#i also found a sticker my classmate made of their art and i put it on there and its elevated my mood immensely | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chicago-marlena · 5 years

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Trip IV: Adventuring to Bridgeport

An overview map of Bridgeport | Source

Hi everyone and welcome back to the finale of my Chicago neighborhood adventures!

For this week’s blog, I’ll be sharing experiences from my trip to Bridgeport, a residential neighborhood in Chicago. While this entry documents the ending of my Global Chicago class, I hope to still share the excitement this trip brought me in exploring the area’s diverse groups of people, arts, and community identity.

Full disclosure, despite the neighborhood being so close in proximity, this trip was the first time I had been to Bridgeport. Recently I’ve been considering finding an apartment to live off-campus in this area, so you can imagine my excitement to not only uncover the environment and learn the history of the neighborhood itself.

Street panel showing a brief visual history of Bridgeport in relation to other areas of Chicago. Found while walking. | Original photo

Historically, Bridgeport was established in the 1830s by Irish laborers who had originally migrated to help build the Illinois & Michigan Canal. Irish Canal workers settled in what is now known as Bridgeport, and the area later became home to rail workers, slaughterhouse laborers, and many other hard laborers during the beginning of Chicago’s mass industrialization period (WTTW). Following the completion of the canal in 1848, Bridgeport thrived as an industrial center and birthed the popular commercial strip known as Archer Road. This commercial strip thrived in the neighborhood with the later creation of many Catholic parishes, shops, and schools (Encyclopedia of Chicago).

Reopening the Illinois and Michigan Canal in Bridgeport (1871) | Source

In addition to the Irish, Bridgeport soon became home to many Germans, Czechs, Croatians, Poles, Lithuanians, Italians, Hispanic, and Chinese settlers (and many more!) (Lockzero UIC). This migrational pattern can best be observed through Bridgeport’s abundance in diverse churches still present in the neighborhood today. When walking around, there are many European and Asian ethnic group parishes heavily present in the neighborhood, example churches being the Ling Shen Ching Tze Temple (Chinese), St. Mary’s of Perpetual Help Parish & St. Barbara (Polish, as can be seen through the cathedral style architecture), and St. Jerome’s Catholic Church (Croatian).

Inside of St. Mary’s of Perpetual Parish. Note the Polish Cathedral style. | Source

This Polish parish, in particular, caught my eye the most, as I greatly enjoyed seeing the difference in architectural styles based on the ethnic demographics. In regards to the current day community, I believe these churches are a reflection of the neighborhood’s residents and the extensive diverse cultural history of the community itself. In regards to how Bridgeport’s demographics are today, according to Statistical Atlas, 41.4% of the population identified as Asian, 31.9% as White, 21.7% as Hispanic, 3.2% as Black, 1.2% as Mixed, and 0.5% as other.

Race and ethnicity demographics of Bridgeport | Source

Although this was my first time in the area, many of my peers and classmates had informed me of Bridgeport's diversity in residents, and I felt that sharing this demographic would help provide context and understanding for my trip (for my peers were definitely right). Additionally, what was specifically interesting was the small 3.2% Black or African American population in Bridgeport versus the abundance of Black or African Americans in the neighboring area of Bronzeville; were there reasons for this community to gravitate more toward the latter? This was something I wanted to keep in mind for my trip.

Beginning the trip itself, I thought it would be helpful to include the sites I had planned to initially visit when organizing my trip (not limited, just some ideas in mind). The general theme I chose to pursue on this trip was centered around the neighborhood’s art and how it contributes to community identity, especially considering the variety of cultural identities in the area.

Map of my personal itinerary | Original photo

I began my trip by taking the 35 bus heading westbound, riding from 35th St & Federal to 35th St & Halsted. Upon arrival, I decided to walk down Halsted street to get a feel of the neighborhood and most important make observations on the businesses and any signs of cultural diversity (and there was so much of it!)

Diverse businesses in Bridgeport | Original photos

One observation I was quickly able to make was that a lot of the businesses in Bridgeport are very diverse and reflective of the community’s ethnic demographics. A lot of the buildings I encountered were restaurants, a lot of them being of Asian or Latinx descent. Structurally, the buildings are very close together, and some are even right next to housing units with little to no space to spare. This commercial street was almost overwhelming initially to me because of this, as every amount of space seems to be occupied with a business, house, or apartment building. It was also interesting for me to see that the quality/upkeep of a lot of these buildings varied greatly; one side of the street could show restaurants in pristine condition while the other side of the street showed evicted buildings, there was a lot of inconsistency here. Overall, this just made me question the area’s levels of gentrification even more, and if this puts the area at a greater risk of being gentrified or not; some of these buildings seem to be struggling to survive, while others seem to be doing just fine. I was able to observe many people walking around and coming in and out of the establishments, and could tell that community residents valued the businesses. I kept my initial observations and ultimately continued on to explore the rest of the neighborhood.

Jackalope Coffee & Tea House exterior | Original photo

Upon recommendation from my professor, my next spot was Jackalope Coffee & Tea House, located at 755 W 32nd St right off Halsted St. The shop itself was filled with color: the walls had Chicago memorabilia, stickers, flyers, posters, you name it. It was also filled with many young adults chatting, studying, or simply just enjoying the cafe.

Interior/exterior decoration of Jackalope Coffee & Tea House | Original photos

While both in and outside of the establishment, one can notice the abundance of local flyers and events happening in Chicago, many centered around themes of education, art, and millennial culture (concerts, UberEats, cocktail clubs). To me, this appeared reflective of the community residents and caused me to initially question if the neighborhood was leaning more toward a “hipster” one, with the plethora of “hip” style events. With this question in mind, I continued my trip on shortly after ordering a small hot latte (yum)! Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed the cafe, and plan to return sometime with friends or homework.

Small hot chai latte from Jackalope Coffee & Tea. Delicious, 10/10 would recommend | Original photo

Next on my list, I planned to visit as many art centers or buildings that I could find, and this venture began with the Chicago Youth Center, located at 844 W 32nd St, a short walk from Jackalope.

The exterior of the Chicago Youth Center | Original photos

The Chicago Youth center was formed in 1956 with a vision of implementing “community inclusion, strong and effective leadership, thoroughly tested programs and continuous innovation” particularly in high-need communities and in partnership with early childhood providers and community schools in neighborhoods (Chicago Youth Centers). This specific Chicago Youth Center is known as the Fellowship house, and the mural is in dedication to the neighborhood's ethnic diversity and those who had migrated to Bridgeport during the building of the canal. The mural itself illustrated images of children and youth, with the repetition of the words “fellow” and “other”. The “other” is referring to someone whose life is unfamiliar to yours, in this case, those who are culturally different, while the “fellow” is referring to someone whose life is familiar to yours, someone who you consider one of your own; both of these words includes stereotypes and associated adjectives painted on the mural as well.

The artist’s explanation of “fellow” versus “other” in reference to the terms included in the art | original photo

This mural was my favorite to see so far on my trip. At first, the concept of “fellow” versus “other” was foreign to me, but the artist does a good job ob explaining the differences between both as your eyes progressively view the mural. The concept is particularly special being in such a diverse neighborhood, as it pays homage to the many “Italian, Croatian, Chinese and Lithuanian immigrants and then Mexican immigrants” that called Bridgeport home by the 1950s (Chicago Youth Centers). Ultimately, as my trip progressed, I was quickly able to deduce that art was a prominent part of the area’s culture and members of the community. This was especially interesting to me considering the variety of ethnic groups that live in the area; art seems to be the uniting factor in bringing cultures and values together in Bridgeport.

This piece of art resonated the most with me after watching Vice’s Streets by VICE: Chicago (Halsted Street), when considering the shift in how ethnic groups previously interacted with each other versus how Bridgeport is demographically structured today. In the video, local Bridgeport business owner Ed Marszewski shares that Bridgeport previously used to be “one of those neighborhoods where if you were a person of color, you would never come here after dark, or you would be chased out”, further illustrating how the bordering expressways of Bridgeport, (Stevenson and Kennedy), were created to “keep the other out” (VICE). Looking at the current racial and ethnic demographics of the neighborhood, it’s fascinating for me to believe that the area has drastically changed from where it’s used to be, especially considering the largest demographic is an ethnic group comprised of POC. This convinces me all the more of how unique Bridgeport truly is as a neighborhood, as I can’t imagine a mural like this, fitting so well in another place in Chicago. The demographic transition makes me hopeful and curious about what the future of the neighborhood holds, and interested to see in how the racial biases change overtime.

Defining racism in the words of the Chicago Youth Center | Original photo

The next stop on my trip was The Research House for Asian Art, however, upon arrival to the location, the building appeared to be closed/unused for the time being. While this was a minor setback, just down the same street I actually stumbled upon the Co-Prosperity Sphere, a cultural center located 3219 S Morgan Street.

Window exhibits displayed at the Co-Prosperity Sphere | Original gif/video

While the cultural center itself was not open to the public during the day of my visit, the art displayed in the windows deeply captivated me as many of the pieces related to today’s political climate in regards to people of color, teachers, the Black Lives Matter movement and children in detainment centers.

A piece titled “Dignidad Rebelde” translating to rebel dignity. The artwork shows many images referring to themes of white supremacy, catholicism, border control, families being split, immigration, and empowering the Latinx community. I found these very profound considering today’s political climate & the negative sentiments/stereotypes about the Latinx community. | Original photo

Regarding one of the exhibits offers this quote from contributing Xicano artists Melanie Cervantes & Jesus Berraza, who believe in “empowering reflection of community struggles, dreams, and visions. These works were created to amplify people’s stories and to create art that can be put back into the hands of the communities who inspire it”.

A look inside of the Zhou Brothers Art Foundation, part of the Zhou B Art Center | Original photo

The next stop on my trip was the Zhou B Art Center located at 1029 W 35th. This was my first time hearing about the Zhou art centers, and I was slightly confused upon arrival, as I couldn’t tell if they were open or closed for the day (because I was on this trip alone, I chose not to enter for safety reasons.)

