#like if this was a fictional story the jacket would 100% be that object you analyze as ''this is a symbol of (prevalent themes)''

[magentagalaxies]

out here experiencing cathartic irl symbolism tonight woo!!

[killjoyhistoryarchive]

Mike Milligram: The Lost Killjoy

Edit: On July 21st 2020, a Mike Milligram comic by Gerard Way and Shaun Simon was officially announced. However, I’ll leave this post as it is for future reference.

—

In 2009, while My Chemical Romance fans were eagerly awaiting news on their upcoming album, Gerard Way had another surprise in store: the announcement of a new comic series called “Killjoys.”

Co-written by Shaun Simon and illustrated by Becky Cloonan, Gerard told CBR that the series would “deal with much more mature and controversial themes, such as hate crimes and homophobia, the homogenization of American culture and American life.” Unlike “The Umbrella Academy,” which was set in a fantasy world, “Killjoys” was set in modern-day America.

But what nobody realized was that even after an album, two music videos, and a six-issue comic series, Gerard’s original conception would never see the light of day.

In 2008, Gerard Way and Shaun Simon developed the Killjoys universe in a frenzy of inspiration. Gerard’s original sketch features Mike Milligram on the left–named after Gerard’s brother Mikey Way–with a host of other characters that accompanied Mike on his journey. The comic was announced a year later at San Diego Comic Con, with a release planned in 2010.

With My Chemical Romance wrapping up their fourth album, Gerard and Shaun were ready to start writing. Becky Cloonan drew concept art for Mike Milligram, as well as promotional artwork that they planned to use at the Comic Con announcement. However, the Mike Milligram art was scrapped and replaced with a simple image of the Killjoy spider–a move that could later be seen as prophetic.

In 2009, “Killjoys” was an entirely different concept. There was no Party Poison, no Dr. Death Defying, no Battery City, no girl with special powers. The original comic involved a surreal road trip through America that reunited offbeat characters and confronted harsh realities along the way. In 2013, Shaun Simon offered this description in the introduction to the special hardcover edition of the comics:

The old version of the story focused on Mike Milligram, a late-twenty-something living in a desert trailer park and working a crappy job at a supermarket. Mike’s teenage years were a blur. He couldn’t tell if the things he remembered had actually happened or not. Part of him believed he was part of a gang called the Killjoys who fought fictional things in the real world. The other part of him believed it was all just a dream. Music was the only thing that kept Mike going, so when the music was erased from his Ramones tape, it sent him over the edge. He went out and got his old teenage gang, who were now living normal lives, back together because, yes, it was all real. Other members of his gang included Ani-Max, now a high school history teacher; Code Blue, a rabble-rouser who was a working girl in Vegas; Monster, a new young member they met on the road; and Kyle 100%, who was a B-list actor now. They all had strange powers based on objects. Halloween masks and costume accessories, puffy jackets, toy ray guns. It was a story about a group of old friends getting together and discovering what America really was. Reaching deep inside its pretty facade and pulling out the ugly guts. (It was semiautobiographical. I toured with Gerard and his band for a couple of years before realizing I needed to find my own path.) The gang would have found out that another former gang had now become the largest health care corporation in the country and were hell bent on making the world a safe and clean place by removing all that was dirty, like the Ramones. It would have been a great story, and I’m sure parts will end up in Gerard’s and my’s future work.

Of course, we all know what happened after that announcement. After Gerard took a fateful week-long trip to the desert, MCR decided to scrap “Conventional Weapons” and fueled their energy into writing “Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys.” But even as Gerard delved into this new post-apocalyptic version of the Killjoy universe, the comics remained the same. As late as 2011, Gerard claimed in an interview with Artrocker that the comics hadn’t changed at all:

No, none of the characters, even our characters, are in it. It is a completely separate thing, even almost a separate setting. It shares all the ideals behind the record and the theories and the commentary but it is nothing like the videos you have seen. I think the car is probably the only thing that’s the same!

But as the band took on more responsibilities–filming music videos, promoting the album, going on tour–the comics kept getting pushed back. First the release planned for 2010; then it was pushed back to 2011. And while the era had kicked off without a hitch, MCR eventually hit one of the first of many roadblocks: they didn’t have enough money to film the third video. So as Shaun Simon told CBR, the original story featuring Mike Milligram was scrapped, and replaced with the story of the girl and the Ultra Vs:

[A]fter the record, Gerard had built this whole world around the Killjoys. When it came time for the comic, Gerard called me up and said, “We ran out of money. We wanted to make the third video, but we don’t have the money. So do you want to make the idea for that video into a comic?” We started talking about ideas, and we had so many that it turned into this whole series.

In an interview with Paste (2013), Gerard went into more detail about the process:

The deal is that I had written three videos (“Na Na Na,” “Sing,” and “The Only Hope For Me Is You”), and the third video had never gotten made. By the time we had completed the second video, we just ran out of budget money. At the time, somebody was managing us and not keeping an eye on this stuff. Long story short, there was no budget. So I wrote a video, and of course it ends up being the most expensive one, as the last part would usually be. But we couldn’t make it! Killjoys started its life as a very different comic. It was heavily-rooted in nineties Vertigo post-modernism. There’s a lot of very cool, abstract ideas in it; I wouldn’t even call it a superhero book. That (comic) was a visual and thematic inspiration on what would become the album Danger Days. It was pretty loose, though. This was going to be my interpretation of the story, so there’s way more science fiction involved. And what I need to say to the world needed to be a little more direct, so I boiled it down to something that’s still very smart and challenging, but I thought was definitely easier to understand through song or visual. Then (Killjoys artist) Becky Cloonan drew a 7-inch for “The Only Hope For Me Is You,” which was going to be the last video single. I realized I was out of budget, so I said ‘just make this the girl from the first and second video at 15. And have her shave her head or chop her hair off like in The Legend of Billie Jean, because that’s how the video was supposed to start.’ So (Cloonan) sends this drawing over and I’m on tour with Blink 182 in a hotel on an off day. I get this drawing and I’m so immediately blown away by it. I call Shaun, my co-writer and co-creator, and I say ‘open your email, I’m going to send you something.’ I ask him ‘how does this image make you feel?’ We talked for two hours. By the end of the conversation we both realized that that image was the comic, and the third video was basically the comic. So we figured how we were going to make this interesting and exciting for six issues and complete the story. And that was the final direction. It was pretty obvious to us.

In a way, Mike Milligram’s spirit lived on, as fans noticed the similarities between Mike Milligram and Party Poison. But it’s inaccurate to say that Mike Milligram became Party Poison, though “Party Poison’s real name is Mike Milligram” became a persistent rumor in the fandom. Mike’s story was not Poison’s; he wasn’t a post-apocalyptic rebel, but a teenager searching for his identity in modern America.

Will Mike Milligram’s story ever be told? At this point, it’s not likely. But his tale offers a glimpse into the creative minds of Gerard Way and Shaun Simon, and makes us ponder the fact that with a few changes–the comics being released earlier, for instance, or MCR having the money to fund the third video–the comics could have been entirely different.

[balladquartz]

💀Sans the Gopnik 💀

A.k.a Slavictale Sans

Appearance:

Sans is all for comfort, sporting a blue striped tracksuit jacket with a black shirt underneath and all-black tracksuit bottoms. His feet are clad in white socks and striped, black showering sandals.

On special occasions, he might top of his get-up with a grey newspaper boy cap.

On the surface, people would definitely see him as a Gopnik.

He carries a light blue flip knife with him. I mean, someone with 1 hp has to protect themselves somehow.

Characteristics:

This boy might seem like the laziest slob the gods ever created but little do the monsters know, that he's actively utilizing his former skills as an It-technician to find ways to regenerate the monster's magick so that they can function normally again. The only other monster who knows about this is is his superior, doctor Alphys.

On the side he 'works' as a sentry. Technically he uses the sentry stations to sell grilled Oscypek. Which is a made from mushroom that grows in Waterfall and which tastes like sheep cheese.

(Oscypek is a special goral sheep cheese available in the regions surrounding the Tatra mountains.)

Sans has a difficult relationship with sleep. He can't pinpoint why, but the Underground looks weird. It's as if it shouldn't look like this and he shouldn't look, behave and be like this either. He can't help himself but feel paranoid while thinking about these things and with the Underground constantly facing some challenge or another, due to humans or the supposed Phantom of the underground, it's difficult to be at ease and enjoy sleep. This doesn't mean he won't randomly fall asleep every now and then.

Luckily he's found coping mechanisms. Reading is something that keeps his mind off of theories about alternate realities that are starting to get on his nerves. He reads mostly non-fiction but there is some romantic novel to be found here and there. He may or may not squeal when he gets the chance to talk about Pride and Prejudice.

The second one are jokes or anything that has to do with comedy. Laughter is a wonderful remedy for any fear or sorrow and Sans understands that. He may not think of himself as a good comedian but he'll occasionally indulge others in a joke or two. His favourite is sarcasm, however, and he can't go a day without being just a tad bit sassy, blunt or sarcastic.

This smartass has a knack for getting very talkative once he's in his element. Which means explaining to someone how different software or hardware works, what it can do etc. So much so, that his normally half-moon shaped eyelights take on the shape of literal stars. Him passionately talking about science, reminds of Undyne passionately screaming about fighting.

Speaking of fighting, Sans will not hesitate to strike if he feels threatened or that the underground/ his family is in danger. No waiting around to meet in the judgment hall, if you misbehave he will take care of it right then and there as He dislikes unsolved problems to the bone. So yes he might be a bit impulsive with His judgement, trust me, Papyrus is trying his best to make him more patient towards others.

Relationships:

Sans has three best friends in general. Papyrus, Chillby and Toriel.

Papyrus loves his brother and vice versa. How could he not? The smaller skeleton raised him. He also encourages his brother to joke more often, as he very much likes to hear them. What he could live without is having to hear his brother's sassy remarks every two seconds. He swears Sans is being a little shit just to provoke him.

Sans loves and has always loved enjoying mayonnaise at Chillby's. His Chebureki and Zhurek are also something he could kill for. But, most of all he loves hanging out with the ice elemental. He always seems to understand his worries even though Sans is 100% sure that that's just Chillby being his nonjudgmental self, he appreciates it.

(Chebureki is a Russian deep-fried turnover with a fillung of ground, minced meat and onions. Zhurek is a Polish ryemeal soup with sausages.)

Toriel is Sans's reading buddy as well as confidant. He can tell her everything as he knows she will listen attentively and give him all the time he needs. Chillby would do the same in a heartbeat but Sans knows how busy he usually is and therefore doesn't want to subject him to it.

They might not have ever seen each other face to face but that doesn't stop them from heatedly discussing human literature, exchanging stories, theories and even gifts. Toriel has more than once made her famous honey pie for him and Sans has given her a lot of trinkets and interesting objects he found in the trashyard. One of these objects was an antique chessboard, with more than a half of its figurines still intact, he though she might like.

Sans just wants the best for everyone even though he still hasn't picked up his socks.

Thank you for reading until the end, here's a dancing Boris

[bigyack-com]

When Department Stores Were Theater

After the hundreds of jobs going poof and the thus-far inadequate discounts, the saddest thing about the closure of Barneys New York is that its signature naughty window displays will recede even further in collective memory.A Hail Mary campaign earlier this year imploring shoppers to go inside even as the store declared bankruptcy (“STRUT STRUT STRUT STRUT STRUT STRUT”) was but a faint echo of the era when subversive tableaus of papier-mâché public figures, found objects, condoms on Christmas trees and the occasional scampering vermin mesmerized crowds, offended cardinals and even sold some clothes.But “we’re in a post-window-display world,” said Simon Doonan, the Barneys O.G. window dresser, in a telephone interview, noting the “impenetrable facade” of Dover Street Market, heir apparent to the luxury avant-garde. Its New York entrance has only small, high apertures above pedestrian eye level.“In the old days, window displays were the primary form of marketing — fashion was the same as butcher shops and fishmongers,” he said. “Now, if you’re waiting till someone walks past your store, you’ve lost the fight.”Indeed, the bustling new Nordstrom on 57th Street dispenses with traditional boxed-in display windows entirely, replacing them with a shallow, wavy facade that John Bailey, a spokesman, assured would be festooned with red and white lights come Black Friday. The facade is “an interactive viewing experience for customers walking by,” he wrote in an email, “connecting the shopping experience in store to the energy of the city.” (And the energy of customers’ phones.) A young employee at the central help desk said elliptically that “our windows are our customer service.”Gather ’round, children, and let Auntie Alexandra tell of when department stores, now mostly glassy, anodyne places you go to exchange online purchases, used to put on a show. Sometimes more entertaining than the theater.First, though, a quick gallop through what remains of New York’s holiday windows in 2019, and the hopeful cornucopias within.At the doomed Barneys flagship on 61st Street, there was of course bubkes, just signs reading: “Everything Must Be Sold! Goodbuys, then Goodbye.” Inside on the fifth floor, female customers were listlessly flipping shoes to glance at the soles and calculate the markdown, as if with muscle memory from the much-lamented warehouse sale. Four creaky flights up, the power lunch spot Fred’s, named for Fred Pressman, Barneys’ charismatic chairman who died in 1996, was full — even as a worker held a headless naked mannequin steady by her neck on a hand truck, waiting for the elevator to go down, down, down.A few blocks away preens Bergdorf Goodman, the beautiful princess whose holding company, Neiman Marcus, muscled recently into the Hudson Yards, like a watchful mother-in-law moving into the guest cottage. There are no old-school windows at the gleaming new Neiman, being that it’s high up off the dirty street in a mall (and incidentally charging kids $72 per head for breakfast with Santa). But at Bergdorf, David Hoey, the store’s senior director of visual presentation, and his team have gamely produced a concept called Bergdorf GoodTimes. Literally gamely. Like, filled with actual games.One window was captioned “Queen’s Gambit” (chess); another, “Jackpot!” (pinball); another, “Winner Take All” (casino — perhaps a dry subconscious commentary on the high-stakes state of retail). Around the corner, a life-size board game, “Up the Down Escalator,” was dotted with fictional gift cards, coin of the online-shopping realm.Mr. Hoey’s sophisticated, colorful creations did not seem intended for little ones — and anyway those were scampering around across the street, splashing in small pools and peering into mirror-glass “sky lenses” outside the Fifth Avenue Apple store. Paging Dr. Lacan!Further east on 59th and Lexington Avenue, dear old Bloomingdale’s was flagrantly violating several of the decorative precepts set out by Mr. Doonan in his seminal 1998 book, “Confessions of a Window Dresser: Tales From a Life in Fashion.” Specifically: “do remember that technology is boring” and “don’t incorporate sex.”If Bergdorf is rolling the dice on the future of the department store — eroded perhaps irrevocably by Amazon’s mighty, corrosive flow — Bloomie’s is searching the stars. Not the celebrities whose daffy effigies used to populate Mr. Doonan’s windows, mostly with enthusiastic cooperation (Madonna, Magic Johnson, Norman Mailer, Prince, Queen Elizabeth), but a lavish commingling of astronomy and astrology titled Out of This World.Robots were placing ornaments on a tree and sitting at a synthesizer ready to play the carol of your choice at the push of a button. Google Nest, a sponsor, was poised to turn on the tree, the lights; the fire. And astronauts were floating in a “3, 2, 1, Gift Off,” or was it a “GIF Off?” Female mannequins embodying various figures of the zodiac were outfitted like go-go dancers, all pearls and feathers and curvature: propped up against each other on a pedestal as a recording played of John Legend singing, incongruously, “Christmas in New Orleans.” Inside, on the main floor, one embodying Cancer the Crab hung upside down from the ceiling: eyes closed, suspended over a hoop, hand-claws splayed, rotating slowly. Her bared, inverted legs conjured less the #MeToo era than the infamous “meat grinder” photo of the June 1978 Hustler magazine that feminists used to protest on Manhattan sidewalks.

Razzle-Dazzle in the Mezzanine

Mr. Doonan had called from Los Angeles, where he was, among other activities, promoting a monograph to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Maxfield, the boutique there. This even though when he was in the window-dressing business, “I was very anti-anniversary and I vetoed all of them. They just made the company seem old and boring. It looks dusty.”Though I agree 100 percent and moreover think the ascription of significance to particular numbers is as ridiculous as astrology, it also happens to be the 40th anniversary of a seismic and undersung event in department-store history: when the performer Elaine Stritch was the M.C. of an elaborate fashion show at Liberty of London, the emporium known for its fine fabrics. (Many women in those years still sewed household clothes from patterns.)Arranged by Peter Tear, then Liberty’s head of marketing and publicity, and choreographed by Larry Fuller of “Evita,” the show somehow managed to cross-promote the low-tar Silk Cut cigarette with a silk congress happening in London. Concordes were deployed with top models on board. Cocktails were concocted by the Café Royal down the road. Fifty-odd designers contributed special outfits for the occasion, including Giorgio Armani, Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren and Yves Saint Laurent.Another was David Emanuel, who, with his wife and partner, Elizabeth, would design the show’s bridal gown (and later Princess Diana’s).“People gasped,” he said, remembering the Liberty event on a crackly trans-Atlantic phone line. “They were aching for ‘larger than life.’” Mr. Emanuel described Stritch — subject of my recently published biography, “Still Here” (hey, it’s the selling season) — in a sequined tuxedo jacket, singing among other numbers “Falling in Love Again” à la Marlene Dietrich to the enraptured ladies who lunch who had paid five quid admission apiece for the show, which ran thrice daily over the course of a week. “It has more punch and pulchritude packed into its 51 minutes than most West End musicals twice as long,” one newspaper commented.Mr. Doonan theorized that Liberty, fighting a dainty, twin-set image, had taken inspiration from what the storied retailer Marvin Traub was doing then at Bloomingdale’s. “The whole thing was that the store was the stage — the razzle-dazzle of flash and pizazz and lo and behold, there’s a swimwear fashion show with Pat Cleveland coming down the escalator,” he said. “Every day was ‘curtain up!’ at Bloomingdale’s.”Truly, what could be more of an ultimate fantasy set than the department store of yore, with its infinite “costumes,” props and built-in risers, its endless potential for comedy, dance, drama and even horror? Florenz Ziegfeld’s pre-code movie “Glorifying the American Girl,” showcasing his Follies, starts in one. The heroic airman in “The Best Years of Our Lives” returned to work as a soda jerk in another; ennobled by the theater of war, he chafed at his diminishment in the feminine one of trade.Barbra Streisand gamboled through Bergdorf in 1965 for her TV special, trying on fur coats and hats, spritzing perfume and singing a Fanny Brice-ish medley of “Second Hand Rose” and “Brother Can You Spare a Dime” to funny and glamorous effect. James Goldman and Stephen Sondheim’s “Twilight Zone”-inflected broadcast musical, “Evening Primrose,” was set in a department store called Stern’s, and featured a poet played by Anthony Perkins remaining after-hours, giddy at the idea of the creativity that his solitude, enhanced by all the products he needs, will stimulate. At one point he stands on an escalator belting, “I’m here! I’m here!” foreshadowing the famous anthem in Goldman and Sondheim’s own “Follies” taken up late in life by Stritch. (Later a young woman he discovers there sings of remembering snow: “Soft as feathers/ Sharp as thumbtacks.” She had been left there, in Hats, as a child by her preoccupied mother, but now with climate change the lyric sounds like prescient ecological lament.)Even after the fiasco of Andrew McCarthy at Philadelphia’s Wanamaker’s (R.I.P.) in “Mannequin” 20 years later, and the slow creep of the suburban mall, there was yet another remake of “Miracle on 34th Street.”“Where did Auntie Mame go when she lost all her money?” Mr. Doonan reminded. “Selling roller skates at Macy’s.”It’s hard to imagine, though not impossible, that department stores will remain important sites of commerce and culture much longer. But the largest one in the city is not about to go quietly. At Macy’s, which takes up an entire block, there is a jumble of every sort of window.There are old-fashioned windows devoted to the story of Virginia O’Hanlon, the little girl who wrote to The New York Sun in 1897 asking if there was still a Santa Claus. Around the corner, there are high-tech windows giving voice to a little girl who wants to be Santa Claus. And around another corner: still other windows filled simply with giant Barbies. Being female in the early 21st century is nothing if not a series of mixed messages, but this attempt to empower seemed already antiquated; if Mr. Doonan were still working on windows, surely he would have gone straight for Mx. Claus?The ghost of Barneys yet to come is at Saks Fifth Avenue, which has licensed its former rival’s name, and where windows have been themed with glittering corporate efficiency to the international blockbuster “Frozen 2.” This may delight the tourists, but city dwellers remembering the craft and chance and silliness of the old holiday extravaganzas — when the designers and the famous people and the window dressers were all sticking pins in each other, and the audiences crowded four-deep on the pavement for the free sideshow — will probably be left cold. Source link Read the full article

[westphotolukedas]

Production Journal - The X-Files

251019

The X-Files is an American science fiction television programme that was influential on my development as a creative. The original pilot aired in 1993 and ran for nine seasons with 202 subsequent episodes. It had a cult following during my adolescence and my peers and I would discuss each episode in depth. During a hiatus in programming, two feature films were released - The X-Files (1998) and The X-Files - I Want to Believe (2008). A tenth season was aired in 2016 and an eleventh in 2018, this is suggestive that the fan base still exists and has remained loyal for decades.

