’ve been very ok by me and at this point you should know I’m not at all sorry) by Diana bearing flowers and note from Alice the author letting them know she will not be publishing her book with Millennial (so no Charles, the flowers are not for you).  All this talk of how good letters are leads to Liza penning her Dear Josh letter that night, which we only catch a tantalizing glimpse of initially, before the narration and accompanying montage when Josh actually receives it.

While it was only brief, Charles asking Liza how she feels about him being back as publisher and her answering honestly, she just wishes Kelsey hadn’t been unceremoniously stripped of the title, is yet another lovely insight into their relationship. Charles continuing with, ‘what about you, always thinking of others, how do you feel?’, excuse me while I clutch my heart at the sweetness of it all and seriously, does ANYONE ever ask Liza this? The family picture on Charles’ desk is noted and it’s great but I also can’t help but feel it’s somewhat ominous so I’m putting my gush on pause (v. open to being proven wrong on this).

Kelsey and Zane continue to be all over the place, I have so little investment in them as a pairing and I really think it’s because I have simply not seen enough of them together to know whether I care, though I have enjoyed a number of their interactions recently. It also doesn’t help that Zane has been many shades of douche this season. Since professing their love for one another, he is being caring at the start of this week’s ep, apologising and saying he feels partly responsible for Kelsey’s demotion and trying to allay Kelsey’s self-doubt. It is Kelsey who says that she doesn’t know how to do this with Zane and that one of them always loses (the old editors-who-were-peers-and-then-one-became-the-boss-but-now-they’re-peers-again curse), which returns Zane to Douchetown in time for the staff meeting.

I felt for Kelsey, it would be so hard sitting in that first meeting with Charles at the helm again, though him going through all the acquisitions and saying these are a credit to Kelsey’s impeccable instincts was great and necessary. But then Charles brings up the Arabian Seas book and the ‘we’ enters the conversation, along with a list of books that sound like they belong on the bargain shelf because yawn and yes it’s fine that Charles has his own instincts, but Zane in this meeting is awful. Kelsey calls him out, she is clearly and rightfully angry about the unfairness of her entire situation and she warns Charles to, ‘pay attention…and you too Liza. I didn’t have any boundaries at work and look what happened’. I have no idea if this is foreshadowing but I feel like it could be juicy if it was so let’s keep abreast of any future developments (yes that is a boob pun and you’re welcome).

Highlight of this whole scene of course is Liza ripping into the guy and the whole office when Kelsey walks out of the meeting and can hear that her meme has been made into a banger of a tune. We get fearsome Liza schooling the entire room on the fact that Kelsey did get the money, ‘that’s why we all have a job, she’s a goddamn hero’. YESSSSSS Liza *praise hands*. Kelsey in turn agrees to speak at the girls school event that Lauren put to her earlier (yes it IS ok to be angry and Kelsey no longer distancing herself from her social media mistake but using it as a platform to empower others and be a role model…where do I sign?).

Lauren was in ultimate PR and friend mode for Kelsey this week, trying to figure out how to spin Boobgate and trying to see the positive side of all the invitation cancellations. I always say it, I know, but Lauren’s unrelenting advocacy for her friends is absolutely one of her best qualities and her line, ‘you are an example of a woman who made a very simple mistake and the patriarchy seizing that opportunity to tear you down’, was fantastic. She also very much latched onto the SHero theme and I appreciated her use of the word at any given opportunity.

It is as Lauren and Josh are leaving to catch an Uber to Inkburg Midtown that we discover this means he is very relieved Claire doesn’t have to move to LA now. I really don’t get this. I said last week that Josh is far too woke to expect the mother of his child to bail on her career aspiration just so he doesn’t have to move to LA, especially considering he knows the struggle Liza faced in her own career journey after having Caitlin (who you may remember is her daughter…or was. Current status unknown). If we’d seen in their conversation Claire saying that she really doesn’t want to move but she can’t see another way to give Gemma the life she hopes, then ok, Josh finding a way to up his income is ace. So I do hope we find out at some point this was the case, because Josh deciding he’ll get more money so Claire and Gemma can stay for his convenience, it’s just nope.

Though I do have to say that the biggest benefit of Josh securing the Infinitely 21 partnership is getting to see more Shelly because omfg I cannot with her. The way she talks about paint colours, giving her personal number, the line I could not believe I heard, ‘but seriously, Josh, unload on me’ ( I love that this season has seemed censored af compared to previous ones – I don’t love this but you know what I mean- yet lines like this get dropped in. Too good), I am in awe of her complete and unabashed lust for him.

It is between picking paint colours that Josh finds the letter from Liza and it is heart wrenching. And beautiful. The emotion really is palpable as Josh leaves the store to find somewhere to read it once he realises what it is. The flashback montage is certainly something that hasn’t been utilized in the show and it really leaves such an impression. Coupled with the narration of the letter, it really captures the impact of Josh on Liza’s life and Liza’s genuine commitment to make her relationship with Charles work. If this show was wanting to move these characters past this old relationship it would have been a poignant and perfect way to do it. However it plays out in the long run, I thought it was really well done.

The hands down highlight of this entire episode for me was Diana’s bachelorette party. Lauren running at an unsuspecting Diana screaming, ‘get in the Hummer bitch’ is one of the funniest moments of the series, I will be laughing for eternity. Liza reminding Diana that, ‘I get you’, yes she does and I just love everything about seeing these women, all the Younger women, out together. I feel like the focus of this episode really got pulled to the other drama but this is the first time we’ve ever seen every female character of this show together in a room and I feel like THIS IS A BIG DEAL. Maggie schooling Diana on how strip clubs work and SO many brilliant lines, as Diana waves her money in the air only to tell the first stripper, ‘You’re a lot, no thank you’, then ‘Hi, little one’ as she flags another. The hilarity does not stop with Diana, Lauren’s, ‘here’s a fiver, you should smile more’ is every kind of YES (I sense a whiff of Liz Lemon in that line and I approve). As Liza and Kelsey talk about men and work and blah, Diana tries to bring them back to the purpose of the evening, ‘ladies, there are bulging crotches in your faces, can you focus?’. Listen to the Queen people. Yet another Diana wedding related event in which she ends up asking, ‘how did tonight become all about you?’ and I was thinking the same Diva. *Eyeroll*

The Hummer ends up at Inkburg because Lauren wants to help Diana fulfil her wish of doing something she’ll regret for the rest of her life (and obviously the reason they all need to be there is so Liza and Josh can have their post-letter confrontation). They are all so drunk, it’s hilarious and I would watch an entire feature film about the antics of this group while inebriated. Seriously, take my money. From Lauren’s, ‘Get out of the hummer Doana’ to Maggie’s, ‘I forgot we were in a car’, they cover the entire drunk person spectrum. On top of that we have Diana’s penis balloon hat position which just cracks me up because I am 10 but my fave is Diana saying to Josh, ‘John, just something small, tasteful and literary’ and then as she’s leaving, ‘it was nice to meet you Jake’. Obvs a wise choice not to go through with the tat but I’d love to know what Diana would have ended up with.

Josh calling Liza out on writing the letter and trying to walk away never talking to him was completely fair enough. Him reminding her that she said she would always be there for him, be Gemma’s aunt Liza, he’s not wrong and his hurt and confusion are understandable. But it is so nice to finally hear Liza making a choice and sticking to it (whether she does or not in the future). Josh saying that he gets it, she’s scared of what they were, they still are, it’s powerful and her defensiveness of Charles when he says that she’s making the safe choice is exactly the right response if she really means she has chosen him. And not because I love Charles and Liza together, but because Liza is standing up for her choice and her ‘don’t you tell me what I feel’ retort is so charged and fierce and I love it. ‘I know this is hard to accept Josh, but we were a moment in time. But the time has passed’ - this whole scene is wonderfully acted, the chemistry between these characters has always been strong and this is no exception. And obviously I agree that they need to move on. However my second big disappointment for this episode is the, ‘you forget Liza, I know you. I know when you’re lying (a couple of seasons of thinking she was 26 might contradict that but ok), especially to yourself.’

I absolutely understand the sentiment and I completely appreciate the setup for the zinger, ‘you wrote a letter to the wrong guy’ (though I do take issue with that line in general considering Liza has just said she’s made her choice. Even a simple, ‘I think’ in front of it would’ve made it less arrogant), but if this setup is leading to a Josh and Liza reunion down the track, then I would have preferred the execution be different because to me, this is not insightful or romantic, it’s Josh once again questioning Liza’s understanding of herself and her needs (I know it’s meant to be him trying to get her to ‘be real’ but it just doesn’t land like that for me). I have no doubt lots of fans are jubilant but it feels manipulative and is not a tactic that compels me to think they might have something worth revisiting. If after Liza said, ‘I love him more’ Josh had looked at her with that heartbreak in his eyes he can convey so well and said, ‘well then I hope he loves you the way you deserve’ or something and walked away, then THAT would show growth and make the possibility of him being an option again (which is clearly where this is all heading) far more compelling IMO.

So in one of the best bait and switch moments this show has delivered, Liza returns to the loft and has a good hard look at the gala photo with Charles and Michelle and Tom (and in my head she’s thinking about how good it is she and Charles promised each other they won’t go to things like that anymore) before we see another letter starting, Dear Charles. And just when all the Team Charles Stans were going to have a collective meltdown, it turns out it’s Kelsey writing her resignation letter and we all exhaled but then didn’t because Kelsey, what are you doing??? So. Much. DRAH-MAH, so little time.

