When she joined a “swim-in” in St. Augustine, Florida on June 18, 1964, then 17-year-old Mamie Nell Ford had little idea that her picture would soon be seen around the world – and help spur the passage of the landmark Civil Rights Act of 1964. On that day, seven civil rights activists, including Ford, jumped into the segregated pool at the Monson Motor Lodge to protest its ‘whites-only’ policy. As journalists looked on, the motel owner’s James Brock responded by dumping acid into the pool in an effort to drive them out. Ford recalls that her immediate reaction was “I couldn’t breathe,” and a photo of her with an alarmed expression as Brock pours acid nearby appeared in newspapers around the world. When people learn about the incident today, Ford says, “I’m often asked, ‘How could you have so much courage?’ Courage for me is not ‘the absence of fear,’ but what you do in the face of fear.”
The campaign to challenge segregation in St. Augustine in 1963 and 1964, known as the St. Augustine Movement, is considered one of the bloodiest of the Civil Rights Movement. Students staging “wade-ins” to challenge segregation on the beaches were violently beaten and, after several black children were admitted into white schools due to the Supreme Court’s decision outlawing school segregation, several of the children’s homes were burnt to the ground by local segregationists. Martin Luther King, Jr. was even arrested on the steps of this same motel only a week prior to the pool “swim-in,” after being charged with trespassing when he attempted to dine at the “whites-only” Monson Restaurant.
Prior to the pool “swim-in”, Ford was already an experienced civil rights activist in her hometown of Albany, Georgia. When Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Southern Christian Leadership Conference came to Albany to recruit activists to support the movement in St. Augustine, she immediately signed up. “When they asked for volunteers to participate in the swim-in demonstration, I said, yes, because, despite segregation, I knew how to swim,” she says. While they knew it was likely they would be arrested, no one expected the owner to pour acid into the pool. “It is as fresh in my mind as the morning dew, because when the acid was poured in the pool, the water began to bubble up,” Ford recalls. Although the group was arrested shortly thereafter, their protest had the intended effect: as it made headlines worldwide, President Johnson said in a recorded phone conservation: “Our whole foreign policy will go to hell over this!” Within 24 hours, the civil rights bill that had been introduced a year before and had been stalled in the Senate won approval, leading directly to the passage of the historic Civil Rights Act of 1964.
After being released from serving jail time for the swim-in, Ford made a powerful statement urging the people of St. Augustine to keep fighting: “Don’t lose heart now because you’re the ones on whom this movement rests. People will come and go because they live somewhere else, but you live here and you make this thing happen.” She returned home and went on to join five other black girls to lead the desegregation of the formerly all-white Albany High School, where she graduated with honors in 1965. Ford, who later changed her name to Mimi Jones, then went to college in Boston where she spent her career working in the Department of Education.
Although less well known than school segregation, the long legacy of segregation in swimming pools still lives on today. After legal challenges and actions like this one in St. Augustine forced the end of segregated pools, in many towns, especially in the South, ‘white flight’ from public pools to private clubs often led to their closure. The impact of first segregation and later pool closures over generations has led to a major gap between white and black Americans in swimming ability, with whites being twice as likely to know how to swim as blacks. This difference is also reflected in the CDC finding that black children are three times more likely die from drowning than white children. For these reasons and the long legacy of racism at swimming pools, Simone Manuel’s victory at the last Olympic Games took on special meaning for many African Americans – a significance the young swimmer alluded to after she became the first African-American woman to ever win an individual Olympic gold in swimming: “The gold medal wasn’t just for me,“ she said. "It’s for a lot of people who came before me.”
Janelle Monáe did not come out alone to speak to those in attendance at the Women’s March on Washington.
Monáe brought two mothers of those who were killed by police or gun violence — the Mothers of the Movement — on stage with her.
On stage, Monáe approached each of the mothers — who also appeared on stage during the Democratic National Convention in July — and asked them to say the name of the child she lost and then asked the crowd to repeat those names.
Hi :) Can you do write a supercat prompt with 6. She sings. please !! XO
Thank you @bridgetteirish for helping me get the theatre bit right, and thanks @spaceshipsarecool for even reminding me that Cat had, in fact, invested in Jeykll and Hyde the musical :-)
“You’re not her assistant anymore. Why are you still running errands for her?”
