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wickedpact · 4 years ago

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dear tumblr user crim wickedpact pls write the essay/dissertation about nicky being shakespeare's fair youth (if you have time, ofc!!)

Not To Imply Nicky Was Shakespeare’s Fair Youth But Ive Read The Fair Youth Sonnets & Nicky Was Definitely Shakespeare’s Fair Youth, an essay by me, tumblr user crim wickedpact

background knowledge: our man shakespeare wrote some 120 sonnets about a young man referred to as the Fair Youth during the mid 1590s; there has been some debate among shakespeare enthusiasts whether shakespeare’s interest in the Fair Youth was platonic or romantic (but like. they were definitely romantic). no one knows for sure who the Fair Youth was, but it was definitely nicky and my first and most important piece of evidence regarding this hypothesis is the ‘lmao babe do you remember that guy who had a crush on me?’/ ‘i try not to remember the guy who had a crush on you’ look joe and nicky exchange when Merrick brings up shakespeare during the movie. especially since gina confirmed in a tweet that joe and nicky canonly did know shakespeare

my second piece of evidence is that it just Works (except for a couple small facts like.. the Fair Youth was prolly closer to his 20s than his 30s. and the fact that shakespeare implies that the Fair Youth slept with his mistress at one point. but he doesnt know what hes talking about shhh we IGNORE)

long post under cut

A. The Description Matches

when describing the Fair Youth (who I’ll call the FY from now on), shakespeare says he has a ‘gold complexion’ and ‘beautiful eyes’ and compares him to a ‘summer’s day’. He says the FY has “A woman’s gentle heart" and “An eye more bright than [women’s are], (...) Gilding the object whereupon [they] gazeth”

As much as shakespeare’s perceptions of sexuality and gender are very........ late 1500′s (whoo boy sonnet #20 is a wild ride) ...... the description does match, and also:

B. The Fair Youth Refused to Get Married

it’s never really said why one way or another (shakespeare assumes it’s because the FY is selfish) but the FY didn’t/wouldn’t take on a wife and have a kid, and this was something that was a real sticker for our man Willy S. because, as he says in his sonnets a million times: beauty doesn’t last forever, but having a child not only passes down the FY’s beauty, but also blesses the woman the FY would have a child with (im not saying shakespeare wanted to bear the FY’s children, but he definitely did)

Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. For where is she so fair whose uneared womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?

(ie. If you don’t renew yourself/ have children, you deprive the world and deprive a woman from having your child, since what woman out there is so beautiful that she wouldn’t want to bear your child?)

Like.

1.) if nicky is the FY then so many of these poems center around the idea of nicky growing old sometime soon and that must have been pretty funny to Nicky and

2.) the fact that shakespeare would have been So Desperate for nicky to find a wife must have been the opposite of funny to joe. considering the ease of his and nicky’s relationship and the fact that being gay in late 1500s england was probably not a walk in the park, it is very likely shakespeare wouldn’t have known they were in a committed relationship-- or at least not known how close they actually were. Thus:

C. The Rival (aka. Joe)

shakespeare mentions having a poetic rival in regards to the FY in several sonnets. In sonnet #21 he talks about how he’s not like Those Other Writers who use grand metaphors to talk about their muses

So is it not with me as with that Muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven itself for ornament doth use And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, Making a couplement of proud compare With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems, With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare,

(ie. I’m not like other poets who, when inspired by a ‘painted beauty’ use heaven and every other beautiful thing on the planet to make a grand comparison to their muse: he specifically lists the sun and moon as examples as well as other beautiful things)

He then goes on to say

And then believe me, my love is as fair As any mother's child, though not so bright As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air:

(ie. my love [the FY] is as beautiful as any other beautiful person, though I wouldn’t compare them to the stars/heavens (which is what he means by the 'gold candles’. those are stars.))

So shakespeare insults poets who compare their subjects to the sun, moon, and stars (amongst other things) and in the comics, Joe does literally exactly that

That man is the stars in my sky, and the sun that lights my days. That man is the moon when I'm lost in darkness, and warmth when I shiver in cold.

shakespeare also goes on to say in the same sonnet “Let them say more that like of hearsay well / I will not praise that purpose not to sell” which is to say ‘let people who like that kind of language use it, I wont because I don’t want anyone else to have the subject of my affections (the FY)’.

(which is a bit of a contradiction regarding his feelings abt the FY getting married, but these sonnets are full of contradictions. shakespeare was a confused dude; man spent the first 100 or so sonnets convinced the FY loved him back only for him to start wondering if the FY ever loved him near the end)

(not to mention Marriage For Love wasnt really.. much of a thing in Ye Olden Times but thats a different conversation. so shakespeare prolly didnt associate marriage with love/competition? anyways)

Shakesy-boo goes on to complain about this rival several times. In #79, he says

Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent He robs thee of, and pays it thee again. He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give, And found it in thy cheek: he can afford No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live.

(ie. everything ‘your poet’ (as the FY apparently favored this unnamed rival) says about you, he takes it from you in the first place. he talks about your virtue, but learned the word from watching your behavior. he calls you beautiful but only discovered beauty by looking at your face. every compliment he gives you he took from you in the first place)

[and, as a smaller example, he also bemoans the fact that people want to paint the FY in #67, saying, “Why should false painting imitate his cheek, / And steal dead seeming of his living hue?”. and yknow. Joe’s an artist.]

And then another example in #86

Was it the proud full sail of [the rival’s] great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?

Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?

(ie. he’s talking about how he’s having difficulty writing abt the FY and is rhetorically asking if ‘the proud sail’ of the rival’s verses was the reason his ‘ripe thoughts’ were killed in their ‘womb’. He then asks (again rhetorically) if it was the rival’s ‘spirit’ (or creativity, maybe) ‘’’‘by spirits taught to write’’’’ that killed his own drive to write. none of the analyses I’ve read really explain what shakespeare means by ‘spirits taught to write’, other than maybe being a joke or reference to something we dont know, but... ‘taught by dead people to write in a way mortal people can’t’ very much sounds like a description of an immortal poet, eh?)

Which brings me to,

D. Willy Boy Thinks There Are 500 Year Old Writings About the Fair Youth

shakespeare talks about people having written about the FY ‘500 years ago’ from the late 1500s in #59 which......................... would have been around 1100 AD. :thinking face:

Oh that record could with a backward look, Even of five hundred courses of the sun, Show me your image in some antique book, Since mind at first in character was done, That I might see what the old world could say To this composed wonder of your frame;

(ie. Oh if I could look back 500 years and see how you were described in some old books so I could see/reference what people used to write about you)

Which again brings me to,

E. I’m Not Saying shakespeare Stole From Joe, But:

1.) In #22, shakespeare says this,

For all that beauty that doth cover thee, Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me:

(ie, your beauty is due to the ‘clothes’ my heart gives you-- probably means something like ‘you’re beautiful because i love you’. goes on to say his heart lives in the FY’s chest, and the FY’s heart lives in shakespeare’s chest)

so: shakespeare tells the FY he has shakespeare’s heart. in comparison, Joe calls nicky ‘my heart’ in the comics...... :thinking face x2:

2.) In #109, shakespeare tells the FY ‘thou art my all’,

For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.

which rings similar to Joe’s ‘he’s all and he’s more’ as well as (from the comics) ‘he is my everything’

and just saying. joe looks pretty #done the mention of shakespeare.

F. The last One

Despite shakespeare writing 30+ poems about the FY eventually growing old, the very last poem he writes about/for the FY says,

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle hour; Who hast by waning grown, and therein showest Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self growest.

(ie. you [the FY] have power over the ‘mirror’ (fickle glass) of time as well as time’s ‘harvesting’ ability (sickle hour) and as you grow older, you remain beautiful while your lovers [shakespeare] wither and grow old)

The transition from ‘get married and have a baby before you get old!!!!’ in #1-20 to talking about the FY’s presence in 500 y/o books in #59 to admitting the FY isn’t growing old in #126 kinda seems to imply shakespeare learning of/about nicky’s immortality at some point, and this last poem is him accepting it.

TLDR: not only does it make perfect sense if nicky was the Fair Youth from the FY sonnets, but it also makes perfect sense if joe was the Rival from the FY sonnets. its canon nothing will convince me otherwise

#IS THIS GETTING TAGGED? YES #nicolo di genova #joe x nicky #my_essays #the fair youth saga

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passiontaee · 5 years ago

Text

agust d | m

pairing: yoongi x jeongguk

genre: slice of life

ratings: m

warnings: got some smutty smoot in here ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

word count: 7381

summary: jeongguk is a student and yoongi is a popular underground rapper. jeongguk suddenly becomes obsessed with yoongi thinking it’s because he admires yoongi so much. but after getting to talk to him after serendipitously meeting jeongguk starts wondering if it’s really admiration or something a little more. plus, he sucks yoongi’s dick. many times.

a/n: my first drabble/one shot with smut >:) my best friend doesn’t call me the smut god for no reason

also here’s 7k of yoonkook, ive never written this much in my life so yall are welcome :)

↬ s.

“Guess who’s your best friend?”

Jeongguk turns to look at Taehyung in confusion, but zeroes in on the two slips of paper he sees between his fingers. His instinctual reaction is to make grabby hands at him to see what treasures his best friend is bringing for him, but as he makes an attempt to grab the slips, Taehyung jerks his hand back at the last minute, giggling evilly. Jeongguk hates him.

“You would be if you let me see what’s in your hand?”

“Hm. Yeah probably. Here,” He’s sporting a shit eating grin and Jeongguk is momentarily a little afraid of what he’s got up his sleeve—Taehyung is always finding ways to get them fucked up in a variety of ways and it’s to the point where Jeongguk doesn’t even question it anymore—but he takes one of the slips as Taehyung makes sure the other is still in his possession. Weird flex, but okay. He focuses on the slip in his hand, staring at it before it registers what holy artifact he’s wielding in his possession.

Agust D tickets.

Taehyung, his actual best friend in the whole universe, has managed to snag two tickets to Agust D’s next performance.

“If I was into you I’d get on my knees and suck your dick right now,” he stares up at his best friend with literal sparkles in his eyes. Truly, Taehyung is a rare breed of best friend.

“I mean, you haven’t heard of broblows?”

“Taehyung I’m not sucking your dick.”

Said male holds his hands up in surrender, but his smile is still bright as he stares at Jeongguk, who looks starstruck and amazed. “Yes, but who got you Agust D tickets? You can suck his instead, that’s fine,”

Jeongguk chokes as Taehyung continues. “You know, since you yourself said the D in Agust D stands for dick,”

“I did not!”

“Explain why your YouTube search history is ‘compliations of Agust D’s bulge’ then Jeon. You’re not fooling anyone,” Taehyung leans in to pinch at Jeongguk’s cheek, causing the younger to whine in complaint. How dare Taehyung call him out like this? He swats at him, only making Taehyung laugh more. Pouting, he turns his attention back to the ticket, only for his eyes to bulge out of his head. Taehyung looks at him, momentarily concerned. Opening his mouth to ask what was wrong, but is interrupted by Jeongguk answering without prompting.

“The show is tonight!” He squawks, shooting up and shoving Taehyung away. Almost in a panic as he runs over to his closet. “I don’t have anything to wear,” this is a big deal; he’s meeting his idol and there’s no way he’s walking into the venue looking crusty. Kim Taehyung had lost his mind.

“Alas! That’s the second part of the surprise! Since I love you so much, I managed to go shopping during my time out and I personally bought you something to wear!” he grins, brighter, and points to the door. “It’s in my room though, so go fetch!”

Jeongguk’s sure if he was into Taehyung he’d be on his knees right now.

“There’s so many people in here,” Jeongguk huffs, though stays close to Taehyung. Nearly glued to his back as the elder navigates through the crowd of bodies. He’s already feeling a little exposed in what Taehyung bought for him to wear. Sure, he knows he wears a lot of bland colors—a variety of blacks and whites—but Taehyung had decided he’s getting fucked tonight and had thrown leather pants at him and a snug fitting white shirt. To flaunt your teeny tiny waist, was his excuse, but Jeongguk isn’t at an Agust D concert to get fucked. Unless Agust D himself is throwing out dick then he’s all for it maybe. He wants to cry, but this is a dream come true so he knows he better enjoy this moment because who knows when he’s going to be able to see Agust D again. This close. Thank goodness he’s got a rich best friend, because he’d never thought he’d be getting backstage tickets to see him either.