Ramble Lite™, that was a good joke wasn’t it? Can’t believe we’ve reached the finale but I am also very ready because WE GET TO GO TO A WEDDING!!!! Better get my neckwear sorted…

[jasminwalsh-blog1]

Little Girls, Big Boobs

A self evaluation of my Graphic Design project on female representation. 2017.

My project was an investigation into the way that the media portrays women and girls of every denomination, specifically focusing on film, television, and magazines as sources for criticism. I wanted to draw particular attention to the ways in which these representations affect young teenage girls as I believe that it is at this stage in a girl’s life that they are most impressionable, most vulnerable, and most susceptible to the unrealistic expectations that major media forms encourage them to place on themselves. As a feminist, I take issue with a lot of the representations of women that are fed to young girls on a daily basis. When models who work tirelessly to be skinny and conventionally attractive are covered in make up for photo shoots in carefully lit studios, for the photos to then be altered and manipulated, the versions of these women that are released to the public often show an image of perfection that is unattainable. Girls quickly compare themselves to these images, judging themselves as too fat or too flawed, and in extreme cases these girls can resort to unhealthy measures in an attempt to achieve excellence. My project was an attempt to address these issues in an engaging way, and to redress the distorted way in which femininity is presented in the media.

 Whilst I wanted my final piece to be accessible to anyone as it regards a serious issue that I feel everyone should be aware of, I decided to create three double page spreads for a magazine with a female audience. By catering to an adult demographic, rather than directly addressing the group of people that I was specifically concerned with, I hoped to raise awareness of the issue of misrepresentation. Appealing to a more mature audience was an attempt to get the topic taking more seriously, highlighting the importance of acknowledging these issues, meaning readers can help the next generation of women realise their own beauty, rather than obsessing over the heavily edited images that fill our surroundings.

 I found the work of David Shrigley and Michel Canetti particularly inspirational during my project as although they have very different styles, they both were very effective and I wanted to translate their impact into my work.

 The untitled drawing by Shrigley clearly shows his hand-made, plop almost messy style. Shrigley uses a plain white background for his simple black line drawing, contrasting the unsteady lines of the figure with the straight lines showing the corner of the room and underlining the lettering. This technique particularly inspired my article entitled ‘Distorted’ with the hand drawn figure presenting a rudimentary example of what is supposedly the perfect body image. However, by over exaggerating some features and applying the line drawing style, I hoped that the image would be interpreted as satirical as whilst supposedly perfect in the figure’s weight and proportions, they are flawed and overly simplistic in their drawn style.

 The work of Michel Canetti was also influential in my final piece as I had already noted that a lot of fashion illustrators use watercolours in their work, and because I think the fashion industry has a big role to play in the way that young girls view themselves and form their ideas of ‘perfection’, I wanted to apply this same technique in order to strengthen the link between the industry and the issues I was trying to bring to light. Canetti primarily uses black watercolour pain in his work, with the use of one other colour. I really like this technique as I think it can be used to draw the eye to a particular piece of anatomy, such as the lips as seen in the portrait of Marie-Therese. I used watercolours in my ‘Skinny?’ article spread and included a small portrait for which I used black water colours and attempted a style similar to Michel Canetti and Louis Jover. Rather than including a small amount of colour in the portrait, however, I decided to do a gradient wash for the background to add the colour element.

I was quite happy with my final piece as I think each article spread has a nice design and are appropriately simple, meaning the viewer would not get overwhelmed by the amount on the page, which may discourage them from reading the actual article and therefore not really take in the message that I was trying to convey. I looked at the way in which magazines aimed at younger girls were constructed and believe that my designs would be much more attractive to an adult audience, as initially intended. I think by keeping the text minimal on the ‘Bare Faced’ and ‘Skinny?’ double page spreads I would be able to hold the audience’s attention and encourage them to focus on the message, with soft, simple imagery enhancing, rather than distracting, from the reading. I would still make a few alterations to the ‘Distortion’ as I felt the design was slightly too empty.

 I liked the use of colour throughout as the warm tone given to the ‘Bare Faced’ piece contrasts with the image of the face, which is slightly inhuman and designed to make the viewer slightly uncomfortable. The use of reverse out with the text also makes it stand out as it is the brightest object on the page, meaning it will draw the eye and make the viewer more likely to read it and pay attention to its message. I also thought that by keeping the ‘Distorted’ article in monochrome, with the exception for a small paint mark obscuring part of the line drawing if the figure, was particularly effective. The paint mark was a red which I enhanced in Photoshop to make it stand out even more against the white background. The colour has obvious powerful and violent connotations, symbolising the danger of the impact of false representations of femininity within the media and add a sense of urgency to my message. The ‘Skinny?’ article uses a lot more pastel type colours, primarily the cyan and pink which also have the associations of gender. This softer look would avoid the idea of feminism as a movement full of angry women who hate men, which is far from the reality as it is just a group of people looking for equality, and one of the issues that needs to be addressed is the way that models are compared presented, and how this can give girls unrealistic expectations for the type of body they feel they should grow up to have.

 The main issues I found were in ensuring the pieces of work were of the top quality. The image that I used as the background on the ‘Bare Faced’ article was not a high enough quality and so came out slightly pixelated. In order to resolve this, I put a filter on the photo which blurred the sharper edges and made the pixilation a lot less noticeable, it almost added to the almost oneiric effect of the photograph. I also feel as though my final spreads did not have the level of cohesion that I wanted; they could just as easily have come from three separate magazines as opposed to a singular one. In order to rectify this, I could have a more consistent colour pallet, but I do like the colours that I used and I think I did allow for a certain amount of unity within my piece as I used the same font and same sized type for the article text and headline. I think I could have done more development and experimentation before the production of my final piece in order to enhance my final designs, but I am still quite happy with the work I produced.

 In this project I had a little opportunity to experiment with using a needle and thread, I quite liked the effect it made and so if I can find an opportunity to use this technique again in my next project I will. I also really enjoyed line drawing and so will try to do more illustrative work in the future. This project also allowed me to advance my skills in programmes such as Photoshop and InDesign as I used Photoshop for a lot of editing my imagery, and my final piece was produced in InDesign. I am sure that these skills will benefit me in the future and I look forward to gaining more experience with them, as well as using all the development I made in all areas to feed into the next project.

[7thdimentionsimulation]

Presentation script

I've had an obsession with camouflage my whole life, growing up in the bush made it seem so normal, and those thoughts were boosted by going to a beautiful rural school. That pushed the ideas of being one with your environment, and how important we are to it and vice versa. When I was at school I used to have problems with keeping my attention on the teacher, always daydreaming into my own world. There was always something to disrupt or distract me, keeping my attention away from what was in front of me, which leads me into my topic. Disruption camouflage, and how to provoke the public to see you standing out and drawing attention, rather than looking away or making you invisible.

(slide)

I wanted to show some examples of disruption camouflage to give you an idea into my thinking. Firstly I'd like to start by adopting a phrase ‘nega camouflage’ (nega meaning negative or in this case opposite), which is another way of saying camouflage that shows. A great example of this was Norman Wilkinson’s Dazzle camouflage (also known as Razzle Dazzle) first trialed in 1919. It’s counterintuitive camouflage technique, focused on confusing the vision of German u-boats. Creating a visual disruption giving British naval boats a momentary advantage, in a war fort in millimeters, if a German u-boats torpedo was even a few millimeters off course, it could result in the ship being completely missed. Professor Roy R. Behrens quotes, “for Wilkinson to come up with the ideas of redefining camouflage as high visibility as opposed to low visibility, was pretty astonishing”. This concept was so astonishing because up until the start of the 19th century camouflage was only seen as a form of concealment, Wilkinson however showed that camouflage was much more than a cloaking device. It was a tool that in the right hands could distract and disrupt the vision of the opposing ships, confusing the size, speed, and direction of the vestle.

(slide)

Another technique of disruptive camouflage is the example of Disney’s ‘Go away green’. The purpose of ‘Go away green’, is to obscure security equipment, construction sights, and blend large objects into the surroundings. This technique of disruption focuses on making the viewer's peripheral vision believe the area continuous, giving them a false sense of awareness, which falls into the optical illusion side of my thinking.

(slide)

Being a graphic designer, even a presentation needs a table of contents, so I thought early on I would outline the key components of my presentation, firstly my methodologies, both digital and textile

(slide)

My key themes, distortion, reconstruction, and layering.

(slide)

And finally my practitioners I will talk more in depth about, Akiyoshi Kitaoka, Adam Harvey, Sir David Attenbourgh, and...

(slide)

Jonathan Castro

(slide)

This year I really wanted to look deeper into halftones and an artist that I've always admired is Jonathan Castro, and his halftone system. The major elements I was interested in were his use of opacity, layering, image distortion, and vibrancy. Which I want to develop into my own practice.

(slide)

Which brings us to my digital system development

(slide)

And the systems I have developed from Jonathan Castro’s work. This year I developed two different digital systems that i've used to throughout my practice

(slide)

My first system works on taking photos or finding photos, and building different versions of them. Starting with creating each image into a halftone rendering, I then began playing around with line art, inversin, and grayscales of the image. Creating 2-5 different versions of each image gives me more options when it comes to the layering process.