The series leads are Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, played by David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson, who both gained celebrity status from these characters. They are Special Agents at the Federal Bureau of Investigation and solve cases involving paranormal activity. The dynamic between the duo is the main draw of the programme. Mulder is a believer in extra-terrestrial life following the abduction of his sister as a child. His unorthodox theories align with The X-Files - a department dedicated to unsolved cases. Scully is the objective voice that counters Mulder. She is a medical doctor who is placed at the department to challenge her partner’s zeal. The interplay between a believer and sceptic allows individual story arcs to unfold, usually around a monster of the week.

John Bartley (Born 1947) was Director of Photography for The X-Files from 1993-1996 and the second feature film. I will draw from his techniques during the production of my staged tableau. He received a nomination in 1994 for Outstanding Artistic Achievement from the American Society of Cinematographers and an Emmy. He has continued to develop the cinematography for television series with similar premises such as Roswell (1999-2002), Lost (2004-2010) and Bates Motel (2013-2017).

Bartley developed the visual identity of the television programme, which was based around many practical effects. For example, in the pilot when an arsonist torches a motel room to destroy evidence, the flames were actually real. To Barley, darkness was a character on The X-Files and the interplay between light and shadow was critical. Mulder and Scully probed the unknown with their xenon flashlights in conjunction with lighting equipment that included HMIs, Dedolights, KinoFlos and MiniFlos. Light was implemented as a counterpoint to the darkness to emphasise aspects of the frame that the audience could not see. Beams of coloured back and sidelight were used to accentuate foreground shadows and slow moving steam added to the eerie feel of each scene. During an interview, Bartley commented, ‘We actually blend light and dark. Some things the audience can see, and other things they’re not sure if they saw them or not. It adds to the aura of mystery. I don’t use much fill. I started that on a series called Booker. With today’s films I’ve been five stops underexposed and have still recorded details in the highlights and shadow areas. I like to use the full latitude of the stock.’

The X-Files was conservative with colour during its first season. The nature of the content did not lend itself to vibrancy. For the second season, Bartley was more adventurous with the low-key lighting that he had established as a foundation. There was greater contrast and harder lighting than he had previously employed in addition with super-blue fluorescent tubes. ‘These tubes are so blue, you can’t even read them on a colour meter. Then I added just a little tungsten on their faces and a very hard top light overhead. It doesn’t have to look real or match anything. That makes things more interesting. I think it’s what makes The X-Files different,’ he explained. (Bartley, 1995)

Shane Harvey, Unit Stills, 2018

Fox Network, Dana Scully, 2018

Summary

It was encouraging to research the lighting design that Bartley established in television and draw commonalities with Crewdson and Starkey in stills photography. There is a great deal of overlap. Promotional material for season eleven was also worth my consideration and here are my summary intentions for the shoot.

The final photograph will be low-key with significant proportions of the frame depicting total darkness. All sources of light will be hard and appear to be the ambient illumination from an alien abduction. Gels will be clipped to barn doors for this to be achieved. The colour choices of purple for the key light and blue for the back light reference Bartley and Crewdson. Preferentially, these are my colours of choice for aesthetic reasons. They should complement each other and work independently in the composition. Finally, I found it fitting that season eleven features these hues as a recurring theme. The absence of a fill light means that dramatic shadows will form, which is another homage to Bartley’s lighting technique.

Bartley and Crewdson both favour practical effects and this is a challenge given my budget. I will position blinds held by a cross bar and stand in front of the key light. This will cast a shadow from the slats and light from the key light simultaneously onto my subject. In reference to Starkey, it should suggest that the setting of the photograph is in doors. A supernatural moody effect will be added with a smoke machine. Many scenes from The X-Files featured background smoke and it has become a trope associated with the series.

Actor Tashi Bullman is fully committed to depicting the character Dana Scully and I will do a test shoot with one of my classmates. A lone female subject is another parallel to Starkey’s work. Tashi has sourced a suit jacket and blouse that are in keeping with Scully’s wardrobe. If possible, a flashlight and FBI badge should feature too. These will pose a challenge due to being another source of light and a reflective surface respectively. The posturing and expressions of the character will be decided jointly between Tashi and myself on the day.

Production Notes

My classmate Gyorgy Englert was a phenomenal actor during my initial lighting experiments and for this test shoot. My lighting design was efficacious and there will be little modification needed for the final shoot. The equipment was set up as shown in the lighting diagram and the flash heads functioned as I imagined. I noted 5.0 stops for the key light and 4.0 stops for the back light. The camera was set to f/11, 1/125 and ISO 100. This aperture was needed to achieve a broad depth of field and this shutter speed is appropriate for the flash sync speed. Setting my digital camera to 100 ISO should give me some indication of the results that will be achieved with film of the same sensitivity. The shadows from the slats were only visible when Gyorgy was within inches of the blinds. A flashlight appears in my example shot; however, its constant light was obliterated by the power of the flash heads. I will remove it for the final shoot. The FBI badge was also sourced from an online fancy dress store and it does not look passable enough close up. I will have to come up with a solution for this when Tashi wears it. The final noteworthy point was that the smoke machine was temperamental. It needed minutes to heat up and then each burst varied in intensity. My timing was also crucial to obtain a photograph with the smoke engulfing the sitter and it was better to position it in front of the blinds.

Bibliography

Bartley, J. (1995). John Bartley Shoots The X-Files On The Edge Of Darkness. Eat The Corn. Available from www.eatthecorn.com/?itw=in-camera [Accessed 12/12/2019]

Lighting Diagram

Behind the Scenes

Behind the Scenes

Test Shot, f/11, 1/125, ISO 100

[sunsetbeachsoap]

Soap opera hopes disaster will bring in new audience

Monday, August 10, 1998

Soap opera hopes disaster will bring in new audience

COLUMN: Cruise liner sinking, earthquake may rescue struggling series

By Carol Bidwell

Los Angeles Daily News

George Becket’s orders were clear and concise: Create a major earthquake that will cause mayhem and trap people in life-threatening situations. Devise a resulting tsunami that overturns a cruise ship packed with beautiful people. And build the interior of a "Poseidon"-like capsized ship, from which the panicked people must try to escape.

Piece of cake, said Becket, a West Hills resident and production director for the NBC soap opera "Sunset Beach. For the past month he has been organizing the on-screen disaster in pursuit of new summer viewers.

The story line, which the "SB" powers that be have dubbed "Shock Wave," is the show’s answer to strong network hints that one of NBC’s daytime dramas will likely have to ride off into the cancellation sunset to make way for a new series under development - unless the ratings begin to climb substantially.

Faced with that possibility, executive producer Gary Tomlin came up with daytime’s ultimate disaster story line.

Tomlin, who shares executive-producer credits with TV icon Aaron Spelling, hopes the doom-and-disaster story line – which airs into mid-August and sends other story-line complexities spinning for months more – will pump up the popularity of the 18-month-old soap. "SB" consistently ranks No. 11 among the 11 daytime soaps, with about 1.8 million viewers daily – most of them females age 12 to 34.

"A lot of people don’t even know we’re on the air," said co-head writer Christopher Whitesell, who with Meg Bennett penned the disaster epic. "You need something to make ‘em stand up and take notice. This is it."

So far, it’s working. Even before the disaster-at-sea scenes began airing July 31, the earthquake sequences had grabbed an additional 300,000 viewers nationwide, giving "SB" its highest ratings yet, according to Nielsen Media Research.

Tomlin said he had originally planned to hit the fictional town of Sunset Beach, Calif., with an earthquake, and envisioned sending the soap’s younger cast members off on a charity cruise as a lighter counterpoint to the disaster story line. Then somebody said "tsunami."

"We decided to pull out all the stops and do both," Tomlin said. "The network said, ‘Can you really do that?’ And I said, ‘Sure."’

He was bluffing … just a bit.

"When I came up with this idea, I never thought we’d be able to execute it," Tomlin admits.

That’s where Becket – a veteran of action movies and the TV show "JAG" – came in. While the earthquake scenes involved mostly falling objects, falling-apart sets and trapped people, making a few sections of scenery in a tank of water look like a capsized cruise ship was more difficult. Construction, lighting and sound-effects crews under Becket’s direction had to manufacture explosions, steam and the force of rushing water strong enough to knock actors off their feet, plus build interior sections of a luxury cruise liner twice — once right-side up and once upside-down.

"It really wasn’t very difficult," Becket said modestly. "I told them it would be no problem. There’s nothing new. It’s all been done before. Just not on a soap."

The closest thing seen on film recently was 1997′s Oscar winner for Best Picture, "Titanic," which took more than a year to produce and film at an estimated cost of $200 million. "SB" is admittedly no "Titanic," but its summer story line has many of the same elements going for it: on-screen death and destruction, treachery and betrayal, heroics, peril at sea, young love fighting life’s odds.

One of the characters is even eaten alive on screen by a shark (OK, it’s animatronic) – "Titanic" didn’t have that.

"It only took us 28 days to do it all," said Becket, who worked with actors, directors, special-effects and stunt people, wardrobe, makeup, construction and lighting people to pull the whole thing together. "We filmed 40 to 48 scenes a day, 12-hour days, to get 48 minutes on air a day – not the minute or two of film you’d get if you were working on a feature film."

Nobody will say how much executing the ambitious story line cost, but Becket says the additional cost – paid by "SB" creator Spelling and the network – is "many, many, many" times the cost of the soap’s usual episodes.

The action began in the closing seconds of the show’s July 17 episode, when – with a special attachment shaking cameras and specially built sets collapsing – a major earthquake hit Sunset Beach. When the show opened July 20, viewers saw characters trapped under rubble in a mansion, in a hospital, at a construction site. And, soaps being what they are, everybody seemed to be trapped with somebody they hate.

Then a second quake hit, sending ceilings splitting, trees falling, floors breaking open and characters screaming as they were buried under a new wave of rubble.

The two quakes buried Lesley-Anne Down, who plays doyenne Olivia Richards, beneath pieces of walls and shards of timber in the foyer of her character’s mansion. But, with kneepads under her costume to make the hard floor not quite so hard, Down showed how the crew had actually made her a little cave that she could wiggle in and out of.

"I never have 100 percent confidence in any stunt," Down said, examining her unpadded, scraped elbows and fluffing plaster dust out of her eyelashes. Her hair was grimy with dust and debris, her makeup smudged with "blood" and dirt. "But you have to go into it thinking that (safety) people are totally trustworthy and are going to protect you.

"But," she added, gazing into the mansion’s as a prop chandelier was dropped onto her stunt double, "I’m glad I’m not involved in that."

Actors in the cruise-ship scenes spent their days soaked to the skin in a 30-foot-diameter tank into which a dozen or more upside-down sets were lowered for different scenes. Actors got safety instructions for the underwater scenes, and a safety coordinator and a half-dozen divers hovered just out of camera range ready to lend a hand if something went wrong.

Actor Bernie Kopell, who played Doc on Spelling’s ’70s TV hit "The Love Boat," plays the captain of the SS Neptune, the cruise ship that capsizes, but he is seen only briefly. Capt. Nelson is on the bridge when the tidal wave hits and, like the captain of the Titanic, he goes down with the ship.

Most of the young actors had a ball splashing around in between scenes.

"It’s fun to do stunts like this," Randy Spelling, who plays heartthrob Sean Richards, said as he treaded 85-degree water in the 1,000-gallon tank. He was waiting to have another go at a minute-long scene in which he and Christi Ellen Harris, who plays ingenue Emily Davis, dove underwater, swam through an air shaft and emerged in another, drier part of what on screen appears to be a full-size, submerged ship.

The two weren’t dressed for swimming: Spelling was wearing a tuxedo minus the jacket, and Harris wore an evening gown, garnet necklace and earrings – and high heels.

"We were in the ballroom on the boat, arguing, dancing, whatever, and then all of a sudden, the boat flips over," Spelling said.

"People were flying and falling," said Harris. "We got to fall down an 80-degree-incline wall into the water. It was so exciting, so much fun."

"And from then on, everything was upside down," Spelling said. "It was real disorienting."

[morfinwen]

#2, 5, 7, 10, 16, 25, 32, 40, 45, 52, and 60, please! :)

You didn’t specify characters, so i guess i’ll just have to answer each question for all most of them!

Since i have so many, i’ll be grouping them.

The quartet (Christopher “Chris” Hardie, Reagan Travers, Angela “Angie” McKendrick, Neal Fairchild) are my usual go-to characters when playing a game with some kind of role-playing element, but also have versions of themselves in a more ordinary world, which is typically the one i’m thinking of when i answer questions about them.

“Heaven and Earth” is a story i’m working on with my sister. Characters from this work include Lanzo Ramsey, Ashley “Ash” Jackson, Conri “Connie” Lowell, Aidan Michaels, Nate Vasquez, Niner, Q Free, and Amanda Wheeler.

Next group are video game specific characters - Leah Tolkien from Fallout 4, Elarin Is-Ha'Arel from Knights of the Old Republic, Meaghan Caoilfhionn from Knights of the Old Republic 2, and Avery Hawke from Dragon Age 2.

Lastly, my other original fiction characters, the Raines siblings (Kira, Darcy, and Susanna) and Ian Grayson and Lauren Winston.

In case it isn’t already obvious, this is going to be a long post, so the actual asks and answers are going under a read more.

2: Where does your OC work?

Christopher is an theater actor/musician. He’s not tied to any huge corporations, so work can occasionally be a bit thin, but he’s dedicated and talented enough that it hasn’t caused him many problems.

Reagan has an uninspiring office job of some type. It’s not her passion, but it pays the bills.

Angie and Neal, no idea yet.-Lanzo’s worked a lot of odd jobs. Currently working as a bartender at a magical people-only bar.

Ash does enchanting work on a freelance basis.

Connie … haven’t nailed down his career yet. Something in the sciences.

Q is a bike messenger/courier, also for an occult-only company. At this point in his story, he has not realized this yet.

Niner and Nate are unemployed.

Amanda is a reporter for the local newspaper. -While Leah, Elarin, Meaghan and Avery have a lot to keep them busy, they don’t have specific careers; unless you count keeping their respective homelands/worlds safe as a career.-Kira, Darcy, and Susanna are too young for jobs, unless you count school.

Ian and Lauren work for a blues musician’s crew in some capacity, also not nailed down yet.

5: How old is your OC?

Chris: Early 30sReagan: Late 20sAngie: Mid 20sNeal: Mid 20s-Lanzo: Over 600 (vampire)Ash: Early 30sConnie: Early 20sAidan: Little over 100 (phoenix)Q: Late 20sNate: Early 20sNiner: Mid 20sAmanda: Early 30s-Leah: Mid 20sElarin: In her own game, 27; five years later when KotOR 2 rolls around, 32Meaghan: 30Avery: Mid to late 20s -Kira: 15Darcy: 13Susanna: 11

Ian: Early 20sLauren: Early 20s

7: Is your OC in a relationship?

Most of them are not, because most of them haven’t had their stories completed.

Chris had a couple girlfriends in high school and college, none of which lasted very long. He wishes he’d taken them a bit more seriously, but he parted with all of them on good terms, so it’s not a deep-seated regret.

Neal had his heart broken once. He’s not eager for that to happen again.-Lanzo’s present-day relationships rarely last long enough to deserve the term. In the past, he has been married four times. He has no desire to make it five.

Ash met a very nice young lady named Danae in his junior year of high school. They became fast friends, studied together often, and had long, interesting discussions on a wide variety of topics. Under different circumstances, they probably would have dated each other, but both of them had plans for after-graduation that would take them to very different parts of the world, so they decided to just remain friends instead. They still exchange letters, though since Danae travels so much and in rural locations, Ash has to send his letters to her mother to pass on to her.

Q was in one long-term relationship that ended badly: he tried too hard to be who she wanted rather than who he was, and she cared more about getting what she wanted out of it than making a relationship that could last. It probably hasn’t turned him off relationships in general, but it’s going to take time for him to be willing to consider dating again.-Leah is in her second relationship. She married her high school sweetheart, Nate, and losing him was devastating. It’s strange how different her second partner is from Nate, but he has a lot in common with her – he married young, has a son, and lost his wife. Sometimes she thinks it’s because he’s so different from Nate that their relationship works – when she looks at him, she sees him, not Nate.

For most of her life, Elarin had no real interest in romance; so she’s told, at least, but what memories she still has support that. Then she had to spend several weeks on a planet occupied by enemy forces, and the only person she could count on was a widowed pilot with a hideous orange coat and raging trust issues. Love is weird.

Meaghan’s story is pretty similar to Elarin’s, except instead of weeks it was days, instead of an occupied planet it was a mining station where almost everyone else had been murdered followed by an apartment they had to stay in for a couple days under police surveillance, and instead of a decorated war hero and straight-arrow pilot it was a snarky two-time deserter who never gave a straight answer about his past because he used to work for her worst enemies. So basically the same thing.

As a teenager, Avery had a brief romance with a young man in her hometown that probably wouldn’t have lasted even if he hadn’t fallen in battle and her family hadn’t fled as refugees to another country. Unlike her current relationship, which might even survive the end of the world. Don’t get between Avery and the people she loves.-Kira, Darcy, and Susanna are all too young for love yet.

Ian broke up with his high school girlfriend when they had different plans for college, and broke up with his college girlfriend when she fell in love with his rich roommate’s gardener. Since then he’s decided to focus more on music than relationships.

Lauren has had a couple short relationships, none of which ended well.

10: What is your OCs favorite outfit?

Chris - for every day wear, his pair of good quality blue jeans and red t-shirt. For formal occasions, he has a tailored black suit, a white shirt, and a brilliant blue tie that matches his eyes.

Reagan - black jeans, one of her t-shirts with a funny image or text on it, and her black-with-blue-highlights jacket.

Angie - a pastel-colored blouse, white or khaki capri pants, and sandals.

Neal - long-sleeved button-up patterned shirt, black slacks.-Lanzo - doesn’t pay that much attention to clothes anymore, so whatever is comfiest.

Ash - flannel shirt, brown carpenter’s jeans, suspenders.

Connie - his entire wardrobe is t-shirts (solid color, mostly black but also subdued reds, greens, and blues) and shorts (black or tan).

Aidan - the 1920s were the height of fashion, and nothing will convince him otherwise. He only wears clothes in that style on special occasions, though, so as not to attract (more) attention.

Nate - video game t-shirt, black jeans, jacket with a hood he can pull over his head.

Q - jeans, band t-shirt (all his shirts are band t-shirts, whether he’s listened to or even heard of the band in question), his jacket.

Amanda - black slacks, solid bright color shirt.

Niner - why are humans so obsessed with clothes of all things?-Leah - never used to be that fond of dresses, but having the opportunity to wear one now reminds her of pre-War days, in a good way.

Elarin - whatever helps her blend in her current environment.

Meaghan - Jedi robes, honestly. They’re not flattering but they remind her of happier times.

Avery - there are a couple outfits she has that remind her of absent friends; friends who were more fashion-minded than she ever would be, and insisted on taking her (over her slightly exasperated objections) clothes-shopping for said outfits.-Kira - jeans and a t-shirt, probably.

Darcy - jeans, thick sweater.