“Are you nervous?” Taehyung whispers into his ear, reaching for his hand to hold. It’s a common thing he does whenever he senses Jeongguk being uneasy and he’s honestly grown used to it. It’s comforting really, and Taehyung is very perceptive to him. Jeongguk nods though at the question, and Taehyung squeezes his hand comfortingly. “That’s okay. I’d be nervous too if it was like RM or something up there. Agust D is pretty good too though,” he jokes, but everyone and their mother knows how much of a slut Taehyung is for the rapper RM. There’s a lookalike at their school who works in the Literature department as a TA that he was trying to lure into his bed that Jeongguk had met before. Namjoon’s pretty nice. Too nice for Taehyung and far too pure for him. But the words bring him comfort, and he even cracks a smile.

“How much longer til the show starts?” He can’t remember what the bouncer had said, but there’s other people performing. Opening acts from smaller artists that nobody’s really paying much attention to. Some are, but others are only here for the main event.

“Mmmm, maybe half an hour. Give or take a few minutes. I dunno though, these opening acts are pretty sick,” he praises, looking up at the stage at someone who’s up there rapping. He’d seen this person before, knew him from one of his music appreciation classes. Park Chanyeol was pretty popular around campus anyways.

The opening acts come and go, and by the time Agust D comes up they’re already feeling the hype from the previous artists. Not as good as the main event, but him and Taehyung are a bit biased anyways. Jeongguk feels a little more loose, less tense, and he’s sure that Taehyung is probably ready to jump on that stage and rap with Agust D. Leave it to Taehyung to get hype and pull something like that. But thankfully, he doesn’t and Agust D safely arrives onstage. As the opening beats to one of his popular songs begins to play, Jeongguk freezes, a look of excitement and astonishment on his face from being so excited and honored to be here, in this moment, with his best friend as he watches his idol explode on stage. Syllables flying out of his mouth as he raps about his dreams, his ambitions, and their fucked up society. He follows along, grinning the entire time, with sparkles in his eyes as he stares up at Agust D as if he were God himself. He’s having the time of his life, making eye contact occasionally as the ball of fiery energy moves across the stage, accent pouring through with his cut through cyphers. Jeongguk can feel his heart thundering in his chest during all three songs, though it picks up when it’s all over, an Taehyung is bouncing beside him as he follows a group of fans to Agust D’s backstage area. Adrenaline bursts through his body, yet so does a small sense of dread and a bit of fear. He would be meeting his idol. In the flesh. He feels like he’s about to faint.

“Agust D is so cool! Oh my God, I want to have his babies!” a group of girls squeal as their friend shouts this. Taehyung elbows Jeongguk lightly in the ribs, smirking.

“Don’t you want to have his babies too?” His eyebrows wag suggestively, and Jeongguk turns beet red and ducks his head.

“H-hyung that’s biologically impossibl—”

“Next!” A woman with wire framed glasses looks over at them, the group of girls disappearing into the room. It’s their turn next, and said woman eyes them suspiciously almost. They shuffle forward, prompting her to ask their names.

“Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jeongguk. My friend is his biggest fan,” Taehyung blabs. The woman mutters a calm ‘that’s nice’ and nods, peering inside the room. About ten minutes pass before the girls exit, all flustered and giggly. She then turns to them with a grave expression on her face.

“Don’t touch him, no photos. Do not be lewd or anything either. Be respectful and don’t be in there too long. There’s more people behind you so ten minutes max.” She sounds as though she’s reciting from a script, but steps aside to allow them inside. He allows Taehyung to lead the way, not wanting to make a fool of himself. He would be positively mortified if he stumbled and fell on his face in front of Agust D. So it’s best to allow Taehyung to meet him first. No big deal.

He’s not what Jeongguk expects.

Yes, he’d seen him up close and personal from the front row, but seeing him now is entirely different. He’s no longer in his stage attire and has dressed down into an oversized hoodie with a baseball cap covering his ash blue hair, staring lazily at his phone as he sits on a couch. Jeongguk is sure he’s seeing an angel right now, and is unable to sit and admire the tiny man because Taehyung decides, then and there, to open his mouth and introduce them.

“Hello! Oh man, it’s so nice to meet you! I’m Kim Taehyung,” he pulls Jeongguk from behind him, and points at him. “This is my best friend, Jeon Jeongguk. He’s a huge fan.” The blue haired man looks up at them lazily, staring the two men down, then moves to stand. Making his way over to them and holds out a hand for them to shake. Taehyung takes the bait and shakes his hand excitedly but Jeongguks stares at it stupidly. Agust D just blinks at him, waiting for Jeongguk to snap out of his stupidity and just shake his hand. Taehyung, meanwhile, has shuffled away with a sly grin, heading over to the refreshments table. It takes Jeongguk a few moments to buffer before he’s embarrassed, and shakes the man’s hand.

“Sorry,” his voice is soft. He doesn’t catch the quirk of the lips from the rapper who watches him, moving to slide his phone in his pants pocket, then his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. He takes in Jeongguk’s appearance, seemingly pleased, and shakes his head.

“Your friend said you’re a fan, so it’s no big deal. It’s not the worst thing someone’s done when they meet me,” he’s reassuring and Jeongguk wants to dissolve on the spot. Instead, he brings his head back up to make eye contact, meeting Agust D’s intense gaze. His mouth goes dry as he struggles to formulate a sentence. A coherent one at that.

“I uh, your music is really good.” Nailed it. It’s not very eloquent, but the rapper seems to not mind it. Seemingly amused at the blubbering idiot in front of him.

“Yeah? What’s your favorite song?” This gets the cogs in his brain turning as he tries to cypher through the endless soundtrack of Agust D songs in his head, playing them and trying to figure out if he’s even got a favorite. But he finds one and settles on it.

“I like all your stuff, really. Your music just speaks to me on a deeper level. The lyrics are really raw and authentic and anybody who knows music can tell that you did it all by yourself. You don’t sugar coat either. You’ve got some lighter stuff too, and sometimes you sing, but there’s just this intensity in your raps that just really hit me in my chest. Like in your song, First Love. It’s a really emotional piece and it just. . .I dunno. It’s really good. All of your stuff is,” he sounds like a blubbering idiot, but Agust D looks thoughtful. Pleased with his answer and analysis. Jeongguk doesn’t think that anything he said makes sense, but Agust D seems pleased.

“Your friend’s right, you really are a fan,” there’s a grin on his face, and Jeongguk is unsure how to interpret it but something tells him he’s scored major brownie points with his favorite artist.

“That was the shortest ten minutes of my life,” Taehyung complains, bumping into Jeongguk who’s trying his hardest to stick the straw in his matcha. Grumpy because he agreed. It indeed was the shortest ten minutes of his life, but Agust D seemed impressed with him and they had a good conversation. A conversation he wanted to continue, but his time had been up so he’d had to begrudgingly cut the conversation short and leave. Much to his chagrin.

“You were on your phone the entire time,” He fusses, bringing the straw up to his lips. Taehyung shakes his head, seemingly offended but Jeongguk knows he’s not.

“Yeah, to give you time to suck his dick, but obviously that didn’t work.” Cue Jeongguk choking on his drink. They continue walking, heading back to their shared apartment when something slams into his back. He barely is able to process it, turning around and catching someone in a beanie and facemask. Confused and hesitant, he tries to see under the mask, hiked up beneath sunglasses.

“May I help you?”

The person shuffles a little to grab something out of their coat pocket, pulling out a slip of paper and shoves it in his chest. Jeongguk has little time to process it and ask what this was for before the person turns and walks briskly the opposite way. He’s confused, but unfolds the paper to see what’s on it.

An address. A phone number. No name thought? The script is a little messy but he can make out what it says.

Text me. I’d like to meet up and talk some more. -AD

Taehyung, he can feel, bounces behind him. Trying to peer at the cryptic message left by the shady person but Jeongguk’s hand is shaking a little. Was Agust D trying to get in contact with him?

“What is it?” Taehyung whines, trying to make a grab for the paper, but Jeongguk shakes his head and shoves it in his pocket.

“Nothing. Just a note from a girl in my lit class,” he lies, but Taehyung buys it. Grinning and wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ohohohoho, which one?”

Calling. . .

Calling . . .

“Hello?” A smooth voice picks up on the second ring and Jeongguk gulps at the sound. Indeed, it is Agust D and indeed, this person had gifted him with his phone number.

“H-how’d you find me?”

“Oh, that was easy. There’s not many Jeon Jeongguk’s in town and you’re pretty popular. All I had to do was search for you on Naver and boom, got you. It was fairly easy, honestly. I also searched for your friend too, just in case,” This makes Jeongguk a little flustered, as he hadn’t expected Agust D to go into such depth trying to find out where he was and get in touch with him. He’s a little more than fanboying right now. “But, I wanted to continue our conversation some more. You know your stuff,”

“Yeah, I’m a music major so I kind of have to,” he blurts, clutching his phone like a lifeline. The man on the other end makes a noise of surprise.

“Ahhh, music huh? I majored in that too in college. College was meh, but music made it a little better. How old are you anyway?”

“Twenty two.”

“So young. . .,” there’s a sigh on the other end. “I can’t talk for long, but we should meet up at the address I gave you. Sorry for shoving it in your chest like that, I tried to be a little secretive,”

“Wait, that was you?”

“Why would I send someone else to do my dirty work? Of course it was me. Why, are you shocked?” There’s a smirk in his tone that Jeongguk hears quite well, and he goes quiet at it. Chosing to ignore the fact that he’s being teased.

“When do you want to meet?” He responds instead. There’s a pause and a rustling of paper, before Agust D clicks his tongue.

“I’m free tomorrow afternoon. Are you?”

“Yeah, I get out of class at noon.”

“Perfect. Meet me then and we can go get coffee or something,” Jeongguk’s delusional mind races and clenches on the idea of going on a date with the famed Agust D, but he knows that logically this is just them going out to get coffee and discuss music. That’s it, that’s literally all this is. But the delulu in him is jumping out very loudly and he’s making it more than what he is in his head.

He’s a little chilly, but it’s worth it.

Standing outside the building, a small hole in the wall coffee shop in a quieter part of town—the address on the slip of paper—Jeongguk patiently waits for Agust D to show up. So nervous he feels nauseous. The type of nauseated that he knows he’s not going to vomit, but at the same time he still feels that it’s possible. Nervous to make a blunder and nervous to sit and talk to the man that’s the background of his computer. Who he idolizes far too aggressively than he should. But luckily he doesn’t have to wait long, because he’s approached and grabbed by the arm, pulled inside wordlessly. He knows who it is almost immediately and makes no attempt to scramble away. Instead, he tries to memorize how the hand feels wrapped around his forearm—larger than he’d anticipated—and the strength behind the pull. It’s gentle, but firm. Commanding almost. He’s sat at a table in a far corner and Agust D moves to sit across from him. Pulling the mask he’d been wearing down and under his chin, his round cheeks on full display. Jeongguk thinks his brain just melted.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I was on the phone with my manager,” the first thing that comes out of his mouth is an apology. An apology. He almost blurts out that it’s an honor to wait on him and that he’d willingly wait on him hand and foot if he asks, but doesn’t. Instead, he slides his cold hands between his warm thighs to warm them up, chuckling sheepishly.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I wasn’t waiting very long.” He’d really only been waiting maybe five minutes, but he’d wait an hour in the cold for him. He doesn’t admit this though. The ash haired man seems okay with this, pulling out a menu to look at. Jeongguk stares at him, wordlessly. Still unable to believe this is happening. He’s probably staring for maybe three minutes before Agust D speaks up, but doesn’t look at him.

“I don’t think I’m on the menu,”

Jeongguk, flabbergasted, opens and closes his mouth like a fish, dropping his eyes and staring down at his lap like a scolded child. Ignoring the soft laugh that comes from across him as the horror fills him. What is he, a stupid, starstruck teenage girl?

“Here. There’s only one menu and I know what I want. You can get whatever, I don’t mind paying.”