Kara smiled to herself. Alex’s question was valid, but Kara didn’t miss the teasing tone that went along with it. “Habit, maybe,” Kara said into the phone.
Dragging the awkwardly full duffle bag under her arm, along with the specially requested tea order, Kara made her way toward the theatre doors.
On the other end of the line, Alex asked, “When are you going to admit that you’re head over heels for her?”
“That’s ridiculous, Alex. She needed her tea for rehearsal and some things for her dressing room and I am the only one who knows where the little tea shop is that she likes.”
Cat’s investment in Jekyll and Hyde, The Musical had finally paid off in the form of a small production company bringing it to the stage up and down the west coast. Cat had insisted on having a part in the play herself, of course, as repayment for her investment.
Alex chuckled. “She couldn’t tell anyone else where to find her tea?”
Still smiling, Kara just sighed into the phone. Her sister had a point. Kara couldn’t stay away from Cat. She had never been able to. After her promotion, they saw each other less and the time apart only made Kara want to be around her more.
So when Cat texted her and asked for things like coffee, or editing, or a hundred sundry items for her dressing room, Kara didn’t care that those were assistant duties. She only wanted to spend time with Cat. And ever since Kara’s promotion, whenever they were in the same room together, the two women seemed to find a reason to stretch the minutes out.
“I don’t mind doing it,” Kara said.
“I know you don’t, because you’re head over heels for her.”
Kara laughed. “I’m not head over heels. It’s just a crush.” It was more than a crush, but Kara was finally beginning to think that maybe Cat felt the same way, so she didn’t mind Alex calling her out on it.
“A crush?” Alex sounded incredulous. “Kara, a couple days ago you were going on and on about how perfect she is.”
“I was not!” Kara was lying and she knew it. She had, in fact, been touting Cat’s perfection to her sister on their most recent sister date.
“You said, and I quote, ‘the only thing that keeps her from being completely perfect is that I don’t know if she sings.’”
Kara tried to think of a counter. Not knowing if Cat sang was literally the only thing she could think of that kept her from being perfect. She reached the theatre door and had to turn around and push it open with her back to accommodate the bag stuffed with a blanket, slippers, a silk robe, and several other things, as well as the cup of tea. “Well, I, um…”
“Exactly,” Alex said, and Kara could hear the hint of triumph from over the phone. “Head over heels.”
Kara giggled again. She walked down the hall, following the signs that pointed to the rehearsal stage. The music she heard made the signs obsolete. As Kara listened, the voice singing sounded familiar. It was bold and full and had a beautiful vibrato.
Coming to the door where the music was playing, Kara curiously pushed it open. Her mouth fell open and an involuntary gasp escaped at what she saw.
Cat Grant, on the stage, singing her heart out. Kara found herself instantly mesmerized by Cat’s oversized stage movements and the strength of her voice. As she watched from the door, she knew she was done for.
Kara quietly said into the phone, “Alex, she sings.”
Kathak is one of the major forms of Indian classical dance.
The origin of Kathak is traditionally attributed to the traveling bards of ancient northern India. The term Kathak is derived from the Vedic Sanskrit wordKatha which means “story”, and Kathaka which means “he who tells a story”, or “to do with stories”. Wandering Kathakas communicatedstories from the great epics and ancient mythology through dance, songs and music.
Kathak evolved during the Bhakti movement, particularly by incorporating the childhood and stories of Hindu god Krishna, as well as independently in the courts of north Indian kingdoms.
Kathak is found in three distinct forms, named after the cities where the Kathak dance tradition evolved – Jaipur, Banaras and Lucknow.
Stylistically, the Kathak dance form emphasizes rhythmic foot movements, and the movement harmonized to the music. The legs and torso are generally straight, and the story is told through a developed vocabulary based on the gestures of arms and upper body movement, facial expressions, stage movements, bends and turns. The main focus of the dance becomes the eyes and the foot movements.
The difference between the sub-traditions is the relative emphasis between acting versus footwork, with Lucknow style emphasizing acting and Jaipur style famed for its spectacular footwork.