Susanna - she has a floral dress she loves, but it’s too nice to wear on ordinary occasions.

Ian - he loves his red flannel footie pajamas, and would never take them off if that was a reasonable option.

Lauren - skirt, floral blouse.

16/25: When is your OCs favorite time of year? What time of year does your OC prefer?

(These two questions seemed like basically the same thing, so i combined them.)

Spring - Angie, for early mornings and warm rains. - Meaghan and Leah, it represents new beginnings. - Nate, associated with his mother’s flower and herb gardens planted on the windowsills and tiny balcony outside their apartment. - Ian, it’s the one season his allergies don’t flare up! As much.

Summer - Neal, loves the heat - stepping outside when it’s warm feels like being wrapped in a blanket- Susanna, NO SCHOOL! :D- Elarin, warm evenings and swimming.- Avery, stays light out later.- Kira, no school, also swimming.- Niner, less trouble finding warm sleeping spots.- Reagan, thunderstorms are awesome, and it doesn’t get dark stupidly early.

Fall - Ash, cooler but things aren’t quite as dead or bleak yet- Darcy, likes being bundled up and drinking cocoa and tea, but without having to deal with ice.- Connie, more comfortable running around outside, and the changing leaves are pretty.- Q, it’s socially acceptable to wear a jacket again, but not freezing cold or too snowy/icy for biking.

Winter - Chris, loves the feeling of dry cold, and some of his favorite outdoor activities require snow.- Lauren, the snow is pretty, and she has more excuses to stay home and away from people (the roads are bad, the flu is running rampant, holiday season).- Lanzo, it gets darker earlier, and snow is just plain beautiful to watch fall.- Aidan, finally doesn’t feel like he’s running too hot all the time! Also has a lot of fond memories of Christmas and New Years’.- Amanda, enjoys skating and cross-country skiing. Also certain members of her family act like they get along for a while.

32: Did your OC go to college? What did they major in?

Chris was a double-major in theater and music – he has a Masters in both, contemplating going for a doctorate in music. He’s also taking night classes in advanced math and physics, which will probably be enough to net him an engineering degree before too long.

Reagan went for a four-year English degree. Being a normal, sane person (unlike some people), she has not gone back for another one.

Angie and Neal, not sure yet. Angie might have gone for a degree, but probably not – she’s brilliant and as driven as Chris in her own way, which is not a way that’s conducive to a college education.

If Neal doesn’t have a degree, it’s something he’s contemplating. Contrary to Angie, the validation of an external organization is something that would appeal to him.-Lanzo - not unless you count the school of hard knocks. According to him, he’s the star pupil of that particular school.

Ash - not formally. He received extensive education in enchanting things from his great-aunt, probably equivalent to a Masters.

Connie - his decision to go to college was a definitive one for him in several ways, not all of them good. He originally just went for some Bachelor of Science degree, but wound up graduating a few years later with two or three after all the credits he’d accumulated (details on what types of degrees to be determined).

Aidan - didn’t even graduate high school.  He’s considered getting a GED, but honestly it doesn’t really appeal to him, and there’s not really a compelling reason to try.

Q - no.

Nate - was in his senior year, on his way to a degree in audio engineering, when he died. He has not made any progress since then.

Niner - what’s college?

Amanda - yep, graduated magna cum laude with a journalism degree.-Leah - law degree.

Elarin - no.

Meaghan - no.

Avery - no.- The Raines siblings are of course too young, but college is probably on the horizon for them.

Ian - yes, music.

Lauren - yes, music.

40: What is the craziest thing your OC has done?

There may or may not have been a time when Christopher got drunk during college and woke up the next morning in a strange place with a hangover and a bag full of things he didn’t remember acquiring, half of which were illegal and/or something he had no idea how he would ever have gotten his hands on it. If that ever happened, and if he ever happened to remember what had transpired that night, it would probably be an incredible story that he will not be telling anyone, at least not until he’s sure the statute of limitations has run out.

Reagan isn’t generally into crazy stuff. There’s probably some story where she stepped outside her usual bounds, but even that probably wasn’t terribly exciting.

Angie and Neal, not sure yet.-Lanzo has a long list of things he’s claimed to have done over the years. Given his character, it is … difficult to tell what is exaggeration and what has actually happened.

When Ash was college-aged, he and some friends got a bit … passionate in their attempts to convince their state senator to sign a particular environmental bill. All you need to know is that the giant papier-mâché horse wasn’t his idea, and while he isn’t exactly sure who the guy in the newspaper photo is, he has never gone out naked in public, so it wasn’t him.

Connie once signed up for a night class (Ancient Greek) and an 8 am class (Calculus) in college. During midterms and finals he subsisted almost entirely on coffee and protein bars. It’s mostly a blur now, but there was a period in there where he almost thought he could taste colors, and attempted to verify it with experimentation. Eggs still taste green to him.

Around the age of ten, Aidan and his sister were really starting to get a grip on their powers, and wondered if they could fly. They decided to test it by jumping off the roof of the burned-down barn they lived in. Fortunately, the answer turned out to be “kind of”.

There’s a lot of risky stuff kids can get up to in New York City, especially when they’re with their friends thinking about what would be cool and not thinking about the consequences. Nate spent one summer doing those kinds of things. Then his mother remarried, and suddenly had time to keep tabs on her son and what he and his friends were doing when they weren’t in school.

Q once rode his bike – a regular bicycle, not a motorized one – on a highway. It was late at night, so there were almost no cars, and there was a full moon so he could see well, but the heart attack he nearly had seeing the headlights of a car suddenly appearing ahead of him helped him determine never to do that again.

On multiple occasions, Niner has first gone to a place where it would be unlikely or impossible for a cat to go, then turned into her cat form.

Amanda has interviewed a drug kingpin, and investigated a death that might have been an assassination by a mega corporation. -Leah tends to think of herself as two different people, pre- and post-The War. Given that Pre-War Leah’s craziest stunt involved toilet-papering a racist teacher’s house with friends in her sophomore year of high school, and Post-War Leah’s craziest stunts are things like facing down a ten-foot-tall deathclaw alone, traveling through an area so irradiated it’s called the Glowing Sea, and teleporting directly into the base of villainous scientists with technology beyond the capabilities of any other organization in existence with very little idea of what to expect, that is perhaps an understandable distinction to make.

While Elarin has been involved in a lot of dangerous stuff, she’s not really one for the “it’s just crazy enough to work!” type of plans. Even if it seems crazy, it’s honestly the best option available at the time.

Meaghan regularly walks into deadly, dangerous scenarios with no clear plan of escape. Whether that’s just her duty as a Jedi or craziness depends on who you ask.

For several years, Avery’s closest companions included an apostate mage, a Dalish elf willing to make deals with demons, an ex-Gray Warden apostate mage running an underground clinic for refugees and helping other apostate mages escape the Chantry, a member of the City Guard and the widow of a Chantry Templar, a dwarven merchant, a magically-enhanced elf slave from the Tevinter Imperium who hates magic, and a pirate captain. It’s questionable if one could think they could have such people interact regularly without ending in murder and not be at least a little crazy.-Whatever the craziest thing the Raines siblings have done is, it probably wasn’t all that crazy, especially compared to the other stuff on this list.

When Ian gets started on a long-term joke or prank, like using a fake name or always arriving somewhere in some wild and slightly dangerous way, he feels obligated to keep doing it longer than most people would. It’s a minor miracle he hasn’t been hurt or fired yet over something like that.

Lauren does not do crazy stuff, except maybe her friendship with Ian.

45: Does your OC like reading?

Chris enjoys a good action-y book, usually with the writing quality of a McDonald’s hamburger but fun to read nonetheless. He doesn’t care much for non-fiction, as he learns best by doing.

Reagan has mild dyslexia, and finds it hard to visualize stuff happening in a written medium. She does enjoy books once she gets into them, though that doesn’t happen terribly often. She keeps meaning to try audio books.

Angie reads so much asking if she likes reading is like asking if she likes breathing. About the only genre she doesn’t read is erotica.

Neal likes dense, complex stories with deep symbolism and philosophical themes. He can only read one of those at a time, and then has to take a little while to think through it all, so he sometimes breaks it up with books of poetry - particularly nature or romance.-Lanzo buys pretty much anything on the bestseller lists, wanting to keep up with what’s popular. Most don’t stick in his memory very long, so if he makes a book recommendation, it’s definitely worth looking into – if he still remembers it, it’s either fantastically good or hilariously terrible.

Like Angie, for Ash reading is roughly the same as breathing, though he’s less varied than she is in topic: he prefers non-fiction, or fiction with a handful of characters who interact mostly with nature. He also tends to re-read a lot, since it can be hard for him to find new books he likes.

Connie is not as voracious a reader as Ash, but he tries to read one or two books a month. He also reads all kinds of genres, but has a slight preference for non-fiction.

Aidan is very picky about what he’ll read, and if he ever puts a book down out of disinterest he won’t be picking it up again any time soon (if ever), but what books he likes he really likes.

Nate reads exclusively fantasy and science fiction, more of the latter than the former. Considering recent events, some parts of fantasy hit too close to home.

Q is continually reading new stuff, usually stuff recommended by “if you liked x you’ll love y” lists. He usually only likes half of what he finds that way, but the ones he doesn’t like tend to fade from his memory pretty quickly. He’s a very fast reader as well.

Niner never learned to read, and has no interest in learning.

Amanda loves mysteries, historical fiction, and true crime novels. Outside of that she tries to keep up with journalism-related things.-Elarin likes reading well enough, but only obscure texts, rare books, etc. Fortunately she’s had a lot of chances to find those kinds of things.

Meaghan is not a big reader, but she finds certain kinds of poetry soothing.

Avery never has time to read.

Leah enjoyed reading when she was younger, with a particular fondness for pulpy comic books, but there aren’t many books in the Wasteland, comic or otherwise. She makes sure to collect any she finds in readable condition.- Kira’s just started getting into light horror/suspense, now that she’s old enough that her grandmother lets her. She’s also a fan of mysteries, having been able to read Nancy Drew and Sherlock Holmes and the like since middle school.

Darcy reads a lot. Sometimes he picks a particular non-fiction topic to focus on, other times he reads more broadly. For fiction, he prefers to re-read his favorites, but if given encouragement will try something new. He’s also been known to read university textbooks for fun.

Susanna isn’t a big fan of fiction, but she likes history books, particularly ones that cover what life was like for ordinary people back in the day, with lots of pictures.

Ian likes to pretend he doesn’t read anything deeper than some cheap superhero comic, so unless you know him well or recognize a joking allusion to a more obscure Shakespearean play, you would never know he read anything else. In reality, his reading material is about half comic books/graphic novels (some Marvel and DC, but he prefers less common ones) and half classical literature, particularly the older stuff. He never paid more attention in English class than the year they read The Odyssey and The Iliad, and never confused a teacher more than poor Mrs. Mitchell.

Lauren read a lot when she was younger, but not so much anymore. On the occasions she does read something, however, she really gets into it.

52: How does your OC feel about insects?(Technically some of the mentioned critters are not insects but whatever.)

Chris: They do an important job, so as long as they stay off of him to do it, you go, little bug buddy.

Reagan: She loathes flies and mosquitoes, is terrified of centipedes, and likes butterflies, moths, and spiders (certain kinds). Other than that, so long as they keep their distance from her, they’re okay.

Angie: Finds certain kinds interesting, but like Chris and Reagan, prefers if they keep their distance from her.

Neal: Not welcome anywhere in his vicinity, not even spiders. Any insect he finds inside his home is dead.-Lanzo: He’s more used to bugs than some. Not a huge fan of them, but is definitely more “live and let live” than most people.

Ash: He has supported various endeavors to save endangered bugs, and is more knowledgeable on the kinds found in the Pacific Northwest than most non-entomologists. That said, he has a pacifist zero-tolerance policy on insects in his house (except for certain species of spider).

Connie: Apart from a special hatred of fleas, most bugs would have to tap-dance on his nose to get him to notice them, let alone do anything about it.

Aidan: Live and let live, with one exception. If he ever finds an ant in his general vicinity, he will carefully use a very precise amount of fire magic to incinerate it instantly. Don’t tell Ash.

Nate: Spiders are cool. Cockroaches are disgusting, but don’t affect him much anymore. Both receive the same indifference he gives most things these days.

Q: Prefers to ignore them as much as possible, and more likely to run or move away from one that’s pestering him than squish it.

Niner: If questioned, she has disturbingly (according to Q) thorough and well-researched opinions on which ones are the most fun to chase, and which ones are the tastiest to eat.

Amanda: They are an undeniably important and fascinating part of nature, and she can stand them when she’s out in the wild, but if she finds one in her house it makes her skin crawl and distracts her until she’s sure it’s dead. If it’s mostly benign (like a spider) and hasn’t made a pest of itself, she might be willing to let it outside, but her instinctive response is “kill it! kill it! kill it!” The only thing worse than insects is *shudder* rats.-Leah: In the past, insects generally grossed her out, but she mostly left them alone. After facing down mutated bugs the size of her dog (or bigger), the little ones no longer trouble her so much. The big ones, though – she hopes they’re all burning in hell.

Elarin: Depends on their size, general danger level, appearance, etc.

Meaghan: If they leave her alone, she leaves them alone.

Avery: Spiders are evil, and they’ll stay far away from her if they know what’s good for them. -Kira: Ew, yuck, gross, kill them.

Darcy: Bees make him nervous, since he got stung by one when he was younger, but for the most part he doesn’t notice them unless they’re crawling on his face.

Susanna: Used to hate them, until she did a report on the insects common to her area in grade school. Now she has a long list of insect trivia to creep out her sister when she’s being annoying.

Ian: Tolerates them, which is good because his general living habits mean he always has a minor infestation of one sort or another going on. So long as it’s not termites, he lets it run its course.

Lauren: The best part of winter is most bugs are now burning in hell where they belong.

60: Does your OC enjoy nature?

Chris’ default location, so to speak, is urban, but he likes the occasional venture into “extreme” nature – mountain climbing, scuba diving, downhill skiing, etc. He’ll enjoy nature while he’s out in it, but once the event is over he returns to the urban jungle.

Reagan likes “organized” nature - parks, gardens, beaches, etc. Beyond that, she prefers to experience it through photos or documentaries. Sure, it’s not the same as actually being there – actually being there often involves exposure to the elements, biting insects, outhouses or disgusting gas station bathrooms, labor-intensive hiking or climbing, treacherous ledges, money spent on entry fees or equipment or tour guides, and risking the whole business being ruined by bad weather, sudden illness, or tourists. Photos and documentaries involve none of that, and so are unarguably superior.

Neal also likes “organized” nature, though he has more of a need for it than Reagan. It relaxes him in a way that few other things can. If he goes too long just in cities, he starts to feel drained. That said, he’d be lost if he ever wound up more than, say, fifty miles from civilization.

Angie tries to blend nature and the city – terrariums and potted plants in the house, vegetable and flower gardens in the yard, roads lined with trees, etc. She likes the occasional trip out into “just wilderness”, but prefers having nature more easily, commonly accessible.-Lanzo and the sun are no longer on speaking terms, but even before becoming a vampire he was of the opinion that anything worth doing was something that could be done inside.

Ash lives and breathes nature. If it weren’t for the handful of things tying him to a more ‘civilized’ existence, like his friends and family, he would happily move out into the wilderness and live the rest of his life there. He has a tremendous respect for nature as well, and knows full-well how dangerous it can be if you don’t respect it.

Connie is always a little more at home outdoors than he is indoors, though he usually winds up indoors more often. While not quite as willing to go live in the wild as Ash (despite being better suited to it), he gets a lot out of extended camping trips or hikes in remote nature areas.

Aidan has a particular fondness for the countryside where he grew up, but apart from that, doesn’t really care if he’s indoors or outdoors, so long as he isn’t getting too hot.

If liking house plants and herbs counts as enjoying nature, then yes, Nate enjoys nature. Otherwise, no.

Given the number of bug bites, sunburns, sudden downpours, black ice, and other things he’s endured, Q has a slight suspicion nature has it in for him. Still, it’s more honest about it than some humans have been, and he’s seen some breathtaking sunrises and meteor showers, so it evens out.

Amanda likes to go out into nature on occasion, like hiking in national parks or on scenic bike trails.

Niner has pretty much always lived in “nature”, albeit usually close to human habitation. It’s all right, she supposes. Not the worst, usually. She can even tolerate rain, so long as it’s gradual or predictable, and doesn’t involve thunder and lightning.-Kira loves the rain, and wants desperately to visit the mountains someday. Other than that, she likes suburban living, provided there’s sufficient trees and shrubbery around.

Darcy has, on occasion, enjoyed outdoor activities, like ice skating. He can count them on one hand.

Susanna was already inclined to prefer being outside to in, and then she discovered she was far less likely to be yelled at for being loud or energetic if she was outdoors. The hardest part of moving from the suburbs to the city is the lack of trees to climb and fields to run around in.

Thanks to his terrible navigational skills, Ian has seen more of the countryside in Tennessee than he ever planned on. He’s developed the fondness that comes from repeated, unintentional exposure, like learning to like that dumb pop song that’s always on the radio.

Lauren likes the beach, and seeing mountains or forests from a distance. That’s it.

Okay, that’s probably more information than you were expecting. Hope it was interesting and not too painfully self-indulgent of me. It was fun trying to answer for everyone, though!

[kernelmeow]

Diary of a Bodyguard: Client Safety and ‘Care’

Fandom: BTS (K-pop)

Characters: Park Jimin, Reader/Insert

Warnings: smut, sub!Jimin, fem!dom

Rating: NSFW

Word count: 9k +

Summary: Being a bodyguard, and a female one at that, was never going to be the easiest career path of choice. But when hired to ensure the protection and security of a touring k-pop boy band, it all seems worth it for one peculiar and unforgettable encounter.

A/N: It’s my BTS debut! Despite initial mixed feelings about this one-shot, I’ve overcome my personal conflict and decided to share this. Tbh I’m not 100% satisfied with the final draft; too many reasons to list, but there ARE elements I’m proud of. If I’ve learned anything from this drawn out process, it would be to STORYBOARD! I’ve since discovered the talented jeonjagiya and her ‘tips’ for aspiring writers - check her out! I really hope you guys enjoy this <3

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is written for entertainment purposes and is not a report of true events or an attempt to libel the persons represented.

The air is cool tonight; a precursor for autumns coming. It's enough to warrant a light blanket about your shoulders but decidedly, the windows remain open, preferring the fresh air. The evening has unfolded without expectations nor objective, free to indulge in relaxation and calm. By your design, these moments are fleeting however appreciated. You can't tolerate idleness, thriving on purpose and commitment. Beep. The personalise tone of your smart phone draws you from contemplation. Unlocking the device, an alert identifies an email occupying your inbox. It's work, and more importantly, it's marked 'urgent'. Arousing your intrigue, you proceed to read the emails content without further delay and soon discover that you've been nominated for an assignment. As you continue to peruse, you note information of particular importance; a select few from the agency, yourself included, would be an addition to the security detail touring across the country. If accepted, you'd be contracted for a month which was an unusually long period in comparison to other assignments. The email concludes with an expression of your presence being required immediately.

Well that doesn't leave much time, does it. With a simple phone call, you confirm your acceptance and receive flight information. The prospect of steady work was exactly what you needed. Discarding the phone on the bed, you rummage through your wardrobe and withdraw a suitcase from the confinements, and proceed to organise the essentials for a month away from home while wondering what the future might entail. Being a professional bodyguard provided the occasional thrilling story to share at gatherings.

This assignment would be no different than any other job, clientele typically being public figures, rich and powerful or both; businessmen, politicians and celebrities alike. During routine introductions, you could pinpoint the exact moment of scepticism which was both expected and ignored. This was a male dominated profession after all, and being anything but was distinguished as being everything but capable. You might possess the stature and exceed the standard requirements of the profession, but it wasn't enough to convince some otherwise. Yet, however tempted, you made no deliberate act to showcase physical prowess or allow ego to influence your actions. You completed each job, ensured the safety of your clients, and that ultimately mattered above all else, even if they didn't express gratitude for your service.