He looks up then staring at the laminated menu slid in front of him for him to look at. On it are an assortment of drinks and snacks, along with pictures. Small ones of the various drinks, the signature drinks in each category. He’s still a little clueless about coffee, so he searches and successfully finds the frappe-like drinks. A safe choice, because he doesn’t want to look even more stupid in front of his idol. When he finalizes what he wants, he looks over at Agust D, who’s typing away on his phone. Seemingly feeling his gaze, he then proceeds to turn his phone off and place is face down on the table. Away and out of sight. His attention then focuses on Jeongguk.

“So, you’re a student, you’re twenty two, and you’re majoring in music. Your best friend is Kim Taehyung and you’re my biggest fan? What else should I know about you then? Or well, what do you want to know about me?” He brings his hands up to lock beneath his chin, both elbows on the table. Jeongguk stares at him, stares at his face, then moves down to his hands, and lastly to the table top as he squirms. He knows quite a bit about him, but isn’t sure what he should ask first.

“Uh. . .what’s your favorite food?”

The question is sudden and makes Agust D laugh a little, taken off guard. Jeongguk wants to cry at how his eyes disappear and his smile brightens when he laughs. This is unfair.

“You’re my biggest fan and you don’t know my favorite food? Jeongguk-ah, I’m disappointed,” he teases, but Jeongguk thinks for a moment he’s serious and stiffens. But then relaxes, mentally scolding himself for being so sensitive. Goddamnit.

“Haha, right,” he gives a light chuckle, kind of nervous. Agust D senses this and leans over, playfully petting his arm.

“Relax, yeah? No need to be all uptight and stuff. You don’t have to be so scared to talk to me. I’m not going to bite or anything,” he’s reassuring, voice soft and even offers a smile. Jeongguk tries to relax a little, knowing he’s right. He can’t be acting like he has something stuck up his ass.

“Oh, and you don’t have to call me by my stage name either. Call me Yoongi for now on.”

Yoongi.

He’s really scored brownie points?

“So yeah, I really think that the pop version of hip hop is a joke. Idols don’t even right their own damn raps so it’s not even real hip hop. And the concepts? Disgusting. Offensive. Electric fucking chair,” Yoongi’s more animated with a bit of caffiene in his system, Jeongguk notices. So is he, but he’s still on his first frappe and is still loosening up by the time Yoongi breaches coffee number two. It’s honestly exciting to see, and though they came here to talk about music, there’s not been much music talk. Mostly Yoongi asking about what he does on a daily, and how his classes are. He’s observant and seemingly interested, and the attention makes Jeongguk a little shy but also it excites him. Never before had he imagined being this close with his idol to the point of getting coffee and sitting and chatting like this. This must be a dream come true?

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Next time you listen to like fucking Seventeen or something, pay attention to their rapping, then think about their rapping and pay close attention to it. Then compare it to like Jay Park or Park Chanyeol or something. Huge difference,” he points out and Jeongguk knows what he’s talking about, but begs to differ, considering he’s a vocalist.

“Mmmm, yeah but different styles. Pop is more vocally, if that makes sense, and what you guys do is more rap based. So of course the pop version is more ‘bubblegum’ because of the style. I don’t think pop is meant to be as hardcore as like hip hop but I do agree some groups don’t execute it well. I’m speaking from the vocalist side of the spectrum,” Yoongi looks at him then, surprised.

“You sing?”

Suddenly, Jeongguk wants to be the floor. The entire fucking floor. Just melt into the floor and become the floor yes.

“. . .yes?”

“How come you didn’t tell me? Honestly, you look like the singing type. And you’ve got a soft voice so honestly I kind of called it. You don’t give off rapper vibes and you’ve got a nice body that looks like you dance, but the vocals thing is kind of obvious,” he brings his cup to his lips to take a sip, as if what he said wasn’t a big deal. It’s a big fucking deal. Yoongi just grilled him, read him, and delivered a verdict.

“I have a nice body?” He stupidly blurts out. Yoongi looks at him then, eyes sharp as he takes in the visible aspects of his body.

“Yeah. Does nobody tell you that?”

Well yeah, but not famous people who he’d willingly let step on him.

“Yeah, sometimes.” Yoongi hums at this, thoughtfully.

“I bet you’re pretty popular with the girls on campus.”

Jeongguk has never been more flustered in his life. It’s not a lie, but in reality he’s popular with everybody.

“I guess?”

Yoongi simply nods thoughtfully, but then smiles at him. It’s almost uncharacteristic but Jeongguk is still blinded by it. It’s even a little sly, and he wonders what the rapper has up his sleeve.

“I’ve got a performance tomorrow night, you and Taehyung should come.” Jeongguk would be a fucking idiot to turn this down. He’s got a paper due in three days but fuck school.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I can get you backstage too. But you’ll be special guests, so you can hang around a little longer. Actually, I’ll make sure you guys get to stay the latest,” Yoongi’s so powerful that Jeongguk almost whines at this. Wow, God is good.

“Uh, okay that’s. . .yeah that would be amazing actually,” he even cracks a smile. At this, Yoongi leans over, a little in his personal space, but Jeongguk doesn’t mind. He can smell his shampoo from this close distance as well.

“After that though, do you want to come over? To my place? We can talk more and stuff.”

Jeongguk swears at that moment his brain shuts off and powers down. The Windows shutdown sound effect has never been louder.

“You must’ve really sucked his dick good to get us better tickets and VIP passes for free,” Taehyung hisses in his ear as they’re finally led backstage for their special VIP treatment. Nearly everyone is gone but Jeongguk knows for a fact that Yoongi isn’t. Neither is his team, but he knows that they won’t bother them. Taehyung is just here as a cover up, because he’s pretty sure that Yoongi had invited him over for one thing and one thing only.

He’s totally not afraid.

Sure, one should be honored that their idol seems a bit interested in them and wants to hook up, but this is Yoongi. This is highly important and it had been a while really since his last hookup. He definitely had to make sure he was prepared for this. He didn’t even know Yoongi was into guys, to be quite honest. So not only was this a surprise, but it was a fucking honor. This special occasion called for his best outfit; more leather courtesy of Taehyung, and an over-sized sweater. Pairing sexy with cute? Perfect. Something in him tells him he’s overthinking this invitation and there’s nothing happening, but the suggestive tone in Yoongi’s voice at the invite tells him otherwise. He’s really about to get his back blown out.

“I haven’t even touched him, you freak,” Taehyung sticks his tongue out at this, wiggling it and causing Jeongguk to smack his arm.

“Please never do that again,” he whines, but Taehyung just laughs, shrugging off the request and marches right into the backstage room. This time, Yoongi seems to be expecting them. Not on his phone and is instead sitting on the couch inside the room, his hairdresser fixing his hair. For what, they don’t know, but his eyes zero in on the two guests as soon as they enter.

“Hey! Thanks for the tickets again. You’re the best,” Taehyung praises, though steps aside for Yoongi to see Jeongguk, knowing that despite his politeness and hospitality, he’s really more interested in Jeongguk. Which is fine, Taehyung’s still trying to slide to RM’s dm’s anyways. But it’s only fair to thank him for allowing them both to come, though this is mostly for Jeongguk.

“No problem. You guys seemed to have a good time last time, so I decided to treat you again. I felt bad that we couldn’t finish our conversation last time,” he looks at Jeongguk again, though they both know that they finished that conversation. Jeongguk bites his lip.

They talk for a while, mostly sharing banter and mostly Taehyung embarrassing poor Jeongguk, but it earns laughter from Yoongi so Jeongguk feels it’s a win win situation for him. But then Taehyung 'mysteriously' leaves them, saying that he'll see Jeongguk later and that he's got an exam in the morning. Jeongguk sees the look that Taehyung and Yoongi share and wonder if Taehyung is in on this plot? But it results in him being left alone with Yoongi, and is the reason why Jeongguk finds himself at Yoongi's apartment later, with a lapful of the rapper who's tongue is shoved down his throat. It escalated quickly, but he can't find it in him to care. Not with Yoongi grinding down directly against his crotch, growling into his mouth. Jeongguk is well aware that he’s a switch, and isn’t sure whether Yoongi plans on fucking him or expects to be fucked, but either way he’s prepared for both scenarios.

“Take. . .this off. . fuck,” hands grope at his sweatshirt, greedy and cold. The feeling of the coolness of Yoongi’s fingers on the sliver of skin revealed from him tugging at the sweater makes Jeongguk’s breath hitch. It’s so delicious, so delightful. He fumbles a little as he blindly removes his hands from where they’d been digging into the rapper’s hips, rocking them back and forth against his own, to pull at his sweater. Pulling away from the softness of his lips to remove it and toss it away.

In the split second of him removing the sweater, he finds his back pressed into the couch, Yoongi hovering over him. Eyes taking in the newly revealed skin now his for the moment. Curious yet experienced hands brush against the smooth, untainted skin. A blank canvas that Yoongi feels he’s free to mark and do as he pleases with. Jeongguk stares back up at him, then down at the pale hands against his chest. Watching as they ghost over the definition of his abdominal muscles, and up to his pecs. Pointer finger of both hands circling the small areolas before brushing against the pinks nipples, already pebbled from the earlier stimulation. He wants to be mortified with the moan that he lets out, Yoongi managing to figure out so early how sensitive his nipples are, but the way Yoongi looks at him has that dissipating. The look in his eyes is hungry, and a little mean. The sadist in him loves it.

“Ah, you’re sensitive huh? Make that noise again for me,” Yoongi’s voice lowers as he focuses on tweaking and pinching the nubs. Thumb and forefinger working together as his head moves down. Peppering warm kisses from the hemline of Jeongguk’s pants across his abs. Over the ridges and grooves as he works his way up. Ignoring how the younger squirms beneath him, bucking up into his touch and whining out squeaky moans as Yoongi gets meaner, less gentle with his musings. At some point he starts biting the skin, sucking hickeys into the smoothness there to mark his territory. Jeongguk’s in heaven, if Yoongi can’t tell.

“Hyung p-please,” he begs, unsure what for. Yoongi finds this amusing, chuckling at the desperation in his voice.

“Please what? What do you want hyung to do?”

Honestly, he doesn’t know. He’s unsure if he wants more of this or if he wants something else. As he’s trying to figure this out, he feels something wet on his left nipple, then a bit of force. When he looks down, he sees fluffy ashy hair.

Ah.

A leg wraps around Yoongi’s waist as he grinds up into him, rutting desperately as his cock swells further into his jeans. It’s uncomfortable and he’s leaking precum. But he dares not tell Yoongi to stop, not at the way his tongue flicks over the pebbling nub like no tomorrow, sending jolts down his spine. Pleasant jolts of lust, of desire. It’s over moments later when Yoongi withdraws, sitting up on Jeongguk’s hips and reaches down to remove his own shirt, tossing it away and bending back down before Jeongguk has a chance to be amazed at the litheness of his body; to take in the pale, pristine skin. He’d seen a tattoo or two in the process of Yoongis stripping and Yoongi leaning back down, mouthing at his neck hotly and whispering filth into his skin. His body is on fire and he’s rock hard. This is a problem that needs to be fixed.

But he can feel the thickness of the rapper’s own erection against his abdomen. Can feel how aroused Yoongi is and is pleased he’d managed to get him as horny as he himself was. He wants to leave marks too, thinks it’s unfair that Yoongi’s greedy mouth is leaving a trail of destruction up and down his body. He plans in his mind to return the favor later, but honestly doesn’t see a problem wielding battle scars from letting Yoongi take him in such a lewd manner. He’d dreamed about this far too many times and wondered was this a one time thing that would mean nothing, but in the time he’d spent in diving in headfirst into the Agust D fandom and in the short span of two weeks of knowing him, he was sure that perhaps he was a bit more than attached, and hoped it meant something deeper than just a quick screw on the couch. As great as this was, he knew he’d be devastated if that’s all this was.

Hands are at the front of his jeans as Yoongi’s mouth presses a trail of kisses up from his neck over his cheek and to his mouth, chuckling against his cupid’s bow. Jeongguk finds himself giggling by reflex as well, hearing the snap of his button and the sound of his belt being unbuckled.

“You ever had your cock swallowed?”