Statue right outside of the Zhou Brothers Art Foundation. | Original photo

The Zhou Brothers, ShanZuo and DaHuang are globally well renowned contemporary artists, with their extensive 40-year art history of paintings, performances, and sculptures (ZhouBrothers). The Zhou Brothers began their work in the United States after moving here in 1986 and opened the Zhou B Art Center in Bridgeport, Chicago in 2004 with a “dream of providing a platform and creative freedom for international artists” (ZhouBrothers). These values alone made me consider the high population of Asian residents and how this helps them feel represented in the community of Bridgeport, particularly through the art center’s goal of preserving cultural values and providing creative outlets for international individuals.

The exterior of the Zhou B Art Center | Original photo

Overall, when leaving the center, I was left to consider how art can serve as a medium for bringing different cultures together, and for others, it can help connect you to your roots. When considering how this impacts Bridgeport overall, I believe that art centers like this provide opportunity for outside visitors to come and see the neighborhood for all it has to offer. Alternatively, I do acknowledge that an art center like this can potentially make the neighborhood vulnerable to gentrification or developers looking to capitalize off of the area’s cultural richness, as these events would further fuel a potential “hipster movement” in Bridgeport. As for now, Bridgeport’s colorful art scene seems unique and personal to the community, growing and serving as space for community members to showcase their talents, historical roots, and cultures.

To end my trip, I stopped at Stix n’ Brix Wood Fired Pizza for lunch and actually ran into a fellow schoolmate eating at the local establishment (this is my friend Ryan!) While I’m not sure if this restaurant directly lies in Bridgeport, it was right on my walk back to IIT’s campus, located at 220 W 33rd St. The establishment is located right by a neighboring red line train stop and conveniently shares the building with a coffee shop known as the Red Line cafe, where a lot of local students and residents go for studying and mingling. Additionally, this area is home to the notable Guaranteed Rate Field, home to the Chicago White Sox and serving as a popular attraction for tourists all over. The overall ambiance of this area in combination with the quality of the meal made it a location I plan on revisiting in the future.

Lunch break at Stix n’ Brix | Original photo

Pizza rating: 9/10

Overall vibe: 10/10

An up-close pizza shot. Delicious. | Original photo

As I ended my trip, the neighborhood itself left me to question what the future holds for the area and if it’s at risk for gentrification. What compels me to believe the area may someday turn into the next “hipster” neighborhood is that a very prominent part of the area’s culture is centered around the arts, much similar to what I was able to observe when venturing to Pilsen.

Mural located outside of the Co-Prosperity Sphere art and cultural center. Very reminiscent of the murals previously seen in Pilsen: colorful in art and in cultures represented. | Original photo

A lot of parallels can be drawn to the area when comparing them: rich in diversity, culture, and art through mediums of murals, commercial businesses, and tourist attractions. While these elements, particularly the arts, can serve as strong opportunities for communities, they run a financial risk of attracting investors and businesses capitalizing off of the neighborhood’s cultural and artistic richness. This is best understood through Aimee Levitt’s illustration of the hipster in her work, The Migration of the Hipster, asserting that hipsters are “colonizing and commercializing everything that made the neighborhood so great, transforming it from bohemia to brohemia”. I’m deeply conflicted about this question, purely because Bridgeport’s history shows me that the neighborhood is built on the efforts of the working class, and I can imagine that residents of the neighborhood care for their community’s roots and maintaining its value. While it someday maybe the next new “hipster” neighborhood, I feel that the neighborhood’s current-day wide range in diversity helps with cultural preservation and combats gentrification. I’m hopeful (yet cautious) that Bridgeport will continue to blossom into the complex and diverse neighborhood that it is.

Mural located outside of the Chicago Youth Center. My favorite part of the art: “Remember. Life is Precious” in regards to judging others. | Original photo

Ultimately, I thoroughly enjoyed my final neighborhood trip and was glad that I was able to spend it in Bridgeport, and know it will not be my last. For my next trip, I’d love to focus more on the religious themes of the neighborhood, but this will have to wait for a warmer climate. Learning about this historical and cultural gem only further excites for what the city of Chicago has to offer, and I highly recommend you visit the area yourself.

Global Chicago, thank you.

References:

https://statisticalatlas.com/neighborhood/Illinois/Chicago/Bridgeport/Race-and-Ethnicity#figure/relative-race-and-ethnicity

https://interactive.wttw.com/southside/near-southwest/bridgeport

https://www.chicagoyouthcenters.org/history

http://www.zhoubrothers.com/about.html

https://lockzero.org.uic.edu/I.html

https://openhousechicago.org/sites/site/st-mary-of-perpetual-help-roman-catholic-church/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P8WwazfHlhY#action=share

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4fates-4dorks · 6 years

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Jackunzel Month Day 25: High School AU

This is definitely one of my favourites :). I also wrote a one-shot to go with it under the cut. Not sure if I’ll expand it to a full fanfiction yet.

Rapunzel had written a list of goals for the new school year:

Finish the painting in time for Jack’s birthday

Convince the librarian to order new books

Get Jack to wear shoes during winter, or at least thick socks

Try not to miss class more than once a week

The list was written on the inside of the cover of her sketchbook. It was brand new; a present from Jack. She had already covered it with stickers.

It was a sunny day, and her braid thumped against her back as she biked down the street. She passed by kids with backpacks and bright eyes and adults leaning against bus stops smoking. She passed telephone poles with posters stapled to them advertising garage sales and missing kids. She passed by dogs waiting for their owners outside grocery stores and crows fighting over a spilled packet of fries.

When she pulled into school and parked her bike she was greeted with a cheerful “Hey Punzie!” as an arm wrapped around her shoulders. She smiled and kissed Jack on the cheek.

“Hey babe.” Her gaze swept down to his feet and she gasped. “Are you wearing shoes?!”

Jack sighed and shuffled his feet, which were inside a pair of bright yellow converse shoes.

“North bought them and made me put them on. Apparently I get a prize if I can go a month wearing them.”

Judging by his grimace, it was unlikely that he would be getting that prize.

Jack was a beautiful boy with snow-white hair and an aversion to footwear. People didn’t like him. Anyone who looked at him got the sense that there was something...off about what they were seeing. He looked normal, but he looked the furthest thing from it. His skin was too pale, his hands were too cold, and there was something about his eyes.

Rapunzel quite frankly loved the heck out of him, bizarreness and all.

The fifteen minutes before the bell rang were good. They held hands as they walked to their lockers and sat in the library where no one could bother them. But after the bell rang, they had to separate for class.

“See you at lunch,” Jack said.

“Yeah.”

Rapunzel sat down in her Math class. At first, it was okay. People were too preoccupied with catching up with their friends, asking about summer activities and plans for the weekend. Rapunzel was able to focus her attention on the lesson and questions the teacher gave them.

But as the day wore on, the staring started. The whispered comments. The hands shoving her in the hallway and feet trying to trip her. She ducked her head and grit her teeth as the clock ticked closer to noon.

By lunch, Jack was missing his shoes.

“You couldn’t even last the day?” Rapunzel asked.

“No! They’re awful, okay?! I threw them onto some power lines.”

“What about your socks?”

“They’re in my locker.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Y’know, part of pretending to be human includes pretending to be normal.”

“Too boring. Unrealistic. Probably thought up by pretentious old men.”

“Did you go to both your classes?”

“Yeah, yeah. I did.”

“Good.”

Jack was a smart guy, probably the smartest in the school. But that just meant he got so bored. Everything was too slow for him, too dull, not enough fun. Everything had to be fun for him. But they were in high school, so that wasn’t something they were going to find lots of. So, he acted out a lot and got detention. He skipped class when he got bored. North and Rapunzel were trying to keep him in class and out of trouble. Of course, Rapunzel had to try to do the same herself. While Jack skipped class because he was bored, Rapunzel skipped because she was too anxious to be around lots of people. She got in trouble because she read ahead or doodled on her tests and homework.

Yeah, high school sucked.

They found a quiet corner outside to sit and eat lunch. Jack’s daily supply of marshmallows was already half-gone, a sign he had started stress-eating already.

The shining light of the day for Rapunzel came after lunch: art class. The only good thing at high school, minus Jack and the library.

She could sit quietly in the corner and paint or draw and no one would bother her. She could doodle on her homework because that was the homework. The teacher didn’t scold her when she drifted off daydreaming.

Things didn’t stay so good after art class. During English she was able to spare a few minutes to draw in her new sketchbook. After a minute she could feel someone’s eyes on her. A quick look up confirmed it wasn’t the teacher. Rapunzel dropped her gaze back to her paper. She didn’t want to know which of her classmates was judging her this time.

The thing was, Rapunzel couldn’t understand her classmates, and they couldn’t understand her. She suspected this was due to being homeschooled for most of her life (boy it had been an uphill battle to get her mom to agree to a public high school). This resulted in a certain animosity, much like Jack and his being not human.

After class, three girls cornered Rapunzel in the hall and ripped up her sketchbook.

Jack found her huddled in the library, trying to tape it back together again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You just bought it for me and…”

“Don’t apologize, Punzie. For fuck’s sake, it’s those girls’ fault!” He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Do you want me to go track them down?”

“No, don’t. Please. I’ll just...ignore them. I’ll be fine.”

Jack sighed. “Like always, huh?”

Rapunzel checked out some books to cheer herself up while Jack finished taping up the sketchbook. He held her hand as they walked outside.

“Do you need me to walk with you?” he asked. They lived in opposite directions of the school, and Rapunzel’s mom didn’t let her go out after school or bring friends over.

“No, I’ll be okay. And my mom would be upset.”