Most jobs were uneventful but occasionally, physical but minor intervention was required to deter an unwanted admirer or, and most commonly, the media. Displays of force were rare and the stereotypical 'brawn over brains' ideology is ill favoured. This isn't a Hollywood feature. A bodyguard is expected to have confidence, common-sense and good communication skills with their client and those involved in maintaining security. It's a common misconception that defensive training was the one and only prerequisite for this career path, and you've lost count how many times the awe exhibited by those who inquired and discovered otherwise.

It was still early days, having been in the profession a couple of years and thereby considered a novice. Eventually, given enough experience and a superior list of credentials, you would go private and work as a personal contractor, but until then you had enlisted at an agency and bodyguards were hired on a 'need be' basis. Contracts were generally short, anywhere from a couple of hours to a full day and sometimes a week at most, but generally no longer. But occasionally there was the odd contract that was for an extended period of time, and one such assignment had been appointment to you.

That's about it, looking over the packed case one last time. It'd be an early start tomorrow, and with that in mind, you ready for bed. The final, fleeting thoughts before sleep consumes consciousness, is that there was nothing else to worry about. Living alone did come with its perks; you could come and go as you pleased.

The venue is vast and situated in the heart of the metropolis, commanding attention of the area. Peering through the window of the taxi, your eyes travel up the advancing brim of the stadium, marvelling at the architectural feat. Must be drawing quite the crowd tonight. Your warm breath, traced with two necessary coffees, mists the glass, obstructing your view. You fall back into the seat, attention diverting to snippets of radio conversation. The event is drawing media coverage.

The bulking figure of the second agency representative sits beside you. Blake. Of all people, you're thankful he was chosen. He's fifty-something, family orientated and had been in the profession for over twenty years now. Ex-military and that's all he'd ever mention. He had been the most welcoming and non-judgemental. He never underestimated your abilities, allowing you to make mistakes and acknowledge and learn from them. He reminded you of that Australian actor; the one who played the grisly superhero. Only Blake wasn't grisly, not in the least, but he utilised his appearance to his advantage. People think twice about fucking with a guy who looked like him, but he was the biggest softy. Though bilingual, his linguistic skill couldn't offer assistance for this assignment, but he offered experience gained from working with a variety of clients. This assignment was nothing he hadn't done before.

Besides the carer choice you shared with Blake, there was one other thing for certain that you had in common: a thrill and desire for power and control; to be of service to someone in this capacity is an awesome feeling. Not long after entering this line of work did you realise that it reflected your personal life. Others at the agency had learned early on that you weren't a 'piece of ass' who thought she'd try dress-up for fun. It took one incident and one idiot for everyone to realise you intended on maintaining a tight separation between you personal life and work life, and that no one was going to succeed wooing you with such alpha tactics. It was laughable. Imagine their surprise should they know your preferences delved into different territories.

The taxi eases to a stop and you abandoned the thought. As Blake settles the costs, fully redeemable by the agency, you exit the vehicle. The contrast of the artificially heated air and fresh breeze is felt immediately. It was colder here, the city experiencing full blown autumn, and unconsciously you tug the collar of your jacket up to shield your neck. As you're inspecting the area, you feel Blake presence at your side.

“The cavalry has arrived,” he boasts enthusiastically.

You roll your eyes in response. “Oh yes. Very fearsome.”

“When you've seen what I have, two people can make a hell of a difference.” His reflective response was a testament to his wealth of knowledge and experience, and served to highlight your naivety, but you respected him nonetheless. “Come on. Let's get inside before my nipples erect.” And then he said something like that.

Flanked at his side, you match his pace with steel resolve and the cold forgotten.

On entry, you're welcomed by the facility manager and introduced to the tour manager and the head of security whom would coordinate alongside Blake and yourself. Blake, being a natural born leader and surpassing you in experience, was the agencies chosen representative and primary liaison between the facility staff and those who have hired the agencies service. It had taken time and understanding of this business to accept that you wouldn’t command respect without first earning it, and made all the more difficult to do so because of your sex. During your transition into the workplace, Blake had offered advise on the matter.

“Don’t let anyone, especially your client, see when shit gets to you,” he’d said. “That's a disadvantage you can't afford.”

Like much of Blake’s advice, you had adopted it if it meant bettering your service. With that in mind, you’re attentive, listening keenly and never straying to distraction.

An identification lanyard now hangs about your neck in addition to the uniform. The dress code was optional within reason but personal preference was dictated by the nature of the job. Foreseeing the long hours, you decided comfortability is a sensible choice. You're dressed in the standard company shirt, tucked into fitted cargo pants and finished with a belt and boots - cushioned insoles included. You favoured a tight pony tail and light makeup to refine a natural appearance. Blake and yourself are equipped with a two-way radio receiver; no dark shades, no suit. It's about practicality and sensibility.

Introductions conclude and swiftly eventuate to the next task of importance: a tour of the stadium lead under the guidance of the event security coordinator. It allows for the opportunity to familiarise yourselves with the environment and learn the layout of the venue, noting key areas such as the main entry and exit points, stairwells and bathrooms, and public and private access. Some areas are a maze of passages that you aim to commit to memory.

Local law enforcement will police the parameter of venue and surrounding areas to appropriately navigate traffic, while facility security will monitor the entrance booths and patrol the corridors and seating area. Private security, being Blake, yourself and the Korean security detail, would operate backstage for that was where the clientele would be situated. For this venue alone there were two scheduled concerts over two nights. Proceeding, there would be an additional recoup day before setting off for the next city and there the routine would repeat again.

While knowing the environment was just one aspect of the job, knowing your client was another. Would they listen and respect your judgement? Were they prone to risk taking or attention seeking behaviours? If so, they were more likely to draw attention, often adverse attention and that's when security was a necessity. Certain clientele were more notorious for such behaviour. You didn't believe in first impressions, hell, you were all too familiar with the misconception, but meeting your client for the first time gave you a sense for what you might expect of them. Intuition was a skill that would be refined in time.

The train of thought keeps you occupied during lunch. It was one of the few but appreciated perks at large events such as this – free food. While the time allowed, you check your phone and send replies to inquisitive friends and concerned family. Before you become too comfortable, the radio crackles and Blake's distorted voice sounds from your hip.

“Up and at it. We've got incoming.”

Taking the receiver in hand, you mumble, “They're early.” Taking another bite of your sandwich.

“And you're still sitting on your ass.” You pout at the device. His intuition was kinda scary.“You're still on your ass. East entrance. Now.”

You resist a mock salute, instead stuffing the remnants of the sandwich into your mouth and brushing the crumbs on your pants. Without further hesitation, you're marching to the destination.

Outside, security gathers and awaits the expected arrival. This entry was strategically separate from civilian access and allowed for the discrete arrival and exit of high profile visitors. A reinforced, automated but staffed security gate was the first check point that filtered entry. Cement barriers shield either side of the road to minimise civilian contact but as Blake points out, the secret entry isn’t so secret. Amused, you observe the small gathering of fans lining the erected barriers - a thriving hive of excitement. Fangirls and fanboys. They never failed to know when and where to be. Their dedication and sources commendable.

The buzz intensifies and you adjust your gaze to the road and observe a sleek, black limo inbound. Passing through the first security check, the limo gains entry and passes through a second check, navigating the road to the venue entrance. Faces indent the fence, peering to claim an advantaged view of the limo. The vehicle parks and the Korean security detail stiffen in attention. One of the doors open and as if on cue, the distant but unison scream announces your client's arrival, and there were few reasons for this particular type of hysteria and loyalty.

A boy-band.

One by one, the idols emerge from the vehicle and silently you count, brows raising a fraction when the number continues to exceed your expectations. When all the members are gathered, you've counted seven in total. Seven surprisingly attractive young men. They could be no more than a few years younger than yourself. They assess their surroundings and you watch as a mixture of curiosity and reservation play upon their delicate features. They're ushered along and the crowd ensures to showcase their undeterred enthusiasm, and like a protective shield, Blake, yourself and the other members of security escort the musicians inside.

Settled inside, the idols are addressed by the tour manager. The conversation is lost on you but the interpreter kindly shares information of importance. Before long, the interpreter steps forward and joins the conversation, gesturing to Blake and yourself. There is a moment of awe and some exclamation which is quickly attributed to the attention directed at your person, and it didn't take a genius to summaries the cause. Their reaction and naivety is too comical to even feel a mild sense of irritation toward the group of guppy-faced musicians. But without fault, you maintain the practiced poker-face, staring long and hard at them.

“Oh! She's so serious.”

“And looks so strong! Do you think she could lift me?”

“With those chicken legs, anyone could lift you.”

“Naw! You're so mean!”

They break into laughter, two shoving each other playfully. You restrain a smile, finding their exuberance contagious though ignorant of what was said. Their manager hushes them and the group simmers to a contained titter, and the discussion continues further interruption. You offer Blake a sidelong glance who smiles with understanding. Remain impassive to provocation, he had once said. This was unlike typical circumstance, but it was important for clients to understand the seriousness of your role and that you weren't easily influence by emotion and a damaged ego.

Time allows you to study each idol, one by one. The email had proved minimal detail on each member, but as personally expected, you had memorised all seven, and was able to select a member at random and assign name to face, even if you weren't confident about pronunciation. They exuded boyish charm and energised charisma, and combined with their youthful attraction was the perfect components for successful entertainers. But what of their talent? You imagine they sung and perhaps danced, but there needed a special ingredient to the mix. Inevitably, you would see in time and as if on cue, the interpreter mentions that they would proceed for practise.

Construction of the stage is near completed with minor adjustments being carried out by stage technicians. A large LED screen extends the stage anterior, flickering with random colour as staff ensure the interconnectivity of every panel. Metal beams raise above and across the foreground, outfitted with spot lights to capture the performance. The stage itself features a large rectangular platform from which a thin path extends from its center, pathing far across the green lawn and to end at a smaller platform. A fence, somewhat flimsy in appearance, surrounds the parameter of the stage and its extension; a meter in width would separate the compacted bodies from the stage and allow security to patrol the barrier, and camera-techs to capture the performance.

With a wardrobe change, the idols are ready for practise, guided by their stage choreographer who motions at different areas of the stage. Blake and yourself roam about the foreground, familiarising yourselves with the area you would spend a better part of the two days. Minimising interference with the group, you follow Blake as he inspects the fenced barrier, pointing out access onto the field, voicing comments aloud, more-so to himself, but you listen. He was thorough, nothing not worth his attention.

“What do you see?”

You regard him briefly, not surprised by the question, then you survey the environment, formulating a response.

“Low risk gig in my opinion. It’s a large venue but considering the demographic, attention will be focused on the performance. Stage-crashers are always a possibility but a minimal one at that.” Blake nods in agreement and you feel like you’ve successfully passed an informal test. “What’s the estimation of sales?”

“Surprisingly, ninety-thousand for the two nights.”

Those were good numbers. They were more popular than you'd given them credit, having not heard of the pop group before this assignment.

Blake spies your contemplative expression and asks, “What of them?”

Sparing a glance at the idols, you summaries your impression of the seven members since introductions and casual observation.

“Babysitting.”

Blake laughs, the arena enhancing his booming voice, briefly drawing attention to yourselves. Perhaps it was harsh and perhaps you were right, but it honest. You predicted that the dressing room wouldn't be trashed nor would you and others have to monitor inebriated persons. They were well mannered but no less enthusiastic and potentially prone to some mischief.

“I can see why you think that.” He grins. “They might surprise you.”

You snort, “I doubt that.”

He chuckles in response, entertained, and with laughter still rumbling in his chest, he retraces the path of the stage, skirting the main platform until you’re both backstage. He then mentions something about having to see to matter and instructs you to remain, throwing “Keep watch, Nanny” as he leaves.

Asshole, you think fondly.

True to his word, your attention trails the idols while monitoring the immediate area. They venture about the platform and extension, getting a sense for the area on which they'll perform. It's not exactly a riveting spectacle but remember that you're not being paid to be entertained. As they make their way back to the main platform, the stage choreographer barks a command which is answered with blaring stereo. The slow introduction of music piques your interest, casually observing as each member claims a position of the stage as the music gathers momentum. Then the beat drops and idols break into dance.

The hip-hop composition is fast-paced and memorised flawlessly, and the longer you watch, you note subtle variations in each members expression of style. They're good, you admit, really good. Impressed by the skill and choreography. As they disperse across the stage, you wander out from the sidelines to spectate. It just needed a sell-out audience to complete the picture. The music begins to ease only to transition into another song and more choreography. You were no dancer, but it rivalled everything you’d seen. The stage choreographer monitors the performance critically but seemingly satisfied.

This continues for a another four songs until the music lulls to a stop. They relax, dropping the staged composure to break into conversation, laughing heartily. The performance has certainty alleviated your bored disposition. As you observe the scene, flitting from one idol to another, you're caught by surprise to match gazes with one member. It's purely accidental, you're sure of that, but he doesn't shy away, holding the connection long enough for you to question his attention. However, the brief moment is severed when he's addresses by another idol.

You think nothing of it.

Rehearsal recommences and you continue to watch, loitering at the sidelines, but ignorant of a habit you quickly develop. You’d never considered yourself prone to distraction, but unconsciously, your gaze frequently strays to one particular member. It’s when you catch yourself, suddenly aware your gaze lingered unusually long and potentially risked being exposed for unwarranted attentions, is the habit realised. You're perplexed for the reason alludes you.

This new found distraction goes by the name: Park Jimin.

Though the encounter had been uneventful and meaningless, since chancing a brief but mutual connection between yourself and silver haired idol, you can't expel a growing curiosity toward him. The exchange was enough to capture your interest, so you indulge in the curiosity with hopes it might explain your gravitating gaze. Before, your attentions were without cause but now with new-found focus. You study the way he moves and intensity of expression as he dances. Perhaps you contemplated unnecessarily and studied too long, fostering a growing attraction, yet your mind wanders to dark places as your eyes unconsciously track his movement.

Get a hold of yourself, you chastise. It wouldn't do you any favours to indulge in such thoughts, especially while on the job and about a current client. Banishing the images, focus returns to the stage where rehearsal has since concluded and you're unexpectedly caught by the mutual attentions of said person. You’re ensnared by his gaze, provoking alarm at the blatant regard and find yourself shying away with an irrational fear that your thoughts are projected for him to know. With mustered composure, you casually cast your eyes around to portray casual but purposeful intention in being there, and hoping to ward off inadvertent attentions. When you gauge enough time has passed, but against better judgement, you chance a glance toward the group with intent to single out Jimin only to be caught off guard. He's expectant, a sly smirk playful upon his lips and you wretch away as if burned, heat colouring your face. Shit, silently cursing the indiscreet conduct.

Hushed conversation and smothered giggles prickle your ears and too often do you suspect eyes to palpate your ridged form. They are, thankfully, more discreet than your previous behaviour. You look anywhere but at the group and try to maintain a low profile, remaining out of sight and beyond the reach of prying eyes, allowing the wordless interaction to dissolve – hoping it will.

Blake returns with five minutes to spare before practise concludes. He doesn't comment on your changed demeanour. If it didn't compromise the assignment, he wouldn't ask questions, but his silence is provoking, if not more so than verbal inquiry. Internally, you're frazzled at having been so careless and so easily provoked. It was unlike you and that is what concerned you most. You had allow personal indulgence to interfere with work. It was a set-back but you'd mask the damage while repairing your professional persona.

As the sweat soaked idols are escorted to their dressing room, your attention stares pointedly ahead, resolute and refusing to give consequence of those whose gaze might drift your way in want of something. When the dressing door closes, concealing them behind its confinements, you sigh with relief, stoicism dropping. Blake observes the immediate change and while ignorant of what transpired in his absence to necessitate the hardened demeanour, he offers comfort in one of few ways he knows you'll accept.

“Coffee?”

You needn't consider his offer long before nodding in agreement.

Sinking into the couch that you'd befriend earlier, steam rises from the styrofoam cup of cheap coffee cradled between your hands. The couch shifts, Blake following your motive. Only silence exists between you. That was another quality you admired about Blake, he re-framed from making unnecessary small talk. The silence is comfortable and welcomed, and you absorb the quiet atmosphere and allow it to clear your mind, reclaiming peace within yourself.

Sometime later you're being nudged awake by Blake, having apparently dozed off. The slightest movement jars the crick in your neck and you grimace at the pain, grumbling complaints.

“Come on, off your ass.” And he offers his hand. You resist shooting him an irritated look, instead taking his hand and allowing his strength to haul you up.

With a series of stretches and carefully testing the movement of your neck, you're satisfied with manoeuvrability and give Blake a thumbs up.

The seven manned group has since been escorted backstage. The collective chanting of thousands of fans is all anyone can hear. Watching the idols as they're equipped with ear-pieces and microphones, you observe a mixture of churning nervousness and adrenaline fuelled excitement. There must be something about performing before thousands of people, you contemplate, that no matter how many times, you'd never get used to it. The group comes together and embrace each other, and you find that it's not just yourself that witnesses the scene fondly, silently wishing them the best.

The lights dim, the crowds hysteria explodes and the idols claim the stage under the darkened disguise. The darkness doesn't subdued the crowd only encouraging their echoing need. The music commences and the stage is illuminated with brilliant light, revealing seven stationary pop-idols commanding the undivided attentions of everyone within the vicinity.

Then it starts.

It was what you'd seen at practise and so much more. Was it their stage presence? The sharply styled clothing? Or maybe they were just really fucking talented? Whatever the mysterious equation, you see for the first time the sum of all those components: a successful boy-band.

Blake was right, you realise. You were if not more than surprised.

Throughout the concert, the idols dash backstage for impressively quick wardrobe changes, and on the first occasion you automatically turn away. Blake's amused by the considerate if not innocent gesture, his laughter barely audible over the combination of cheering and music. You resist shoving him but he can discern your desire to do so and it only provokes him to laugh harder. On the second occasion, you stubbornly refuse to turn your back, instead choosing to avert your eyes. Blake appears if not more entertained with this development, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. It proves challenging to purposefully ignore him while maintaining the privacy of the changing idols. Yet, try as you do, their frantic movement occupies your peripheral vision, and it takes just one slip.

Your gaze strays, like it had before, and the timing couldn't be worse. At least half the group is naked from the waist up, their sculpted torsos bear to the chilled night and wandering eyes. It wasn't on purpose, you swear, blaming a higher power for the unfortunate timing, but the damage is already done. Jimin is a vision of everything you never realised you desired. Though the lighting is poor, his lithe body is perfectly contoured, defining crafted muscle and holy shit those abs! Not only that, his pants appear insanely tight and you can only image it would take only a flex of muscle to reveal the toned thighs beneath. Sweat glistens upon his chest and neck, and your eyes follow the trail, even appreciating the damp locks. When your gaze meets his, you realise your repeated mistake. He knows your thoughts and you're afraid of what you've unconsciously let slip.

He disregards you so easily, resuming the task of changing clothes. You're acutely aware that he doesn't conduct himself with the same haste as his fellow band members, instead taking pleasure to leisurely indulge in dressing himself. As he pulls on a white singlet, unmistakably his hooded gaze shifts to you, as if to confirm your attention lingered still. Then with deliberately obvious intent, one hand grips the buckle of his belt, pulling at it suggestively to reveal more skin as the singlet is slowly lowered until his torso is eventually concealed.

In that moment, you're many things; perplexed, embarrassed, amused, and just a little turned on. Your mind is in a state of shutting down and rebooting that you can't possibility control your stunned, slack-jawed reaction. And Jimin, seemingly satisfied with the outcome, breaks a crooked smile, taunting you as he shrugs on the accompanying jacket to complete the outfit. It's enough to make you remember yourself, mouth snapping shut which causes him to snigger. How his little exhibition has transpired without notice is beyond you, quickly analysing the attentions of those nearby, yet miraculously it has. It remains a secret shared between yourselves. You return a steady gaze, a smile fighting to break free, so you cross your arms for good measure. He laughs again, the expression so delicate you don't know whether to hate it or love it. The moment is however, fleeting, his attention claimed by a member who clasps his shoulder and gestures to the stage.

With his ploy forgotten, Jimin jogs away along with the six other members. The elevated mood evaporates quickly but leaves a desire fostered by his actions. This was the first day for Christ sake!