The question confuses him—is he asking had he ever had a blowjob?—and he regrets stopping to think, because when he zones back in with an answer, Yoongi’s scooting down his legs, pulling him by his arms back into a seated position. Moving to kneel in front of him on the floor, focused on getting his pants and boxers as far away from his body as possible. Jeongguk just watches, a little numb and unsure how to help. Yoongi seems to get it though, and shuffles the useless articles of clothing down his legs. Moving closer and leaning in to nose along the length of his cock. Hands on his thighs for leverage. Jeongguk should be embarrassed, but he’s not—oddly enough. He’s far too aroused to be embarrassed about having Yoongi’s mouth so close to him like this.

Yoongi seems to get tired of that, wanting to dive right in. Without using his hands, he stares directly up at Jeongguk, making eye contact, and licks from his balls up to the glistening head of his cock, slowly. Taking in the taste and the texture before bringing a hand to hold it upright. Jeongguk swears, tilting his head back as Yoongi repeats the motions, eyes dropping to focus on the task at hand. Jeongguk spreads his legs apart for better leverage, almost sure he’s going to end up cumming right down Yoongi’s throat in the process of all this.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” he sighs as the rapper starts to wrap his lips around the tip, lapping up the excess wetness coming from the slit then sucks. Slowly, gently. Tongue cushioning the head as he slurps all over it. Sloppy, wet. The sounds echo up to his ears and Jeongguk just groans; the feeling and the sounds a bit too much for him. He wants to grab Yoongi by the head and fuck his throat but they’re not there just yet. Close, but not quite.

After a few moments of teasing, flicking his tongue through his slit and rubbing it all over the bulbous head, he starts to take him inch by inch into his mouth. His cock doesn’t fit all the way initially, but Yoongi seems to know what to do about this. His left hand wraps around what doesn’t fit and he jerks in tandem with his sucking. Bobbing his head up and down. He knows what he’s doing, and Jeongguk wonders should he be a little ticked that Yoongi’s done this before or thankful that he’s not a noob slobbering all over his dick like a teething baby. Honestly, he probably wouldn’t mind if he was new at this, because either way he’s sure he’d enjoy it. One of his hands shoots down to tangle into the pale blue locks shielding his view, lulled by the wet suckling noises and the suction from that heavenly mouth. Swears, praises, and filth pours out of his mouth, eyes scrunching closed as his hips involuntarily buck into the rapper’s mouth. He’s so horny it’s pitiful, and nearly blows his load when Yoongi removes his hand, easing him down his throat. So this is what he meant by swallowing cock.

“F-fuck yeah,” he stammers out, growling a little at the end because it feels heavenly. He’s not sure just yet who’s getting fucked but he knows for certain that if he’s doing the fucking he hopes Yoongi’s ass feels a lot like his mouth. Hot, warm. Tight. He’s nearly positive he’s going to cum like this. It wouldn’t be too bad, he thinks as Yoongi swallows around his length. Yoongi stays still for a moment, before pulling off with a sharp gasp, coughing a little and taking his erection again, jerking it sloppily. Using his own saliva as lubrication.

“You like that?” Jeongguk nods stupidly. Bucking into that fist desperately. “You gonna cum?” He nods again. Yoongi seems pleased by this, and takes in a breath really quickly. Preparing himself for what he’s about to do.

“Fuck my throat til you cum then. And then after I’ll return the favor.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know how to take this at the moment, too busy trying to get Yoongi’s mouth back on him, but knows that he’s glad he’d attempted to prep himself earlier. Yoongi takes that moment to give him what he wants, starting slowly from the tip and moving down. Inch by inch just like before but it’s a little quicker than last time. He gags, but stays down a little longer. Digging his nails into Jeongguk’s meaty thighs as if to tell him to go ahead. Jeongguk can feel his throat relax, and takes that as the green light to start. So he moves his hand back to his hair, his other following closely behind to tangle into the slightly dry strands. Getting a grip first before he rolls up, sending a sharp thrust down the rapper’s throat. He hears a gag, feels the hands tightening on his thighs almost as a warning, but for a moment he feels daring and does it again. And again, and again until he’s got a decent rhythm, chasing his orgasm which is shockingly close. He’s not even mad, considering this is the best blowjob he’s had in a while, and well. It’s Yoongi. He’s lasted longer than he’d anticipated, he thinks, but it only takes a few thrusts before his body tenses and he hisses out a sharp Yoongi as he cums in spurts down the rapper’s throat. Holding him there for a moment before Yoongi’s shoving at him.

He releases him then, but Yoongi doesn’t shove him away. No, what he does instead is move to lick up his release, then sucks the remnants directly from his cockhead. Jeongguk’s sensitive, but that doesn’t make him shove Yoongi away.

When Yoongi finishes, he looks up at him, licking what had spilled onto the crease of his lip away as he makes eye contact with the younger, who’s trying to get a grip. Chest heaving up and down as he pants. Yoongi moves to stand, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him to stand. He nearly stumbles, but Yoongi either doesn’t pay attention or chooses not to comment. Instead focused on pulling his head down so that he can lick into his mouth, allowing Jeongguk to taste himself on his tongue.

“Get all the way out of your clothes,” he breathes the command against Jeongguk’s mouth, and he wastes no time kicking the clothes away. Allowing himself to be led by Yoongi’s mouth as the rapper starts to fumble with his own belt, backing them towards his bedroom—or so Jeongguk thinks.

“You two are so gross,” Taehyung complains, sitting across from Jeongguk and Yoongi who’re cuddled up into each other. Its gross, really. Jeongguk rolls his eyes, leaning into Yoongi more who’s arm tightens around his waist to keep him close. Taehyung pouts.

“Are you jealous that you didn’t meet RM and end up dating him?” Jeongguk’s playful, grinning cheekily at his fussy friend who just looks away, the answer obvious as he picks up his iced tea and loudly sips from it.

“I’m actually really good friends with Namjoon, I can hook you guys up,” Yoongi tries to be helpful, reaching for a potato chip. Shoving it in his mouth. Both Jeongguk and Taehyung stare at him. Flabbergasted. Yoongi looks up at them slowly, back and forth between the two.

“What?”

“Namjoon is fucking RM?!”

Yoongi looks confused. “No? Namjoon is RM. Wait, how do you know Namjoon?”

Taehyung lets out a screech which draws attention to them, grabbing his head in both hands and laying it on the table. Jeongguk simply laughs as Yoongi looks at them in confusion, obviously left out of the loop and mortified at the noise that came from Taehyung.“He’s our TA for our lit class. Taehyung’s been ogling him since he walked in and never put two and two together. Small fucking world,” Jeongguk cackles, reaching for his soda as Taehyung lays his head on the table, having what appears to be an existential crisis. Yoongi still doesn’t understand, but finds it funny nonetheless.

“Hyung, please get me backstage tickets. I need them.”

“I don’t know about that. Not everybody hits it off backstage like we did. Plus, I think Namjoon likes someone else,” The look on Taehyung’s face is priceless. Even Jeongguk looks a little sad about that, but Yoongi laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m kidding. We can do a double date or something. Just don’t be too much of a, whatever you are, or you might scare him away,”

“Do you mean a thirsty hoe?”

“Yeah that,”

“Guys, I’m right here,” Taehyung whines, straightening up. He thinks for a minute, before looking at Yoongi with puppy dog eyes.

“Hyung pleaseeeee. I’ll love you forever,” he begs. Yoongi pretends to think about it, but acquises and hands him his phone.

“Here’s his number. Don’t be weird about it or you might scare him away,” he instructs, but Taehyung simply snatches the phone and gets up, waddling away with it pressed to his ear. Yoongi sighs, then looks at Jeongguk.

“You weren’t like this, were you?” he asks as Jeongguk shovels two fries into his mouth. He feels caught, nearly chokes, but then shakes his head as he washes it down with his soda.

“No. I was less eager to meet you,” he admits, averting his eyes. “I was scared I’d fuck up and you’d hate me.”

“Nonesense,” Yoongi insists, stealing one of Jeongguk’s fries. Jeongguk rolls his eyes.

“It’s not everyday you meet your idol, you know. I was scared I’d make a fool of myself and you’d kick me out or something,” Yoongi seems to think this over, but snorts.

“You made a fool of yourself and I ended up fucking you until you screamed like a wanton bitch so honestly you had nothing to worry about.”

Jeongguk chokes on his soda, sputtering out and wheezing at this. Taehyung returns then, smirking as he slides back in the booth in front of them, handing over the phone.

“I have a dick appointment with RM tomorrow at 7. Jeon, I need to borrow those leather pants you used when you and Yoongi-hyung fucked.”

Jeongguk chokes again.

↬ x.

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#bts fics #bts fic #yoonkook drabbles #yoonkook smut #rapper yoongi #agust d #student jungkook #platonic taekook #taekook as best friends #yoonkook

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dethl · 5 years ago

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i posted this on twitter but not here

to be honest, i stopped shilling my commission info, and honestly stopped posting art in general, because I think ive completely lost my passion for creating, among most things It was getting to be too much of a game of numbers for me, and has been since I started posting art online as a young teenager

and once youre an adult, and havent seen any changes in that game of numbers since you started except the rare uptick, it really damages your self esteem. you start valuing your entire self worth based on numbers at the bottom of your post instead of the fact youve been improving for years. it gets impossible to see that improvement, and you feel like youre stagnating. and it completely ruins any fun you might have with it

i stopped creating for myself, i think i forgot how. almost everything ive posted publicly has been with the intent of "this will be the drawing to get big" for the past few years. i work myself ragged on things, past the point of being healthy. i go hours at a time without eating or drinking because im just trying to get “the drawing to get big” done. sometimes i work to the point I can't distinguish the colors anymore on bigger pieces. all to chase the high of my art finally getting recognition. i spend a month on some pieces fine tuning every detail i can. and then when you cant get more than 5 notes after physically destroying yourself, it becomes impossible to see yourself as anything but a useless piece of shit

and i cant do it anymore. i cant keep equating my worth to numbers because its just ruined the one thing ive been consistently passionate about since i was a child. its going to be a while before i post art publicly again probably, because ive started to loathe every single thing i post and I need to step away, unless i get some burst of inspiration that magically fixes everything. but even then, i dont think i should force it because i just see myself falling in the same trap

ive grown so tired of artist culture in general. im tired of the pressure to force improvement and sacrificing your mental and physical wellbeing to improve, instead of doing it on your own pace. everything feels like it has to be for the consumption of other people, it cant just be for fun. i want to create for fun

#hyudoposts

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english-history-trip · 7 years ago

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The Portraits of Henry VIII (Ranked)

Stealing this idea directly from @morgauseoforkney‘s ranking of James IV’s portraits, I shall try it with his English contemporary! EDIT: The pictures were of James I, and I am a fool. Nevertheless, on with the list!