(slide)

Next I thought I'd break down the layering process of a work from mid years, titled ‘master piece’. These aren't all the images used as it didn't fit nicely, but it's enough to convey the system. Which relies on individual placement and sizing of each image. With each layer having its own opacity to give the desired effect, predominantly layering difference, multiply, hue, and saturation opacities, but testing every form of opacity before setting on what I was happy with.

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Until we get to the final outcome, where the original images are being so distorted that you start to build your own imagery. As you come in closer..

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You become even more entranced in the image, finding more are more, diving deeper until it becomes too overwhelming and a mental rest. This system mostly focuses on distraction, building eye-catching imagery that draws the viewer in through its excessive detail, building on my concept of ‘nega camouflage’.

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Which brings me to my second digital system

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Starting the same as my first system, but focusing on adding things on top of a singular image, distorting the original.

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Building on the concept of distortion, I focused on layering and in this case using ‘master piece’ zoomed up very close to layer over the image. The system is quite similar to my first at this point playing around with different opacities, till I find the one I'm happy with.

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Next step, More versions. Lots more, and where this system starts to separate is focusing on a singular image as reiterated earlier, in this case creating 72 variants of the image, using different parts of ‘master piece’. On the left you can see the opacity system that I used to create each image, black darken the image, light blue difference, aqua lighten the image, and green was a free for all, giving a bit more playfulness to the process, and randomness.

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Moving forward, more layering, now layering the opacity pattern over top with a hue opacity.

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And now beginning the selection process, breaking down the image into segments. As the original image becomes more and more distorted, and start to reconstruct the meaning. I refer to this stage as ‘finding the tasty bits’, and ideology from our lectures when researching for our literature reviews. I've outlined the segment that we will zoom in on in red.

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Now that we have our segment, it's even more breaking down. Scaling it back more and more, down to the size of the original image, which has again been highlighted in red. I call this part ‘finding the taste bit within the tastiest segment’.

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Until we reach our final outcome, the tastiest bit within the tastiest segment. So distorted that it now has its own meaning, but if you held it next to the original image you would still be able to see the reminisce, or resemblance. I think in a nutshell this for me is closer to Castro’s system, but I think adapting parts from each system will be my overall outcome.

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Which brings me to my second practitioner..

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Akiyoshi Kitaoka

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You can't truly distract someone without an illusion, and there is no more iconic illusion designer than Professor Akiyoshi Kitaoka, based in Japan, Kitaoka is seen as the modern godfather of peripheral drift illusions. I thought I'd take this moment to break down how they work as it's an integral part of my disruption camouflage. This illusion is called ‘Rotating Snake’, and I don't know about you, but when I was little this and camouflage were the shit. I covered all my books for years in this exact pattern, which probably was one of the reasons I was so distracted in class. Anyway, into the science behind the illusion. ‘Rotation snake’ is a four colour system relying on a delayed release of motion detection neurons, which I refer to as ‘lag time’ in the visual cortex. It starts with an instant burst as the black and white colours are perceived, and then a second longer and slower release of neurons as the contrasting blue and yellow are perceived.

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The result is a moving static image, which is an oxymoron, and I think this is what inspired me to want to work with this specific illusion. The concept of a static image creating movement is just so mind blending, and I wanted to see where we could push it.

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I started with applying the peripheral drift illusion to one of the images from system two, and was surprised how much it added to the work. I began thinking about how I could layer the illusion? And how I could push this illusion into a textile world.

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Which brings me to my own development of Akiyoshi’s ‘rotating snake’. I figured out how to build his illusion by messing around with building pattern brushes and symbols, and through trial and error, rotating and reshaping I came up with an almost perfect version. I then began testing different colour schemes to find the strongest peripheral effect. As you can see on the right of the slide, this is the optical illusion contrast wheel, pairing up contrasting colours that have the best visual cortex reaction.

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Through a bit of mixing and matching I found there were 2 major standouts on the left, a green and pink colour scheme I call ‘Watermelon’, for obvious colour reasons, and on the right Akiyoshi Kitaoka’s colour scheme, which I fittingly called Akiyoshi’s.

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The goal with these ‘rotating snake’ illusions is to apply them to clothing through sublimation, a form of inkjet printing, much like a printer does with paper, only onto fabric. The idea is to start building the concept of disruption camouflage in a more urban tangible setting. The concept of disruption camouflage is more than illusions though, it's about attracting the attention of your surroundings, I guess in a nutshell it's standing out from the crowd.

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The Idea of being able to stand out in a crowd leaves you somewhat vulnerable to options, which is expected, but there is a more obvious threat wherever you go, that threat is servanice.

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Which leading into talking about Adam Harvey

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Adam Harvey is the founder of ‘Hyperface’ servanice camouflage, a digital made textile system, which uses facial recognition patterns to disrupt and distract servanice cameras. In the aim of reducing the correct detection of facial recognition by providing false faces, that distract computer vision algorithms. Why this concept works is due to computer vision algorithms' non definite depiction of a face, there is never one perfect face, only face like or non face like.

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I started thinking about some works I'd done earlier in the year, where I had been researching Akiyoshi Kitaoka’s ‘Distorted figure’, an optical illusion meant to trick the mind into believing that the segmented squares are not evenly laid out, and how the process wasn't that different to Adam Harveys ‘Hyperface’, in terms of pattern development.

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Continuing on with Akiyoshi Kitaoka’s ‘Distorted figure’, I developed a series of camouflage scarfs based on my favorite camo ‘choco’ as my template, and overlaid the colours with important places from my childhood. Creating swatch colour pallets and adapting them to the form of the illusion, I called this Collection ‘Childhood Camouflage’. In hindsight I wish I had known about Adam Harvey before making this collection, because it would have pushed me to think more about the shapes, and forms I was creating, and the effect it could have in an urban environment. But nevertheless I think the outcome was a step in the right direction.

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I decided to do a run of seven sublimated scarfs of my ‘Childhood’ print, because realistically I wanted to see something physical, and the confidence that I could make sublimation tangible.

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I thought now would be a good time to look at a couple textile practitioners that I've been looking at for inspiration. Firstly Daoyuan Ding, the ITS fashion show winner from 2019, and his textile work. With my practice I don't hope to mimic any artist style, but I do like to draw elements from their work, as stepping stones for my practice. Daoyuan Ding is a great example of not overdoing the work, and that's something that I personally struggle with as I tend to just want to add more and more layers until it's an explosion of colour, and detail. So with the sublimation I'm going to do moving forward, I'm going to think about giving the garments or accessories breathing room. Or atleast make the important parts stand out and the rest blend together.

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The second practitioner and fashion designer is Chez Ichiro, going by the alias ICHI, and his amazing distorted prints. ICHI in a similar way knows how to use negative space with his garments, creating eye-catching moments and allowing the garments to still be formal.

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I think the important thing for me with ICHI’s work, in terms of my practice, was the creativity. It showed me that I wasn't even thinking out of the box yet, which gave me hope that my practice will flesh out over time, and to be a bit more crazy with my ideas.

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Which brings me to my final inspiration..

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Sir David Attenbourgh

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I was on netflix at night early in the year, and I was saying to myself, “man I really need something to inspire me for these lit reviews coming up”, and bam there it was. Sir David Attenbourgh’s ‘life in colour’, a three part series looking at all the weird and wonderful colours and patterns found in nature, made by nature. One interesting element that stuck out to me was when he talked about seasonal arctic animals, and how they change their coats to match their environments.

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After watching the Sir David Attenbourgh series I wanted to see if I could adapt the seasonal arctic animals camouflage into a digital system. I did this by creating a 360 frame hue camouflage, capturing a segment of as many abnormal and normal environments as I could.

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Here are some examples of how camouflage can adapt to different environments, and I want to keep pushing this idea of adaptable clothing and camouflage into my textile practice.

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When thinking about how not to approach adaptable camouflage, a great example is the tiger. The tiger is orange because it predominantly hunts deer, and deer can't see orange. In the example picture we see what a deer see’s on the left vs a human on the right, and I think this is an important trait to get right when thinking about an adaptable camouflage.

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I continued on my thinking by looking at the Monster moths of Britain, thinking about how their wings disrupt predators, giving the moths a few seconds of hesitation or a second thought before they are attacked, and how that was similar to the way dazzle camouflage is effective. I then began to think about what that might look like in an urban environment, is it eye-catching like a detailed digital work, or does it attract the viewer in by being really different, vibrant, and standing out.

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Which brings me to some more examples of adaptations of insects in their environments, to give them an advantage in survival. The two examples I have here, the Sphinx Hawk Caterpillar and the Metalmark spider, both use an adaptation I call ‘Shapeshifting’. The idea of shapeshifting is to be able to adapt to multiple environments, and is a concept that has been tackled by the last couple practitioners..

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Firstly Ding Yun Zhang, and his orange metallic helmet bag. Which is able to change from a bag to a helmet, to a backpack. Although it's not exactly what I have in mind as it doesn't really adapt to the environment, it does adapt to the users needs, which I think is a step in the right direction with my process.