The remainder of the night is uneventful, in one particular sense, but a success for the idols. The crowd roars with applause; thousands of fans crying simultaneously with joy and anguish at the concerts inevitable conclusion. The members provide one final bow, waving and throwing kisses to the audience as they withdraw backstage. Their manager intercepts them, gushing praise and the boys congratulate each other in a rowdy manner. Though what you thought matter, you're happy for them; they had earned it.

Jimin and yourself don't cross paths again that night. What's odd is that you take notice of that fact.

Minutes from midnight and comfortably settled into pyjamas, you sit cross-legged on the hotel bed, and it was a relatively nice hotel, you note appreciatively. Conveniently situated near the venue, it was but a five minute fare. The agency hadn't been too frugal with expenditures. The room divider, a pair of sliding doors, is open providing unrestricted view into the opposite room. Blake and yourself, like minded at times, are irrevocably attached to your phones. For the past ten minutes, you've persistently scrolled through Spotify in search of the familiar tones of the songs you've been repeatedly exposed to today. With each successful find, the song it added to your play-list and growing variety of music. All the while, you've unconsciously subjected Blake to the incessant skipping of music during your determined search.

“At least use your headphones.” He grumbles.

“You're welcome to close the door,” you reply dismissively. He glares but the non-verbal retaliation goes unnoticed as your attention never strays from the device in-hand.

“Do you want to coexist amicably these next few weeks?”

It's more so the tone than the question itself that successfully pries your eyes from their attachment to regard Blake. He stares dangerously with prospect of the repercussions should you not head his warning. The last thing you needed was to piss him off and warrant his wrath.

“Fine,” you drawl, muting the music. “I won't torture you unnecessarily with my music. So long as I get to smother you if I'm woken by your snoring.” You counter.

“Can't help that I snore,” he sniffs.

“Help it.”

He removes himself from the bed, all the while grumbling 'it's not my fault' and 'you started it' as he closes the sliding door.

“Goodnight!” you call, laughter colouring the expression.

With the negotiation concluded, you decided it best to follow suit and retire. The following morning, you take delight in goading Blake, reporting that you slept soundly and without disturbance. You cease his torture when he lunges for your phone.

You expected day two to play out much the same. Fully rested, you're prepared to bounce back into routine. Ahead of the bands arrival, Blake and yourself reviewed updates from the facility and tour manager. There were no issues reported from the night before. No security breached. All is well and was positively assured for the second and final night at this venue.

Blake wittingly assigns you to babysitting duty, payback for last night. Despite his best to rile you, and though you wouldn't admit it aloud, you can't deny the nervous flutter at the prospect of coming face to face with one particular idol in light of yesterdays incident. But such concerns are masked behind neutrality.

The stage had been substituted for a large rehearsal room. You overhear the commotion behind the door, the group expectantly enthusiastic. Really, there was no need for your presence within the room, but you needed to confirm they were all accounted. Perhaps overly formal but you choose to rap on the door before entering, the room quietening at the sound. You're meet with the inquisitive stares of all within.

“Hello!” One idol shouts, waving animatedly.

You’re taken back by the greeting. The idol in question possessed a sunny disposition, Hoseok, if you remembered correctly, and inwardly you warm to his friendly nature and offer a smile in return which serves to inspire to a winning grin, all cheeks and teeth that he boasts to his peers.

“See, she can smile.”

“Nobody said she couldn't smile.”

“Her eyes are expressive.”

“Yea, they express a special something for Jimin!”

The group explodes into laughter, evidently Jimin being the target of the fun as he’s affectionately jostled by the other members. The corner of his eyes pull in an attractive fashion, cheeks dimpling as he laughs along with them. You take caution during your observation, wanting to avoid a repeat of yesterday, but you acknowledge the difficulty of ignoring his person.

Without that thought occupying the back of your mind, you ascertain that all seven idols are accounted for.

Someone claps suddenly, jolting you from your fixed daze and quietening the rowdy group. He commands the attention of his peers, exhibiting leadership as he addresses the six youths. So he was the band front-man, you deduce, the smooth confidence of Namjoon radiating. His tone is affable, speaking with purpose but as their equal. When he concludes, he utilises a remote to commence the music. Everyone disperses, claiming formation across the buffed, wood floor to perceive themselves in the full length mirrors of the feature wall.

You needn't stay, reasonable that the room could - should - be guarded from outside, but gravity fastens you still, and you don't fight, compelled to remain by the unnameable force. Just five minutes, you lie.

The following hour consists of relentless rehearsing but the idols persevere with feats of stamina; their dedication unquestionable. They break twice, replenishing themselves with sports drinks while wiping away the accumulation of sweat. During the first interval, you observe with mild interest, as Jimin is cajoled by this friends, their influence obvious and insistent. He protests weakly, perhaps not overly opposed, but his demeanour expressing hesitance. The nature of the situation, you soon discover, is made apparent when under the influence of their incessant hands, he’s guided toward you. He swots at them impatiently but a smile never falters from his lips. He casts one last look back toward the group and they beckon him forward with words of encouragement and one final push. He utilises that momentum to carry him forward, and as he leaves the safeguard of the group, and all attention invests in the orchestrated union.

You sharpen as he approaches, guarded and critical. He's nervous, you perceive. Radically different to his conduct last night which was strategically hidden beneath stage confidence and an awareness of his physical attraction. He holds his chin defiantly, shoulders tight and square yet saunters with ease that might otherwise fool you. It's his eyes; they evoke innocent intrigue but nervousness. When he pauses before you, you can't help regard his actions with caution. He falters under the severity of your analysis, eyes retreating from your own, perhaps reconsidering the plot of his friends. But the momentary lapse is overcome when he presents to you a bottle of water, somehow concealed. You're shocked by his consideration, the gestured unexpected and sincere. The moment hinges on bated breath, all waiting in eager anticipation of what will happen. You move as if automated, accepting the offered drink, expression softening to betray a subtle smile and he swells with giddy happiness, ducking his head as he grins. He chances a final glance, catching your laughing eyes and flushes. He nods, a polite farewell, and retreats to the safety of the watchful six manned group, openly inquisitive of the exchange they instigated.

His return is met with cheers of triumph, as if he had achieved an incredible feat deserving praise and acknowledgement. It was comical and almost ridiculous, enough that you hide a chuckle before loosening the capped bottle. You take a generous gulp of the cool drink, ignorant of how thirsty you were until the liquid relieves the starvation of your throat, pooling coolly in the pit of your stomach. It was a satisfying sensation.

The heightened mood continues a minute longer and you observe as Jimin engages in whispered conversation, primarily with Namjoon. You can’t fathom the reasoning for their secrecy, but when they unanimously glance your way, you're expectant of another ploy in the making. Namjoon calls the other members to attention and they huddle together, heads lowered as they concoct their plan. Some giggle while others, they too, peek slyly from the sheltered cluster. When eventually they break apart, aligning themselves in preparation of what you perceive to continue rehearsal, what strikes you surprised is that instead of facing the mirrored wall, they face you. While you're acutely aware of the collective attention on your person, it's the attention of one that ultimately matters, and you can't fight the unnerving tickle of excitement and anticipation.

Namjoon holds the remote, poised to commence his shared plan and says, “He said this one is for you.”

You're struck surprised by his fluency, even more so by his meaning, but you don't question it, allowing them to show you. The introduction of a song begins to play and he pockets the remote. Jimin stars centre stage, eyes keen and pointed, a smirk playful upon his lips, resembling the cocky entertainer from last night.

With unison, they break into dance, immersed in the music and perfectly synced. Each movement of their bodies is influenced by emotion; a slave to the songs expression. You're mesmerised, unable to tear away from the performance. A private audience for one. You’re paralysed by their hypnotic movement and gyrating hips. What would presumably be a four minute routine seems longer and for that time, you've forgotten the purpose in being there, that anything existed beyond this realm of choreographed seduction. All that mattered was a growing and dangerous desire that darkened your eyes.

They simultaneously freeze, holding the struck positions. You blink, breaking the spell and finding yourself breathing again, and they too, drop the stance, overcome with exhaustion. It was deserving of an applause of thousands! Yet, in fear of yourself, you dare not move. But he waits, they all did, expectant of some expression or gesture of your approval. He need only a taste validation, enough for him to crave more. It need be something simple and not overly gratuitous. Then an idea strikes you and you must resist smirking.

Pushing from the wall, your heavy boots tread across the wooden floor. You're the epitome of composure and congratulate yourself on the mastered skill. With each step, Jimin's eyes marginally widen, the heighten thrill from his bold performance crumbling, and you saver his unravelling resolve. With precise imitation of his gesture, you present the water bottle, brow arching with silent challenge and perhaps a little condescension. He appears baffled, at a loss to your reasoning, yet still he accepts the presented gift, and it's not until you wink at him on turning away he realises you jest. The barest hint of a smile assures him of your appreciation and he’s left to ponder what has transpired as he's swarmed with eager question of the group.

Before a grin threatens to break from ear to ear, something motions by the door and on identifying Blake, you straighten in attentiveness. His gaze passes over you, interest resting on the clamouring idols. Almost obediently, you walk over to stand at his side, awaiting his acknowledgement.

“How things?” he asks.

You can't help regard him slyly, looking for a trace of the questions subtext, what ever it might be, but Blake hints to nothing, and you should've expected such. Deliberating an answer, you share Blake's regard of the chattering youths, summarising the events of the past hour. Jimin looks over, equipped with a dimpled grin and you find yourself biting you're cheek to suppress the betrayal of a smile.

Confident in you're ability to reply without fault, you reply, “Interesting.”

“Should I be concerned?”

Turning to him again, brows arching, you ask innocently, “About what?”

“That you and pretty boy were blatantly eye-fucking each other,” he replies, deadpanned.

“Harmless, I assure you.” Marking your heart with a cross, yet the sly smirk doesn't inspire confidence. Blake chuckles, a deep heart-felt sound, and shakes his head.

“Try to keep it in your pants.” And you feign injury at the connotation. But in honestly, he needn’t worry. It was all merely innocent fun.

It was time.

One by one the idols leave the confinements of the dressing room, exuding excitement and joviality. They're sharp and styled, a flare of make-up accentuating their fine features. High fashion models beware.

The manager leads the group, two security guards flanking the group, Blake and yourself leading the rear. The corridor is a congested highway of bodies; everyone rushing to ensure a flawless night, though they part to allow the group to pass without being detained. Your constantly on the lookout, a natural instinct; assessing and interpreting risks, not that you expected such but being cautious wasn't wasted effort.

It takes only a matter of minutes to get backstage, the area darkened and noisey. As the technicians are equipping concealable earpieces, you look from one member to another only to realise something.

Six? No, that can't be right, recounting the group. One, two, three...six. But the number adds up the same. Six idols minus one silver haired menace. You've got to be kidding me?! Nudging Blake, you draw his attention.

“We’re one short.” Jutting your chin toward the group. “Park Jimin is MIA.”

He frowns, seemingly sceptic until you watch the realised truth of your comment dawn on his face as he counts for himself.  

“How the fuck did this happen?” his tone interrogating.

“I don’t fucking know,” you hiss. “There were all present when we left.”

“You sure of that?”

That you were, having done a head count before the group had been escorted. Something had gone awry between then and now. The corridors had been chaotic; too many bodies crammed together. Something wasn't right, and you spare a look toward the idols who appear awfully amused and shrewd.

“Shit.” You mutter.

“What?”

“ I - no, it's nothing.” Voicing your suspicion wouldn't aid issue

“Nothing is no use right now,” Blake quips irritably. “Find him and make it quick.”

Your lips part, a defense prepped on your tongue, but you let your ego take the hit. So you nod and exit the stage. Once clear of the darkened environment, you break into a jog, swerving between the stage crew who still busy the corridors.

You can't say where he'd separated from the group but make for the bathroom along the way. Bursting through the door, an anonymous man screeches with surprise, compromised by the urinal.  

“Don't mind me,” you say distractedly, stalking into the bathroom. One by one, you push open each stall, waiting to meet the resistance of a locked door and hoping to find your missing idol, but your hand meets no such resistance, and the final door is swings open. Shit! That ruled out one area, and that questioned the next destination. Pivoting, you make for the exit, another apology thrown at the still shocked occupant who watches you leave with single-minded purpose.

Emotions coil in your stomach, threatening to expose themselves. You're pissed off, embarrassed, frustrated and concerned. Stalking to the destination, your pulse quickens, heightened by the building anticipation. You better be here! Throwing open the dressing room door, you march inside expecting the worse only to find the source your unnecessary stress, complacent and expecting.

Jimin sits before one of the mirrors, cast in the revealing light of the rectangular arranged globes, highlighting his flawless complexion. His attention diverts from the mobile in-hand, flickering to acknowledge the sudden interruption.

”Took you long enough.” He mumbles.

You're awash with sudden and unexpected relief. He's safe. But the emotion is fleeting, contested by confusion and growing irritation fostered by his lack of reactivity and indifference. He doesn't motion to move or attempt to express an explanation for why he's been found here when he's expected elsewhere. You're honestly confounded by the situation and it only serves to flame your simmering anger.

“Hey!” Aiming to command attention, but you're ignored and it furthers to dominate your surging irritation. “Jimin?” you press, but still nothing. Growling, you storm forward, patience exhausted. Grabbing the back of the chair, you swivel it around and it's occupant until you're face to face. He perceives you lazily and it succeeds to push you to breaking point. Fucking musicians.

Steadying your voice to a wavering calm, you do your best to speak reason.“You. Need. To. Go.” And gesture to the door, hoping he'll understand the improv. He regards the door and you again.

“No.”

You might not speak the language, but you're sure as hell know what a flat out refusal sounds like.

“That wasn't a suggestion.” Plucking the mobile from his hand and pocketing the device. You cross your arms, raised brows daring him to protest. “We're going. Now.” He maintains a leveled gaze and you meet is head-on, unyielding. This was one power-play he wouldn't win. He raises slowly, never wavering, but there is an immediate shift; attuned to an unspoken or gestured change in his character.

His shadowed eyes reflect an ambiguous intensity, and you're gripped by sudden transformation. Automatically, you assume the worst, that you've overstepped an undefined boundary and provoked him. But he doesn't lash out verbally and his physique doesn't suggest anger. Instead, his chin lifts, sudden like, as if to gesture a challenge.

Then, tentatively, his hand reaches out toward and you. Stunned, you watch the seemingly slow approaching hand, but at the last second grasp his wrist, halting further movement. You want to object to this, to whatever this game was, but words fail you, dying in your throat. And you know that your composure has since faltered, expressing perplexity, and Jimin preys on the vulnerability, persistent in his ploy. He steps closer, unbearably close, and your mind is screaming caution; the situations trajectory entering dangerous territory. Abort!  Yet, he continues without expressed objection on account of yourself, his unrestrained hand plucking the seam of your collar with feigned interest. His fingers trace the seam, gliding up and down with sensual purpose, coyly watching the conflict play upon your face – gauging for the moment his victory is assured.

“Jimin,” you hiss in warning.

He feigns ignorance, head tilting marginally, teeth catching his bottom lip and god-damn, you're doomed for eternity. Those fucking eyes, wanton and heavy and beckoning - how could you resist? And it's in that moment that Jimin fastens his grip on you, and caught within his carnal spell, you allow him to pull you down, capturing your lips.

It's gentle and soft, barely a kiss, and it's for the briefest moment when he inclines to pull way – reeling in the bait. Such a simple yet profound gesture for your undoing. You act on instinct, claiming what had been taunted. You claim his lips with no intention for gentle gestures. It's raw and hungry; everything that had accumulated to this point. Teeth on teeth clash in the domineering attack, mercilessly claiming those full lips and mouth hot.

But it's not enough.

Your hands, insistent and undisputed, guide him backwards, stumbling blindly past the chair and until the bench hits the back of his legs. Still you persist, urging him back and he catches the hint, propping himself onto the bench-top. He stares, eyes alive and thrilled, and oh, how you want to make him regret it. You want - want everything he has to offer, and he'll do so. He'll beg. Your hands hasten upon his hips, and with a swift tug, pull your pelvises flush against one another. A grin shapes those full lips and you crave them again.

The onslaught of tongue, lips and heat recommences, and you bite into that bottom lip that he had so shamelessly teased earlier. Greedy hands snake beneath his top, mapping and groping everything within reach, all the while devouring him with another kiss. He is all the right components of soft and hard – simply perfect. He gasps into your mouth as a thumb brushes a nipple, and your voracious appetite demands more, pinching the small mound and you're not disappointed.

“Is this what you want?” You whisper, releasing his mouth so that he may exclaim again, and he does. Through gritted teeth he whines, eyes squeezed shut, and its enough to satisfy you, if momentarily.

Delicate kisses trail his jaw, his neck, a balm to the nails that rack across his abdomen with aim to imprint and leave mark of your possession. A souvenir for him to remember you by.

“Have you found Park?”

The radio crackles at the cessation of the transmission and you pause your attack, attempting to process the question through the lustful haze.

“(Y/L/N)?”

You breathe a sigh of frustration against Jimin's neck, growing irritated by the continual disturbance. Inclining away, you pin Jimin with your heated gaze, and reply into the receiver.

“(Y/L/N) here. I've located Park.”

“What's the situation?” His voice unquestionably testy.

“The situation is...under control.” It was so fucking cliché but you can't resist smirking at the double entendre. To prove the point, you angle your hips down and Jimin whimpers.

“Then hurry your ass up,” he growls, ending the transmission.

Impatient asshole, discarding the device on the bench, perhaps too carelessly. Jimin, having regained some composure, quirks a brow in question of the brief conversation. Blake was right and you hate that he was. The concert was scheduled to start at anytime! Jimin, as if sensing the internal battle, wraps his legs about your waist, securing you. He fastens his fingers into your shirt, and tugs incessantly. You level him with a look, rationalising. Events have long exceeded the point of no return, doomed by your actions, and you consider no point to stop now.

Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, admiring its fullness from the abuse of your mouth. Then tilting his chin, you lean in to kiss him gently and slow. While he's distracted, a hand slides between your bodies and grasps the mound of his pants, earning a gasp. You massage and kneed the area, sweet sounds escaping between the breath of space between your mouths. His grip moves to your arms but you're not having that. Distantly thanking your defence training, swiftly his wrists are secured and panted against the mirror. He protests with a whine, but he'll have real reason to protest soon enough. With effortless ease, your unencumbered hand works diligently to unfasten the belt and then the button of his pants. Then with devilishly slow movement, the zipper is drawn down, prolonging the tension. Commando, you note approvingly, and claim your prize, revealing his stifled cock from the oh so tight confinement of his tight pants.

Pretty thing it was, flushed and perfectly girthed to fit comfortably within the grasp of your hand. Testing Jimin's arousal, you thumb the head of his cock, massaging the slit with precum, and he mewls. His expression is agony and pleasure, contorted beautifully; an instrument willingly submitted and at your behest. And glutinous for his pleads, you stroke him with precision to earn such exclamations. Hot, searing kisses mark his neck and jaw, feeling the erratic pulse of his jugular. He resists the hold, arms struggling weakly to wiggle free of the iron-clad hold. You smirk into his neck, relishing in the futile attempt, but reprimand the behaviour with a series of trailing bites for his disobedience. He whimpers into your ear, oh, and what a sweet sound it is. All the while you pump at his cock, fast and dirty – time is of the essence.

You know he's close. He pants feverishly, arching into you, legs straining about your waist. Come on, you urge, eyes keen on his face as you drink in the writhing of expression; pink lips parted and face wrought with pleasure. It was everything. Fastening your hold, the pace slows to controlled, lengthy strokes. He bucks into your hand, so naughty and eager, and then he reaches his peak. He cries out and conscious of the volume, you kiss him, swallowing every moan and exclamation of his orgasm. He spills over your hand but it only serves to fuel the task of maintaining the pace.

When he's milked of everything he possesses, you pull back slightly to appreciate the view. His slack expression is reward enough and you fondly brush his bangs. Now what to do with you? There's a box of tissues on the counter, and plucking a few you proceed to remove his essence while inspecting yourself. There could be no evidence of your conduct. However, on regarding Jimin, you grimace, noting the stained shirt and glistening perspiration. He meets the look lazily, still drunk on his high.