Hans Holbein, c. 1537

This is the definitive portrait of Henry. As opposed to his other portraits, this one actually looks like a real dude, without posturing or iconography; just a very Grumpy Boi. Could be a biker. 10/10 pouty king faces

Joos van Cleeve, c. 1535

This is the portrait where Henry looks The Mooste Fitte. Like, was he really that pretty? Probably not. But I would date this portrait. 9/10 random red cushions

Holbein (att.), c. 1540

This is what everyone pictures when they think “Henry VIII,” mostly because it got copied a billion times. This one wins for Best Dressed, but gets dinged for overuse and for featuring The Royal Codpiece (albeit more tastefully than some.) 8/10 doublet slashings

Unknown Artist, c. 1542

This one is very honest about Henry’s age; he was on his fifth wife by now. He needs a staff to stand, and he’s wearing a muumuu, and he is in no rush to showcase The Codpiece. 8/10 ruby buttons

Unknown Artist, c. 1520

We’re still in the static medieval-style portrait here, and also it looks like his face is sorta melting. Still wearing his dad’s style of hat. A transitional Henry. 7/10 floppy hats

Unknown Artist, c. 1509

Baby Henry, right at the start of his reign! On the plus side, a rare look at the early Henry. On the minus side, does not look like any other Henry. Skinny (rather than muscular, as he was) with brown hair, he looks more like his brother Arthur. Also, So Much Neck. 6/10 giraffes who died to make this portrait

Cornelis Metsys, 1548

Hee hee. Gonna go ahead and say they published this one after Henry died. 5/10 eyebrows on fleek

After Holbein, 1540

Hoo boy. This is where things start going downhill. Is this man sitting or standing? Which of his eyes is the lazy one, or is it both? CODDDPIEEEECE. Nice crown tho (but is he wearing it OVER his hat?) 4/10 blank documents

Lucas Horenbout, c. 1525/1526

Can you believe Catherine of Aragon liked Henry more WITHOUT the beard, to the point where she almost caused an international incident by getting him to shave it? (He and Francis I had promised to grow their beards until they met, it was all very stupid.) If Henry had never grown that beard, he might have been with C of A his whole life. 3/10 historic beards

Artist Who Probably Wished Not To Be Named, c. 1540

Whaaaaaat happened here. This 100% looks like one guy painted the face and another guy painted the rest and neither of them had any idea what the other was doing. And the hands... maybe they remembered that thing where the hands are supposed to be about the size of the face, so they made them mini too? Something? 1/10 hands flipping off the artist

Cornelis Metsys, c. 1548

I looked and looked for something worse than the last painting to round off the list, and I found it. Boy did I ever find it. It’s our boy Metsys back again (or his “workshop” in case the king ever found out probably). Look at this parboiled egg. Look at this half-eyebrowed mothertrucker. Does the hat have feathers or poodle hair clippings, or his leftover beard? The real masterstroke here is somehow giving him both a neckbeard and no neck. All I can figure is that Metsys dug up Henry’s corpse, drained of blood and swollen with gas, and painted from not-life. 0/10 kings who approved this transaction

#henry viii #tudors #portraiture #obviously there are more portraits than this but they are almost all copies of holbein #the definitive list

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vyvesvi · 3 years ago

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top artist of the year:

male: ❌♢

female: wjsn

rookie of the year

male: mirae

female: lilli lilli

album of the year

male: montero, lil nas x

female: unnatural, wjsn

top title track

male: killa, mirae

female: ❌♡

top bside

male: hello future, nct dream

female: sunny, sunmi

best performance

male: ❌♧

female: like it hot, gwsn

best choreography

male: ❌♤

female: hula hoop, loona

biggest surprises of the year

❍positive

yukika's zoom concert: it was so cute!!!! i really enjoyed it tbh a lot more than the more official cb virtual concerts i did 🙃🙃🙃

niziu's "poppin shakin": the hold this song has over me neede to be studied

purple kiss' "hide & seek" album: an incredible save after their debut album, almost enough to get them female tt of the year tbh. also definitely best point dance of the year imo

loona's "starseed": i almost never thought we would make it back to cute + synths loona. im would make "i survived "im not like other girls" era loona" except im pretty sure they're gonna go back to girl crush :")

lilli lilli's debut single "barcode": perhaps its because i had 0 expectations going in, but it was definitely the strongest nugu debut in my opinion (and stronger than a lot of non nugus!)

rocket punch's "bubble up!" mini album (jpn debut): every song on this mini is good. i am a huge fan of cute music so it's right up my alley and i would highly recommend

woo!ah! has some cute tracks that i didn't expect to like (bad girl and i dont miss u)

aespa's yeppi yeppi: honestly its very close between this track, sunny, and starseed. i really really really love it idek what to say. it doesmt suit their image so i almost wish it was an rv song so i could see a performance 😭😭😭 this would never halpen but id love if aespa had like a twin sister group with interesting cute concepts like yeppi yeppi (their fans would cannabalize eachother tho so no)

❍negative

itzy's first full album: not bad, but i expected more. there are tracks that i like but for an album that long i expected not only more new content (ie not old instrumentals) and more hits

seventeen: i haven't really been feeling their releases this year 😭

woodz: 2020 woodz was a bit better, though he didnt release anything bad this year

onlyoneof: 🙃

only one wjsn comeback this year and ive is debuting...theyre putting my girls out to pasture 😭😭😭

billlie's "ring x ring": it's grown on me but i really wanted to like it a lot more than i do 😔 the album's good though

there are more but i cant remember oops

❌

♤: there wasn't a clear winner this year. woodz dropped pretty far down my most listened artists (although he's the #2 male artist). mirae...because their bsides aren't great i don't think it'd be fair to put them as aoty. with bae173 all their music is good but they only have two small minis and aren't very active otherwise. i feel like theyre not super dynamic as a group yet unfortunately. i'd like to see them develop as individuals somehow, idk

♡: there just wasn't a clear winner tbh. contenders: wjsn's unnatural, gwsn's like it hot, purplekiss' zombie...itzy's loco was good too. although loona's ptt is my most listened song, it's more of a guilty pleasure song.

♧: i barely pay attention to performances tbh, the reason this is a category is because gwsn's like it hot actually made me watch livestages (which happens very rarely!)

♢: i feel like i don't stan very many bgs anymore, so i don't keep up with choreo even though dance practices are one of my favorite parts of kpop. i was thinking about libido for this one but onlyoneof (8d creative, really) is on thin ice with me and i havent been able to consume their content since lovegate 🥴

top most listened artists (x out of 731 total hours)

wjsn (27 hours)

loona (22 hours)

e-girls (19 hours)

seventeen (15 hours)

itzy (14 hours)

red velvet (14 hours)

twice (13 hours)

izone (12 hours)

woodz (11 hours)

gwsn (10 hours)

top 20 artist breakdown

kpop: 14/20

jpop: 2/20

cpop: 1/20

english: 3/20

male: 6/20

female: 14/20

random thoughts: since ive been into survival shows lately, a lot of my top 100 songs are actually survival show theme songs 😭 (definitive ranking with thoughts coming soon). i also did this thing where i would make playlists of songs that sound like survival show songs and then basically stockholm myself into liking them? which is why certain songs (like hit, ptt, mmook jji bba, more, etc) were really high on the list lol. i don't know if i'll post my full top 100 this year but i'll probably reblog an ask game once the bottom 50 stop moving lol.

random favorite tracks (includes songs released before 2021)

i made this section to give e-girls a shoutout, as i discovered their music in december 2020 right after their disbandment. bessekai is one of my top songs of all time, along with cinderella fit.

txt's blue hour retroactively made the top albums of 2020 list. i dont love them but the vibes were on pont

bree runway's atm and damn daniel are really good, i love her collabs

karencici's do do do

yoasobi's racing into the night (夜にかける (there are too many kanji for ka im sorry but it should still come up i think))

the entire montero album but especially montero, industry baby, scoop, and am i dreaming

tori kelly's 25th because i unironically love christmas music sorry

nct dream's life is still going on is very decent

jolin tsai's ugly beauty is sooo good. as one of my friends would say, grown 👏 women 👏 music 👏

hyundawn's ping pong, i know, & party feel love: not much to say but i really enjoyed all of these. made me miss triple h though 😭😭😭

marina came back!!! venus fly trap is so good

tokyo drift, teriyaki boyz (power impact remix) (i feel like if the song wasnt praising japan sm would buy it for nct 2022)

wjsn the black was good, i miss mature concepts!

young the giant's superposition

akmu's play ugly

normani's wild side

orbit's bloom

brave girls' after we ride

top albums of the year (in order!)

note: i desperately need to listen to the next episode by akmu but nakka is the second track and i always end up listening to it on repeat instead of continuing the album 😭 so assume that its somewhere on this list (i bet it would end up somewhere around 11? but ofc idk)

also, orbit's cb for the year is out on the 23rd...i'll probably update either this section or the negative surprises section, we'll see!

montero, lil nas x

unnatural, wjsn

enchant, orbit

hide & seek, purplekiss

play game: holiday, weeekly

bubble up, rocket punch

timeabout, yukika

intersection: trace, bae173

the other side of the moon, gwsn

only lovers left, woodz

guess who, itzy

produced by [myself], onlyoneof

hello future, nct dream

the billage of perception, billlie

set, woodz

crazy in love, itzy

lilac, iu

&, loona

we are the future, mirae

#vyvesvi's year

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stripesquadsideblog · 7 years ago

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Naruto talk: Deidara’s family

Ok so ive spent ALLLLLL DAY looking for this one post that set all this off but i CANNOT FIND IT ANYWHERE.

Tl:dr of the post was OP thought Deidaras last name was Namikazi and i am 10000% on board but it also made me think like, how did he wind up in iwa??? There was also another post about the akatsuki and how deidara just wanted to be appreciated for his damn art but no one in iwa cared but i cant find that either????

So.SO

Headcanon time

Deidara is a lil war orphan. (like 99%of the akatsuki are orphans???)

One of his parents is an explosion release user from Kiri and one is from konohas Namikazi clan

Everyone in the Namikazi clan has blond hair and big blue eyes/ Nordic features which are all really rare among ninja in the land of fire.

Namikazi’s also have a propensity for Wind style chakra. Deidara has this too but was only ever trained to use his Explosion release.

Im not sure if his parents are both ninja but i think whoever had explosion release was at least Chunin .

Parent A with explosion release was declared a missing nin and killed while they and deidara were travelling forcing the remaining parent B to flee .

Unfortunately second parent B was killed at the start of the 3rd ninja war because it was discovered that they were a konoha nin living in Iwa leaving bby deidara wandering the streets alone.

At this stage he's like 3-5 years old .

He has no idea his last name is Namikazi. He knows his parents died but he didn’t actually watch them die ( unlike konan and nagato for example) so it was more like they just went away rather than being really traumatizing. Onoki , kurotsuchi and Kitsuchi are the only family he knows.

honestly doesnt really remember his parents at all.

While out surveying the damage Onoki and Kitsuchi find baby deidei wandering around in rubble possibly near dead parent B waiting for them to wake up.

Onoki and kitsuchi contemplated leaving deidara to the mercy of the war but Kitsuchi had just had Kurotsuchi and couldn’t stand to hear a little kid cry.

Kitsuchi brings deidara home like a stray puppy while his wife is giving him “theres a war on how we going to feed another child” face.

Deidara spends a lot of time with Onoki while Kitsuchi and his wife are out at war.

Kurotsuchi is like 2-4 and is happy to have a new sibling with pretty doll hair that she can totally mess up. This is why she calls him Big Brother Deidara.

His birthday isnt actually May 5th, thats just the day Kitsuchi found him.

Even though he's been adopted and thats a lot better than being completely orphaned and left on the streets like the ame trio things still aren’t great for deidara.

His new family are all Iwa born and bred. Iwa is a VERY militaristic place,just look at their shinobi’s attitude. Kurotsuchi is a daddies girl so she gets things better than him, gets away with a lot more than he does.

For Deidara his life is run like hes constantly at military boot camp.

Even from a young age deidara showed more intrest in art than fighting . this has always been a point of contention between him and Onoki/Kitsuchi. They frequently threw out or ruined deidaras art projects in an attempt to get him to serve the village more.

Deidara and Kurotsuchi were always the top of their class in Iwa Academy. Kitsuchi is secretly very proud of his powerful kekkai genkai children but he’d never tell them.

No matter what deidara did in ninjutsu he always tried to make it artistic

Baby deidara always had trouble controlling his explosion release ( because his wind chakra made things a little....volatile?) he’d blow things up by sneezing or smacking his hand down on something too fast.

When it was discovered deidara had explosion release he was instantly taken up by Onoki as his student because Iwa was one of the few nations who still held up Kekkai Genkai users as the best weapons of war the ninja world had to offer. Deidara wasn’t happy about this but he wasn’t given any say.

It was Kurotsuchis mom who suggested he mould his chakra into clay since it was a very stable material.

She didn’t discourage his artistic persuits like her husband but because iwa is so focused on war and fighting she couldn’t really encourage him either knowing he’d have to give it up at some point.

Literally no one in Iwa cares about art and if they do they tend to keep it to themselves

I cant help but feel if deidara had gotten praise from one person for his art and not being a weapon he wouldn’t have gone postal.

Now he's grown up he’s 99% of his own praise.

If someone had gotten to him before he got all egotistical and given him some praise he would latch onto them like a lamprey eel.

Deidara was only like 14 when he left the village. he’d had enough of everyone either ignoring him and his art or treating him like a Tool .

Kurotsuchi was about 12 and didnt really understand why he left ( even to this day) she asked kitsuchi a few times but he would usually just lie or paint deidara in a bad light so as to put kurotsuchi against the idea of looking for him/ against deidara himself.