Jack made a face but didn’t argue. He kissed her and promised to text her later before he took off running. She smiled and unlocked her bike. Her backpack was heavy with homework and the books she’d checked out.

Unfortunately for her, she found that there had been an accident, and part of the road was closed off. The detour to her house meant she arrived home almost half an hour later than she meant to. Her mother was waiting for her. Her hands clutched at her greying dark hair and she glared at Rapunzel as she approached. She was absolutely furious.

“Do you know how long I have been waiting?!” she shouted. “Where have you been?! You could have been dead for all I knew! How could you worry me like that?! Why can’t you think of anyone but yourself?!”

“I’m sorry, mother. There was—”

“No respect! You have no respect for me! You never listen to me!” Rapunzel shrank back as her mother continued to shout. She waved her arms and jabbed her finger at Rapunzel’s chest. She criticized ever agreeing to her going to a public school. She criticized Jack, calling him a bad influence. Eventually she dragged Rapunzel inside and slammed the door behind her. Rapunzel held her breath and watched as she took a deep breath and smoothed her hair. Finally, in a calmer voice she said “Rapunzel, I’m trying to raise you as best I can! But you have to make an effort as well!”

“I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Her mother smiled and hugged her.

“I know you won’t, dear. But, I do have to ground you for this. Just to your room, and just for tonight. So that this won’t happen again.”

Rapunzel’s heart sank; she had been looking forward to eating supper with her mom and telling her about her day. But she understood and went obediently to her room.

After her mother brought her her supper, she got a text from Jack.

north was pissed abt the shoes. rip me

saw it coming you should have saved them so you could wear them home

punz youre a fuckin genius goddamit

how’s your punishment

no wifi i wasnt done wachng that vine complaton

i’m grounded because I got home late.

o shit what hapend

road was closed mom was really angry i didn’t mean to make her worried i didn’t know it would take me that long

it wasnt even your fault tho!!!

i should have called her to let her know

did you tell her wat happened

i didn’t get a chance

punzie

don’t start she’s just worried about me

k fine u okay

yeah

not lonely?

reallly???

okay, a bit and i’m still upset about earlier i couldn’t even make it through the first day without one of them starting something

yeah i almost lost some fngers to a slamed locker door

what!! are you okay!!

yeah im fine

promise

i promise

jack

yeah?

this is unfair why is life this way

let’s drop out

:/ you’re no fun

#jackunzelmonth18 #jackunzel #rotbtd #rise of the brave tangled dragon #jack frost #rapunzel corona #rotg #tangled #modern au #moodboard

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kpopsinning · 7 years

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Prodigy - Teacher AU

“Could you just close the door and come over here? You have no reason to rush out, I didn’t post your grade. I want to discuss it in person.”

You swallowed hard at his words but did as you were told, closing the classroom door and going over to his desk. He was looking through the stack of students’ sketchbooks on his desk, presumably for your own. He pulled one of of the stack and laid it in the middle of his desk, and you froze.

You could feel all color draining from your face once you noticed which sketchbook he had pulled out of the pile. There was a Hello Kitty sticker stuck to the top right corner of it, indicating it was your sketchbook.

Your personal sketchbook.

word count: 10.1k

genre: fluff & smut (a lot of soft/domestic stuff, concludes w smut)

Prodigy. You hated the word.

Taking a Drawing II Honors course was a big leap for you coming from only taking an Intro To Drawing course the year previous, but your instructor constantly called you his ‘prodigy’ and insisted you take the chance. He’d always go around showing off your work to the other art teachers in the school and they all agreed with him that your work was beyond exceptional and you needed more of a challenge.

‘Are you sure this is her first drawing course?' 'Those lines are so clean!' 'Not even my advanced students sketch that neatly!’ ‘She’s a prodigy!’

Prodigy.

Wasn’t that word usually used for younger children than you? You couldn’t wrap your head around why they all threw the word around so casually.

When class registrations began for the following semester your instructor immediately put in a recommendation for you, and along with a few samples from your portfolio you made it into the advanced class.

You clutched your sketchbook closer to your chest as you entered the large main hall of the art exhibit your class was visiting. You felt so intimidated. It was only your fourth week of classes and you already felt like everyone around you had superior skills, your fellow classmates all huddling up in groups with their sketchpads and whispering over the assignment possibilities. The local art museum had just opened up an exhibit showcasing classic Greek and Roman sculptures, and everyone was already captivated by the large stone figures resting on the white marble floors surrounding them. You felt like an outsider, keeping your eyes low and toeing at the ground.

“Alright class, listen up. It’s assignment time.” You professor bellowed, stepping up onto a bench in the corner of the room. Voices began hushing one another as everyone scuttled toward the corner, eager to hear what would decide the first major grade of the semester. Professor Jeon beamed at the sight of so many keen students ready to get to work, and you couldn’t help but melt a little at his smile. His eyes always scrunched up in the cutest way when he gave a real, genuine smile, and he had slightly buck teeth that noticeably poked out, giving him an even more adorable, bunny-like appearance. One of his most prominent features however, that stood out from the rest of his youthful look, was his jawline. His jawline was truly that of a man’s and there was no denying that. It was sharp and angular, as if it had been cut from one of the pieces of marble the other sculptures in the room had been carved from. Aside from that he had the most innocent baby face you’d ever seen, making him seem so young sometimes you wondered how he was old enough to be a professor. If anyone were a prodigy here, it would have to be him. You assumed he went straight into teaching the moment he graduated, a rarity when it came to art instruction. An art professor his age was virtually unheard of, but he proved with his lessons each and every day that he had the skill set and no one could doubt it.

“So,” his deep voice shook you from your thoughts, clapping his hands together and rubbing his palms. “As you all know by now, this course has been designed to focus on compositional relationships as well as the human figure.” A few students nodded along with his words, but you were more entertained by the movement of his lips than anything.

“Just by taking one look at the pieces surrounding you, you can see how much emphasis both Greek and Roman cultures placed on the human form. My goal here is to get all of you to acquire the same eye for detail those sculptors had, and for you to take to your work as they would have approached their blank marble canvases. I would like you each to pick one statue to focus on, and then sketch it on full pages from three unique angles. I’m going to be looking for correct anatomical structures and proportions while I grade, so keep things consistent through each of the three.” As he explained the assignment several students jotted down notes in their sketchbooks, and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth.

The only body in this room you wanted to focus on was Professor Jeon’s.

Compared to his almost childlike facial features, his body was a stark contrast. It was clear he worked out; his shoulders were broad and his back muscles were so defined sometimes you could see them flex under his thin dress shirts. Once in awhile he’d wear tight short sleeved polos that clung to his biceps, and today was one of those days. With every movement of his arms as he spoke the muscles rippled and you were completely fascinated, wishing you could base your anatomical assignment on his features and his features only.

And his legs, you didn’t even want to begin to think about his legs. No matter what type of pants he wore, whether khakis, dress pants, or even sometimes jeans on casual Fridays, his thick thigh muscles always looked like they were straining to burst through the material. You found yourself fantasizing about what his bare legs must look like more often than you’d like to admit. It felt like a tease every time you glanced at his thighs, just knowing his well pronounced muscles were just a few layers of fabric away from your hungry eyes.

Professor Jeon clapped his hands again, and you felt your cheeks go pink as you were snapped from your thoughts.

“Make sure to put the sculpture’s title and the date at the top of each page. The museum has given you all permission to snap a few pictures in case you don’t have time to finish before the bus takes us home. I expect all three sketches to be completed before class Wednesday. Now get to work,” he grinned, hopping down from the bench once he concluded his little speech.

Your fellow classmates all immediately began scurrying around the room, each on the hunt for their own statue to claim and begin drawing. You were in no such rush, studying your classmates and the tizzy they were all in more than the sculptures around you. You wandered with slow, heavy footsteps, eyes flicking over a sculpture once in awhile just to give the illusion you cared about which one you picked.

A few minutes later you found yourself in the very corner of the exhibit, standing before a sculpture no one else seemed to be giving a second glance.

Contrary to most of the lighter toned marble statues in the vicinity, this one was a dark gray stone, looking older and like it was even beginning to crumble in some portions. The carved figure was hunched over, almost as if it was cowering in the corner out of fear. The chiseled jawline, flattened chest, and smaller nipples indicated to you the figure was male. One hand was splayed over his face, covering whatever forlorn expression you could only assume he was hiding. His muscles were well defined but he also looked tense, and the way his entire body caved into himself made his whole being appear defeated. As you continued to examine the details of the work, your eyes were drawn to the rough sores gouged into his back: two of them evenly spaced lateral to his spine, level with his shoulder blades. That’s when you noticed the pair of wings being clutched into the figure’s chest, one arm wrapping around them with such force it looked like his protruding stone veins were about to burst open. Your eyes drifted down to the small gold plate at the base of the statue.

‘Fallen’.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?”

You almost dropped your sketchpad at the sudden voice, not even hearing Professor Jeon come up beside you. You quickly tried to calm yourself down and play off like you weren’t flustered by his presence.

“Y-yes um,” you cleared your throat, nodding a few times. “It’s really stunning. Different than everything else here.” Professor Jeon smiled, but his eyes never left the carved piece of stone before you two.

“It’s by one of my favorite sculptors. His story is, his wings were ripped from his body and he was cast down from the heavens for trying to help an unworthy human. Stuck in our earthly realm he was never able to blend in, a creature so beautiful he couldn’t find his place in the mortal world…” he trailed off, becoming lost in the beauty of the work he was admiring. You felt your cheeks heat up at the thought that popped into your head, dangerously close to letting it slip from between your lips.

‘You must know how it feels, Professor.’

Professor Jeon turned to face you and you quickly looked away, realizing you had been staring at him instead of the artwork.

In your eyes however, he was the more beautiful of the two fallen angels.

“So is this going to be your choice piece to sketch, Y/N?” he asked, his heartwarming smile causing butterflies to fill your stomach. You shook your head with a small shrug.