There was a rack of clothes and thankfully they're named. Selecting another top from Jimin's section, not quite a replica of the damage goods, but hopefully no one will notice the sudden wardrobe change. Returning to him, you offer the clothing and he takes it without question. Standing, he tucks himself away, unabashed as you watch. Then stripping off the shirt, you're gifted the chance to look upon him once again; the lighting in your favour this time. He's all too aware of his captivated audience and doesn't cower under the scrutiny. Lastly, he regards his reflection, patting away the sweat and brushing a hand through his hair. Satisfied, he turns to you, offering a soft smile, unperturbed by the events.

It’s difficult to reciprocate his ease.

He strides past toward the exit, and with his hand upon the door handle, he inclines his head in question when you don’t follow. Daunting realisation threatens to ruin your resolve. Fuck. You release a deep, long breath as he opens the door. The first foot forward marks the hastened facade you’ve constructed to make it through the remainder of the night. You trail behind him all the way, and Jimin’s conscious of your presence, feeling your eyes bore into his back.

Backstage, your bodies are swallowed by darkness and the energetic crowd chants eagerly. As you near the expectant group, Jimin stops and turns to address you and your breath stalls.

He steps closer and want you back-away, fearing the intimate interaction will draw attention. Worry creases your brow, hands bawled at your sides and if he notices, he doesn’t show. He radiates an unfathomable calm yet still maintaining a hint of that shy personality you’ve witnessed; much unlike his forward and seductive counterpart. He smiles again and it almost inspires confidence that maybe everything will be alright.

“Don’t worry, it’s our secret,” he says, and what you wouldn’t give to know what he said. “Wish me good luck!” And with a wink, he leaves.

You don't have time to consider the possibly of his words nor the incident before Blake is breathing down your neck, and demanding an explanation. It's easily avoided, casually throwing in the reminder that you're dealing with musicians, and he accepts the comment though evidently doubtful it’s the whole truth. Your focus returns to guarding tonight’s show and your secret. But as the show commences and a screams roar from the crowd, an unmistakable fact shadows your thoughts: you’re not nearly as guilty as you’d expect yourself to be, nor of the consequences if you’re inappropriate conduct becomes known. And in addition to that, there was still four weeks left of the tour...

End.

[sylleboi]

𝕻𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖎𝖙 - 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖈 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖕 | 24/03/20

Since we are now all self-isolating, we are receiving all of our school work/homework over Moodle and Moodle Forum. For today, the task is to dive into a workshop called “Post It”.

Attached was the following text written to us by our teacher:

“Morning folks. 

Day 2 of lockdown and I thought I would post an activity that we can all get involved in. Basically, this is a fun workshop that looks at the theory behind how comic book narrative works. 

What I want you all to do is use the video (pausing on each slide/task) and imagine I am going through it with my monotone drawl. Basically, if we all take part an upload something I will put together some group comic pages, that we can all be proud of! 

All you need is some post-it notes (failing that make some small squares of paper) a sharpie, fineliner, pencils, ink if you have it. Then some resources, books, photos on your phone, your imaginations. 

Follow all of the tasks and work the workshop through. Your goal is to upload your post it comic book panel/s by tomorrow morning. I have attached the PDF of the video too. Ask me any questions and I will try and give you feedback as we go through the challenge. I will hold a review session on Thursday. 

Good luck team!”

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖕:

Aims of this session:

Make paneled illustrations based on observations and ideas generated from discussion and sketching.

Create at least 6 drawn and inked post-it note panels, with each one based on a different idea or subject.

Build a non-sequential “comic” using these panels

Make a group comic with everyone else’s panels

Compare the results and reflect

explore & discuss the theory of how we make sense of the world through various psychological elements (Gestalt theory) using comics as a vehicle to do this.

Task 01 – Reach & Sketch

“In order to stimulate ideas for your comic panels, you will need to generate sketches based on some visual prompts, this may be something you already have or you can use the starter topics below. Really there are no bounds here so the content of your panels could be anything you like, but having a place to leap from is always a sound approach. Spend 15 minutes doodling on each of the following topics, trying to communicate your ideas as simply as possible:

Objects & tools

Icons of inspiration

Characters & alter ego’s

Motivational words & wisdom

Emotions and expressions

Weird & wonderful

Use observations, people around you, old photos, a scene from the movie you watched last night and tap into that imagination!”

I began by putting on some music and simply just go at it, sketching whatever first came to mind when I looked at the prompts above. Eventually, I was left with some rough sketches scattered across a page;

01: Objects & tools

I was unsure of what precisely to draw, as I hadn’t warmed up prior to doing this workshop; but I saw a pile of chains outside the door from where I was working; thus this became the first thing I drew.

02: Icons of inspiration

The first person that popped into my mind as a source of inspiration for me was John Murphy (or just Murphy for short) from the TV series “The 100″. I have never connected as strongly to any fictional character as I have with him. It has gotten almost silly since a known party trick of mine is to practically cry on command if anyone does as much as show me a picture of him or say his name; but with that, It just goes to show how much of an impact his character has had on me over the years. He is most definitely part of the reason that I am even here today – his will to forever survive, no matter how much bullshit he has to go through, has been incredibly inspiring for me. I referenced this from an old piece of fan art that I did a few years back;

03: Characters & alter ego’s

Again, I simply drew the first thing that popped into my mind; which for this prompt was sort of viewing myself from outside my own body. (?) I drew myself as a wolf for no apparent reason besides that I creates me as a “character” rather than myself. The alter ego part steps in where I thought about the way I present myself vs who I really am. I may be this tough-looking guy (wolf?), but in reality, I’m no tougher than anyone else. I drown in my own thoughts constantly; often making me feel so worthless and horrible that everything almost seems to be sinking silently.

04: Motivational words & wisdom

This is a quote taken from one of the seasons of “The 100″, where Murphy has a short conversation with another character from the show called Titus, a guy that imprisoned him and tortured him for days before he managed to escape;

Titus: "You do not belong here."

John Murphy: "Really? Why does my blood decorate your floor?"

– in Stealing Fire (season 3)

05: Emotions and expressions

I feel as if this is an emotion I feel quite a lot. Anger, stress, despair, pain, envy, sadness; being so tired of everything constantly piling up to then fall back down again.

06: Weird & wonderful

Honestly, I’m not sure where this came from in my mind. Possibly it has some ties to the previous sketch (05) since it was more of an emotionally driven drawing; the character is hidden away by a darkness that they have put on themselves (the jacket/hazmat suit/coat?”, but they are holding something light in their hands- like a light orb; or perhaps it’s something more hostile and sinister, sharing the appearance of something bright and warm.

Perhaps the light orb is really a light anomaly (when properly identified, light anomalies are said to be able to potentially be the energy of a spirit transforming itself by use of the energy around it.) disguised as something safe, but in reality, it might of something demonic or a poltergeist (poltergeists are spirits with energy levels so high that they can physically interact with the world that we know of).

It’s really just up to anyone's interpretation.

Task 02 – Define parameters

“Once you have created a selection of sketched ideas across a range of topics, take your post-it notes and draw with your fine-liner a loose border about 4-5mm in from the edge of the paper.

That 4-5mm of blank space is called a gutter. The place outside of the frame, where time and imagination, is at its most fluid.

Bordering a panel gives you a range of options of how to compose your image inside of it; draw in freehand or trace over one of your sketches, lining out the details with your black pen.

Composure and consistency are useful here but experiment with your approach to calligraphy and purpose of your line-work.”

I wanted my linework to feel delicate although the imagery isn’t all quite as such; creating a sense of juxtaposition between the relations of the context and the linework, so this I why I used a 0.35 fineliner.

Since I had no post-it notes, I cut out squares of white paper. After this, I traced over the sketches I had done earlier by pushing the sketch and “post-it note” up against a sunny window.

After finishing the tracing as well as the borders (to create the gutters on each “frame”); this is what I was left with:

I am very happy with how they all turned out, especially after they have been inked with a fineliner- It really makes them all tie in together; although each of them is based on separate prompts.

I scanned them all in, the result of this shown below: 

Task 03 – Display & arrange

“Once you have created at least 6 post-it panels, from a range of unrelated subjects, arrange these in no particular order on a blank page in your sketchbook (or a large sheet of paper if necessary).

Photograph this arrangement on your phone considering what your brain tells you are the overall meanings of this arrangement. Rearrange the sequence, and see if that meaning changes, record any thoughts or ideas about each sequence in notes to review later.

Now upload one of your panels up to the forum. We can then create a group comic, by mixing them all up. Try this at home too if you have photoshop?”

I have already done the random arrangement of the post-it comic panels, as they are shown above. But what does it tell me? What story does it create in my eyes? Below is my interpretation of what the comic portrays:

Betrayal

The wolf spirit raged in anger, for he had betrayed the realm, crossing barriers no mortal was to ever dare. 

“Mortal fool- you do not belong here”, the spirit barked out as if to scare the human away with nothing but one's voice.

“If I don’t belong here... then why does my blood decorate your floors?” He answered in a bitter tone.

“You are nothing but a fool for what you have done! You deserve nothing but–”

A sudden silence overwhelmed the spirit and with the silence, the body of the spirit slowly disappeared into nothingness... creating an orb of light. It floated hopelessly above the floors for a while, until it descended into the hands of a stranger, shadowed by a cloak. Behind the cloaked figure, the sound of chains rattling echoed, until a horned wolf made its way next to the strangers' feet.

“You have done well, human. This... spirit; was a traitor– but no more will it pester you.”

“Who are you?” the human asked, his wounds still bleeding from his previous fight.

“A god. None that your kind has ever heard of. I am Death's brother, Hypnos.”

I also posted all of the frames on the Moodle Forum. ↑

Task 04 - Conclusions

“Look at the comics you have created and then read the following text written by comic book analyst Kaitlyn McCafferty:

“Non-sequitur transitions are constituted of a series of images that are seemingly unrelated to each other in any classic narrative form. Non-sequitur transitions are the most cognitively disruptive; they are the most uncomfortable. Though the curator of these panels may not have had a specific narrative in mind, the viewer will try to draw associations between the images shown. This irresistible human tendency to put elements together to form a complete whole can be explained by Gestalt psychology, which explores the notion that human perception of a whole subject is based on the sum of its parts.”  Answer the questions below and present your work and other people's work on the blog:

Do you understand the theories being discussed here?

The Gestalt theory; I understand that this theory focuses on the human condition and needs to find order and pattern, and in this instance narrative amongst images. Gestalt explains that it is common to take a more holistic approach to this, by taking into account the individual parts of the narrative, in this instance the individual images, and only then decide the narrative. In many ways, this task has allowed us to explore what happens when rather than following these theories or playing into human tendencies to expect order, to see what human imagination can create on its own when order is not present.

Why is this interesting?

This task is interesting because it opposes conventional narrative, and forces the observes to use their imagination to try and find patterns amongst the random images, even when no set pattern exists. This, in turn, proves invaluable, because it furthers our understanding of human psychology and the endless potentials of our imaginations to create an infinite amount of stories and narratives, based off of only one set of images depending on which order they are placed in.

How could you use this to help with your own projects?

It always helps knowing how people work psychologically to predict what an audience would find interesting and intriguing say, for some character design. It is already widely used in our society; for example, in books, TV series or in a series of films they often end them on a cliffhanger with the purpose that you will want to continue watching/reading to find out what happens afterward. Our brains instantly start trying to figure it all out, attempting to tie everything together with the information given, but still, we want to be reassured.

Update 1.1:

After looking at some of my peers’ work, I have decided to try and replicate the look of “post-it notes” a little better by adding colour to them. Although I like the minimalistic black and white look, I feel as if it doesn’t completely match what this entire workshop was about; sparking ideas by doing comic-like panels on post-it notes.

Below are some of the work my peers did that I had a look at;

So, I took the scanned files of my “post-it notes” and loaded them into Krita. I set a layer to multiply, allowing me to add any colour I wish to each note. I did this for both the scans;

And finally, here is the finished product!:

Here they are loosely animated together in the same order as above;

And here is another version of that same gif;

Update 1.2:

25/03/20

Our teacher further set a challenge to develop this workshop further;

“Try and read the 'comic', and then consider Scott McCloud's ideas....does this nonsequential set of images "work" together. What is the result of grouping them? Do narratives start to appear?

If you have done 6.....now let's do 12? Remember details are everything. Take your time. We will review Thursday afternoon.

“Here's some pointers for all of you: 

01: Work on the stylisation of your written text (typography) as this is vital part of comic book panels

02: Develop and use background tonality more, if you have it water down some ink and try and build a sense of depth in the frame

03: Use hatching/pointilism and other mark making to support this sense of depth in the frame even just solid black fills will work (See the work and get inspired by the work of Mike Mignola/Adrian Tomine/Aiden Koch to support)

Keep going folks, let me see your group comics too, take a panel from everyones and put them together in a random sequence. Test the theory!”

(Matt Tankard / Sylvester Larsen / Bill Martin / Emma Aspris / Bertie Brocki / Matt Tagliarini)

What does the above sequence of post-it notes make me think of narrative-wise?

The first thing that popped up in my mind was; this is part of a dream sequence. The colours, always changing with the imagery that one's brain makes up on the go. I feel as if it closely portrays dreams I have had in the past; all scattered around with no direct links to each other; as if they are all separate glimpses of different dreams. It definitely reflects the nature of surrealism with how unpredictable it appears as a collectible.

I decided to then make one of these random post-it note sequences myself, using stuff that my peers created. Below is how that turned out:

What does the above sequence of post-it notes make me think of narrative-wise?

After looking at it for a while, I established an idea of what this little sequence could depicting narrative-wise.

It begins at the upper left with someone saying “Yo!” and the next frame showing perhaps yourself or another random character. You/They are in a grumpy mood- feeling like there’s nothing much to do and everything feels boring. So the someone leaves you/them with a choice - Are you/they going to take the drugs, or not? It’s now between feeling the same boring stuff, or feeling something you/they have never felt before. You/They answer “Yes”, and so you/they suddenly feel an odd rush of happiness, warmt and colour.

Don’t do drugs. They’re bad. This was just what initially came to mind for some reason.

- - -

Now for expanding the number of comic frames from 6 to 12, whilst keeping the pointers we were given in mind.

To expand on the prompts, I have decided to randomly generate some words by using this website, a random word generator, putting the settings to the following:

I generated the following 5 words:

I looked up the definitions of each of these words, giving me the following to work from:

Inhabitant:

Spoil:

Dose:

Reinforce:

Generate:

Now keeping the definitions of each word in mind, I attempted to illustrate my interpretation of them, using the same process as previously:

I only did 5 this time around, since I did 7 the last time around, making 12.

Dose:

For this one I imagened it being related to drugs. At the time of drawing it, I was listening to some rap music, and it made me think of how it lately has become a trendy thing to take drugs such as xanax. - it’s basically based on how many young people gradually only have drugs on their mind.

Spoil:

I interpreted this as something being damaged. - I wasn’t sure what exactly to do, so I eventually just decided to draw a horse that has been shot with some arrows.

Inhabitant:

The inhabitants in this little frame are centipede bugs, crawling around a humans ear. I felt as if it would fit the meaning of this word well, as it indicates that these inhabitants are not welcome and don’t belong there.

Reinforce:

For this frame, I interpreted the word “Reinforce” as something being supported, so I sketched a mech girl where the reinforced bit is the metal suit she is wearing.

Generate:

For the last frame, I went a little more simple and took the route of just doing some typography, after reading that our teacher asked us to do some more interesting looking quotes/type, so I gave this a drop shadow after going over it with the fineliner.

As I did previously, I traced each frame up against a window with a fineliner, being the same as I used the last time.

After this, I cut each frame out and scanned them in. I added the same yellow colour to them to make them match, but also to make them feel more like real post-it notes;

I eventually found that I had lost the post-it note for the first quote I did, so I redid it, although I then found the original again afterwards.

[archivezosia]

Comment faire de la place pour l'amour — ( How to make room for love. ) Timeline: around 1 year ago.

Paris had a way of romanticizing even the simplest of tasks; it’s greatest perk and downfall all at once. Originally, as an unfortunate and miserable single young woman with no positive prospects on the horizon, Zosia’s expectations of the infamously romantic city had been placed exceptionally low. However, as soon as she’d caught a few glimpses of the countryside reflected through the window of her train’s carriage, her sourness had been forced to mellow. Purely on an aesthetic level, France was well on it’s way to leading Zosia into (almost literally) tripping into love with it upon first sight. And, unbeknownst to the pessimistic brunette at the time, from that point onwards, almost every other paradigm she’d learned to adapt to would be irreversibly exceeded or challenged too. All judgments temporarily suspended, it was evident that there was something tangibly magical about Paris. Even Zosia, a bundle of gloom and resentment at the time, could acknowledge as much. By the time she’d disembarked from the train, burdened by her fantasy-poisoned mind, she had grown completely and helplessly infatuated by the glowing landscape. The idealistic macrocosmic scene of France’s capital drove a hit of rare excitement into her typically numbed sense of awareness. Considering her visit to the French capital as a ‘new beginning’ seemed too bold, broad, and incorrect — as lovely as it would have been to have such a chance. In reality, nothing was going to change, because in a few weeks she would be forced into contact with family again and the sickening imbalanced cycle of life her that perpetuated would restart. The unpleasant circumstances which had unfolded in Italy the week before leading her to being reassigned to land of ‘le fromage et le vin’ suddenly seemed like a distant nightmare she was finally being awarded the reprieve of waking from.

Her aversion to reliving the week prior was the primary driving force behind choosing to board the latest train available to insure she would arrive in the early hours of the morning, giving her no time to sleep and have her subconscious cruelly replay the treatment she’d induced upon her former so-called family. After being seated for so long, paired with the lethargic which hung over her head, Zosia stepped onto the train platform with uncharacteristically stiff and shaky steps. The sky was still dark, street lamps sending an artificial yellow haze onto the street below. Admittedly, spending her first precious hours on French soil amidst the dawning of a new day carried with it a strange sense of renewal and rebirth. Regardless of of her mental state, arrival time, and the drowsiness hanging heavy upon her eyelids, not one detail had escaped her eager senses. Refreshingly crisp air filled the empty courtyards, summoning rosy hues to bloom across the cheeks of the select few who rose at dawn to brave the chill and venture outside before crowds of tourists did. Pulling uselessly at the collar of her jacket in an attempt to coax some better coverage for her face, Zosia regretted her decision to abandon her scarf along with the rest of her possessions back in Italy. Asides from the what she wore — a pair of brown leather oxford shoes, knee high socks, a white gauze dress, and grey tailored trench coat overtop — she owned little else in present state. Belongings stored memories, and that’s all she desired to leave behind. Once she entered a more developed part of town, the large apartment and business buildings provided a shadow of shelter from the chilly morning breeze. Typically warm winter temperatures may have been present during the main part of the day, but so long as the sun remained beneath the horizon, morning’s were always a bitch as far as Zosia was concerned.

Understandably, due to the early hour, the majority of storefronts remained unopened, tucked behind muted blinds and durable wooden doors, yet the ancient architecture of the buildings they sprung from could reveal an intricate story to the passing viewer even without the guidance of a single merchant in sight to sell you on it. Most attractive of all during those early hours, Zosia soon discovered, was the backdrop suspended over the slumbering city — a gorgeous creamy pastel sky hinting of the sun about to rise. The Eiffel Tower’s silhouette loomed omnipresently in the background, acting as an iron anchor to make it impossible to forget this was, unmistakably, a Parisian dream. Desiring to take full advantage of the brief magical expanse of time before dawn, where city life teetered on the brink of the transition between dormant streets and bustling of activity, Zosia made a private promise to deliberately waking up before the sun from that day onwards. She expected these doses of early morning exploration would become her favorite way to begin the day, as it allowed her to witness the charms of the city undisturbed. Unsure when her treacherous former surname would require her to put an end to her indefinite vacation allowance, she knew she would need to desperately strive to enjoy the city as thoroughly as possible whilst she could. Sooner than later, it would end up tainted with unpleasant memories of the lives she’d have to add to her tally of ‘Destinies Destroyed’ whilst being Paris-bound.