I have SO many feels about Deidara. i only ment for this to be like 4 bullet points but woops.

anyway if anyone knows what post i was talking about at the top hmu so i can reblog and tag it and so on.

#Deidara #deidara namikazi #kurostuchi #kitsuchi #onoki #iwa #headcanons #deidara headcanons #naruto talk #naruto #iwagakure #caxy had a thought

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conflictcrafter · 5 years ago

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The Unexpected LAMAW of Madayaw and The lamaw that is deped

the department of education has, and rightfully so, included retellings of the Darangen in the English 7 curriculum learning modules (but wrong pictures!). during one of our classes, particularly in section Gladiola, we talked about the epic and how the Meranaws in the time of the Darangen has put premium on physical appearance over anything else.

whenever we touch the Meranaws in my MAPEH 7 (2012-2014) and in my English 7 classes (2014-present), i'd always tell them about the Kapagipat, among other cool Meranaw stuff, to illustrate how magical and ritualistic and creative and cool the Meranaws are. i had to do this because a considerable number of my students are Maranaws and those who are not will have had the mis-educated, illi-informed idea that Maranaws—Muslims in general—are people to be avoided. i'd always tell them the opposite: that Islam is a religion of peace, and all my Muslim friends are nice and generous and very approachable; i'd always tell them, too, how unfortunate i was to not have been born in an ethnolinguistic group, still connected to its ancient traditions. but i digress.

ive seen and studied the works of Madayaw Cultural Ensemble, among other cultural dance-theatre groups in Davao. and since their piece Singkil sa Laya performed in SM Ecoland back in the infancy of Sayaw Mindanao sometime in 2011, their "tribe in focus" would, except in very rare cases, be Islamized ethnolinguistic groups (Meranaw, Maguindanao, Tausug). no problem with this.

but the plot is done over and over only in different characters and settings. their staple is always like this: a pair of lovers, disturbed by a bitter third party; man fights the third party; pair of lovers marry. this happened for quite some time that i'd marvel at the times when madayaw would not win, and be internally outraged when they do. ive somehow sensed that all they did was show glitz and glamour: no advocacy, no plot, no depth; with only one goal: to fool the eyes of some unaware luzon-based judges—ergo, win. (there. ive said it.)

at first glance of this piece, i told myself that it's gonna be the same thing since 2011. theyve hit the formula. and now this is their forte. and theyre never going to outgrow their motifs. it's lamaw (leftover food). napagkainan na.

but as i was watching it, (insert curse word here) kalami sa piyesa! i was slowly liking the piece every minute as it went. it was like being introduced to lamaw—at first abhorring it for its name—but later discovering that lamaw is not only leftover food but also an effin refreshing delicacy (lamaw is a multilingual homonym and homophone having polar gastronomic meanings depending on which of the philippine languages one is using, making lamaw physically and lexically "lamaw." hello, buwan ng wika na surface level lang pagpapahalaga ng karamihan! hello, schools! but again, i digress.)!

it depicts, in a sense, an etymology of the trance-dance ritual Sagayan: what's its purpose—the Kapagipat, which i always mention to my students—and the rationale behind the skirt-and-hat-wearing male baylans who perform the ritual. in detail, i laud this piece because:

1) it is ritual-centered. it picked rituals (Kapagipat and Sagayan) and established a narrative around it. not the other way around. by doing this, the ritual is preserved, and not the narrative. both should be preserved but it's the ritual that needs preserving now as it has been relegated to the background. and with that, the rituals' meanings and intentions becomes obscured in the long run.

you see, the Sagayan is one of the most obscured trance-dances in our cultural performance history. Sagayan is mostly seen during Meranaw / Maguindanao weddings and it has since been ascribed to such weddings. hence, if a cultural dance has a lemba (wedding celebration) commonly at the conclusion of the piece, it will always have at least two sagayan performers. culturally, it's intention is to ward away bad spirits but choreographically, it's only there to add a sense of cultural precision. nothing about its importance and its true meaning.

but this has put the Sagayan back to Kapagipat. this piece has educated us about the ritual trance-dance and why it looks like that. it has, so to speak, made an etymology of the dance. and this creative and educational decision transcends mere performance. this transcends Sayaw Mindanaw.

2) it attempted to show today's relevant social issues. specifically—

2.a) gender-roles. the process of transferring the mantle of Sagayan practitioner from female to male shows that males and females may share roles and must be open to the fact given the gravitas of circumstances. in the piece, the female baylan was at first defeated by the tonong-possessed person in her effort to cure / exorcise him. to defeat the tonong, she tricked it by making her male companion be the baylan, donning him with female clothes and a headdress that covered the face. in their second encounter, the tonong was confident that it was still the same baylan, only to be overwhelmed and defeated by the female-disguised male baylan.

the Meranaw community has, in the surface, clear-cut, black-and-white, male-female gender roles and it is not to be dismantled or to be ridiculed as this is their norm. but they are also fluid enough to recognize that sometimes gender roles must be reinvented to solve a crisis, and it is this utilization of gender clear-cut-ted-ness that brought resolution to the narrative.

furthermore, this shows that even before philippines was philippines, cross-dressing has been a thing already. and it's rather strange to feel strange about it.

2.b) preservation of community; depression, and suicide to the individual. prior to becoming a tonong (spirit to be appeased), it belonged to a living human body that has experienced depression and who has eventually committed suicide. he has experienced the community's rejection and misjudgment as shown in the second act.

on surface level, it tells us that villains are created by society. and as a society, we have a role in shaping and influencing the decisions of individuals. whatever we do to others, it returns to us. we reap what we sow—making their planting and sowing dance routine more than just petty choreography, it has served a very symbolic purpose (learn, peasants. mao ning art).

on another level. the society's alleged "discrimination" is not something shocking to the ancient Meranaws. you see, in Darangen, Prince Bantugan, being extremely handsome, has won the hearts of many women and men alike, and he is often being favored by the people more than the generally good but not as handsome king, Mabaning. the Meranaws in the Darangen are notorious in describing how monsters destroy villages, and it should not be a shock that ancient Meranaws may ascribe this monstrosity to unfortunate persons who happen to possess faulty facial features. this is merely an instinct to preserve community rather than a community hell-bent to discriminate with no reasonable logic.

as modern audience with no Meranaw background, we get the moral of non-judgement; for Meranaws, they get the moral of preserving community. i must commend Madayaw if this was a conscious artistic decision because (insert curse word here) this is genius layering.

3) it escaped the lamaw trap. like what i said earlier, i have become tired of seeing the plot of the pieces of Madayaw. to me, they have settled, like dust at the bottom of undisturbed water. personally, i feel that they only mostly win because they look so good and shiny. and this is what happens when artists never grow. they stick to what is proven effective, without exploring something new. this is what kills the artist if they cling too long to their aesthetics. isa lang ako sa mga naunang naumay.

but this is nothing i have seen before. like what i said, it has focused on the rituals, and made the narrative complement the rituals. not the other way around. this is already very intelligent. this piece has therefore escaped their tiresome kasal-kasal motif, which to me was effin lamaw.

now, they have evolved into the LAMAW (yes, all caps). this level is achieved (objectively by the artist and subjectively felt by the viewer) when something expected to be artistically low suddenly proves itself as something very highbrow. i say all caps LAMAW because to me, this is the most important level of artistic expression (more about this in the future kay gabuhat kuno kog akong kaugalingong art manifesto alongside verfremdung ni bretch, ostranenie ni shklovsky, surrealisme ni breton, ug uban pa. haha murag korek).

what im trying to say is that they have at last grown and they have grown magnificently with this piece. this has amazed and re-educated me. (insert curse word) nabusog yung mata't utak ko.

i commend the overt inclusion of spiritism in the piece, which i first saw in Sayaw Mindanaw back in 2013 in Saliyaw's first champion piece.

speaking of Saliyaw, another dance-theatre / folkloric group in Davao, i must say that no other group so far has exceeded their creativity in presenting new motifs in the cultural performance community. to note, they started the aforementioned spiritism / netherworld motif; the focus to Sama, an ethnoliguistic group in Davao that rarely receive the spotlight (although this can be argued, but i personally think that the resurgence of appreciation to the Sama has been brought about by Saliyaw's focus to the tribe back in 2014); and the multicultural motif evidenced by their 2017 piece that included the mutual influence of Bagobo-Klata culture to Japanese. creativity-wise, Saliyaw has done more.

take this with a grain of salt.

it is just so appalling that masterpieces, such as this, among others, are not common in educational institutions. and to be brutally honest, it goes down to the interest of the admins and teachers if they so chooses to discuss these extra things in classes. if this does not interest schools, the study of culture and consequently our appreciation of our identity goes to the gutters.

we, especially the schools in the cities, have been lazy in representing whatever sense of culture we have left in our locale. we have not moved on from black tights and leotards with malong sash to represent the Islamized ethnolinguistic groups. to appear cultural, we put malongs everywhere, not even bothering to educate the students which malong motif is appropriate for which occasion. we rarely take initiatives to encourage students who belong to cultural minorities to showcase their identity. worst, we add to the horrible mis-education that Muslims are bad and Atas are ugly and Lumads are uncivilized through our throwaway statements. and sometimes unaware teachers do that (insert curse word).

the efforts of cultural performers during Kadayawan and throughout the year is not trivial. it is an effort to preserve our identity and an opportunity to atone for our misjudgments towards ethnolinguistic groups in the land that we have grabbed from them.

i may have said something about the art of a cultural group but i still respect them as cultural bearers and as they also put forward the true essence of cultural performances: to educate and to make us appreciate our local culture and identity—which very rarely happens in majority of educational institutions.

farce, no? ~~ video here http://bit.ly/2P0dOgL image source https://www.facebook.com/sunstardavaonews/photos/a.716755768378759/2440892695965049/?type=3&theater

#madayaw #kadayawan #madayaw cultural ensemble #saliyaw #saliyaw folkloric ensemble #davao city #sayaw kadayawan #sayaw mindanaw

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theatreworksstkilda · 6 years ago

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So you want my arts job: General Manager

RICHARD WATTS from Arts Hub interviews TW GM Dianne

With over 25 years experience in the sector, why does Theatre Works' Dianne Toulson think the title 'General Manager' is outdated in the arts?

With extensive skill in theatre management and touring, Dianne joined the Theatre Works team in late 2017 with a deep understanding of Australia’s independent arts landscape.

Since her appointment as General Manager, Dianne’s highly motivated and dynamic leadership saw the successful delivery of an extensive 2018 season and the programming of 2019 and 2020 seasons alongside former Artistic Director, Bryce Ives. Currently conceptualising the future needs of the organisation with a passionate and visionary approach, Dianne continues to develop the important contribution that Theatre Works makes to the national arts ecology.

1) HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN WHAT YOU DO TO YOUR PARENTS?

I don’t think my parents have ever really understood what I do – the arts are so far removed from their reality. Growing up in the country, the focus was on 'practical' career opportunities; we were so under-exposed to culture, the arts and even human diversity.

My parents are very proud of my brothers – who took the 'practical' path – and so am I, but they are a bit unsure on how to outwardly articulate what I do. I did take them to a theatre show once... but it was the worst show! So I think I put them off!

But my career is only one part of me, so I think they look at everything else and I tick the boxes enough for them to be proud of me as a person, partner, mother, nana and a daughter.

2) HOW DID YOU GET STARTED IN YOUR CAREER?

After spending many years being self-employed or working in corporate environments, I decided to have a gap year. In that time, I found a passion in producing events, festivals, exhibitions and connecting with artists and creatives in that environment. I felt renewed! I was inspired after seeing how my knowledge and support gave artists a platform, opportunity and of course, payment for what they do!

It suited me as I was my own boss and in control of what I did. Then one day, my new partner told me (nicely and with encouragement) to 'stop bumming around, get a real job and build a career'. So, I applied for the General Manager role at the Women’s Circus and got it!

3) WHAT IS THE BIGGEST MISCONCEPTION ABOUT WORKING AS A GM IN THE THEATRE SECTOR?

