#˛ * ♡ 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 —— v bishop.
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⸻ ⅋ * live life with 𝙽𝙾 𝙵𝙴𝙰𝚁 [ . . . ] except for the 𝑰𝑫𝑬𝑨 .
◜ * : dominic fike . cis male & he/him . life on mars? by david bowie . ━━ the legend surrounding london’s l’academiae furorum would not be complete without VINICO ‘ NICO ’ BISHOP . the academy's TWENTY FIVE year old SET DESIGNER has been with furore for THREE YEARS , oft described as BLITHE , ESTHETIC , DISORGANISED , IDIOSYNCRATIC & has proved utterly indispensable to the company. in passing , they’ve come to be associated with PALMED HERBAL CIGARETTES, BLENDED WITH SMOKY WOODS AND CHEST, A SENSE OF EASE WELCOMES YOU & growing up listening to rock for as long as you can remember; teenhbood is bled red , there’s an artistic maddening to your ideas; dreams; aspirations —— is it true that an artist’s purpose is to suffer? a nihilist walking through a sea of optimists but hold so much admiration for the beauty in the world , how you ended up where you are is one of the world’s own mysteries; it’s hard to say you don’t stand out amongst others
◜ * : PROFILE
full name. vinico bishop. nicknames. only goes by nico, vinico was used by his grandmother. date of birth. first of june, 1997. place of birth. naples , florida. sexuality. open, doesn’t label it. occupation. l’academiae furorum set designer. height. five foot, eleven inches. eyes. hazy dark brown, often with a tinge of high ( high on life, of course ! ). hair. bleach blonde with natural inherited curls, sometimes shaves and dyes it bright colours depending on the mood. tattoos. a small apple tattoo under his eye, a few on his arm and a portrait of his favourite artist on his hand ( see here ) piercings. ears. parents. roberto bishop ( father ) , maria bishop ( mother ) significant others. none. pets. none.
◜ * : BIOGRAPHY
triggers: death , cancer , parental abandonment , drinking / smoking benders
A SIGN FROM HELL BELOW, nico was born to be something of a problematic child. the day of his birth, a hurricane had begun to take form on the coast as he bellowed in his mother’s frail arms. a matrimony between an optimist and a pessimist, both took it as a sign of what was yet to come.
NOT MUCH IS PROMISED in florida for nico; he’s loud, reckless and so eager to question everything, the kid is anything but easy to handle. it was rare to see the two together at home, both of nico’s parents working overtime to handle their finanical failures from a life before. his father spent early mornings and late afternoons out in the florida sun, working as a contractor for a company that leapt through loopholes to underpay workers. while nico’s mother worked as a waitress, spending nights on the graveyard shift and mornings painting to distract both herself and her child.
IT ISN’T UNTIL MIDDLE SCHOOL where things take a bitter turn. nico is found with a rough crowd — minor stealing and early age smoking to prove he wasn’t some kind of coward ( god forbid, how temperamental a growing male’s ego is ). parents were late to meetings with teachers and counselling, absent from nights brought home by the local officer — too busy with work and bills to properly reprimand his reckless soul.
NICO IS DECLARED AS A BURDEN, a johnny rotten that needed guidance. a reluctant plea, the teen was sent packing to london to live with his grandmother ( an act of betrayal by his father, like saturn refusing to devour his son ) with the hopes of some kind of miracle. his grandmother was no saint, like anyone in his family could truthfully qualify, the first time he meets the elusive figure is with a hug and a sharp smack in the back of the head.
LONDON WAS SUPERBLY DIFFERENT TO FLORIDA, nico found himself floating between friend crowds and spending time in his room filling the void with weed, and stolen alcohol. but at such a young age, tough love from his grandmother slowly swallowed him whole. nights were spent less running away from police and more with his grandmother at work — banging hammers and drilling nails into set pieces. she had a feeling the same kind of cynicism that ran through her son’s blood ran through nico’s, and she could’ve been more right.
LATE INTO THE NIGHTS, his grandmother often snuck him into her workplace and helped finish set pieces that she couldn’t do by herself ( there was very little she could do, really ). a single cigarette dangling from her lips, nico watched with an unfamiliar kind of admiration for the woman — a feeling he rarely held for authoritative figures, but as he grew older the two grew closer. if only she stayed for longer.
A PART OF NICO DIED THE SAME DAY SHE DID. lowered into the ground with rain spilling from the sky, cancer, they said. some kind of complicated medical term married with the label terminal. she hadn’t had much longer to live, the same kind of kick nico had was dying in her. a few unfamiliar faces showed up to the funeral, the entire attendance wearing suits and dresses that hung with skeletons in closets. nico had never so alone, and had never felt so angry towards his own absent parents.
BEING RECOGNISED AS AN ADULT, there was very little that he could besides live. nico couldn’t keep up with the mortgage payments of his grandmother’s home and watched the bank claim it all. his parents hardly spoke back to him whenever he tried to call, blaming timezones and work being unbearable. for a few months, nico went on benders to numb the feelings that strangled him — working jobs as a bartender as a quick way to alcohol and drugs, becoming close friends with the dealer on the corner, couch surfing until he was more of a parasite than a friend.
AT TWENTY ONE, realisation hits on the first anniversary of her death. sitting alone with a bottle in one hand a pack of her favourites in the other. it’s something of a mix between liquid courage, a little misery and desperation for something more — an echo of her voice reminding him there is beauty in nihilism. it certainly helps to have connections and the ability to lie, but like the principal dancers and corps, nico pulls his finest performance and earns a job as a set designer at l’academiae furorum.
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