Starving off sleep was one thing; no amount of drowsiness could (yet) be worth the unfortunately horrific visions awaiting her should she dare indulge in a moment’s worth of shut eye. Physical hunger was another matter. Continuing to remain awake for prolonged and unusual hours had succeeded in skewing her hunger cues, exemplified by the way her stomach ached with each closed restaurant she passed. Walking slowly away from the golden rays of sun which had finally breached the edge of the distant horizon, warmth radiated pleasantly through her layers of clothing, putting an end to her intermittent shivering. Luck finally seemed to be smiling upon her when she reached the display window of a café, a flurry of activity happening behind the glass as large men in pristine white uniforms carried trays of dough from one side of the room to the other. Admiring the bakers at work for a moment, she eventually caught the eye of two and beckoned them outside momentarily. It was as easy as baiting a fish to a hook. Fixing her loveliest of sultry smiles onto her lips, French spoken sentiments relayed exaggerated appreciation and awe for their food preparation skills rolled roughly off her tongue, a new skill acquired from many weeks of militant self-imposed study she’d forced herself to endure before suddenly uprooting from Italy. Improvising with as much sweet talking and flattery as she could manage without feeling triggered into rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of it’s effect, she had nothing but faith in her methods pertaining to flaunting her sexuality coupled with thorough ego stroking for the sake of persuasion. So far, in the years of doing so in times of need, she had earned a 100% positive success rate.  Not like she was counting, though. Occasionally patting her hand against the two gentlemen’s muscly arms in praise, her wish ended up granted with scarce objections toward the halcyon lingering around the establishment. Allowing her to choose from any of yesterday’s pastries, free of charge, as well the permission to occupy one of the tables set up outside until they officially opened. Zosia patiently sat beneath the café’s bright red awning, nibbling at the end of an eclair as she immersed herself in between the pages of a thick cookbook of French cuisine she’d been offered temporarily to entertain herself with.

As she read and fed, the sleepy grey buildings around her gradually enlivened as the sun lifted into the sky of light cloud cover; bathing the outer walls of the building Zosia sat at the bottom of with curtains of shimmery golds, pinks, and purples as the sun’s illumination stretched across the land below. Time ticked on until the breakfast crowd had rolled in and out, providing plenty of entertainment for the reader’s observant people-watching eye. No one seemed to mind that she’d parked herself at the best table of the establishment; a round table with three empty seats around her own. “Désolé, les places sont prises. Mes amis seront ici bientôt.“ she had claimed, lying as easily as she told the truth, whenever someone had asked to borrow a chair. Part of her felt oddly possessive of the furniture of her surroundings, having been responsible for them for several hours by that point. A considerably more suppressed quadrant of Zosia’s felt a bitter tinge of sadness that, in actuality, she was not waiting on any guests unless she intended on hosting a tea party on behalf of the dead. Friends of hers, at the time, were represented purely by the fictional folk existing in the handheld companionship of her books. Sure, she could eloquently carry a conversation in Swedish or some decipherable French, but she missed the natural simplicity of her first language — English. It tasted like home to speak; a dangerous and comforting elixir she was rarely was permitted to sip on nowadays. Shifting in her seat, the reader’s expression was contrived into an unreadable state as she glanced up from the pages of her borrowed book. A dull sensation of alarm throbbed at her temples as she suspiciously observed her busy surroundings. Clenching her teeth together, Zosia found it quite peculiar how the vacant space around her had been so abruptly filled; teeming with life and joy at a level so exuberant, it was nearly insulting that she didn’t share in the exhibited expressions. Setting a slender hand upon the center of her book to mark her spot, she took a pause from the pedantic material to try and relate to the vibrant scene unfolding around her. A few deep breaths and a concentration-furrowed brow later, the brunette felt forced to determine the attempt to activate a sense of resonation between herself and the cheerful faces of families around her had been unsuccessful. A faint chill reminiscent of the thin early morning air ached within her ribcage as if the empty courtyard she’d witnessed earlier had taken up residence in the space where her heart ought to have empathy.

[aion-rsa]

Hans Holzer at 100: America's First TV Ghost Hunter Still Haunts Paranormal Community

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It's time to examine the career and legacy of paranormal pioneer Hans Holzer.

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Born in Vienna on January 26, 1920, Hans Holzer was like many children, fascinated by the ghost and fairy stories he heard in his youth. But those tales, told by his Uncle Henry, which he retold at school to the disapproval of adults, stayed with Holzer. Ghosts became his life’s work as one of the world’s most famous figures in the paranormal field.

Before his death in 2009, at age 89, Holzer authored nearly 140 books on the paranormal, extraterrestrial life, witchcraft, and more, beginning with 1963’s Ghost Hunter. During a career that famously involved the “Amityville Horror” house case in 1977, Holzer also taught parapsychology at the New York Institute of Technology, and both appeared on, and consulted for, Leonard Nimoy’s late 1970s show In Search Of… And interestingly, actor Dan Aykroyd claimed an obsession with Holzer, which inspired him to write Ghostbusters.

The paranormal subgenre of reality television exploded around 2005 – a trend that continues today with numerous series on networks such as Travel Channel, and A&E, and which has expanded online. Four decades prior, Hans Holzer was one of America’s first famous ghost hunters, preceding Ed and Lorraine Warren.

“He was the king of all paranormal media,” says Dave Schrader, lead investigator of Travel Channel’s unscripted series The Holzer Files, which re-examines Holzer’s cases, and host of the popular paranormal radio show Beyond The Darkness. “He was like the Howard Stern of his time, and was on TV, wrote for movies, and wrote books.”

“He became our first multi-media spokesperson for the paranormal,” says Jeff Belanger, author of more than a dozen books on the paranormal, co-host/producer of New England Legends podcast, and longtime writer/researcher on Travel’s Ghost Adventures. “He had the personality for it; he had the storytelling ability, and he was putting himself out there at a time when no one else was.”

“He was one of the very few here in the States to have been able to publish most of his findings into digestible books,” says daughter Alexandra Holzer, who authored the 2008 book Growing Up Haunted. “He also could write fiction, poetry, sheet music and compose; he wrote, produced and directed some of his own projects, and even recorded two songs on a ‘45 record entitled ‘Ghost Hunter’ (of course).”

His status exploring “the other side” (a phrase he claimed to have coined, and did help popularize) was an impressive development considering he left Austria—and his studies of archaeology and history at the University of Vienna—with his family in 1938 before the annexation of the country into Nazi Germany. Re-settling in New York City, he continued studies at Columbia University, eventually earned a master’s degree in comparative religion, and a PhD in parapsychology from the (rather dubious) London College of Applied Science. In his personal life, Holzer married the Countess Catherine Buxhoeveden in 1962, and had two daughters, Alexandra and Nadine Widener, before the marriage ended.

Holzer’s work impacted the paranormal field in significant ways. Most notably, the way he spoke about it was thoughtful and scholarly. He eschewed words such as “supernatural” because it suggested phenomena was outside of scientific definition. Rather than using “belief”—which he called the “uncritical acceptance of something you can’t prove”—he said he focused on evidence.

read more: The Holzer Files Season 2 Confirmed

His approach was almost journalistic, yet sympathetic; Holzer viewed ghosts (and their spiritual cousins, “stay behinds”) as “a fellow human being in trouble.” He felt strongly that tragedies would ensnare unfortunate souls, and trap them between the spirit world and this one, “unable to proceed due to the inability to free themselves from emotional turmoil.”

Belanger says he understood the power of storytelling in trying to connect his audience with the hauntings.

“He combined some aspects of journalism, but at the end of the day was definitely about trying to capture the story, which is kind of really what all of us are trying to do … there's obviously varying objectivity when it comes to every single case, but at the end of the day he tried to capture a haunt as objectively as he could to take you, the reader, listener, viewer into it so you can form your own opinions.”

Holzer developed a unique take on how the other side was structured as well, detailing a bureaucratic process that involves a queue, and checking in with an afterlife clerk for another shot on Earth. In 2005, he told Belanger’s Ghostvillage that people would be free of disease after life, but otherwise, things looked pretty similar to this realm with houses, trees – just “maybe a little nicer.”

Holzer’s books and media appearances helped bring ghosthunting into people’s homes. Less than a year after his first book was published, he appeared on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson in January 1964. By 1965, it was The Merv Griffin Show and the Today show in 1967. He would continue to make television appearances throughout the rest of his life.

“We're all standing on his shoulders to some degree,” says Belanger with regards to Holzer bringing paranormal investigation to television.

“There were only a few names of people that were out there really consistently looking into this, and his was arguably the biggest when I was growing up, so I think that he sort of set the tone for what paranormal investigation is supposed to look like for my generation.”

Belanger adds Holzer understood the media, and used it as a way to further discussion.

“He’d say ‘Okay, laugh at it if you will, say there's no such thing as ghosts, but here’s something I found’, and that cracked the door to get other people talking about it, and that door has just been cracked more and more ever since the 1960s thanks in large part to him -- now, we've got all these tv shows that have really blown that door wide open.” 

For his part, Schrader – who dedicated his book The Other Side: A Teen's Guide to Ghost Hunting and the Paranormal to the researcher — remembered the “slow indoctrination” of Holzer into his life.

“Growing up, my mom and aunt were avid readers, and they really had a wide fascination with the paranormal, and there were always books laying around by Hans Holzer at one of their houses. 

But Schrader says Holzer also “made it okay to talk about these experiences.” 

“He didn't treat people with disrespect, he didn't roll his eyes at people; he went, heard their stories, and did what he could to help the spirits.”

“He cared about the cases and the people no matter what,” says Belanger. “That's the business he was in: having people welcome him into their homes to talk about something deeply personal, deeply profound, and he captured those stories.”

read more: How The Turning Updates a 100-Year-Old Horror Story

Alexandra echoes this sentiment when speaking of the way her father dressed when in the field, which she says has inspired other investigators to wear a fedora-style hat, buttoned shirt, and jacket.

“He was dressed comfortably but always with something of taste and décor; he felt it set the tone of respect and care in dealing with so many.” 

That care and respect may have been influenced by his first visual paranormal experience, which took place after he moved to New York City. He described seeing the ghost of his mother in a white nightgown, pushing his head back upon a pillow to prevent him from getting one of the migraines that plagued him.

“I said, ‘Oh, hello, Mama,’ and she disappeared,” Holzer told Belanger. 

Holzer also led tours, and highlighted the geographic sprawl of ghost stories with books such as The Great British Ghost Hunt, The Lively Ghosts of Ireland, Haunted Hollywood, The Ghosts of Dixie, Ghosts of New England, and Hans Holzer’s Travel Guide to Haunted Houses, among others.

Paranormal researcher Peter Underwood, a contemporary who wrote Holzer’s obituary for The Guardian, said his colleague told him, "There are thousands of houses, if not hundreds of thousands, all over the world where stay-behinds, and ghosts, and memories that won't fade, keep sharing the apartments with flesh-and-blood occupants ..."

And that meant an endless supply of material for investigations and books. Impressively, during a time before reality TV ghost hunting shows populated the landscape, Holzer’s writing, lectures, and appearances provided a living for his family. But Holzer was remarkably progressive.

While the predominant methods seen in paranormal television today are influenced by Judeo-Christian theologies, Holzer viewed traditional organized religions as profit-making corporations. He was something of an elder statesman in Wiccan communities and other pagan traditions, and prominently contributed to the mainstream education of such philosophies via books The Truth About Witchcraft, and Inside Witchcraft. He ascribed to reincarnation and was convinced he had previously lived during the 1692 Massacre of Glencoe in the Scottish Highlands. And though demons and demonic possession became fashionable, he didn’t buy into devils, monsters, or other supernatural beings.

And rather notably for the time in which he lived, he was a vegan.

“We used to go out to eat but back then finding a vegan restaurant was quite the challenge,” says Alexandra. “You don’t want to go to a place with him without enough choices; it could get ugly!” 

Although the modern paranormal investigative community has become known for a plethora of gadgets, meters, ghost boxes, and so on, Holzer preferred looking to the past for his work. During field research, he utilized a “trance medium” where a spirit would use a medium’s mind to convey messages. Trance mediums were popular during the Spiritualism era of the late 19th century. Along with a pen and paper, camera, and audio recorder, this was enough for Holzer.

“He was never keen on technology,” says Schrader. “He always believed the basics.”

Paranormal researcher, and “Weird Lectures” speaker John E.L. Tenney recalls a time in the 1990s Holzer saw his equipment he planned to take on an investigation. 

read more: Conjuring Family Reunited for Kindred Spirits Ghost Hunt

“He asked me, ‘What are you going to do with all that stuff? I said, ‘Maybe find a ghost?’” says Tenney. “He laughed, and said, ‘Someday you’ll throw all that stuff away, and you’ll allow yourself to have an experience.’” 

“He was right.”

Holzer also possessed a level-headed approach to investigations, not appearing to be easily shaken. Indeed, he said he had never been frightened on a case.

According to Schrader: “When he's hearing some of the most chilling things from the spirit world, he always remained even keel, even-tempered, and tried to control the conversation and to bring some peace to the spirits—instead of winding them up or making things worse, he was always the calming influence.” 

Holzer remains associated with well-known cases such as the Whaley House in San Diego—which he decided was the most haunted home in America—and the Barnstable House in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. But the Dutch Colonial house in Amityville, New York, became the location for his most famous, and likely most controversial, case.

Following the 1974 murder of six that occurred in the structure on Ocean Avenue, the Lutz family moved in in 1975, and only stayed 28 days before they left, claiming they were tormented by evil entities. This became the basis for Jay Anson’s 1977 book The Amityville Horror: A True Story, which was then adapted into a film. Holzer investigated the home that same year with medium Ethel Johnson-Meyers. Johnson-Meyers claimed she channeled the spirit of a Shinnecock Native American chief who revealed the home was built on a sacred burial ground (despite the Amityville Historical Society noting it was the Montauk tribe who would have been on that land). 

Holzer’s investigation, as well as photos he took from the scene, became part of the Amityville lore, and he wrote multiple books about the case—Murder in Amityville, Amityville Horror, Amityville II: The Possession, The Amityville Curse and The Secret of Amityville—two of which became the basis for movie sequels.

As for Hans Holzer at 100, Dave Schrader says he believes the investigator would now embrace technology.

“Now you've got real engineers, real scientists that are putting effort into creating tools and equipment that will test the theories,” he says. “He might have been reluctant to move into it, but I think he would have begun grasping some of this as well and utilizing the technology because I think he would see that it might be even less fallible than a medium.” 

Meanwhile, Alexandra believes her father would be back in Europe, tackling the subject matter of UFOs, writing, and composing more music. She says he grew weary of reported hauntings, and would say, “There’s more to life than a ghost who refuses to move on! There are other worlds and beings here and out there!”

Alexandra adds that, on her father’s birthday on January 26th, her family will reminisce of the moments they shared, and she will make his favorite cold salad, “a Russian recipe from my mother’s mother, Rosine Buxhoeveden, who was very close to father.”

“And in the wee hours of that morning, after the coffee is brewed, I’ll toast to him while all are still asleep as coffee was his go-to choice of beverage brewing in our home at all hours of the day and night.” 

And though Holzer passed away 11 years ago, Belanger did ask him about his centennial, and what he might be doing on his 100th birthday. 

“Looking forward to my 101st,” he told the author. “I do what I’m meant to do. A man who takes himself too seriously, others won’t take seriously, so I’m very careful about that. I want to be factual and to be useful – and I try to help anybody who wants help.”

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Feature

Books

Aaron Sagers

Jan 24, 2020

Paranormal

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[ecotone99]

[HM] God and The Devil Walk Into A Bar

I've been working on this short story, hope someone enjoys it.

It does contain some swearing, some Jokes that are NSFW. There is no cruel intent. It is a work of fiction.

God and The Devil Walk Into A Bar

“Another one barkeep,” an old bearded man said as he sat at the bar, his snowy, scruffy beard extended down to his chest, almost like a homeless wizard. The bartender filled up a quarter of his glass. The bartender was in his mid-50s, a hard worker. He stared at the bartender, with a frown. “MORE!” he demanded with might as he banged the wooden top of the bar. Everyone in the bar stopped and observed the commotion for a moment then went back to their drinking, kissing or conversation, the couple sitting near became startled and moved away. He snatched the bottle and filled the glass to the top. The bar seemed to be older than time itself. Shelves barely hold the colorful drinks bottles in the back. The small circular tables each had two wood chairs with thin steel legs that were uneven and would wobble if someone sat on them. The blue wallpaper looked worn and dull. The only object that stood out in the bar was the jukebox, the surface was cherry red, it had been oil and polished, giving it a smooth touch. There were shiny gold and silver plating on the exterior outlines. The snow crystallised on the edges of the window, and the small snow particles freely move through air on the outside. The dark night sky enhanced the glimmering stars. Through the window, there were neon lights glowing coming from billboards, buildings, and cars almost endlessly. Despite how old the bar was, it still brought in regular customers, something to do with the high of nostalgia. Through the entrance came a handsome, dashing man with a slim build, in a finely pressed black suit with a purple tie. He had black hair that was still wet and combed to one side, almost like he stepped off a movie set. As he was walking his eyes flared with red, he blinked then turned to hazel brown. Around his arms were two voluptuous ladies struggling to walk in their high heels, and regretting not getting a jacket. The two girls sat down at the table while the man went to the jukebox, he smiled, dropped a coin in the slot and pushed number 42. The jukebox clicked and the song Homeward Bound by Simon & Garfunkel played.

“I’ll get us some drinks”. He walked over and stood next to the old man. He leaned on the bar, resting his hand.

“well, well, well you son of a bitch,” the old man said

“How’d you know?”

“I know everything, remember”

“That the biggest cop-out I’ve ever heard, still using it I see”

“Shut the fuck up Lucifer”

The old man begins to roar with laughter, his voice, deep and gravelly.

“Come here” he opens his arms. Lucifer grins and hugs him.

The bartender comes over “What err ya having lad?”

“two vodka tonics for ladies, one Jack and Coke, and another round of whatever the old man is having”

“Wait before you go tell Lucifer that joke you told me?” he said giddily

The bartender hesitated “ah. don’t know, it’s not for everyone”

“Oh come on, do it” he pleaded like a child asking his parent for chocolate

“Ok, what’s the difference between a priest an’ a pimple?”

“What”

“A pimple will wait till your twelve to cum on your face”

Lucifer turns his face to the old man in awe and chuckled, covering his face with his hand. The old man smiled right back at him. The bartender placed the cold drinks in front of them, Droplets of water slid down the glass. They both synchronised, turned to their drink, picked up the glass, and took a sip. They sat there, marinating in the moment, enjoying it.

“The girls are pretty”

“Yeah, I just met them outside. Samantha and Laurel, I can introduce you”

“Nah…” he paused “maybe later. How’s Hell?”

“It’s uhh…a fine. Contrary to popular belief, we do have air conditioning.”

“I don’t know how these rumors get started”, the old man took another sip and tilted his head slightly down, “you know what I wanna know? Why don’t we have bars up in heaven?”

“We have bars in hell, there’s one at every corner.”

Lucifer stared at the spider web on the ceiling, “You know I’ve always wondered why you created the 8 legged creatures, the arachnids”.

“To be honest I was probably on acid when we were creating some of the species. It’s hard being creative. You run out of ideas. But Mosquitos I remember clearly, fuck that was such a bad idea. A tiny blood-sucking, disease-carrying, cunt of an insect that lays 100 eggs every 3 days. In my defense I was going through my divorce with my 6th wife.. or 7th. As you can imagine I had some pent up anger so I wasn't thinking clearly.”

Can I ask you something? I’ve always been curious about this” the old man said.

“What?” Lucifer said intriguingly.

He gestured his hand to come closer. Lucifer brings his ear closer. The old man whispers “The uh…extermination camps, with the jews back in the 1940s. That you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you!? No of course not”

“I just needed to confirm, don’t get mad”

“That’s inhumane, even I have standards, you egotistical prick. You know while we’re pointing fingers, you took your sweet ass time to intervene when slavery was happening.”

“Piss off”

The old man stared expressionless at an unlit sign “Welcome to 7 Of Clubs” plugged into the wall. He lifted two of his fingers and suddenly green and blue lights began illuminating from the sign. He picked up his glass again and, noticed for the first time a spec of brown dust stuck to the glass, he started to rub the glass trying to wipe it away, slowly at first, then picked up speed when it wouldn’t wipe away. After vigorous wiping, his jaws clenched, he felt as if the brown dot was mocking him, he applied more pressure.