The arts sector has come a long way since I started. In the 2000s, there was a glass ceiling for women, who were often employed in positions as General Manager, but realistically worked above and beyond their perceived role, regularly being the lynch pin for the company. At that time, there were mostly men in the CEO and Artistic Director positions – who were possibly doing far less than their General Manager. This has certainly shifted, to a point, but maybe not enough.

Since working in the NFP arts sector, and with organisations that have incredibly limited budgets, my knowledge and skills have grown exponentially. Maybe because under such restraints, you have to be hands-on and fill all the gaps, or indeed step up and lead. I am lucky to have extensive experience in business and financial management as well as learned and lived experience in creative producing and programming that I have gained over my arts career.

I also think the title of General Manager in the arts is outdated and undervalued.

4) WHY DO YOU THINK THAT?

If you look back at the history of artists banding together to create work, gathering momentum and evolving into a company (or form thereof), there is one constant stress: the pressure of seeking funding. To comply with funding requirements, administration became a necessity and General Managers were appointed as the top position in the arts organisation.

Then came the pressure to grow (or maybe just survive) and suddenly these companies required boards to help them jump on the funding treadmill and justify why their creative practice needs the bucks. Successful board composition was driven by funding requirements and the need for varied skills in governance, finance, philanthropy etc.

The influence of corporate practice steered companies towards a shift in titles. Larger organisations with complex operating requirements and structures needed a clear line of authority, and suddenly the title of GM shifted to CEO or Executive Director, despite responsibilities staying more-or-less the same.

The challenge here is that with these new titles comes an expectation of higher remuneration. A job advertised as GM is likely to be paid less – and for organisations with budget limitations, it’s the only way to attract candidates.

We’re starting to see a title shift across the arts, with more progressive thinking tied to an interrogation of practice and the contribution individuals make with their skills and experience.

But for now, the reality is, in small-to-medium not-fr-profit organisations, a GM generally does the same job as a CEO or Executive Director: running the main day-to-day business activities of a company.

5) IN AN INTERVIEW FOR YOUR JOB WHAT WOULD YOU BE LOOKING FOR?

I am only as good as my team. Collaboration within the team is vital to arts organisations. It can be challenging and hard work. So of course, capacity to communicate is the most vital piece of the puzzle for a GM. I believe every person brings their own element of experience and value to a role and that everyone is different.

When you walk a fine line of financial limitation within an organisation there needs to be a balance between artistic decisions and financial viability. This is a rare skill. The GM may not have final say on the artistic decisions; however, they are integral in the sign-off and the one left to manage the success or fallout.

Of course, lead by example, push the right people forward and step in front when you need to.

6) WHAT'S THE BEST THING HAPPENING IN THE SMALL TO MEDIUM SECTOR AT THE MOMENT?

There seems to be a lot of opportunities for professional development, mental health in the arts (so important) and vital supports for the future of the arts. My biggest concern is that the people who need to have these opportunities maybe aren’t getting them? The major, well-funded organisations are rolling out some great stuff but who are they including in the conversation in the first place?

Of course, the small to mediums and independents can access these initiatives if they have the time and resources. But do they? I know I need to go and knock on some doors to be involved, heard and considered in the conversation; I need to represent the artists and creatives that we work with and give them a voice.

Located in the Melbourne suburb of St Kilda, Theatre Works turns 40 in 2020. Learn how you can assist with the celebrations.

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sergaybobrovsky · 7 years ago

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five times kissed baby

five times our muses kissed // @not-neopolyton

Under the cut because it got kind of lengthy.

“Can I ask you something?”

His question breaks the silence and he watches how Frenchie ( a nickname he knows is not wanted ) lifts his head and meets his gaze again. Although they, whatever that means, have been a thing for some time now, moments like this have, so far, been few and far between. Rarely have they found themselves in a situation where only they are present and Bunny is nowhere near. It has taken quite a while from to progress this far, to be in the same room without the silent threat of physical violence looming over their heads, but they still have a long way to go.

“Can I do anything to stop you?” The sarcastic tone of Abel’s counter-question doesn’t surprise him, but, in return, neither should Gavriil ignoring it and taking it as a permission to speak.

“Are you a virgin?”

And just like that, the silence returns to the room. The only difference between now and then is that their eye contact remains, unwavering.

It goes on, but Gavriil does not relent. Patience is not one of his strengths, but for this answer, he’s willing to wait.

“Bien sûr que non.”

Gavriil chuckles.

“No need to be offended, Frenchie, ” he swears he can hear the glare, “I was just being curious.” A short pause. “So you have been with guys too?”

Another moment of silence as one-sided tensions fills the air of the room.

Maybe that silence is his answer.

Their moment of staring ends when Gavriil’s phone buzzes and he looks down as he fishes it from his pocket. What he can’t, and won’t, hide is the way his lips curl up at Abel’s answer. It’s definitely something he’ll have to remember for later use. For future reference.

A message from Illarion, asking him to meet somewhere. Doesn’t sound anything urgent, but it’s not like he’s currently doing particularly important either.

“Well, looks like I have to go.” He’s not obligated to explain himself or where he’s going, but he’s trying to be polite around Abel, for Bunny’s sake. Gavriil stands from his seat and, after grabbing his jacket, almost heads toward the door, but stops on his tracks. Turning around, he walks until he’s standing in front of the younger man and, for once, he’s the one who has to lean down.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, his lips almost touching Abel’s ear, “I won’t tell anyone.” Gavriil steps backward but instead of leaving instantly, he leans down again. This time, however, it is to press his lips against Abel’s.

The smile on his own lips is conspitorial when he pulls back and stands straight again.

“See you around, mon chéri.”

ii.

He may not be an artist in the most traditional sense of the word, but if there’s one art form he’s mastered with his lovers, it’s listening without listening. That talent is currently being tested by a woman—someone new to Devil’s Touch, for she seems unaware of her companion’s reputation—who has gone on and on about the morbid timing of the masquerade party.

“I mean, to each their own, I suppose, but the timing of this party is… questionable, to put it mildly. Party like this so soon after the death of the owner? Especially when they have yet to catch the killer? I can’t help but be slightly disturbed by it all. Don’t you agree?”

Gavriil nods as he nurses his drink, only to grab it and down its contents in the next second. His eyes never leaver the woman’s face; it will reveal valuable information that he can use when making plans for the rest of the night.

“Sort of.” A lie. “I understand your point, but this is what she would’ve wanted. For the life and Devil’s Touch to go on living. She would’ve been furious if we had done anything else.” Another bullshit lie, but if the expression on her face indicates anything, it’s that she hadn’t considered this point of view.

“I suppose it’s not so macabre if you put it like that…” She nods in agreement, that train of thought seemingly forgotten as she moves her hand and runs her fingers up and down his arm. She lifts her gaze up and, even if she hasn’t spoken, he knows what she’s about to say. When she speaks, her voice has a purring quality to it. “Do you have any plans for tonight? Because I can thi———”

Before she’s able to finish her sentence, or Gavriil is able to reply, someone places their hands on his face and tugs him forward into what can only be described a surprisingly rough kiss. For a moment, Gavriil is stunned, unable to respond accordingly to determined lips and a demanding tongue seeking entrance. Then, although he’s no less shocked, his brain catches up and refuses to let him be a passive participant. Without separating, he loops his arm around Abel’s neck and stands up in order to get closer to him.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, but when they break apart, the woman stares at him with an aghast look on her face.

“As it turns out, I do have plans for tonight.” He explains calmly while shooting an unmistakable look toward Abel. His hand grasps the taller man’s hand; he smiles at the woman.

“Enjoy the party, darling. Maybe as much as I will.”

iii.

Fear is like an intimate lover to Gavriil, a close companion, but if there’s something he’s learned over the years, it’s that there’s no room for fear when you’re holding a gun to your head. Too often fear leads to making mistakes and making mistakes leads to one’s own death instead of that of one’s target.

Right now, however, fear is the dominant emotion spinning in his mind, even if he can’t let it show. And he’s holding a gun.

“Davay, day mne pistolet.” He snaps impatiently and holds his free hand expectantly towards the Sol nearest to him. He can feel the curious eyes of the other two men on him, but Gavriil keeps his trained on the third one. He can’t risk looking at the pair not because they are standing to his left, but because someone else is also standing to his left.

Abel. The most annoying Frenchman he’s ever known.

Abel. One of the two loves of his life.

“Day mne chertovu pistolet!” He raises his voice and finally, finally the Sol hands it to him. “Kak vy sobirayetes’ yego zakonchit’?” The man asks as Gavriil checks whether the guns are loaded and if the safety is off. They are and it is.

He lifts his hand and points the guns at the Sols. “Like this.”

Bam. Bam. Bam.

He doesn’t wait for their dead bodies ( he knows his shots were lethal ) to fall on the ground before he’s rushing to Abel’s side.

“Are you okay? Are you injured?” He questions, tone dripping anxiety, as he frantically removes every tie the Sols had used to bind him to the chair. Thank god they had only used tape. “Are you alright?” Gavriil repeats, his voice increasingly desperate, as he falls on his knees in front of Abel and holds his head between his hands. He has to hear the answer, he has to hear it, has to———

“You killed them.” Abel croaks. “You kill—” The Russian doesn’t let him finish the sentence, for he surges forward and seals their lips together. It’s a far cry from the kisses they usually share. There’s nothing romantic, nothing sweet, nothing lustful to be found — it’s all fear and desperation.

“You can worry about me later, sweetheart,” Gavriil begins after finding enough mental strength to pull back to speak clearly, “But first we need to get out of here and get you fixed up.”

iv.

They are not safe, that much is clear. No matter what they do, where they go, they will never be completely safe. They can use as many fake identities as necessary and forge all travel documents they might need, but they will never achieve total safety. The risk of someone unwanted, especially someone unfamiliar to them, recognizing them and informing the Corsicans or the Bratva exists. In addition, they each have their own, personal enemies who wish for nothing more than to see them dead.

They will never be safe. He knows that.

For a moment, however, while they sit on a private jet, currently somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean. Gavriil allows himself to believe in the fragile but alluring illusion of safety. A moment of selfish indulgence would not hurt anyone.

As quietly as he can, he shifts in his seat, his eyes glued to the two sleeping figures on the seats opposite to him. Bunny and Abel. Bunny. Abel. His dikiy. His parizhanin. His, his, his. “Mine.” A possessive whisper leaves his lips, even though no one hears it, and a sudden rush of relief runs through his body. Mine. After what feels like an eternity, he is finally able to say it out loud freely. “Mine.” He tries again, wanting to know what the word tastes on his tongue.

Mine. Mine. Mine. It tastes exquisite; it tastes better than he could’ve ever imagined.

“Why are you talking to yourself?”

His body tenses when his silence is shattered, but relaxes as soon as it realizes the “fight-or-flight” mode is not needed.

“Prosti. I didn’t realize I was speaking. I thought I was just thinking.” His gaze keenly follows Abel’s journey from the state of sleep to full awareness. His hair looks adorable, unruly in a way it rarely does.

Gavriil decides he loves that look.

“Don’t think so loudly next time.”

Once Abel’s command reaches his ears, he chuckles. “Duly noted, sakharok.” He promises, his voice overflowing with barely concealed amusement, and leans forward to press his lips against the other male’s.

“You’re staring.”

Were it anyone else, Gavriil would, true to his stubborn and proud nature, insist he was not staring. But it’s a lovely, lazy Saturday morning ( something he’d grown to appreciate over the years, much to his surprise ), and he doesn’t want to ruin it its magic.

“Mmm, I am.” He admits shamelessly; and why shouldn’t he? It’s not like the statement is false. He sips his coffee before placing the mug down the counter. “How could I not, though,” Gavriil speaks again as he moves toward Abel with unhurried steps, savoring the moment, “When moy muzh stoit i vyglyadit tak chertovski velikolepno.”

An exasperated eye roll is the first reaction, but he doesn’t take it as an offense, not when he also detects the way blush paints Abel’s cheeks the faintest shade of red. “Tu est ridicule.” Abel accuses him and, once again, Gavriil can’t help but nod. “Tell me something I don’t already know.” He replies and, before giving him an opportunity to reply, sneaks an arm around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

It’s been years, yet he has not tired of this — and he doubts he ever will. He will not get tired of the way their lips glide over each other so effortlessly, the way their bodies try to get closer even though there’s no distance between, the way his heart beats faster like every kiss is their first one.