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Secondly, Virgil Abloh’s 2054 adaptable vest. Turning from a vest, to a long sleeve windbreaker, to an under hooded windbreaker and a puffer vest. This is a great example of shapeshifting clothing, and a real inspiration for my conceptual ideas. Again similar to Ding Yun Zhang, this is more of an example of adapting to users needs. But I thought in terms of weather this is a great concept for environmental adaptability. (If video hasn’t finished banter, if it has slide)

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To end I thought I'd show you where my current practice is at. Because I've been unable to sublimate anything because of Covid, it's made me think outside of the box a bit more. So I was playing with the idea of something that made you look one way in the day another at night, and what better example than Bioluminescent mushrooms, in this case Ghost mushrooms.

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So I tried to adapt that into a series of hats, using resin and glow in the dark powder. Creating an object that can change how you are perceived in different amounts of light, or environments.

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Digitally, I've been working on Akiyoshi Kitaoka’s ‘rotating snake’ illusion, and different ways I can make it environmentally adaptable. An interesting idea I had moving forward was to cut out different components of the illusions. Whether it's, the black allowing the surroundings to build the negative colour.

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Or using the contrasting landscapes of our urban jungle, and the real jungle, under laid beneath the cut out of the illusion. Which due to the variety of colours, makes the optical illusion work.

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And thats where im at, thank you for listening

[spryfilm]

“Duckman: Private Dick/Family Man” (1994 – 1997)

Television

70 Episodes

Created by: Everett Peck

Featuring: Jason Alexander, Gregg Berger, Nancy Travis, Dana Hill, Pat Musick, E.G. Daily, Dweezil Zappa

Duckman: “Did I ever tell you my Dad’s last words to me”

Cornfed: “Careful, son, I don’t think the safety is on.”

Duckman: “Before that.”

Never one to look back on ‘the good old days’ as there is little to be gained, especially when viewing older television shows, which on the most part have not aged very well I was extra pleased to see that one of the great adult animated shows “Duckman” (1994-1997) was being released on DVD, to, hopefully, a new audience which this hilarious as well as truly groundbreaking show deserves. Before the proliferation of more grown up animation there were only a handful of similarly veined shows viewers could turn to in the 1990s, of course those shows like this one broke rules, commented on the day as well as being truly funny. You may recognize the names, “Beavis and Butt-head” (1993-2011), “The Maxx” (1995), “Aeon Flux” (1991-1995), “Ren and Stimpy” (1991-1996) and “The Critic” (1994-1995), these were all in different ways genre defying as well as genre breaking something that happens all to rarely in the homogenized present we find ourselves in. Of course, some of these shows were more successful than others with the nadir being “Beavis and Butt-head” and “Ren and Stimpy”, but my personal favorite was always “Duckman”.

“Duckman”, the series centers on Eric T. Duckman (voiced by Jason Alexander), a lascivious, widowed, self-hating, grouchy anthropomorphic duck who lives with his family in Los Angeles (as mentioned in the episode “Bev Takes a Holiday”) and works as a private detective. The tagline of the show, seen in the opening credits, is “Private Dick/Family Man” (“dick” is a triple entendre).

Main characters include Cornfed (voiced by Gregg Berger), a pig who is Duckman’s Joe Friday-esque business partner and best friend, Ajax (voiced by Dweezil Zappa), Duckman’s eldest, mentally-slow teenage son; Charles (voiced by Dana Hill and later Pat Musick) and Mambo (voiced by E. G. Daily), Duckman’s Conjoined twin child genius sons whose heads share a body; Bernice (voiced by Nancy Travis), Duckman’s sister-in-law and the identical twin of Beatrice who is a fanatic fitness buff and hates Duckman with a passion; Grandma-ma (voiced by Travis), Duckman’s comatose, immensely flatulent mother-in-law; Agnes Delrooney (voiced by Brian Doyle-Murray), Grandma-ma’s doppelgänger who kidnaps her and poses as her for several episodes; Fluffy and Uranus (voiced by Pat Musick), Duckman’s two Care Bear-esque teddy-bear office assistants.

Everett Peck is the sole creator of the television show, his drawings have appeared in The New Yorker, Playboy and Time, as well as numerous books, comics and movie posters. He has participated in gallery shows in Tokyo, Los Angeles, New York, and Washington, D.C., and has written animated cartoons for Rugrats and The Critic. “Duckman” was originally created as a comic book that was first published by Dark Horse in 1990, in 1994 Duckman was turned into an animated series.

The show was animated by Clasky-Csupo, and like their better-remembered, kid-focused shows “Rugrats” (1990-2006) it has an expressive, super-deformed art style that’s somewhat reminiscent of independent syndicated comics like those of Lynda Barry and early Matt Groening. The opening credits are super 90s with colorful collages and very stilted drop-frame animation, in this case with a backup theme by Frank Zappa, whose son Dweezil voices Duckman’s charmingly vacant surf-speaking son Ajax.

Like “The Critic”, “Duckman” encounters random celebrities at times. Like “Ren and Stimpy”, he’s insanely, cartoonishly violent, mostly to his two assistants, Fluffy and Uranus; Care Bear parodies who are sweetly naive and always bounce back from whatever lethal end they meet at their boss’ hands in any given scene. Like “Aeon Flux”, the show was not shy about showing as much animated female flesh as could be gotten away with. But all that was just sizzle on the steak: Duckman balanced the humor with pathos, rubbing in the fact that the lead character’s life is miserable, but also that he loves his three sons and deeply mourns his wife.

And then, at its best, “Duckman” contained utterly scathing satire that would raise eyebrows even today. Satire is extremely important to animation espepcially those series from the 1990s, it is a technique employed by writers to expose and criticize foolishness and corruption of an individual or a society, by using humor, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule. It intends to improve humanity by criticizing its follies and foibles.

In the intervening years, either by way of generational change, or just increasing conformity, we’ve lost that desire to mock. Cartoons today are safe. They may proffer to highlight social justice issues, or even raise awareness of important causes, but they do so in a neutral inoffensive manner.

Televison shows like “Duckman” are important beucase its seems like we have lost the tendancy to create proper satires espceiclly in animation. Shows (even web series) are focusing more on entertainment. Animation and cartoons in general are the perfect vehicle with which to mock the deservedly mockable. Politicians, silicon valley wonks, terrorists; all are so very ripe for plunder yet remain untouched. Has western society embraced a degree of political correctness that emasculates satire? It seems that way doesn’t it? Of course provoking unwanted responses isn’t helping. Not everyone enjoys having their faults and weaknesses exposed and many are wont to seek revenge on those who do. Yet animation’s unique place in the entertainment and art spheres means that it can tackle such complex issues without losing its humurous appeal. Satire is the most accessible way of doing so, and it’s a shame it seems to have vanished form contemporary shows and films. Here’s hoping it comes back.

Interestingly there are reasons why animal based animations are popular as well as extremely popular and they are:

 –  The so-called ‘Bambi effect’ suggests that humans find animals easier to empathise with, rather than other humans, on account of their ‘cuteness’.  Indeed, this phenomenon could also possibly be explained by Sigmund Freud’s theory that as children we consider ourselves equal to animals and so find it easy to empathise with them. Although this perception often does not last into adulthood, it still positively impacts upon adults’ attitudes towards animals.

 –  Animated animals, even more so than animated humans, are able to transcend these arbitrary distinctions to become universally appealing.

 – They are universal without being bland. However, their universality does not make them bland. Because they are not human, they can be attributed other interesting and defining characteristics that do not have cultural significance.

 –  Animals are similar enough to us to allow us to empathise with them, but not so similar that we feel their pain as if it were our own. This means animated animal characters provide an excellent way to explore difficult topics whilst maintaining a slight emotional distance.

 – Unlike human stereotypes, animal species stereotypes are unlikely to offend audiences.  By using animated, anthropomorphized characters, animators are able to use stereotypes to humorous effect.  Animal stereotypes can simultaneously provide satirical humour to adults and appear humorous to children simply on account of their ‘silliness’ or ‘cuteness’.

 – As much as the use of species stereotype can be important in helping to provide humour and further the plot, subverting tropes is also an effective way to create humour.

 – As human beings we like to consider ourselves as being at the centre of the universe.  This leads us to assume in our narcissism that all species have the same characteristics as us and so we project our characteristics onto animals almost unthinkingly.

 –  Humans expect less detail in the depiction of animals than they do in the portrayal of humans.  This means that animated animals can function as allegories in a way that human characters could not.

 – A lot of the comedy of animation tends to derive from exaggeration.  It is much easier to achieve this without causing offence when the characters aren’t human.

All in all “Duckman” was not only an entertaining show but one that spoke to people in terms of society, celebrity, economics and politics of the time. What is unique is that with the intervening years as well as the changes in technology this show still stands up as well as having something to say about the world we live in today.

“Duckman” is available now on DVD and is worth checking out.

Episodes:

Season 1:

“I, Duckman”– Feeling underappreciated by his family, Duckman hunts down the man mailing him bombs thinking he’s the only one who cares.

“T.V. or Not to Be”– Duckman is hired by a televangelist to find a missing painting and has a near-death experience after being captured and suffocated with cellophane.

“Gripes of Wrath”– Duckman takes his children to the unveiling of a supercomputer named Loretta. However, during the unveiling, Loretta overhears a comment Duckman makes and alters reality to make everything go Duckman’s way… for a while.