“While I do find this one really admirable, especially the way he’s carved so well you can literally see the tenseness in his entire body, I’m afraid choosing a figure so bent over wouldn’t give me as much of an opportunity to focus on frontal body features as I’d like,” your words were rushed and slightly mumbled, causing Professor Jeon to smile even more and the corners of his eyes to wrinkle.

“That’s very respectable of you Y/N,” he nodded. “I’m glad to see you’re challenging yourself already in this course.” He reached his hand out and rubbed your upper arm, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m glad Professor Roberts convinced you to take my class.”

When he turned to walk away and let go of your arm, and electric rush shot through your entire body sourcing from where he had just been just touching you. You could tell your face was beet red, looking down at your feet and letting your hair fall into your face in a weak attempt to hide the deep blush. You knew you needed to get yourself together and actually pick the piece you’d be drawing for your assignment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move away from the fallen angel. You quickly glanced around to see if Professor Jeon was anywhere nearby before pulling out your phone and snapping a few shots of the statue from several different angles.

It might not have been the one you wanted to focus on for your assignment, but you would certainly find some personal time to play with the idea that had been forming in your head since you first laid eyes on the beautiful creature.

You felt drained in every sense of the word once you could finally retreat to your dorm for the night. There was so much traffic driving back from the museum that the bus returned two hours later than scheduled, leaving most of Professor Jeon’s students in a panicked tizzy fearing they wouldn’t be able to get a jump start on the assignment. With only two full days to complete it, most of them knew they’d need to dedicate several hours each day to their drawings in order to earn a sufficient grade.

You on the other hand were less worried about the graded assignment, but becoming growingly antsy about the pictures of the fallen angel you captured on your phone.

Despite your tiredness you ignored the way your bed was calling your name, making a beeline for your desk instead. You had no classes scheduled the next day and had no shame in staying up all night to just sleep in the next morning.

Taking a seat at the cramped, dorm-style desk, you reached into your backpack and pulled out your two sketchbooks: one for Professor Jeon’s class, and one for yourself. You set down the one you needed and flipped to a blank page, smoothing it out and letting your fingertips dance over the pencils you had neatly tucked away in a small metal jar on your desk. You chose a fine-tipped, lead, mechanical one— your favorite to use personally even if you couldn’t use it on official graded assignments. You reached into your back pocket to get your phone, unlocking it and opening to the images of the angel you had taken earlier that day.

Even after spending so much time admiring the work in person, you were still taken back by the sight of it. Your tiny phone display would never do it enough justice, which is exactly why you planned on immortalizing it with pencil and paper.

You of course, with your imagination that never failed to run wild, had a slightly twisted idea to go along with your vision. The moment you laid eyes on the statue, Professor Jeon was all you could think about.

“A creature so beautiful he couldn’t find his place in the mortal world.”

His words had been ringing through your head since he spoke them. In your eyes Professor Jeon held that kind of beauty, beauty so intense he didn’t seem real sometimes.

Hours had passed without you even noticing, so invested in your sketching you didn’t even remember you were tired in the first place.

Completing the body portion was easy, there wasn’t much you wanted to change. From what you could tell Professor Jeon would be considered more than in shape, and the muscle definition already in the statue was close to accurate of how you had always envisioned his naked body. As for his position, you followed the picture as a guide for the most part, except for his hands and arms. You left them both down and holding onto his wings in his chest, not wanting his face to be hidden in shame. You certainly were not going to miss out on drawing his wonderful facial features.

You spent maybe a little more time than necessary on the general outline of his face, letting visions of him from class every day just come and go through your mind in waves as you pictured him. The pencil seemed to glide across the paper more than naturally as you sharpened his jawline, proud of how it came out once you finally erased some small flaws and smoothed the edges.

Drawing out his nose, eyes, and lips was almost therapeutic. You focused on those features of his so often, that even drawing them for the first time they came out looking like the results of a sketch drill you had completed hundreds of times before. Once you finished his eyes, your pencil tip circled over the paper a few times. You briefly considered adding his glasses which you adored so much. They were big and round but the frames were thin and delicate, which complimented his ‘art professor’ aesthetic perfectly. You shook your head to yourself a bit, deciding against it. Angels didn’t wear glasses, did they?

You moved onto his hair, already having predetermined how you wanted it styled. Most days he came into the classroom with his dark locks neatly combed down, almost as if each hair has been individually adjusted and placed. Every once in awhile however when he clearly had run late, he came to school with his hair soft, fluffy, natural, and sticking out every which way. It was one of the few instances you’d get to see his forehead, something you didn’t think you’d find so appealing but then found more attractive the more you saw it (and in your drawing, his forehead would most definitely be showing).

Your pencil strokes were short yet smooth as you sketched his hair, not being super careful of where it flowed or how it fell. Hair was always one of the toughest parts of any portrait, but thankfully keeping it so natural made it easier.

Once you felt the image was as close to perfection as you could manage, you let your pencil drop from your hands and pushed the palms of your hands into your eye sockets. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you finally unfocused your eyes from the paper so close to your face.

You glanced at your alarm clock on your dresser; 3:45am.

“Fuck,” you grumbled to yourself, pushing away from your desk and ripping your clothes off one article at a time. Even though you didn’t have any classes tomorrow, you couldn’t let yourself sleep the whole day. Spending so many hours on a personal drawing of your professor wasn’t exactly the most productive task you could have accomplished with so many other assignments to work on. You turned off the lights, flopped into bed, and tangled yourself in your sheets, quickly falling into a deep sleep.

You dreamed an angel visited you that night.

That Friday you nervously chewed on a hangnail as you waited for class to finally end. It felt like you had been sitting for over an eternity just knowing that the second 4:30 hit, you could sprint back to your dorm and your grade for the statue sketch assignment would be posted online. You hadn’t even opened your personal sketchbook since you handed in your last assignment, too anxious over the grade to draw anything for pleasure.

Professor Jeon finished up whatever point he was making on shadowing, having felt the need to reteach the entire lesson since he was disappointed in several people’s work for their last assignment.

“Alright, I just hope now that next time you all have a better understanding of this. Keeping light sources in mind when you begin each piece should always be a priority, and I hope I don’t see the same mistakes next time,” he sighed. As he glanced at the clock at the back of the room, it clicked to 4:29. “You guys can get out of here. Don’t forget to look online for your grades! This one will weigh heavily, we can discuss redraws next week!” he called as several students were already making their way out of the studio classroom.

You slung your bag over your shoulder and headed for the door.

“Y/N?”

You stopped short as your name was called, dodging out of the way of someone else making a beeline to leave as you turned back around.

“Could you just close the door and come over here? You have no reason to rush out, I didn’t post your grade. I want to discuss it in person.”

Your personal sketchbook.

“Oh my god Professor Jeon let me-“

“Give me a second,” he cut you off, wetting the tip of his thumb with his tongue as he flicked through the pages. You were mortified as you saw flashes of all your private drawings flip by, burying your face in your hands. You couldn’t even bear to look.

He opened up to the page he was searching for, leaving it open on his desk and leaning back in his chair. He finally looked back up at you, corners of his lips tugging into a smirk when he realized how truly embarrassed you were.

“Don’t worry, I always only look at the last drawings when you guys hand stuff in. I didn’t look through this or see anything else,” he promised, his voice soft and reassuring. You slowly moved your hands away from your face, revealing you had gone from white as a ghost to red as a tomato. Professor Jeon had to bite back a grin, really wanting to be gentle with the whole situation.

“It’s beautiful Y/N, I’m uh… honored,” he chuckled, scratching at the back of his neck. You felt tempted to cover your face again, that or leave the room and never return. You could barely even maintain eye contact even as he praised your work. “I know you said you weren’t going to choose this piece for the assignment, but I’m glad to see you did. Even with the… little twist you put on it.” At this point hiding his wide smile was impossible, his bunny teeth showing as he looked back down at your drawing.

“Professor Jeon I didn’t mean to hand that in, that’s my… that’s my private sketchbook. I must have given it to you by accident,” you admitted sheepishly, looking down at your feet. Professor Jeon furrowed his brows.

“You put this much effort into a personal drawing?” He sounded surprised. Was it really that strange? You put 110% into everything you drew, even if it was just for pleasure. “I didn’t get work this good out of half the class,” he chuckled. That made you look at him finally, and now it was your turn to look at him with a puzzled expression.

“Are you serious? This is an honors course…” you scrunched up your nose a bit, displeased at the idea that students weren’t taking Professor Jeon’s class seriously. You shook the thought out of your head. “Anyways, Professor, I have my class sketchbook right here,” you reached to your back for your backpack and started to unzip it. “I know it’s technically late now but this is all my fault and...“ you stopped when you realized he was shaking his head.

“Y/N, this sketch is marvelous. I’d be an idiot not to give you a grade for it. It’s more than deserving.”

You blushed a his compliment, still not used to people showing appreciation for your work even after all these years of drawing.

“However…” he continued. “You know… the assignment was supposed to be three sketches of one statue… I do have to be fair, so as of right now I can only give you partial credit for this.” he sighed. Your heart sank. You could do two more sketches at other angles if he wished, but with the school’s tight grading policy you’d still get points off for lateness.

“Or…”

You perked up at the word, slight hope starting to reform.

“You could come over to my apartment tomorrow to do a redo of the entire assignment.”

You knew your eyes visibly widened at that, but you couldn’t help it. Did… did Professor Jeon just invite you over to his place? Before you could even answer he was speaking again.

“Don’t get me wrong, I already told you this is absolutely gorgeous,” he insisted, motioning his hand towards the sketch. “I’m very familiar with that sculpture and you captured it perfectly, but if it’s going to be me…” he trailed off and chuckled to himself, smirk playing on his lips. “Well, then you didn’t completely nail my physique,” he shrugged. Your mouth fell open slightly to match the surprise already visible in your eyes, cheeks going pink again. He finally looked away from the drawing and up at you, and the cockiness plastered on his face was enough to send a wave of arousal through your core. He grabbed a post-it note off his desk, scribbling some information on it before sticking it inside your sketchbook. He flipped it closed and handed it back to you.