“You are disgusting.”

The sharp remark forces him to return to the present moment. Gavriil turns his head toward the sound and, just like he anticipated, finds himself looking at an unimpressed teenager. “Esme. You’re awake already.” It’s a half-statement, half-question, and doesn’t impress her at all. “Good of you to notice, dad. And good morning, papa.” She doesn’t spare another glance at either one of them; she merely grabs an apple from a bowl nearby and turns around to exit the room.

“She has definitely inherited her mother’s attitude.” Abel’s comment breaks the silence after a minute or two. The corners of Gavriil’s lips tug upward.

“Better that than taking after either one of us.”

GOOGLE TRANSLATIONS bc I’m too lazy to do that hover thing:

- bien sûr que non = of course not- davay, day mne pistolet = come on, give me the gun- day mne chertovu pistolet = give me the fucking gun- kak vy sobirayetes’ yego zakonchit = how are you going to finish him- dikiy = wild (one)- parizhanin = parisian- prosti = sorry- sakharok = sugar- moy muzh stoit i vyglyadit tak chertovski velikolepno = when my husbands stands there and looks so damn gorgeous- tu est ridicule = you are rdiciulous

#not-neopolyton #answered #answered meme #otp: mon cœur est à toi

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twelvesignsrp · 8 years ago

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congratulations tabi, cancer is now samuel wade with the faceclaim neels visser

APPLICATION

Character Sign: Cancer

Character name: Samuel Wade

Birthday: 7/7/1997

Sexuality: bisexual

Gender: male

Moon Sign: Pisces Moon – he’s someone who needs fantasy, compassion, escape, and creative outlets more than anything else in the world. he can go a little stir-crazy at times, which is why it’s important for him to have security as well, but he can be extremely hard to pin down and read when he gets into one of his darker moods. sometimes he feels he is best left on his own, even though he wishes he could connect better, but he knows he needs to figure out how to navigate his own soul before he can really reach out to others around him. he is and will always be drawn to artistic, sensual and spiritual pursuits.

Faceclaim: Neels Visser

Power: future illustration – it’s not so much any sort of clear image that splashes itself across his mind and forces him to recreate it on any surface available, it’s more like some sort of gut feeling, almost unnoticeable sometimes until he’s practically finished with it. the urge to draw or paint something is as familiar and ingrained in him as the need to breath or his body’s need for blood from his heart—it’s something stuck just beneath the layers of his skin, and he doesn’t even think about it until he looks down and realizes he’s drawn something that ends up coming true a little while later. he does it without thinking most of the time, but then there are a few dark midnights, sleepless nights when the kaleidoscope mess tries to seep out through his fingertips, the drive to create something much stronger than his need to sleep. the talent for art has always been there inside of him, the magic just decided to adhere itself to that.

What do they study? Art Appreciation

Biography:

rule 1: schizophrenia is hereditary.

you wouldn’t think that to look at Marie Mason though, as she smiles and walks slowly down the aisle to marry the man who has stolen her heart and all her inhibitions and reservations about love. they’ve thrown themselves into this wedding, adored each other endlessly, despite the family secret she keeps from him, hoping on every star in the sky and any god in heaven that somehow, maybe the curse will pass her by unaffected. maybe their love is stronger than her genetics, maybe his kiss will break the evil spell, the ticking time-bomb on her mind. and after all, doesn’t everyone deserve a happy, fairytale ending? the Beatles sang “all you need is love” and they both agree wholeheartedly, because this feels absolute between the two of them. there is nothing that can get in the way of their union.

rule 2: love is not stronger than madness.

no one bears the brunt of her mental decay as much as her first-born son Samuel, especially in the first seven years of his life. he learns to run quickly, hide perfectly, play games that make no sense and have no rules. he has to think on his feet, tell stories without endings, anything he can do to please her, to help her, to make her love him—or at least remind her that she once did love him. it comes and goes sometimes, and he suffers in school for it, despite how much money his father pours into his education.

what father doesn’t seem to understand is that, yes, she does have many good, long stretches of sanity, weeks when she is fine, she is stable, she is operational, and Samuel enjoys these times because that’s when their family love dynamic actually feels real. but those times never really last long enough, they are just the minute gasps for breaths the universe takes before exploding again. his mother and his little brother, younger by three years, and him can all go to the park and have picnics, and he doesn’t have to think about how Jacob is already a better reader than he is. Jacob is better at a lot of things, but Samuel’s sheer amount of personality ensures his place as older brother. he can also draw better than anyone else in his class, but no one is as much a fan of his work as Jacob is, and Samuel is sure that nothing in the world can break the two of them apart.

that’s why when the doctors finally come and take their mother away while she is screaming and thrashing around, like a demon straight out of hell, Samuel holds onto Jacob’s hand tight enough that neither of them have to notice that their father can’t even look at them. Samuel is terrified that one day he’ll grow up to be as cold and distant as that man, but he’s even more scared about his mother’s genetic lotto win taking root in him.

rule 3: nothing in this world is in your control.

caution: contents are hot. he lets himself ride the waves of adolescence, boiling over with too much freezer-burn chemicals. like a sunflower, he is all brightness on the outer rim, the edges of him oozing glamour and laughter and just enough coyness to keep others interested, but in the center is dark, dark inflorescence, drying and dying out in the sun. he can feel himself changing as puberty takes over, shifting him into the kind of boy who stares at other people too long and lets himself fall into chaos too quickly. he falls in love too hard and lets it drive him to the edge of his mental cliff time and time again, because maybe if he gets used to it out here, it won’t be so bad when he finally tumbles down off it. he lives his life in fear of madness, which gives him a bit of wild freedom, but mostly just makes him want to cave in on himself.

his turmoil breathes life into the only part of him left that’s still beating; drawing and painting. he spends hours on it, creates everything from abstract memories of dreams to landscapes and fruits. it’s an incredibly forgiving art, but nothing about that sentiment lets him sleep a full night through, unburdened by nightmares.

his father comes to him one day after he’s turned eighteen and tells him he expects good grading scores from his high school so that he can enroll in a well-accredited university next fall—a university that has already been picked out for him. Samuel hadn’t intended to go to college, actually, because he wanted to start selling his art as soon as possible, but he doesn’t have the means or support system around him to venture off on his own, the way he wishes he did. he’s too easily persuaded to attend, but he manages to hold his own when it comes to which classes to choose. his father wants him to become a doctor, and follow in his footsteps of becoming a surgeon. for that entire summer, he starts bringing his oldest son to his hospital with him, making him watch the surgeries sometimes, hoping that the drive to cut people open and fix them will somehow seep into Samuel via osmosis. it’s total hell to the eighteen-year-old, and it doesn’t convince him to change his college schedule at all.

rule 4: with great power comes great responsibility.

not very far into his experience at durham, things begin to change. at first, he thinks “this is it, i’m finally losing it,” when he sees the exact same car-wreck scene on the news as what he had drawn earlier that morning. he thinks maybe it’s a coincidence, maybe a fluke, maybe some kind of d��jà vu. he sets the picture on fire and smokes a cigarette as he watches it burn, his heart pounding in his chest, the fear like freezing fingers wrapping around his lungs, suffocating him. it’s not long though before it happens again, and again, and again—the things he draws becoming real somehow, and he begins to worry whether he’s drawing the future or creating it through his drawings.

it takes about a month or two, after he really starts taking action based on the paintings and drawings, that he realizes he is shaping only one version of the future, and that by simply knowing about it and doing something with that knowledge, it can be changed; which is a huge relief. so he starts acting on his abilities, working to fix whatever seems wrong, warn whoever he needs to, avoid the pitfalls he can see coming. he very rarely anymore draws the things he wants to, but it’s okay because this is more important anyway, and his skills at detail and coloring are getting better, sharper, clearer.

but with each new picture he puts his whole soul into, he feels it leave him just a little bit more. it’s a well-known fact that talent and survival cannot exist harmoniously inside one body; eventually something has to give. nothing is stronger than madness, he controls nothing in this world.

and schizophrenia is hereditary.

Five interesting facts about your character:

I. he has grown up with a mild form of dyslexia, making him very uncomfortable reading things. he struggled through it all throughout high school, oftentimes bullshitting his way through tests and literature classes. whenever he was called upon to read something from the books, he would always play it off as something silly, like making up the words and story as he went, often getting in minor bits of trouble for it. whenever it was really important that he learn the material, he just looked up youtube videos for it. he still needs to do that sometimes. II. he calls his little brother Jacob every week, just to check up on him. he hates being so far away from his brother, really the only member of his family that he ever connected with. his brother looks up to him a lot, even though Sam has no idea why anyone would. III. he lives off of a steady diet of ramen and code-red mountain dew. he knows he should eat better, but he’s too young to care about health food and he’s been blessed with a fantastic metabolism. plus, he doesn’t know how to cook and he can’t be bothered to learn. IV. he does work out though, whenever he can, and even though his choice of exorcise is boxing mostly, he wishes he could get more into martial arts, like taekwondo or jujitsu. V. secretly loves super nerdy stuff, like anime and comic books, but he tries his best to keep all that under wraps, stuffed into the bottom of one of his pants drawers, because he is scared of what people will think of him if they knew. he wants to be chill, not looked at like he’s crazy.

Character Quote:

“lie with me under

the sweeping sky that

forgets us

there is no other kind of death

destroy me if you must.”

–inkskinned.tumblr.com

If your character had a patronus what would it be? and why? his patronus is a dapple-grey stallion. it means his passion for the things he loves is hard to beat, he becomes very involved in his friends, family, hobbies and studies. he can be very sensitive and emotional, getting hurt easily and often feeling melancholy for very little reason. however, this emotional enlightenment allows him to understand others and empathize extremely well, while also being very creative and intelligent.

WRITING SAMPLE

Samuel stared at the lines on the wooden door in front of him, his eyes wide but unmoving– stagnant just like the rest of his entire body. he was supposed to be moving, supposed to be a man of action by now, like he had told himself countless times to be. he’d spent the better part of the morning looking into a mirror, practicing the lines he was about to say, going over what sounds best, the exact type of words to formulate, anything that didn’t sound creepy or desperate. he wanted to be one of those guys who were able to just go after whatever they want, no hesitation, no overthinking.

but he wasn’t. he wasn’t a man of action, he wasn’t a man of anything– he was just standing here in front of his classmate’s door like an idiot, completely immobile because his nervousness had rooted him to her welcome mat. he was supposed to knock on the door ten minutes ago. he should have already gotten this done and over with by now but instead he couldn’t stop staring at the lines in the door and thinking about how heartbroken he was going to be as soon as she rejected him.

she had no idea how hard he’d been working up the courage to do this. how long he’d spent practicing his tone of voice or his smile. he wanted everything to be perfect and if he messed this up…. he might never have forgiven himself. he had already messed up so many other relationships and lost so many opportunities with her already this semester. he wanted to move forward. he wanted to show her how much he liked her.

he slowly inhaled a breath, lifting his fist up to knock on the door, but he couldn’t make contact. maybe he could do this next week. there would still be a next week, right? there was always next week– next month– next year. except what if she moved away or dropped out of school? what if she got a boyfriend? and then he’d have to see them together in the hallways, think about how she liked to be kissed, think about whether she was being treated well enough. he was not keen on this idea.

but knocking on this door was about as easy as fitting his whole arm into his mouth. how did other people seem to do this so damn easily? he always saw it in movies and things, guys being assertive and girls being spunky but accepting. things always worked out in movies though, whereas real life was often messier, especially in those first few steps of a relationship.

relationship? maybe he shouldn’t have been thinking about that word just yet—it was still pretty early. he hadn’t even managed to ask her out yet. hadn’t even knocked on the goddamn door. he huffed again, the nervous fluttering and pounding in his chest only getting worse.

he lifted his fist up again, an inch or two away, when the door suddenly opened and there she was, a bag of trash in her hand, and there he was, his arm raised like an idiot. “i…! oh..! hi..” his palms immediately started sweating as panic set in and his fight-or-flight instinct started telling him to turn and run. his feet however, were still painfully glued to this spot. “i, uh… i was just about to knock… on your door….” he slowly lowered his hand, feeling like a deer in the headlights. “obviously.”

#accepted

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