“Psyche”– Feeling insecure about himself, Duckman gets plastic surgery for his bill. Not long after, two buxom blondes hire him and Cornfed to investigate why they only attract men who only want them for their bodies causing Duckman to have a crisis of conscience.

“Gland of Opportunity”– After an accident at an amusement park, the cowardly Duckman has the adrenal gland of a daredevil transplanted into his body giving him a new outlook on life.

“Ride the High School”– Ajax is offered a scholarship to an exclusive boarding school, which Duckman sends him to, unaware that the scholarship is part of a plan by his arch-nemesis King Chicken.

“A Civil War”– Duckman gets jealous when his family showers Cornfed with attention, so he fires him during their next case: a death investigation for an insurance company.

“Not So Easy Riders”– To escape paying years of Duckman’s back taxes he and Cornfed flee on motorcycles.

“It’s the Thing of the Principal”– Ajax and his vice-principal fall in love and elope, leaving Bernice and Duckman to track them down, posing as a married couple themselves.

“Cellar Beware”– A home security expert gets Duckman to buy an elaborate security system—the “Interlopen Fuhrer 2000″—which first fails to prevent a burglary, then locks the whole family in the basement.

“American Dicks”– An episode of the reality show American Dicks films a day in the life of Duckman (chosen as the only agency not affected by a nationwide detective union’s strike) as he and Cornfed try to find the mayor after he’s been kidnapped.

“About Face”– Duckman dates an ugly woman whose voice he fell in love with when calling 911. People’s reactions, however, prompt her to seek a full makeover, making her gorgeous to everyone.

“Joking the Chicken”– A group of rude stand-up comics hire Duckman to stop Iggy Catalpa; a clean, mild-mannered, politically correct comedian whose bland, inoffensive brand of comedy becomes a sensation, thanks to his agent — King Chicken.

Season 2:

“Papa Oom M.O.W. M.O.W.”– Duckman becomes a national hero after saving the President from an assassination attempt, until it’s revealed that his “heroics” were an accident and he was merely trying to grope two women. Nonetheless he capitalizes on his newfound fame, penning a film for USA and planning a run for the Senate.

“Married Alive”– Bernice returns home from a European vacation and announces that she is marrying a self-made billionaire who plans to take her, Grandma-ma, and the kids away with him to Switzerland, leaving Duckman alone.

“Days of Whining and Neurosis”– Duckman and Cornfed go undercover at an exclusive celebrity-filled health and rehab spa to investigate the murder of a doctor. While there, Duckman detoxes from his various addictions.

“Inherit the Judgement: The Dope’s Trial”– In search of a free clock radio, Duckman takes the family across five states through the desert. On their trek they wind up in the small town of Coopville, where everyone is related, King Chicken is the sheriff, and Duckman is put on trial for heresy.

“America the Beautiful”– In an episode “not recommended for small children or certain Congressmen from the South” that’s “full of heavy-handed and over-obvious allegory” (according to the beginning disclaimer), a multi-ethnic group of children hire Duckman and Cornfed to find their idol, a gorgeous model named America. The investigation involves speaking to four of her ex-boyfriends, men who represent American life in the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s, while Duckman falls deeper in love with the idea of her.

“The Germ Turns”– At a new age fair, Duckman gets a visits from his dead mother (voiced by Katey Sagal)–reincarnated as a highly infectious germ because of how terrible of a mother she was. Hoping to escape the same fate, Duckman begins smothering his sons with affection, much to their chagrin.

“In the Nam of the Father”– The son Cornfed never knew he had arrives at the office and Cornfed travels back to Vietnam to find the mother and the truth. Duckman takes his family along on the trip for a much needed vacation and must also deal with the flashbacks he is experiencing.

“Research and Destroy”– When Ajax shows a natural talent for poetry, Duckman gets him to sign a contract for a greeting card company in search of a new writer.

“Clip Job”– Henry Melfly (voiced by Ben Stiller) kidnaps Duckman; blaming him for the decline in moral, family-friendly shows, resulting in a clip show as he argues his point.

Season 3:

“Noir Gang”– In a black-and-white, film noir-style episode, Cornfed and Duckman fall for the same woman — femme fatale client Tamara LaBoinque (voiced by Bebe Neuwirth) — raising conflicting feelings in Cornfed.

“Forbidden Fruit”– The family hires a French live-in tutor (King Chicken in disguise) to help the children with their study skills and social development, who sues Duckman for sexual harassment after he gives her an apple, which, according to Judeo-Christian ideology, is considered sexual as the apple is the forbidden fruit Eve ate and tempted Adam with. Ostracized by the public, Duckman is forced to hide out with Fluffy and Uranus while a feminist group begins forcing pro-female political correctness on the town.

“Grandma-ma’s Flatulent Adventure”– When the family fears they can no longer care for Grandma-ma, they decide to place her in a retirement home. Unfortunately, Duckman loses her while dropping her off, sending her on a wild adventure, which ultimately kills her.

“Color of Naught”– Tony Sterling (self-made millionaire and entrepreneur) and his assistant/supermodel Angela (the 911 operator from “About Face”) begins advertising “Beautex”, a beautifying cream to the city and its denizens. In truth, however, Sterling is King Chicken and Beautex (which doesn’t work on Duckman) is a virus which eventually devolves everything it touches.

“Sperms of Endearment”– After caring for a small girl (that calls her “mom”) in the park, Bernice decides it’s time to have children of her own. Her hunt for a father doesn’t go well, however, so she settles on artificial insemination— with sperm that turns out to be from Duckman.

“A Room with a Bellevue”– After an incredibly bad day, Duckman simply wants to make it to Charles and Mambo’s birthday dinner, but gets pushed too far by a dry cleaner. His ranting in the street (without wearing a starched collar) gets him arrested and committed to a state mental hospital for thirty days, where he settles into the routine and decides to stay, forcing Cornfed to break him out.

“Apocalypse Not”– While everyone in the city goes underground for a disaster preparedness drill, an oblivious Duckman thinks he’s the last man alive and wreaks havoc — until he finds a beautiful, deaf gymnast and falls for her. The trapped city folk, meanwhile, begin to turn on each other during their attempted escape back to the surface.

“Clear and Presidente Danger”– Duckman scams a vacation to a South American country, where a passionate Duckman rant about pay toilets leads to a people’s revolution and has him installed as dictator. After his first hundred days he’s just as corrupt a leader as the government he replaced, and it’s up to Cornfed to lead another revolution to bring him down.

“The Girls of Route Canal”– Charles and Mambo ask Duckman to tell them how he won over their mother to help build their confidence in approaching their dreamgirls. The story he tells turns out to be a spoof of The Bridges of Madison County.

“The Mallardian Candidate”– Iggy Catalpa hires Duckman to investigate a conspiracy: every time he does his laundry he loses one sock. However, the case is actually a ruse to kidnap Duckman and turn him on Cornfed by Catalpa’s World Domination League.

“Pig Amok”– Because of a previously unknown genetic problem, Cornfed has 24 hours to lose his virginity or he will die. After he fails to connect with multiple women (thanks to Duckman’s sleazy pick-up lines), Bernice has sex with him to save his life, but Cornfed thinks Bernice is in love with him.

“The Once and Future Duck”– Ajax accidentally opens a rift in the time/space continuum with his clock radio, bringing various future versions of Duckman to the past to see him, all different depending on different decisions he can make, causing him to fall into a paranoid spiral.

“The One with Lisa Kudrow in a Small Role” “Planet of the Dopes”– Feeling unappreciated by his family, Ajax leaves the house for a walk and is abducted by two redneck aliens from the planet Betamax. On Betamax, Ajax is treated like a genius and worshiped as a deity, while on Earth, Duckman realizes he knows nothing about his son — or any of his family.

“Aged Heat”– After his family mocks his detective skills, they refuse to take him seriously when he accuses Grandma-ma of acting suspiciously, though she has, in fact, been replaced by Agnes DelRooney (voiced by Brian Doyle-Murray), a robber who looks just like her.

“They Craved Duckman’s Brain!”– Duckman is cast in a hospital educational film. After being left in an active MRI chamber for hours, a mutant part of his brain grows an isotope that can cure cancer, which everyone wants.

“The Road to Dendron”– In a parody of the Bing Crosby/Bob Hope “Road to…”films, Duckman and Cornfed chaperon Ajax’s class trip to the Dendron in Sudan, where Ajax is kidnapped and held hostage by a Sultan, his Fakir, and a beautiful princess.

“Exile in Guyville”– In a distant future, a mother’s (voiced by former Fridays cast member Maryedith Burrell) bed-time story for her son involves Duckman and Bernice leading a nationwide division of the sexes after Bernice lambastes Duckman for developing raunchy lingerie with no thought to what a real woman would want to wear.

“The Longest Weekend”– Fed up with the shabby treatment of local government, Duckman and his North Phlegm neighbors form a block association to take on the nearby Dutch Elm Street block association–which has been lobbying the Mayor’s office–eventually leading to all out war.

“The Amazing Colossal Duckman”– Duckman contracts a very rare blood condition through a unique combination of chemicals which causes his blood to literally boil and his body to grow several inches every time he gets angry. After exploiting his new stature for a while, he realizes he is unable to control himself and exiles himself to a secluded island.