“Come by around 5, okay?”

Your heart felt like it was beating so fast it was vibrating as you walking down the wide hall of Professor Jeon’s apartment complex. You looked back down at the small sticky note in your hand and checked the number on it for the millionth time, finally walking up to the door with the matching number nailed to it. You crumpled up the note and stuffed it into your pocket, holding your sketchbook to your chest as you reached one hand out to lightly knock on the big wooden door. Within a minute it was swung open, and the sight you were greeted with was enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

Professor Jeon wore an oversized, thickly knit, olive green sweater, and dark jeans. His hair was natural and looked messy as if he had just woken up. He readjusted his big round glasses slightly as he opened the door, bunny smile shining even though he already expected it was going to be you. As he stepped aside to let you in he pushed a few stray locks of hair away from his forehead.

“Right on time Y/N, come on in.”

You stepped inside and quietly thanked him, quickly surveying your surroundings. The apartment was actually slightly bigger than you expected, studio style but still very spacious for the complex. The bedroom area in the back corner was indicated by a large queen size bed, but where you assumed was supposed to be a living area he had an art studio setup.

“Wow…” you breathed. “I wish I had my own art space like that.”

Professor Jeon smiled, walking across the room and towards the kitchen area.

“A lot of my friends think it makes the place seem over crowded, but I prefer to work here than at a public studio,” he shrugged, and you nodded along to his words. “Take your shoes off, make yourself comfortable. I have some ramen on the stove if you’re hungry.” You had thought you smelled food cooking when you entered and now your suspicions were confirmed. You tried not to grin too much at how cute you thought it that he had cooked in anticipation of your visit. You kicked your shoes off near where his were by the door and walked over to him.

“You cook, Professor?” you questioned, setting your sketchpad down on the small two-person table. He scrunched up his nose a bit as he stirred the noodles in the pot.

“Call me Jungkook please, I don’t like it when people call me Professor in my own apartment,” he chuckled, and the sound was like music to your ears. You took a seat at the table and watched him carefully, eyes wandering over his shoulders and back. The sweater he was wearing complimented him so well, but in all honesty you would have preferred to see him in something a bit more… fitted.

You two made small talk as he finished cooking, eventually placing two bowls of noodles on the table before you once he was done. You ate in silence for the most part, save for him continuing to ask you some questions about your skills or life. You asked him a few questions as well; the conversation flowed smoothly and never felt awkward despite occasional bouts of silence. Things felt weirdly right, and if the events that had lead you to this moment never occurred, you might have forgotten that he was your Professor.

Jungkook wiped his mouth with a napkin and studied you for a moment.

“This isn’t too weird, is it?” he asked quietly. He suddenly seemed nervous, which was out of character for the Jungkook you had seen every day at the front of the classroom. You furrowed your eyebrows slightly, shaking your head.

“I don’t think it is as long as you don’t think it is,” you replied honestly, causing him to smile. You couldn’t help but smile back, finding his brief moment of insecurity very cute. He sighed a little bit, visibly relieved.

“I know we’re both adults here, but this was still a pretty risky move for me to make,” he explained, biting down on his bottom lip. He stood up and took both your empty bowls to the sink, running the water for a moment. He rolled up his sleeves and your eyes were immediately drawn to the newly exposed skin of his forearms.

“The school has strict policies on this sort of thing, as you probably know,” he mumbled, his voice indicating to you he was becoming uncomfortable again. “But I never took you as the type of person who wouldn't approach this... carefully, so I figured it was worth the shot,” he turned to glance at you over his shoulder as he washed the dishes, giving you a quick wink. You giggled shyly and looked down at your lap, shaking your head a bit. You still couldn’t believe this was all real and happening.

Once he was finished cleaning the dishes he set them aside to dry, turning back around towards you and leaning against the counter.

“So… ready for this private drawing lesson?” he smirked a bit, pulling off his glasses and setting them aside on the counter. You raised an eyebrow, standing to follow him as he walked towards the art set up in the corner of the apartment.

“Oh, so this is a lesson now?” you questioned teasingly. “I thought I was just here for a redraw.” Jungkook turned back to look at you, now raising his own eyebrows.

“Seriously Y/N? Of course this is a lesson,” he motioned towards the stool set up near his easel as he spoke, showing you where to sit and prop your sketchpad. He went over by his bed directly across from you, suddenly pulling his sweater over his head in one swift motion and tossing it aside.

“Have you ever sketched a nude model?”

You were taken back, mouth hanging open slightly. You could feel words getting caught in your throat, too surprised to actually speak. Jungkook appeared to be enjoying your reaction, starting to undo his belt. He kept eye contact with you, a growing lust swirling through his eyes.

Seeing his body for the first time was more overwhelming than you expected it would be. His entire torso and abdomen was just as tanned and smooth as his face and arms which you got to admire regularly, and each and every muscle was so toned you could tell he must have had specific workout routines for each muscle group. He actually looked like one of the marble statues you had compared him to just days before— his pecs were well shaped, his abs defined, his v-line cut razor sharp and dangerously close to where your eyes now focused: the hem of his exposed Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

“Hey,” his voice snapped you out of your trance and your eyes jumped back up to his face. He wasn’t even bothering to hide his cocky smirk at this point. “Eyes up here for now, I asked you a question,” he teased, and you could feel heat rise to your cheeks.

“No,” you finally choked out, practically drooling as you watched him pull his belt off in a painfully slow manner. “W-we uh… never used human models in my Intro class,” you cleared your throat, becoming aware of how hard you were clenching your pencil in your hand when it started to cramp up. He grinned as he undid his jeans and began shimmying out of them.

“Good, I’m glad I could be the first to give you this lesson.” There was something about his words that were making you feel dizzy, head spinning with the sudden wave of desire that overcame you as you watched Jungkook take his jeans off. He sat down on the edge of his bed, noticing your eyes wouldn’t leave his crotch.

“I’m also glad to see you’re eager to get to draw some new anatomy,” he teased, and you cursed to yourself as you pulled your eyes away from his bulge. He rolled his eyes a bit, completely amused at the effect he had on you and he wasn’t even completely naked yet.

“S-so uh,” you finally spoke up, hoping you didn’t sound as nervous as you thought you did. “How are we doing this?”

Jungkook hummed and laid back in his bed, propping himself up on his elbows. He grazed his hand over his crotch absentmindedly, and you had to bite your lip at the sounds that threatened to escape your throat.

“I’ll choose my own positions-- I’ll do three,” he explained simply, and you couldn’t believe how nonchalant he was being when he knew exactly what he was putting you through. “Let me know when you’re done with one and I’ll adjust my position, and when you’re done with all three we’ll review the sketches together. Sound good?” he raised an eyebrow, and you nodded maybe a little too quickly in response. “Wonderful,” he grinned. With your final confirmation you were ready to go, he sat up and slid his boxers down his legs. After tossing them to the side he laid back again propping himself up on his elbows, making direct eye contact with you with the most smug look on his face you’d ever seen.

There was no hope in stopping your wandering eyes at that point. He moved so he was sitting against the headboard, and left one leg flat out but bent the other up to rest one of his arms on. As he adjusted himself into what he felt would be a good position for you to draw he let his half hard cock lay over his stomach, almost as if it was on display for your viewing pleasure. His cock seemed almost too perfect in length and girth, and you immediately felt the urge to just go over there and worship it with your watering mouth.

“You’ll have plenty of time to focus on that later Y/N, why don’t you start drawing the rest of my body?” his tone of voice mimicked every ounce of smugness on the rest of his face. You knew you were blushing but you tore your eyes away from his statuesque body and looked to the blank page of your sketch pad before you. It frustrated you to no end that he knew exactly the effect he had on you, and his confident approach to the whole situation just turned you on even more. You squeezed your thighs together as your arousal began to become more and more obvious. You gripped your pencil maybe a bit too tightly and circled it over the blank page a few times, not even knowing where to begin— and that was unlike you. Going into any assignment or drawing, you usually had the amount of self-assuredness Jungkook was currently displaying, and it threw you off how the tables had turned.

“Any day now.”

You could tell he was stifling a snicker, and you shot him a small scowl.

“Give me a second to plan it out,” you snapped back, and he raised an eyebrow at your feigned anger. He held his hands up in defense momentarily, shutting up and letting you do your work.

The moment your pencil tip finally made contact with the paper, any nervousness you were previously feeling completely dissipated. You eyes occasionally jumped back and forth between Jungkook and the sketch, and he was a bit surprised by how focused you had suddenly become once you began drawing. But that’s how you were when you got in your zone— nothing else mattered besides your pencil, paper, and the final product you had in mind. Jungkook found your intense concentration attractive, completely stunned by the difference in your demeanor in just a few seconds; from completely flustered and swooning over his naked body to sketching away as if he wasn’t even there. His cock twitched, and he hoped you didn’t notice.

You did.

It took less than half an hour before you were erasing unnecessary lines and smoothing out a few edges. You laid your pencil on the easel, sitting back a bit to review your work. You looked at the picture, looked at Jungkook, then back at your picture.

“Done with the first?” he grinned like a fool, completely enamored by everything about you and the way you worked. He felt honored to get to watch you in action. You shushed him, trying to make sure every detail of your sketched was true to life of the model before you.

“Yeah… I think so,” your words were drawn out slightly as you still nit picked your picture.

“Thank god, my leg was starting to cramp,” he grunted a bit, flopping onto his back and stretching his entire body out. He let out a deep sigh as he relaxed into the bed, and your intense concentration was broken by the sound, a small amused smile playing on your lips as you watched him.