“Are you ok? I was just joking.” Lucifer said calmly

His eyes remained fixed on the glass as he continued trying to wipe away the spec of dust. Lucifer lightly shook his shoulder. “Hey, you ok?” Lucifer’s face showed genuine apprehension for the old man.

“Huh….yeah I’m fine,” he said bitterly. He places the glass down in defeat.

“Well people have told me otherwise”

“Oh yeah, and what the fuck did you hear?”

“Not that much, just that there was an incident and you left. Had people worried like crazy. “

“And they sent you? you really?”

“Yes, they sure must have been desperate……..”

The old man sighs “You know, I think I’m ready to be introduced to Samantha and Lauren”

“Laurel.” Lucifer corrected “And they’ll still be there at the end of the night. So what is this? A vacation?”

“I actually did take a vacation once. For 7 days, 7 FUCKING DAYS and a flu broke out.”

“Then you should be probably head back, and for the record, they weren’t doing so great before the flu broke out either”

“The difference is that the stuff before was their own doing.”

“Why’d you leave then?”

“Why do you think Lucifer? nothing matters. The humans always want something. ‘God help me. God feed me, God don’t let me die’ It’s ALWAYS constant. Either the pain or the nagging. Then of course there’s the classic ‘god look out for me, while they snort their 4th line of coke’……………I d-don’t…I don’t want to do it anymore ”.

Lucifer sees the hopelessness in the old man. He sighs.

“Then don’t. Heaven will still function. I’ll tell them I couldn’t find you.”

“Will they be alright?”

“That’s not your responsibility”

submitted by /u/John_watson99999 [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2OW6m3x

[blunt-but-cautious]


1- What was the last dream you had?cant remember 
2- What color do you wear most?black
3- What are your every day shoes?uggs
4- Describe your school bag

Don't have one
5- Say ten facts about your room

It's a mess, it's turquoise,it's cold,it's small,has carpet,pictures on walls,I sleep in it,the closet is too small,it has a window,walls are white lmfao idk.
6- What is your favorite place to be in your house?my room
7- Where do you go most often? Prunedale 
8- If you are taking the train or subway where are you most likely going? Tahoe.
9- Where do you live?california
10- What is/are your nationality/ies? Im a mut there's a lot
11- What languages do you speak? English tiny bit of Spanish tiny bit of Italian.
12- What is your favorite place in the world? Haven't been to many places
13- Where would you often go as a child? Sacramento to visit my grandma. 
14- Do you have brothers and sisters?2 sisters 
15- Who do you live with?

Mom,dad, sister, her bf,dogs

Beliefs:
16- Are you religious? If so, what is your religion?not religious 
17- Do you believe in God?yes
18- Do you believe in any other form of supernatural being controlling the universe? If so, what do you call it? No
19- Do you believe in Satan?yes
20- Theory: why does the fridge light up when you open it? Do you think there is a creature turning the light on and then hiding? Tell us its story.

It's just so you could see what's inside jeez. 
21- Do you trust premonitions?yes
22- Do you trust dreams?yes
23- Do you think wishes can come true?yes
24- Tell us something you wished for that came true.

I can't tell you then it won't come true 
25- Do you believe in love at first sight?no
26- Do you believe in Santa?no
27- Do you believe things will get better?maybe
28- Do you believe in life after death?yes
29- Do you believe in yourself?sometimes
30- Something you believe in : our lives are planned

Preferences:
31- Black or white?Black
32- Hot or cold?hot
33- Day or night?night
34- Inside or outside?inside
35- High or low?Low
36- Tall or short people? Tall
37- Long hair or short hair (on you)?long
38- Lipgloss or lipstick?neither 
39- Eyeliner or eyeshadow? Eyeliner
40- Cats or dogs?dogs
41- Humans or animals?animals 
42- Facebook or Twitter?twitter
43- Tumblr or We❤️it?tumblr
44- Stairs or elevator/lift? Stairs
45- Nutella or Peanut Butter?peanut butter

Honesty time:
46- Ever gotten drunk?yes
47- Tell us the worst shit you’ve done.

Friend got drunk and we ended up wrecking his truck in a construction site & getting stuck somewhere and reported it stolen the next morning. 
48- Ever gotten naked for someone?yes
49- Ever dated someone way older than you?yes
50- Who is your tumblr crush?dont have one
51- What is your dream job/career?dont really have one
52- What turns you on? 🙈
53- Who turns you on?🙈
54- Tell us the story of your first kiss.

Lmfao I was scared and I made my bestfriend kiss my bf first 😂😂😂😂
55- Ever almost killed someone? No
56- What is your darkest secret? Can't tell ya. 
56- What question would you never answer? A lot
58- How many people have you been sexually attracted to? A couple 
59- Did you honestly see I turned the 57 into a second 56?no I didn't. 
60- What are you most ashamed of (tell us a embarrassing episode of your life)

lol lets not

Tumblr:
61- When did you join tumblr? In like the 5th grade 
62- Who is your favorite follower? Nowpe
63- Who is your favorite following?Nowpe
64- Did you make friends on tumblr? Who?No
65- Do you have irl friends on tumblr? Who?yes. A few
66- What was the first point of this blog when you created it? Uhhh i don't remember 
67- Do you like what it’s become?lol sure 
68- What are your favorite fandoms (that you’re part of or not)? I'm not 
69- What posts do you hate the most on here? Ppl advertising 
70- What is your most used tag? Don't use them 
71- Three urls for “fuck, marry, kill” what? Lol 
72- Followers you find beautiful (not just on the outside):idk anyone on here
73- How long do you stay on tumblr most of the time? Like an hour 
74- Shoutout to anyone you want :uhhhh
75- Who do you secretly stalk on here?🙈🙈🙈🙈

Music taste:
76- Favorite bands: LANY, real friends, story so far
77- Favorite artists: john Mayer, James bay, ed sheeran
79- Favorite albums: Make out EP-LANY
80- Favorite songs rn: anything by LANY

TV taste:
81- Favorite series:pretty little liars
82- Favorite characters: Hanna, Aria
83- Heroes or meanies? Heroes
84- Characters you ship: Hanna and Caleb. Aria and Fitz. 
85- Favorite fandom post:mmm idk

Movie taste:
86- Favorite movies of all time: chic flicks😂🤦🏼‍♀️
87- Favorite movies rn: don't really have any. 
88- Favorite characters: don't have any 
89- Do you believe in sequels? These questions suck
90- Characters you ship: 🤷🏼‍♀️

Youtube:
91- Most visited channel: The Ace Family. Tana Mongsau. 
92- Most viewed vid: idk....
93- Youtubers you like: tana mongeau, Anna Campbell, domo and Crissy. 
94- Youtubers you ship

Ace Family
95- Share your channel! No

Friends c:
96- Best friends names: Julia,Vanessa
97- Known them since

Julia since I was born and Vanessa since 2 weeks ago😂
98- One fun fact about each of them:

I met one at target & one races dirt bikes
99- Pros and cons: lol they're just like me. And they're busy all the time. 
100- Your biggest giggles about shit:

😂 everything

Physical portrait:
101- What is your natural hair color?blonde
102- What is your hair color?blonde
103- Eye color?blue
104- Height? 5'3
105- Shoe size?6 1/2 or 7. 
106- Ring size (if you know it)? 7 
107- Any tattoos?no 
108- Any piercings? 3 
109- Do you want a tattoo? If so, where?yes my rib.
110- Do you want a piercing? If so, where? 🙈

Chinese portrait:
111- If you were a color?turqouise 
112- If you were an animal?owl 
113- If you were a letter of the alphabet?O 
114- If you were a brand?idk
115- If you were a number?8
116- If you were a song? That's hard... 
117- If you were a piece of clothing? Jacket
118- If you were a movie? ??????? 
119- If you were an album? These are stupid 
120- If you were a part of the human body? Head
121- If you were a word? Cold
122- If you were lyrics? I don't phuckkkkin know
123- If you were a pair of shoes?uggs
124- If you were a non-existing animal? Idk 
125- If you were an object?idk
126- If you were a flower?idk
127- If you were an musician?idk
128- If you were a book?idk
129- If you were a painting?idk
130- If you were an actor?idk
131- If you were a god from Greek mythology?idk
132- If you were a Tim Burton character?idk
133- If you were a molecule?
134- If you were an equation?
135- If you were a famous quote?
136- If you were a play?
137- If you were a fictional character?
138- If you were a celebrity’s spouse or family member?
140- If you were a smiley?
141- If you were a wallpaper?
142- If you were a material?
143- If you were an instrument?
144- If you were an accessory?
145- If you were an insect?
146- If you were a sound?
147- If you were an accent?
148- If you were a day of the week?
149- If you were a month?
150- If you were a season?

[brendagilliam2]

How to design a contemporary book cover

The fine art of book cover design is a tricky one to master. Consider: when the graphics on the packaging of Heinz baked beans are changed, or the typography is modified on the wrappers for Kit Kats, the alterations are barely noticeable to the untrained eye. The design of household brands is tampered with as little as possible.

26 books every graphic designer should read

An even more stringent, no-tampering rule is applied to album covers. No record label would dare think about changing the covers of Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, The Dark Side of the Moon or Nevermind.

It appears that the packaging design of baked beans, chocolate bars and pop music is treated with more reverence than the jackets of literary fiction. 

Literature is universally accepted as high art, which might lead us to think that the covers of literary classics are free from the need for frequent stylistic updates. Not so. It is common practice amongst publishers to update the covers of the classics almost constantly, in much the same way that Nike updates its trainers.

One of Suzanne Dean’s collaborations with Julian Barnes (left); David Pearson’s 1984 cover (right)

Book cover design challenges

Sinem Erkas has been designing book jackets for eight years, and her typographic covers for F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novels are a lesson in putting a fresh spin on a classic text. 

“At the time, Fitzgerald’s stories were out of copyright, so loads of publishers were republishing his books, and I imagined many of them would end up as pastiches. I wanted to avoid that, so instead took the opportunity to draw inspiration from beautiful Art Deco typography and the Jazz Age, but making my own custom typefaces that felt contemporary and hinted at Art Deco rather than looking like they were from the 1920s. There was no budget for finishes, so we decided to stick to a monotone colour palette and uncoated stock.”

The challenge of designing a new take on a ubiquitous text is good news for designers. And even if designing a cover for a new edition of On the Road may not be as financially rewarding as tweaking the Kit Kat logotype, I know which I’d rather do. 

F. Scott Fitzgerald series By Sinem Erkas

Designing book covers is in one way like designing album covers: most people do it for love rather than reward. I spoke to some book cover designers to find out more about working in the field.

Why be a book cover designer?

David Pearson is one of the UK’s leading book jacket designers. He studied at Central Saint Martins, and after a period working as a text designer at Penguin, he now runs his own studio. “My inclination to overthink, fuss and fiddle could only be accommodated by the relatively slow-moving nature of publishing,” he says. “Working within constraints – be they because of brief or budget – also seems to speak to my nature.”

Pearson’s career in publishing began while he was at university. “I was fortunate to be asked by my tutor, Phil Baines, to lay out a Phaidon book. Part of the job was to present our ongoing work to the great Alan Fletcher – at that time, creative director of Phaidon – for his feedback.” 

Later, during his time setting the type for the interiors of Penguin books, Pearson was to discover that he was working in what he describes as, “a nice, sedate job.” There was room to focus on the detail and lose yourself in the book. Plus: “Nobody really had an opinion on your work, unless you did it wrong.” But this all changed when Pearson began to design book covers.

Jamie Keenan’s typographic illustration for this Franz Kafka cover (left); David Pearson’s design of The Communist Manifesto (right)

In contemporary publishing, the cover is subjected to the same intense scrutiny as any consumer product. It’s also the case that many authors care deeply about the covers of their books. In his acceptance speech on receiving the 2011 Man Booker Prize for his book, The Sense of an Ending, the novelist Julian Barnes paid generous tribute to the book’s cover designer, Suzanne Dean. 

He said: “Those of you who’ve seen my book – whatever you may think of its contents – will probably agree that it is a beautiful object. And if the physical book, as we’ve come to call it, is to resist the challenge of the e-book, it has to look like something worth buying and worth keeping.”

Not only must a book cover attract attention by reflecting the content, it must do this online, in bookshops and as an e-book. It must also satisfy the demands of publisher, author and designer – not to mention the book buyer. This is quite a lot to demand of a few square centimetres of card.

Next page: Do you need to read the book to design a great cover?

To read or not to read?

Erkas stumbled into cover design after a “frustrating job as a junior designer working in corporate branding”. Does she always read the book before designing the cover? “Ideally I would read the whole book, if the deadline lets me,” she says. “What I sometimes like to do is read the book only halfway, or three quarters of the way through, before I start sketching some ideas, and then I’ll finish reading it before I complete my first round of roughs.”

For Pearson, reading the text first is desirable, but not always possible. “Ideally, you would read the book – key themes and ideas present themselves so readily that way – but it’s important to remember that the book isn’t always written by the time a designer is summoned,” he explains.

 “Often we receive only the vague promise of a book, with design work regularly taking place even before a title is settled on, which is one of the disadvantages of the cover having to be produced so far in advance. In this instance, I would look to speak to the book’s editor or, better still, the author, to try and build a sense of the book’s tone and temper.”

Éditions Zulma By David Pearson

The covers for Éditions Zulma presented Pearson with a particular problem. “It’s important to point out that I’m not a French speaker, and as a result I have to lean on some incredibly visually literate editors who convey the essence of the books to me,” he says. 

“This process [of discussing books] plugs everyone into the design process and makes us feel collectively responsible for the outcome. It also ensures that I don’t shoulder all of the blame when the books fail to sell!” Pearson adds that the French book market is less visually aggressive than in the UK, which allows him to create more quietly suggestive covers.

When designing a cover for a fiction title, Faber & Faber in-house designer Eleanor Crow, insists that reading the text is always essential. “I would find it impossible to get the tone of the writing, and a sense of the readership, without it,” she claims. “Also, small details and less obvious, but still significant, strands in the novel might lend themselves to a cover.”

Jim Stoddart at Penguin Press also advocates a close reading of the text. But he adds a caveat. “With new books, the ideal set-up is to be given a finished manuscript 12 months before publication, which allows three months to read, digest, come up with ideas, create visuals, get approval for one chosen route, and complete final artwork.

However, it would also be wrong to design a cover that only makes sense once you’ve read the book. The people we are aiming to appeal to are those that haven’t read the book, that may be browsing in a bookshop and literally know nothing about the book – you may have only two or three seconds to grab their interest before their eyes drift to the next book.”

Next page: Design considerations for shelf appeal and online thumbnail

Books as merchandise

As with any commercial project, the merchandising of books is paramount. Although bookshops were widely tipped to be on the way to oblivion a few years ago, they are making a comeback, and regardless, book covers are designed to have shelf appeal, even if the ‘shelf’ is a page on Amazon.

For Pearson, being aware of related titles is becoming ever more important, since books are often grouped this way in bookshops. “Knowing what you are siding with – or indeed kicking against – can really help get the design process moving,” he says. 

“Time-honoured classics are invariably sat alongside alternative editions of the very same book. This can present some exciting possibilities, since your own edition can do something the others are not prepared to, making them look plain by comparison.” You can even remove key content from your own design since it will be ‘filled in’ by those around it, Pearson adds.

Everyone is keen for something visually arresting, rather than giving away every last plot detail on the cover

David Pearson

While many designers complain about the restrictions imposed by retail conventions, Crow strikes a more upbeat note. “It’s quite liberating now,” she notes, “as there has been a great deal more press coverage for book covers than in the past. Everyone is keen for something visually arresting, rather than giving away every last plot detail on the cover.” 

This means that covers can be more reductive, and smarter, than in the recent past, Crow continues. “Retailers are keen for things that will look striking in the window, as well as be legible in a tiny thumbnail online.”

Penguin Modern Classics By Jim Stoddart

In developing an update of the Penguin Modern Classics series, Stoddart and his team worked through 100 book covers, a job that involved new picture research as well as new imagery. “I’ve really enjoyed consolidating the covers for John Updike’s Rabbit series by reviving iconic Penguin covers,” he says. 

“In fact, the 1960s Rabbit, Run cover featured an illustration by Milton Glaser, which we’ve put back on the cover. We also asked Milton Glaser (now aged 88) to do a fresh illustration for the last in the Rabbit series, which he was kind enough to do for us, completing the circle 57 years later,” he explains.

Next page: Creative media ideas for book shelf appeal

Illustration, typography or photography?

Looking at current book designs, it’s hard not to conclude that illustration is enjoying a fertile period. Coralie Bickford-Smith is widely celebrated for her illustrated covers, which use naturalistic patterns and motifs.

When asked whether she thinks her work is representative of a preference amongst book buyers for illustrated covers, she says, “It is more likely a trend that is coming from the number of illustrated covers coming out of the publishing houses that end up adorning the bookshops, rather than the book buyers making a deliberate aesthetic choice.” Bickforth-Smith adds that the use of photography and illustration on book covers seem to go in cycles of popularity.

Although she has previously used photography in her cover designs, Bickford-Smith isn’t keen on doing so. “A shoot is usually over in a day, and the results are final, bar some great Photoshop work,” she says. 

“I like to work slower than that. I like time to consider the idea. I need to stare at rough work a lot. I really think it’s a personal thing. Also, given how I’m obsessed with pattern, right now illustration is a perfect way for me to express those ideas visually.”

The Fox and the Star, written and illustrated by Coralie Bickford-Smith, who also designed Penguin’s Clothbound Classics series

For Pearson, the choice is easy: “I cannot illustrate covers – I have to rope in others to do that – and I’m terrified of photography – cropping other people’s art to fit a cover shape makes me feel sick. That leaves typography, and I tend to lean on it for everything. Using lettering in place of representational imagery can also help to activate reader interpretation – I think we enjoy working for answers.” 

Pearson adds that typography also presents a lovely challenge for a designer – to sum up an entire book using such limited graphic means.

“I think typographic covers are great for being timeless, not revealing too much, and they work particularly well if the title is just brilliant,” says Erkas. “Illustrated covers are great for capturing feelings that photography can’t. And photographic covers are great for showing something real, but can also be dreamy, abstract and illustrative.”

Books online and e-Books

Just as record cover designers had to adjust to the loss of the 12-inch square album cover, replaced by the reduced canvas of the CD, book jacket designers are learning to adapt to the e-book format. But what is the role of a cover in publishing e-books?

In Pearson’s opinion, “beyond working as a thumbnail at the point of sale in the online shop”, there is no role for a cover in electronic format. “When the e-book is purchased and installed, there seems no good reason for a cover image at all, especially if it takes up more memory than the book itself,” he argues.

Crow takes a similarly stringent line. “I have never read an e-book. I read manuscripts on an iPad, but a paperback isn’t much heavier than an e-book reader, and I prefer real pages. Our covers are used to sell e-books online in any case. It would be less interesting to buy a book from a list of titles without some visual trigger to hint at the contents,” she says.

An Eleanor Crow’s cover design for Faber & Faber (left); Design by Emily Mahon, art director at Doubleday (right)

For Stoddart, the need for a book to have an online presence is factored into his thinking from the start. “One recent project I’ve been very excited about is an update to the Penguin Modern Classics series, initiated with a casual discussion about whether we could make [the series] more visible as online thumbnails.” 

“This is a contentious issue – many people will argue that more and more books are bought online and their visibility at a small size is fundamental. Yet books listed on websites are usually accompanied by text, a reiteration of title and author, and a bucket of metadata.”

To find a solution, Stoddart turned to colour. “A recent update of the Modern Classics template uses Penguin ‘eau-de-nil’ – a muted light turquoise which has evolved from other parts of Penguin’s history. This eau-de-nil is a beautiful colour that works well in the flesh and online. I’ve moved it onto the spines (which were an all too crisp white) and the back covers, and have used it as a brand note on the front cover titling.”

It’s flashes of creativity like this that keep the field exciting. “If all bookshops ended up having to stock books with giant titles and images, the world may as well be over,” Stoddart concludes.

This article originally appeared in Computer Arts magazine issue 270. Buy it here.

Related articles:

How to design the perfect book cover

10 great uses of type on book covers

How to design a book cover in InDesign

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