“Cock Tales for Four”– Duckman and Bernice attend a dinner party to meet Ajax’s new girlfriend Tammy’s parents, King Chicken and drunken wife Honey. Over the course of the evening their relationships change in unexpected ways.

Season 4:

“Dammit, Hollywood”– After seeing a bad movie Duckman sneaks into the studio head’s office to get his $7 back. The studio head, however, makes him an executive to sabotage the studio.

“Coolio Runnings”– Duckman adopts rap star Coolio (voicing himself) as his son to compete in the local father/son games over Ajax, hurting Ajax’s feelings.

“Aged Heat 2: Women in Heat”– Duckman is arrested for killing Fluffy and Uranus again and accidentally sent to a woman’s prison. There he becomes the star attraction of an illegal dance ring, until another girl arrives and bumps him from his slot.

“All About Elliott”– Duckman and Cornfed hire the college-aged Elliott (voiced by Chris Elliott) to be their office intern. Immediately he warms himself to Duckman by feeding his destructive side and pushing Cornfed away by sabotaging his personal life and commitments.

“From Brad to Worse”– Duckman is reunited with a man he made homeless 20 years ago and decides to try to help him get back on his feet.

“Bonfire of the Panties”– Cornfed, Charles and Mambo create an aphrodisiac to revive Duckman’s waning love life. When he forgets to wear it, Courtney Thorne-Smith(voicing herself) falls for him, but the family isn’t sure what to believe.

“Role With It”– Duckman, his family and staff, vacation together at an Indian casino, during which they’re approached by a psychiatrist who offers them treatment involving roleplaying to prevent them from what she sees as inevitable violent self-destruction and uncovers real issues among them.

“Ajax and Ajaxer”– While investigating a laboratory, Cornfed accidentally ingests a “Get Dumb” potion, which lowers his IQ to the point that he becomes best friends with Ajax, who is feeling left out of his family again.

“With Friends Like These”– After convincing himself again that he’s having a surprise party only to come home to just Cornfed, Duckman realizes he has no friends. Vowing to use his clean slate and try again to be the “best friend possible” he stumbles upon a group of culturally diverse, laugh tracked, 20-somethings at a coffee shop who immediately take a shine to him.

“A Trophied Duck”– Duckman drags the family to Dickcon ’97 in San Francisco to see him get an award. Unbeknownst to him, he’s actually being set up by Lauren Simone, a rival from his days at “Don Galloway’s Famous Detective School”.

“A Star is Abhorred”– During a night out, Bernice becomes an angry female music starafter yelling at Duckman for insulting her singing at a karaoke. Her life begins to go downhill, however, when she and the family go on tour and she gets sucked into the rock & roll life style.

“Bev Takes a Holiday”– Continuing from the previous episode, Bernice travels to Washington, D.C.to assume her new role as Congresswoman. Meanwhile, Beverly—long lost triplet of Beatrice and Bernice—hires a detective to find her family and seeks them out. Duckman spots her spying on him and, mistaking her for Beatrice, runs to her, only to be struck by a bus. In the hospital, Bev must pretend to be Beatrice for Duckman’s sake when he wakes and mistakes her for same.

“Love! Anger! Kvetching!” “Ain’t Gonna Be No Mo No Mo”– On the night of a big poker game Duckman has planned with Joe Walsh, Bob Guccionne and others, his Uncle Mo arrives and claims to be dying from heart cancer.

“Duckman and Cornfed in ‘Haunted Society Plumbers'”– In an episode with hints of Marx Brothers, Three Stooges, and Martin and Lewis classics, Duckman and Cornfed—temporarily plumbers—are hired as at a high-society party celebrating the unveiling of a “cursed” jewel: “The Sharon Stone”. Before the ceremony, though, the stone goes missing.

“Ebony, Baby”– Cornfed goes on vacation—his first in 11 years—Duckman works as the sidekick to a black female private investigator Ebony Sable (voiced by Tisha Campbell) who gets him involved in a world of murder, power, lust and blaxploitation clichés.

“Vuuck, as in Duck”– Duckman inherits a AAA baseball team as the last minute action of owner Gene Vuuck—who overhears him bemoaning the current status of the game and decides he’s a “real fan”—who is trying to keep the team out of the hands of a banker. Unfortunately, the team has no following and is losing money rapidly so he replaces the whole team with supermodels.

“Crime, Punishment, War, Peace, and the Idiot”– Beverly asks Bernice if she knows anything about Grandma-ma’s life, prompting Grandma-ma to begin a series of flashbacks of her life, with the main cast filling in for past friends, acquaintances and lovers.

“Kidney, Popsicle, and Nuts”– Duckman is in need of a kidney transplant from a blood relative, but the children are out for various reasons (Ajax doesn’t have any, Charles and Mambo share one) so he turns to his cryogenically frozen father whom, it turns out, wasn’t his father at all. He tracks down his real father (voiced by Brian Keith), a paranoiac in the sticks with his “own country,” and while he’s staying with him a standoff with the government develops.

“The Tami Show”– Duckman backs his car into Tami, a cute girl who claims her family died in a sleighing accident leaving her on her own. The family invites her to stay with them and she quickly begins incapacitating Bev and taking over the family.

“My Feral Lady”– A depressed Duckman purchases a mail-order bride, but upon delivery finds her to be a feral jungle savage. With Cornfed’s help, Duckman attempts to turn her (Kathy Lee) into a proper lady he can marry.

“Westward, No!”– While the boys are visiting Beatrice in D.C., Cornfed invites Beverly to a catfish ranch in Louisiana owned by his Aunt Jane (voiced by Estelle Getty), and a jealous Duckman tags along. After getting the ranch hands fired, Duckman and the gang must help the foreman, Big Jack McBastard (voiced by Jim Cummings), drive the 2,000 head of catfish to Texas.

“Short, Plush and Deadly”– During a taxpayer financed dream vacation Duckman, Cornfed, Fluffy and Uranus are kicked out of camp, stung by bees, and lost. The bee stings paralyze Cornfed and cause his head to swell, but turn turning Fluffy and Uranus into large, homicidal monsters. It’s up to Beatrice and Beverly to find and save them.

“How to Suck in Business Without Really Trying”– Duckman sells his last name to the VarieCom corporation for $1,000, which he immediately wastes, leaving him penniless and jobless.

“You’ve Come a Wrong Way, Baby”– After catching Mambo with a cigarette in his mouth, Bernice challenges the tobacco industry on the floor of Congress. During testimony she’s invited to a tobacco plantation by Walt Evergreen (voiced by Jim Varney)—president of an unnamed tobacco company—which doesn’t go well for the family.

“Hamlet 2: This Time It’s Personal”– Duckman sees the ghost of his Uncle Mo, who says that Duckman’s father was murdered by King Chicken and Duckman should take revenge. To do so he decides to act crazy to get King Chicken—with whom he has formed a truce to allow King Chicken time around Bernice—to admit his guilt so he can kill him with impunity. Cornfed realizes that Duckman is living out the plot of Hamlet, which will eventually lead to his death.

“Das Sub” “Class Warfare”– Convicted of fraud, Duckman is sentenced to 5,000 hours of community service, but accidentally finds himself substituting for a teacher he injures and teaching a group of intellectual high schoolers how to be “street smart”.

“Where No Duckman Has Gone Before”– A Star Trek parody where Captain Duckman (as Captain Kirk) does battle against King Khan Chicken in an episode similar to “Arena” among others.

“Four Weddings Inconceivable”– At the wedding of Dr. Stein, a series of emotional epiphanies lead to an amazing set of marriage proposals: King Chicken proposes to Bernice; Cornfed proposes to Beverly; Duckman proposes to Honey, King Chicken’s ex. After arguments between the principles, Duckman volunteers to make the arrangements for the triple wedding, purposely putting any blame on himself. Despite his arrangements, the ceremony goes off without a hitch — until Duckman’s supposedly deceased wife, Beatrice, returns.

DVD review: “Duckman: Private Dick/Family Man” (1994 – 1997) “Duckman: Private Dick/Family Man” (1994 - 1997) Television 70 Episodes Created by: Everett Peck Featuring: Jason Alexander, Gregg Berger, Nancy Travis, Dana Hill, Pat Musick, E.G.

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PODCAST MARKETING ON SOCIAL MEDIA: THE OFFICIAL GUIDE IN 2021

The hardest part is over after you order the equipment, right? From there it’s all downhill?

Unfortunately, this is rarely the case. Buying the equipment and choosing a subject are actually the easiest part of the process and the most difficult parts…SURPRISE! Happen to be the marketing end of the project.

However, the good news is that podcast marketing doesn’t have to be difficult, complicated or messy. In fact, podcast marketing can actually be a lot of fun if you have the right tools, knowledge, connections and platforms.

We’re going to dive a little deeper into what podcast marketing on social media really IS and what it requires, as well as how you can get from zero viewers to a constantly growing network in a matter of months.

Let’s get the party started.

What is Podcast Marketing on Social Media?

Podcast marketing on social media makes that possible by driving brand awareness, connecting you with potential listeners and giving you a platform to deliver the right message at the right time to the right people. In essence, podcast marketing on social media is your ticket to fame if executed properly.

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Podcast Marketing on Social Media: Choosing a Platform

If you’re of the mind that joining as many social media platforms as possible is the right avenue, we’re here to tell you that it’s not worth it.