When Jungkook had first undressed himself less than an hour ago, you had been looking at him with nothing but hunger and lust in your eyes. But as those feelings slowly started to regulate themselves as you focused on your piece, now you were looking at him with nothing but pure fondness.

“This next one’s only gonna be a little different, then for your last one I’ll make it more of a challenge,” he explained, grabbing the few pillows on his bed and pushing them to the side.

This time he laid his back completely flat on the bed, but still left one leg bent up more than the other. He ran his fingers through his dark locks a few times before finally settling them there, tangling them in a bit for good measure. He let his other hand rest behind his neck, finally looking over at you when he was done, giving his body a slight twist in your direction. The look he was giving you was enough to make your heart skip a beat. He looked so beyond gorgeous in that moment that the words ‘god-like’ floated through your mind, and you were thankful you were being given the opportunity to immortalize his beauty forever with your own drawing skills.

Having gotten past the initial shock you felt earlier when you first began, getting started with this sketch was much easier. You calmly lifted your sketchbook to flip to a new page, getting right to work. Once again Jungkook stayed completely quiet as you worked, simply enjoying getting to watch you invest yourself in your art. Letting his mind wander in the silence, he wondered if maybe this could become a regular thing, or if maybe next time the roles could be reversed. As he fantasized about the idea of your naked body sprawled out over his bed, all for him to appreciate and draw himself, his mind eventually went to much more sinful places.

“So is your dick getting more hard with each picture I draw just going to become a thing?” you murmured, voice a bit quiet since you were still focused on your drawing. Jungkook laughed at that, biting his lip in an attempt to keep from moving and messing up your work. He got a kick out of the brief moment of audaciousness in your offhanded comment, and if he weren’t in a situation where he needed to stay so still he would dare you to keep that attitude up and see what happens as a result.

“Less talking more drawing, yeah?” he hummed in response, noticing the slight smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

A few moments later you were finishing up the second sketch, once again giving yourself a moment to compare it with the real deal very closely before announcing you were done.

“Okay, let’s get this last one over with,” you sighed, dropping your pencil on the easel tray and stretching your arms and legs. “This stool is starting to make my butt hurt.” Jungkook chuckled and rolled his eyes a little, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He sat with his feet on the floor, legs spread slightly wider than his hips, elbows resting on his knees, fingers clasped together, and back hunched over just slightly. He tilted his head a bit as he looked at you expectantly with the amused look on his face you were growing more and more used to.

“This is it,” he announced. You groaned a little bit. This was definitely going to be the most difficult, so of course he’d saved it for last. “I better not see a drop in the quality of your work with this last one,” he teased, grinning to himself. You huffed as you turned to the next page in your sketchpad.

“Well then you better wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, because I’m not drawing it,” you retorted, only half serious. You absolutely adored his smile and would draw it a million times over if you had to, but getting it right would just take up too much time for right now. He shook his head a bit before composing himself, looking at you with a much more serious expression. He was really enjoying getting to watch you grow more and more comfortable with him, and the whole situation in general, and he couldn’t wait for you to finish so he could get you worked up all over again.

This sketch did in fact take you longer than the first two, taking almost as long as both combined. You were completely dedicated to each and every piece you drew, and this was going to be no different. You could tell Jungkook was growing more and more impatient, noticing the way he began playing with his fingers or chewing on his lip occasionally. He tried to be behaved and stopped whenever he caught himself fidgeting, but it really was getting difficult for him to sit still. His thoughts were running completely wild at that point, evident to you by the way his cock stood straight up towards his stomach. You probably could have spent another half an hour just perfecting this last sketch, but Jungkook was clearly suffering so you decided to put him out of his misery.

“Alright, that’s probably as good as this one’s gonna get,” you sighed, scratching your head with your pencil as you looked over the finished piece.

“Finally,” Jungkook groaned loud and throatily, startling you a bit with the noise. He immediately stood and stretched every muscle in his whole body, continuing to grunt and groan as he did so. You chuckled as you watching him loosen up, flipping through the three sketches you had done and reviewing them all.

“Let me see, I can’t wait any longer,” within a few long strides he was right by your side, and the new proximity shook you out of the trance of concentration that overcame you while drawing. It was as if he had no shame standing right beside you still stark naked, erection sticking straight out between you and your sketchpad still leaning on the easel.

“So do you want to actually start to analyze them now? Or is something distracting you?” He had to bite his tongue between his teeth, but nothing would suppress his cocky grin at that point. You blushed and looked away once you realized you had been staring, but obviously that was what he was going for. He was practically shoving it in your face at that point.

“What’s the matter? No sassy comebacks this time?” he nudged on, amusing himself by flustering you. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, keeping your eyes low to the ground. Drawing was the only thing you were ever able to feel confident about, and now that you were done for the time being all the confidence you had just moments ago completely washed down the drain. A warm hand scooped under your chin, forcing you to look up at him and make eye contact.

“We could review them later… I might have a better idea,” he drawled his words out as he pulled you up and guided you to stand in front of him, bringing you in close so your lips were ghosting just above each others’. Your eyes fell shut as he finally pressed his lips against your own, and you both audibly sighed in relief as the thick sexual tension in the room started to dissipate.

“Fuck,” he groaned quietly into the kiss, reaching his hands behind you to squeeze your ass and draw your bodies impossibly closer. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment you stepped foot in my room the first day of classes.” His breath felt warm as it washed over your face when he spoke and he rested his forehead against your own, just taking a moment to look into your eyes.

“I could say the exact same thing,” you admitted reluctantly, cheeks going a rosy shade of pink. He just smiled, that perfect bunny smile shining through that you could never stop thinking about.

That attraction between you two was very clearly being felt on multiple levels, and you so desperately wanted to make him feel good. You had been fantasizing about him for longer than you could ever admit, and felt that he deserved all the pleasure in the world.

He leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss, this one more feverish and open mouthed. He kneaded your ass with his muscular hands and pushed your hips into his crotch, groaning at the friction. A hand reached up under the hem of your shirt, massaging one of your breasts and earning a moan from you. The passionate kiss grew more and more heated, and he broke it after a minute to pull your shirt over your head. His hand reached back to undo the clasp of your bra nimbly, and once you let it fall to the ground his pupils seemed to blow out just by the sight of your naked chest. You suddenly felt exposed, but made no effort to cover yourself up.

“I’m never going to forget this sight,” he mused, causing your flushed cheeks to redden. “I hope next time it’s my turn to draw you,” he added with a wink, causing you to look down and giggle. He cupped your jaw with his hand, running his thumb in circles over the smooth skin as he looked deeply into your eyes. He kissed you once, twice, three more times, still unable to believe this was actually happening. Little did you know, he felt the same way towards you as you did him. Just getting to finally take in all of your beauty in that moment, from your delicate facial features to every curve of your soon to be completely naked body… you looked like a goddess to him.

He used one leg stuck in between your own to guide you to the bed, following you down when you fell back onto it so he could kiss you some more. As your bare chests pressed together you could feel the heat radiating from his body. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of kissing your lips. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging them down as you shimmied out of them. Once your last article of clothing was removed, he sat back on his heels to look over you.

Jungkook wanted this moment to last forever: you splayed out over his messy sheets, hair framing your face and falling onto the pillows in luscious waves, your chest falling and rising as your breathing picked up from being analyzed so closely… your arms flew over your face to hide the blush threatening to creep back up.

“No no no, please,” he insisted, moving your arms to pin them above your head. You knew your cheeks were bright red and you bit your lip nervously. Once your arms were out of the way he sat back again, moving away even more to hold his hands up and make a frame with his fingers. He closed one eye as he focused on you, framing the shot he wanted to remember forever perfectly.

“You belong in a museum,” he murmured, still unable to take his eyes off of you. You giggled and sat up, batting his hands down and pulling him in for another kiss.

“Stop ogling and please let me do something for you,” you mumbled against his lips, loving the way you could feel him chuckle into your slightly open mouth. You tried to pull him down and flip positions so you’d be on top, but he overpowered you and wouldn’t have any of that.

“You’re kidding, right?” he practically snorted, and you gaped at him.

“Jungkook I have literally wanted to-”

He cut you off with a kiss, knowing it would be the easiest way to shut you up.

“You just spent over two straight hours drawing. Do you really think I’m going to let you make this about anything other than you feeling good?” There was a slight teasing to his tone but you could tell he was being 100% serious. You rolled your eyes a little, reaching down to wrap your slender fingers around his thick cock. He hissed a bit at the unexpected contact, biting down on your bottom lip.

“You’re gonna stop me from doing�� this?” You pouted and drew your words out, slowly pumping his cock as you spoke. He groaned a little but quickly came to his senses, snatching your wrist away from his cock, grabbing your other hand as well, and pressing your arms over your head.

“If this is how you wanna do this,” he raised an eyebrow, pulling back to look over your face. “I can play like that too.” Shivers ran through your entire body from the way he spoke, voice lowering slightly.

“Hands stay above your head. You don’t move, or touch yourself. Clear?” he instructed, scooting back to settle in between your thighs. He grabbed your thighs to throw your knees over his shoulders, finally coming face to face with your beautiful, already dripping entrance. He couldn’t help but sigh as he took in its beauty. His breath felt cool as it blew over your folds, causing you to squirm. If he weren’t already in between your legs you’d have to squeeze your thighs together form how turned on your were becoming by his more dominant words, a side of him you didn’t expect to see but was loving more and more by the minute. If not for the circumstances he probably would have also told you not to make a sound, but right now he wanted nothing more than to hear you moan his name.

He brought a finger up to circle your entrance, and you had to claw at the pillow under your head to not get too needy too quickly. He gently wrapped his lips around your clit, dipping a finger inside you. He kept eye contact, desperate to watch you fall apart beneath him.

You leaned your head back and moaned quietly, thrusting your hips up into his face. He was going too slow, and you needed more. You were way too pent up from the weeks you had been spending dreaming about this happening. The hand not teasing your slit reached up to pin down your hip, fingertips digging into the skin.