Instead, narrowing down the 2-3 platforms that your audience uses THE MOST and then using that as your main platforms will allow you to:

Spend more focused energy on making your presence on fewer platforms better,

Will allow you to learn more about each platform and use that knowledge to your advantage

It’ll give you an opportunity to speak more directly with your audience and make authentic connections without feeling stretched between too many possibilities.

Choosing the perfect platform goes back to what demographics your listeners will most closely relate to, as well as how niche your audience really is. Most podcasts will do well to spend the majority of their time on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn, but if you will have a very specific, niche audience, it may be worth a brainstorm and branching out into more unknown territory.

Podcast Marketing on Social Media: Strategically Building Your Profile

Long before your podcast hits the stage and before the promotion efforts are going full-steam ahead, it’s important to make some quality time with your brand’s social profiles.

Most networks will feature platform-specific fields that you’ll want to fill out, but the majority of them will be the same.

We created a little cheat-sheet below so you can be sure you don’t miss anything.

Upload a brand or personal profile photo

Upload a cover photo

Add your website, (if applicable)

Create a tagline

Fill in the “about” section.

Include any certifications and awards (where applicable)

Filling out this information is crucial because it helps social networks bring you the right kind of listeners and helps interested listeners find you.

Podcast Marketing on Social Media: Content Creation and Direction

Yes, your podcast is creative material, but you can’t expect people to listen without knowing what they’re getting into. Not to mention that if you’re looking to experience growth, you’ll have to build out specific content around your podcast to keep people engaged, sharing and listening!

#1 Use Quote Graphics to Your Advantage

This one is powerful because it’s so shareable and relatable.

Did you have a special guest on your podcast that you can highlight with a particular quote? Was there something particularly enlightening or exciting about the information you shared in a recent podcast? This is the time to highlight it and get people interested in listening through colorful, relevant, informative content.

#2 Strive to be a Problem-Solver

If in any way you can provide information that saves people a headache, this is the time to do it. Making your listeners lives easier through shared information, tactics and tools is a great way to build loyalty with your audience and attract more listeners. AND it makes great content!!

#3 Leverage Popular and Trending Content

If you can find relevant, trending and popular content that’s easy to work into your podcast social content, you’ve hit a gold mine. Re-tweeting, sharing, re-purposing...it’s all game as long as you give credit where credit is due and DO NOT try to force something that doesn’t naturally relate.

#4 Giveaways Go A Long Way

Everyone loves an opportunity to win something. Get your name out there and host a contest or giveaway. You’d be surprised at just how effective it can be for building engagement, (which helps your other content!) and the only rule is to be careful how often you perform them.

You don’t want followers who are only there for the free stuff. 😏😉

#5 Get Creative on Each Platform

If you made the decision to execute your podcast marketing on multiple channels, it’s important not to get sucked into the “same content, same copy, different platforms” bandwagon.

You want to make sure your content sizing, wording and targeting are specific to the audience and platform, not specific only to your brand.

Get creative! There are ways to re-purpose the same images with different copy or vice versa.

#6 Create a Social Media Content Calendar for Your Podcast Marketing

If you’re making an editorial/content calendar for your podcast, then you already know how important and helpful they can be when it comes to content planning, organization and analysis.

A podcast social media content calendar will allow you to stay consistent by giving you a structure to work from so quality content can flow naturally and the content that IS published can be complimentary.

One of the best ways to quickly create a social media content calendar is to plan things out according to days of the week. We’ve created a sample podcast marketing social media content calendar below so you don’t have to waste time creating one yourself!

Even if you don’t want to choose a “theme” for each day of the week, creating social content in advance is the key to future success. It saves you time, saves you stress and helps you stay accountable to keeping things fresh, consistent and aesthetically pleasing throughout your feed.

Sample Podcast Social Media Content Calendar

Because sometimes brainstorming themed content is just too much, right? We’ve got you covered.

1. Monday: Post a quote graphic/sound byte/video from your podcast

It builds hype. It’s fun. It’s fast and it’s easily consumed content, which sounds like a green light to me.

2. Tuesday: Ask a question- get people involved

Asking questions and responding to questions is one of the best ways to build brand engagement and foster loyalty with your audience. Take advantage!

3. Wednesday: Share some relevant industry news

Who doesn’t love a little inspiration? Just make sure you keep it industry relevant.

4. Thursday: Inspirational quote

If your audience will find it interesting or informational, it’s worth sharing. Plus, it’s content you don’t have to worry about making!

5. Friday: Something about YOU, a guest/speaker/employee spotlight

Sharing something about yourself and your life puts a human dimension into your brand and cultivates loyalty. Even if it’s just a selfie, your audience wants to see the real YOU so make it happen!

6. Saturday: A behind-the-scenes glimpse

Who doesn’t love getting a glimpse of what’s happening behind the scenes of their favorite TV shows?? The same is true of a podcast. Giving your audience a glimpse of your studio or taking a picture of your brainstorming snacks are a great way to connect with your audience and let them feel like they’re a part of the action.

Of course, you don’t have to stick to this as a rule, but this should give you some wildly effective and engaging ideas to use for your own podcast marketing social media content calendar.

P.S Our team loves Sprout Social for content planning and scheduling.

Podcast Marketing on Social Media: Engaging With Your Audience

Magnet podcast social media communities exist because the social media manager created an inclusive, insightful, value-filled community where anyone could chime in, all questions mattered and the audience felt HEARD.

But how do you go about creating a magnetic community like that?

The answer is simple: engaging with your audience.

This can mean re-tweeting content and reviews, commenting, answering questions, asking questions, doing shout-outs, that type of activity. Your audience will EAT IT UP.

Live Q&As are particularly insightful and helpful for boosting brand awareness, driving engagement and traffic, and even helping bolster support for your podcast.

It’ll take time, but when you begin building a value-filled community, the rewards are endless. Your audience will see your brand for what it is and not just self-promotion which will often turn an audience cold faster than you can think.

A good rule of thumb is to make sure your audience:

✅Can do more than just see or read your content- they WANT to engage! And they want YOU to engage right back!

✅Can chat and talk freely with you, whether that means asking questions or voicing concerns.

✅Knows you care about them. Even just liking comments can go a LONG way, so be thoughtful and caring about the way you approach your audience!

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Podcast Marketing On Social Media: Staying On Topic

There is nothing more revolting than a podcast channel using their platform as a personal soapbox. Don’t do it. However much you want to, it’s NEVER a good idea and it costs much more than it’s worth for five seconds of emotional fame.

YES you do want your podcast to be your podium, but only for things that are RELATED to your podcast. If your podcast is about politics, then go full steam ahead chatting about who you’re voting for and why, but absolutely don’t bring religion, politics or any other particularly sticky situations into the podcast unless it is 100% relevant to your brand.

That being said, when it comes to important topics like Human Rights, supporting the people who need us the most is far more important than anything else, so stand up and stand strong! I can guarantee that in the end, your audience and conscience will thank you.

Podcast Marketing on Social Media: Promoting Your Podcast

When it comes to promoting your own podcast on your page, ANYTHING goes, so long as you’re not TOO promotional. The key is finding a balance between announcing new episodes, recapping old episodes and hyping future episodes WITHOUT taking away from the community feeling built on the overall value that you are striving to provide as a podcast creator.

Social Media Podcast Promotion Tips for Success

If you’re ready to knock your podcast promotion out of the park, we’ve got you covered with all the best tricks. 🎬

Tip #1: Building Hype

You know that feeling you get when your favorite TV show announces a brand new season? What about your favorite band? Maybe even YOUR favorite podcast has gotten YOU hyped up in the past with a perfectly timed creative all about the upcoming episode and who they’ll be featuring.

You can do the same thing for your upcoming episodes!

Posting quick sound byte teasers and announcements about future guests can be really exciting for your audience, especially as you continue growing and value-packing every podcast episode.

Sharing quotes from upcoming guests as well as snippets of the recordings are always great ideas, but use your imagination! Creative sneak-peeks are always exciting. 😍

Tip #2: Utilize Hashtags

When it comes to bringing in new listeners and introducing your brand and podcast to the world, hashtags are an incredibly powerful tool for podcast promotion.

But don’t overdo it. Stick to industry relevant hashtags as well as a few specific, branded hashtags so you don’t come across as spammy or irrelevant. Or, you know. Both.

Tip #3: Don’t be Afraid to Share More Than Once

After all, most people don’t pay enough attention to their feeds and end up missing a lot even after scrolling for a significant amount of time.

Posting a teaser a few days before, then a release post and then a follow-up post for those that missed it is generally the best plan.

Tip #4: Partnerships are Key

If you have the opportunity to do so, leveraging someone else’s audience for your podcast can be an extremely powerful podcast marketing and promotional tool.

If you’re a brand new podcast without a very large following, it can be even more powerful. All you have to do is work with another content creator whose audience overlaps with your own. PSA they DO NOT HAVE TO BE FELLOW PODCASTERS. Any kind of content creator will do.

And then all you have to do is give a little to get a little.

Ask for promotional content in exchange for promotional content. It’s easy. It’s effective. And did I mention it was easy?

Podcast Marketing on Social Media: Measuring Your Results

So you’ve created a podcast, found your target audience, created a podcast website, started promoting your podcast on social media and promoting your show in the most epic way possible.

Now what?