“What did I say, baby?” he hummed, looking up at you and licking his lips. Just watching him alone could probably get you off faster than any porn you’d ever watched, and your eyes fell shut again as his mouth returned to pleasuring you.

He slid his finger in deeper, curling it up into your g-spot.

“Fuck right there Jungkook,” you moaned loudly, able to feel him smiling into you. Actually hearing you moan his name sounded even better than he could have ever imagined it would. He licked long stripes around his finger a few times before adding a second, going back to sucking on your clit as he pumped the digits in and out slowly. The moans falling from your lips became more frequent, and he knew he was getting you closer by the way your walls started clenching around him. He sped up the pace of both his fingers and tongue, looking up to watch your back arch, head fly back, and knuckles turn white from gripping the pillow so hard. It took every ounce of restraint in you to not just reach down and tug on his beautiful chocolate hair.

“J-Jungkook yes I-I’m so-”

He noticed your stomach muscles tighten, immediately pulling back and depriving you of all contact. He grinned, amused by how loud you gasped when all pleasure subsided.

“Jeon Jungkook I was so close what kind of games are you-!”

He leaned up and smashed his lips against your own, thinking in the back of his head that this was certainly going to be his new favorite way to shut you up when you were being bratty. He kept your legs over his shoulders, running his hands up and down your thighs as he passionately kissed you.

“I want you to come all over my cock,” he hummed against your lips, smirking slightly. As much as you were disappointed he ruined your climax so close to the edge, how could you be mad with his lips moving so beautifully in sync with your own? He tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth to elicit a small moan, taking the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. You let him do as he pleased, tangling your tongues together as the kiss became more sloppy.

You could feel his thick, hot cock pressing into you just next to where you needed friction the most, and you thrust your hips into him hoping he’d get the idea. He chuckled into your mouth, noticing your eagerness.

“Please Jungkook,” you whined, giving up on trying to not sound needy. You were needy, and needed his cock inside of you immediately.

“Alright princess, anything for you.” He looked down in between your sweaty bodies and grabbed his cock, pumping himself a few times before teasing your entrance with his tip. You moaned and threaded your fingers into his hair, tugging lightly.

“Jungkooook,” you begged, bucking your hips up into him. He shushed you, pressing his lips into your own. He teased your slit for just another moment before slowly sliding inside of you, eating up every moan that escaped your lips.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” he groaned, stilling his movements once his hips were flush with your thighs. You had to move your hands from his hair to his shoulders, digging your nails into his soft skin.

“Holy… holy shit I’ve never felt this… this full,” you could barely get the words out, dizzied by just how good it felt to finally have his cock inside of you. He pulled out torturously slow, and only half way before pushing back inside all the way. You cupped the back of his neck with your hands to bring him closer, peppering his chiseled jawline with wet, open mouthed kisses. He kept the slow pace for a while, loving how tight you felt with the help of the angle he held your legs at. He just wanted to enjoy it all before he really got into it-- your bodies moving against each other and exchanging heat, the sounds you made with each shallow thrust, the feeling of your warm lips on his neck and jaw.

He suddenly pulled out further, almost all the way, before rocking back into you with such force the entire bed shifted. You cried out in pleasure, biting down on his neck and earning a moan. He moved to kiss you deeply again before leaning back. He held both of your hands above your head, lacing your fingers together with his own. The action was small but you noticed how intimate it really was, your eyes locking with one another. You both were still and quiet for a moment, taking everything in.

“Ready?” He broke the silence, pecking your lips one last time. You licked your lips, thrusting your hips a bit to meet his own.

“Jungkook I’ve been ready since I walked into this apartment,” you teased, making him give you a small eye roll but still smiling at you fondly nonetheless. He didn’t need to say anything else, he just leaned back and got to work.

He pulled his hips back and slammed into you so suddenly and so hard you practically choked on a moan, not entirely expecting the action. He repeated it over and over again, relentlessly pounding into you. The angle from being almost folded in half under him made him hit your g-spot just right every time, and you had to throw your head back as you cried out his name in pleasure.

“Fuck you’re so amazing Y/N, you take my cock so well,” he grunted, not letting up with his thrusts for a second. His speed and precision behind each thrust made your head spin, and after full minutes of the pace which felt like hours you wondered how he had the endurance to go so long.

You felt a familiar heat building in your stomach, and you moaned loudly as you clenched your walls around him.

“Jungkook I’m… please I’m so close,” your words barely made it out, so breathless from moaning his name. Your legs started to shake and feel like jelly, and you knew your climax would hit you hard.

“Please baby, please come all over my cock,” he groaned, shifting his hips slightly to adjust his angle. You almost screamed when he did so, not thinking it was possible to feel any better than it had before.

“Yes! Yes fuck Jungkook right there!” You cried out his name with a waterfall of moans as you finally came, back arching up off the bed as your release exploded through your entire body. He kept up his pace through your orgasm, only slowing down once your walls stopped clenching around him. He pulled out suddenly, jerking himself off as he was dangerously close to his own climax as well.

“Y/N where can I-”

Before he could even ask, you up were pushing him back, kneeling down to wrap your lips around the head of his cock. You had been wanting to taste him for weeks now, and he felt just as nice in your mouth as he did buried inside you. The sound he made when you did so was enough to send a rush of wetness down to your core, even with all the juices already leaking down your thighs from coming so hard. You took in as much of his length as you could handle, immediately feeling the hot spurts shoot into your mouth and down the back of your throat. You sucked him completely dry, swallowing every last drop and licking him clean once you were done.

You sat back on your legs, chest heaving quickly as you still tried to catch your breath. You could feel your legs still shaking, not having come that hard in your entire life.

Jungkook was still leaning back, a bit in shock you had been so eager to let him finish in your mouth. If he thought you looked perfect before, he realized just how wrong he really was. Seeing you look so completely fucked out, still trying to catch your breath, face flushed, hair damp with sweat… He couldn’t resist sitting up, cupping your face with both hands and pulling you in for a kiss.

“What on earth did I do to just deserve that,” he breathed, astonished the whole situation was even real. You smiled, needing to kiss him again. You didn’t think after this you’d ever stop craving the taste of his lips.

Jungkook pulled away only to lay back on the bed, pulling you down with him and tucking you into his broad chest. You realized how easily you felt at home with his warm body surrounding you, never wanting to leave. You breathed in his scent deeply, wondering if it was the great sex or his intoxicating aroma that was making you feel so dizzy.

“You really are a creature too beautiful for our mortal world,” you mumbled into his chest, pressing a few delicate kisses onto the skin. You could feel his chest reverberate deeply with a chuckle.

“An angel is nothing compared to a goddess.”

#jungkook smut #bts smut #bangtan smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook #teacher au #by kristen

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artseducation2024 · 3 years

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“Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.” ― Edgar Degas

by Kamilla Razhabova

Before I joined this class, I had read about previous students’ experiences with this class and their recommendations like most students do nowadays. At that moment, I became curious and interested in the class that every single student, who had taken it, loved. I am a Digital Design major, so for me, this class was not mandatory, yet now I wish it would have been because the information I learned and connections I made are priceless. I learned a lot about myself, challenges an art educator faces, how to use art as the powerful tool to change society for the better and the importance of feeling safe and comfortable in one’s environment. From day one, we engaged in different activities, each of which was beneficial and transformative, helping me learn to work in a fast paced environment, finding a common ground with my classmates and combining ideas to convey specific messages through visuals.

Every single activity, whether it was a warm up exercise or a longer activity in a group, was necessary and intentional, focusing on different learning styles (visual, auditory, kinesthetic or reading/writing) to accommodate such a diverse group of students. This is something I realized after I created my own lesson plan, which allowed me to put myself in the shoes of those who taught me complicated concepts through simplified and engaging activities. I learned to keep an open mind and question my own judgmental comments on classes I found unpleasant and useless at times. Most importantly, I realized and reassured myself in the accuracy of my own statement that people, including myself, are quick to judge something they have never tried before, whether it is creating a lesson plan or creating art in general. It is no surprise that to this day, some people do not take art seriously and do not understand the importance of it in the development of a person. Yet, art is undoubtedly an integral part of one’s growth as it allows one to express themselves creatively, reach out to a larger audience and communicate their values, beliefs, and feelings. Sharing any of these is what we do as humans, and how we contribute to society and change it accordingly.

Another favorite activity from the class is final art intervention, for which I did an extensive research on my subject (The news and propaganda), had conversations with people I know and complete strangers, therefore sparking discussions on the subject matter and thinking about how to transform people’s personal experiences into gifs/stickers, which would be shared and used by many people. I aimed at simplifying the activity as much as I possibly could for the audience while also recognizing the validity of stories I received. The type of approach I took reminded me of Tatyana Fazlalizadeh’s methods, who is an artist addressing street harassment through mural art. She would have conversations with people, and create their portraits with a phrase she associated with them or took directly from her discussions. In a similar way, I got inspired by opinions and personal stories I received both from my acquaintances and complete strangers. As a final step, I shared these gifs on social media for everyone to use, including people I interacted with, and even filled out an application for these stickers to be available on other social platforms like Instagram. I would have taken this class hundred times if it was possible, and each time I would certainly learn something new.

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thepanicoffice · 5 years

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The Life & Exhaustive Works of Richard O. Jones

[...]

As promised/threatened, in order to mark THIRTY (30) vainglorious years of the life of Richard Owen Jones, I am providing a preview of the biography that I have written in my own blood (figuratively) and bile (literally). It is due to be published shortly with the University of Tungsten Press, and with Limpet, Fecund & Sproles in North America as part of their ‘Lives of the Utterly Vacuous’ series. As this whole week is dedicated to his manifest failings and sparse achievements, this represents only the first of two installments. Consider that your first and final warning.

The Exhaustive Life And Works of Richard Owen Jones: A Compilation of Calumny A Testament of Tyranny A Litany of Larceny A Chronicle of Crimes Most Odious

____________________________

Author’s note:

I am unfortunate enough to have, at various times in my beleaguered life, held the acquaintance of Rich Jones, noted raconteur, wit, and five-time winner of the WBBO welterweight boxing championship. His acquaintance has also held me. Forcefully.

As a consequence, much of the material contained in this biography is culled from personal reminiscences, decaying memories, and the vivid fantasies that dance among them in my syphilis-riddled mind. Syphilis, I would hasten to add, that Jones himself gave me ‘as a joke’ for my 22nd birthday. He said that for my 23rd he would cure me. We laughed. He still has not made good that promise.

As such, the more lucid passages in this book may be interspersed with fevered ramblings and paranoid delusions. But I’ve never been one for self-editing (it seems like writing twice what you’ve only been paid to do once) so I’ve not bothered to look back through it to weed out the madder stuff.

References to Jones’ numerous works, his poems, plays, articles, photographs, and correspondence, have all been harvested from the Richard Jones Archive, held at the University of Tungsten.[1]

This scholarly work is intended, above all, to serve as a warning to posterity that to turn a blind eye to a tyrant is to leave your back exposed. And then the knife plunges in.

Take heed, O complacent world!

R.M. May 2019 ---------

[1] The contents of the archive were donated by myself, made up of the scraps I had managed to steal on previous visits to Jones’ house. The archive collection also contains a fine selection of nose rings, nail clippings and one used pair of boxers. Rumour has it that this latter item will soon be auctioned and the proceeds used to pay for a new Geography faculty building.

_________________________________________________

Introduction

Where, I ask, can one begin to describe a life such as that of Richard Owen Jones? How do we delineate something as prosaic and limited as the ‘beginning’ and ‘end’ of a life?

How does one describe the life cycle of a star? Does it begin with the collection of carbon that gathers around a mote of dust as it waxes across the face of the infinite void? Or does it begin with its collapse, its supernova, as it scatters the hot, bright matter with which it succours a universe yet to come?

The answer is obvious: we’ll start with his birth. The star talk was a rhetorical red herring. Let us begin.

_________________________________________________

Chapter I: The Birth of a Titan

The weather report contained in the Evening Standard for X May 1989 noted with mild horror that the River Thames had turned to a tide of roiling blood, surging as through a dilated artery, and that its banks were choked with the bodies of the dead. An inauspicious, if not entirely coincidental, sign that the man who would come to be known – by me, at least[1] – as the Black Messiah had arrived to Earth.

Richard Owen Jones was delivered of a jackal, on a comfortable private healthcare plan, at an hour in which God had averted his gaze: three thirty-seven AM. This much can be certainly ascertained by the fact that the clocks in the hospital (West Festering DGH, near Bermondsey) had stopped, presumably in their unwillingness to acknowledge any subsequent seconds in which the Beast still breathed.

His father, Tony Jones, declared in a letter to an associate that he remembered being “wholly unnerved” by the appearance of his singular progeny but acknowledged that he soon overcame his “overwhelming desire to dispatch the creature with a rock hammer”. Their relationship went from strength to strength, with Tony choosing to secrete the infant in his beard, like a sort of coarse, bristly papoose. This, in many ways, is likely to have been the crucial psychosexual event that caused Jones’ lifelong adoration and erotic longing for facial hair. If there is a moment of space-time around which all future achievements (including the Brighton ‘Beard of the Year’ award 2011) were pinioned, it would be this one.

I have done some cursory research to provide some colour and context for the first year of Jones’ life. Geopolitically, the world was a crucible of change. Khomeini had declared fatwah upon Salman Rushdie; tanks struggled to find the reverse gear in Tiananmen Square; the Berlin Wall was fitted with several viewing holes; the Notre Dame Fightin’ Irish beat the West Virginia Mountaineers for the college football championship. These were dark days. An appropriately stark and eerily lit stage on which our anti-hero could take his first tentative steps, and deliver unto the world his first squalling monologue.

_________________________________________________ Chapter II: The Blighted Childhood

This is, first and foremost, intended as an artistic biography; one which seeks to analyse (and, where possible, brutally criticise) Jones’ creative output. So here were must review his ‘juvenilia’, such as it is. After haunting the corridors of his former primary school (not like a paedophile – more like a ghost) and forcing the door of a barely locked store cupboard, I have located some of his archival papers. These we might describe as his earliest ‘works’.

To begin with, we find a story written in year 3, which, with hindsight, provides a chilling commentary on his mental state and a grim foreboding of his life yet to come. The story is entitled “Ode to Summers Green” and is written in a childish scrawl, like the death-flailings of a drunken spider, on scraps of yellow sugar paper. Despite its pastoral title, the work is remarkably dark, seeming at times to be an inversion of the classic tale of Faust. In it, the principle character, Benwort Kleinson (clearly a feebly veiled figuration of the author himself), seeks to trick various classmates out of their possessions, culminating in a set-piece in which he tricks the naïve James Garner to part with his immortal soul. The piece is fairly rudimentary and simplistic, with casual allusions to only one or two key pieces of Continental philosophy. It is therefore unsurprising that his teacher, Miss Fallopia, gave the piece a ‘Well done!’ and smiley-face sticker, rather than the 2:1 he would have hoped for as a bare minimum.

But what of the boy beyond these infantile scribblings? Reports from those who knew him, including the parents of his school chums, described him as “possessing a penetrating gaze, that appeared to touch upon the very tissues of the soul” and “a bit weird”. It can scarcely be a shock, then, to discover that he transferred schools a total of seventeen times in his young life, leaving behind him a trail of mysterious disappearances and swelling psychiatric reports. _________________________________________________

Chapter III: Adolescence

Puberty hit Jones with much the same force that a cannonball might hit, say, a hummingbird (i.e. with devastating force). One moment he was minding his own business, constructing a thesis on the Greek scholar Rectilineus, the next he became a seething mass of lustful membranes, engorging and subsiding at random intervals. One can scarcely imagine the terror that this struck into the ill-educated, superstitious, and slightly backward inhabitants of Stoke-on-Trent.

It was at this time that he began his love-affair with the theatre. He called her Gertrude. He was banned from visiting after he was found behind the stage curtain making love to a rostra block. Despite the injunction placed upon him by the courts, he knew that his place was on the stage. He joined a group of travelling players, putting on performances of Shakespeare, Marlowe, Jonson and some of Jones’ self-penned pieces. The annotated playscript of one such work – ‘The Passage of Love’, a grotesque and innuendo-laden piece, designed purely to infuriate censors – still survives. From the jottings which adorn the margins like some aggressive yeast infection, it becomes clear that Jones gradually fired all the other actors, one by one, until the play became a single-hander. Given that that the script calls for twenty-three separate speaking roles, we can only imagine that the performance was a unique spectacle. The Pembrokeshire Gazette has a two-star review, describing it as “exhausting and frenetic” and “a herculean feat that was as unrewarding as it was mentally taxing” before kindly requesting that Jones “never darken the boards again”. Jones took this review to heart and burned down the office of the Pembrokeshire Gazette. Then he gave up acting. Then he burned down the home of the Editor, Deputy Editor, Arts Editor, and Theatre Correspondent of the Pembrokeshire Gazette. The Pembrokeshire Herald dubbed it ‘The Night of the Thousand Fires’.

_________________________________________________ Chapter IV: The University Years

After turning his back on the theatre for the next ten years, Jones turned his hand to poetry; a skill he would come to hone in the brutal killing fields of the University of Sussex Poetical Society. The members of this surprisingly esoteric society would meet in a circle drawn in purified salt and, in the form of a duel, recite each other into submission. Jones’ fighting record concluded in 2013 at 37 wins, 2 draws and no losses, highlighted by one evening when, propelled by a stimulating decoction of cocaine and soy sauce[2], he took on any and all comers in a remorseless poetry maelstrom. By the end of the evening, seven men lay dead.

It was at these events that I first met Jones, watching in breathless wonderment as he dispatched his rival, the upstart Argentine poet Cedric Espadrille, with an audacious piece which would come to be recognised as one of his early poetical masterpieces, Chorus of the Bowels.

O garrulous gastrointestinal tract Bespeak your bizarre Faustian pact With my humble meal of cheese and bread You confabulate and leave nought unsaid O moaning, grizzled, groaning bowels Through which long-winded warning prowls. My meals dictate its daily speech An egg, hard-boiled, extends its reach To friends, Romans and countrymen Visceral rhetoric much the better when A spicy plate’s for me prepared It utters truths no others dared. Without this fuel its words are failure - Wet suck of human penetralia - But with stew and sausage laced with sage Turns guts to greatest speaker of this age When a shard of fart is lodged in me And culminates in flatulent oratory.

Indeed, as would become a theme with his more mature works, this poem takes the form of an ode or exhortation to his increasingly unruly bowels. This remarkable poem, delivered with his trademark aggression and an unusual poise for a man so thoroughly stupefied by the Chairman’s Indulgence, caused Espadrille to take early retirement, at the age of 19, and move to a tree-worshipping commune in Dundee. Jones passed out, and awoke as a legend in the world of poetry.

During his time at the University of Sussex he also turned his hand to the study a sociology. Here he was hopelessly influenced by a sordid cabal of cultural Marxists, allowing their mild, tweedy dissidence to stir his blood with filthy socialist ideals. This political reorientation was, thankfully, short-lived and he soon returned to his usual habits of subjecting the University’s poorer students to blackmail, extortion and bullying them into indentured servitude.

-------

[1] And indeed at most.

[2] A mixture he developed himself, called ‘The Chairman’s Indulgence’ in honour of Mao’s revolution. [END OF PART ONE]

#Maslin #Editor #Richard Jones #Deputy Vice Editor #Calumny #Biography

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