Analyzing your podcast marketing and promotional podcast efforts are ALMOST more important than the promotion itself.

Why?

Because not analyzing your efforts could be potentially extremely fatal for your brand. How will you know what’s working and what isn’t if you’re not regularly making an analysis of the situation and making “show notes” about what to change, what to keep the same and what to delete altogether?

Your podcast marketing strategy is the lifeblood of your business and it goes beyond uploading a great podcast and sharing it on social media. A big part of it is just simply analyzing your efforts across social channels and your paid ads where applicable.

As soon as you begin tracking your efforts, you can begin to adjust with the wisdom of KNOWING what truly needs to be adjusted and what just needs to go.

You can do this by measuring podcast to podcast, month over month, or even week over week, whatever works best for you.

Every social media platform has a built in analytics tool, so in the beginning you don’t have to worry about purchasing any special tools or software. Just make sure to keep track of what’s happening!

If there’s any one rule for analyzing your podcast promotion, it’s just sitting down and taking the time to do it.

RELATED: 5 SUPERB VIDEO MARKETING TRICKS FOR SOCIAL MEDIA

Frequently Asked Questions

Phew, you’re almost an expert.

Okay, but seriously. This section is just for you. It’s every question you really want to ask, but don’t know who to talk to.

How to Downloads Compare to Audience Ratings?

Audience ratings are subject to error quite frequently because they’re based on samplings from the general populace, hence why downloads, as a first-party data that reflects real user behavior is a much better way to measure success.

Are Podcast Ad Campaigns Effective?

Your ad platform will tell you what listeners are generated via ads and which are generated via organic posting and podcast marketing. As this is a case-by-case question, we would say YES they can be effective, but it depends heavily on your audience, the quality of your ads and the platforms in question.

What Are the Best Practices for Winning Podcast Ad Campaigns?

As a general rule, long campaigns usually have better results than shorter social media campaigns.

Test the waters with a short segment and see how your audience responds.

Use engaging ad copy and images! Probably the most important part.

Let Us Help You Take Your Podcast Marketing Game to the Stars

We’ve helped several brands take their podcast over the top with incredible results and we want to give YOU the same opportunity for success.

Our creative team will analyze and create the ideal social media strategy for YOUR podcast and help you promote, grow and take the entirety of your brand to a whole new level of success.

Are you ready to take the jump? We’re ready when you are. Click down below for details!

This post originally appeared at https://blog.sociallyin.com/podcast-marketing

[valiantchopshopharmony]

Discover Photography: The Art of the Image

Since the timing of Stone Age Man, when pictures of these animals and men searching were first utilized to decorate the walls of cave, then we've been fascinated with the captured picture. Even though it wasn't till the invention of photography which actually made this fascination into an art form which everybody could appreciate regardless of artistic talent. People around the world take photos of these, relatives and pets, pets and landscapes whether there is a specific circumstance or motive for doing this. But how much can we really understand when it has to do with photography? Following are a few of the various types of photography which can help us know more about different methods of shooting photos.

Amateur Photography has increased in the past few years with the dawn of cheep digital cameras and also this electronic photography which has come to be readily accessible to the amateur as a result of minimal price of both gear and reproduction of these pictures, which we will have a short look at in this report.

White and black or Monochrome Photography

The first would be to think about would be black and white or black photography. This isn't simply presenting a picture in black and white. Black and white photography investigates the shape and personality, texture and tone, the aesthetic beauty and art of this topic. The 2 elements of black and white photos which offer depth and feeling to the picture are the shadows and shadows, if we learn to utilize them then we could produce fantastic images.

Colour sometimes obscures the feel and kind of topics, it attracts our attention how flowers attract birds and insects, and mature fruit grabs your attention onto a tree. Sometimes that is what we desire, but white and black may emphasise the feel of this topic.

The wide range of ways that different colors convert to various greys means you could have very good control over precisely what parts of the image will be dark and light, along with light levels. The lack of light is frequently as essential as the highlights. Great deep shadows can provide a thickness and solidity to a picture.

This blur effect may create the feeling of movement and drama. If the issue is moving round the framework attempt to monitor the topic, this is known as panning, the consequence once perfected is that the topic is sharp but the background gets the motion blur providing the impression of pace.

Shooting Action Shots of Athletes, animals and people in movement, along with other moving objects produce wonderful photo opportunities.

Particular settings on a lot of digital cameras make it possible for photographers to photograph activity within an point-and-shoot mode specifically created for moving topics. Other times it's up to the photographer to control the electronic camera to reach the very best possible photographs.

Irrespective of your camera specifications, it is possible to further decrease camera lag from pre-focusing until you snap the image. To do so hold down the shutter button halfway and once the camera has concentrated; press down it all of the way to choose the shot.

Quick shutter speed enables photographers to capture fantastic shots of moving subjects. If your digital camera supports a camera speed, it's still possible that you shoot some superb action shots.

Take in continuous manner if it's accessible to you. You may feel as the paparazzi once you first begin, however you'll love this fast mode will not allow you to miss a shot! Digital cameras which support continuous shooting function well for action shots as they can write all of the photographs to memory at exactly the exact same time rather than one .

Expect the activity and position yourself so. If you're shooting sports, then camp out from the target line or find a great place where you are able to get clear pictures of those athletes.join best Photography

Invest in a fantastic lens. Many actions shots can benefit a lot from a digital camera using a 200 mm lens, even though you may interchange lenses for various consequences. Zoom lenses perform wonders for sport action shots.

Aerial Photography is greatest if you would like to picture a landscape or cityscape.

Travel Photography isn't only about your vacation snaps. It's all about catching something of the sense, the emotion, the basis of a location. However, you don't require expensive foreign vacations; traveling photography may be your list of the following city or town or even place. As a is an exciting community town for me to research, but with the additional benefit it isn't far to travel to.

When photographing people in their own regional context there are a range of methods that I attempt to use but bear in mind that the principle of treating people with respect.

I have already discussed creating shots contextual but one fantastic way to do so is to think of what's at the backdrop behind the folks that you're photographing. Ideally you need something which's not overly distracting but that increases the circumstance of this location you are shooting . Another method for shooting shots of people who dismisses the'contextual' principle is to come across a brightly lit place with a dark backdrop. This will truly help the face you are shooting to pop out and catch the viewer's interest.

A few of the best shots I have taken of individuals while traveling happen to be where I have closely frames people's faces. This implies getting in near the individual or using and having a fantastic zoom lens.

Go for organic (un-posed shots) - Even though occasionally the posed shots may do the job very well they are also able to lack a certain credibility. Photograph your topic doing something out of their everyday life, on the job, the market, house, or simply crossing the road etc..

The majority of the shots I have taken of individuals over the years while travel happen to be of single subjects independently in the shooter. This is partially just my personality but is something I have come to be quite conscious of in the past couple of months. Including another individual into a picture requires a photograph to another location. No more is that the shooter pretty much a individual and their surroundings but it somehow becomes relational. The viewer of this photograph starts to wonder about the connection and a new layer is added into a picture.

Quite often it is the shots of individuals dressed in national costume that ordinarily pull photographers when traveling. When these shots can be quite successful I wonder if they're always actually representative of a civilization. Quite often these people have dressed up specially for a series or tourist attraction and also the vast majority of people in that nation look very different. Mix up these types, sex and ages of those people that you take photographs of and you may get a quite effective collage of faces of a nation.

It goes contrary to the character of the majority of travel photography that's normally extremely fast and impulsive, but in the event that it's possible to spend some time with individuals, in case you've got the chance to sit with someone for a longer period of time and picture them in a more extended fashion this allows you to tell the narrative of the person and may result in some terrific sequences of shots with different photographic methods, lenses and scenarios, while the individual becomes more relaxed across the camera.

Keep your camera into the eye for shooting those spontaneous shots involving the ones that are more introduced. It is amazing what pictures which you could find when the individual is not'prepared' for one to take. These shots frequently include individuals interacting with other people or expressing emotion that is true. I find putting my camera into continuous shooting style frequently leads to a superb candid shots. If circumstances permit do not replace your lens cap till you package your camera off.

If it comes to deciding on lens, I discover a focal point between 24mm and 135mm is a fantastic range to use. Moving for wide angle lenses may also create interesting shots but you'll frequently discover they do distort your area's face a bit. Deciding on a more focal length could be helpful for placing your subjects a bit more at ease.learn more at {sop}

Whether you would like to shoot photograph in a swimming pool, river, lake, or even the sea underwater photography may be among the very exciting and fulfilling things to do.

The issues that you experience when in shooting submerged could be summed up into 1 word,"limitation" Communication and travel under the surface are restricted. Natural lighting and visibility are restricted. The best way to handle these constraints is dependent upon your ability submerged and your photographic gear.

A watery environment may be a dangerous person, even if it's a swimming pool. No photo is worth your own life. Based on the sort of underwater photography you would like to work out, you must first get the proper specialised knowledge and instruction, and acquire certification from a qualified teacher. This applies to every element of underwater action, from fundamental swimming skills to innovative sub aqua diving methods.

This listing is by no means comprehensive; they're merely some of the several kinds of photography you're able to find. Photographic work can be broken into dozens of classes, many with a great deal of sub-categories.

A number of our couples pick us because they're at ease with us and they adore our photography catches the smiles and feelings daily for more information contact us