Kathak as a performance art survived and thrived as an oral tradition, learnt and innovated from one generation to another verbally and through practice. It transitioned, adapted and integrated the tastes of the Mughal courts in the 16th and 17th century, was ridiculed and declined in the colonial British era, then was reborn as India gained independence and sought to rediscover its ancient roots and a sense of national identity through the arts.
Kathak has inspired simplified regional variants, such as the Bhavai – a form of rural theatre focussing on the tales of Hindu goddesses (Shakti), and one which emerged in the medieval era. Another variant that emerged from ancient Kathak is Thumri.
Over time, the Kathak repertoire added Persian and Central Asian themes, such as the whirling of Sufi dance, the costumes replaced Saris with items that bared midriff and included a transparent veil. When the colonial European officials began arriving in India, the Kathak court entertainment they witnessed was a synthesis of the ancient Indian tradition and Central Asian-Persian dance form.
Kathak was brought to the attention of audiences outside India in the early 20th century throughKalka Prasad Maharaj.
A modern Kathak, in all three major sub-traditions, consist of three main sections - the invocation (vandana), one pure dance recital (nritta) and one expressive dance (nritya).
The ensemble of musical instruments vary, ranging from two to twelve classical Indian instruments or even more.
Here is the first installment of my Sabriel Strippers
Sam did not want to go to the strip club. Strip clubs were not his thing, but Dean had insisted. It was his bachelor party after all, and he got to pick the entertainment for the night. Sam had relented and their friend, Benny, who was also in the wedding party, picked and booked the club for them.
Sam had dreaded it all week, and he was not looking forward to having to stay and take care of his drunk brother. Dean would no doubt go all out on his last night as a free man, and Sam, as the best man, was the one that would be obligated to take care of him.
He was pleasantly surprised when he got out of his car at the club Benny had picked for them. It was discreet, and well-kept on the outside, not like the trashy joints he had pictured. Heaven’s Door was dark when he stepped inside, but just as clean on the inside as it was on the outside. The booths were upholstered in real red leather, the tables lacquered in mahogany. There were no strobe lights, or bright neon signs advertising performers, and if Sam hadn’t known what it was, he could have easily mistaken it for an upscale bar in the city.
Sam sat down at the reserved booth, and reached for what he thought as a menu. He flipped it open to reveal scantily clad bodies of both female and male strippers. He closed it quickly and ordered a drink, as he waited for the rest of their group to show.
Charlie was the first to arrive, and she bounced into the club with equal enthusiasm as she had for almost everything else. She sat down next to him, ordering something pink and fruity from the bar as she took the menu from Sam.
Hoseok was actually glowing the entire night. He COMMANDED the stage his movements were so captivating and his voice was so ,,enchanting. The entire night was incredible and all the members were amazing and I might upload my fancams later but for now….let it be known 4/2/17 is the day Jung hoseok became my Unofficial Bias
Gosh, darn it! I should be writing a paper! But this performance has brought out the former singer in me and I wanted to give you some references to what I meant about his vocal technique and stage movement that I talked about in this post. If anyone even cares…I love vocal technique and I love performance altogether and I also love watching people grow in them. There’s always room to learn.
PS: I actually like this guy. I want him to succeed. That is mainly why I’m doing this, to show you what I, as a classically trained singer hear in this. I already know I’m going to get so much crap for this if anyone even reads it.
*I’ve also added some links to YT videos. Check them out if you wish!
0:05-0:25 You can probably start from the beginning of the video but around the five-second mark, you can see him in the background, walking down to the mic. He proceeds to back up and shuffle back and forth for a few seconds. Now, I can look past this opening, in fact, I don’t see anything necessarily wrong with it. The camerawork is great, the lighting is great, and he’s obviously nervous. He’s fidgeting. That’s not a bad thing! No way! I would be worried if he wasn’t nervous.
0:23 He’s completely dead-faced. He has absolutely not emotion on his face. Not a glint in his eyes, not a smile. There is literally nothing there. Whether he was trying to go for some sort of serious look or if it was just nerves, I can’t tell.
0:27 We’ll talk about vocal technique later because that’s when it becomes a much bigger issue. All things aside, his opening line is actually really good. Not going to lie, I was very impressed with his opening when I first watched this. I still am. It’s got power behind it, it’s got vibrato, it’s got a fair amount of emotion. However, he does start off the song belting. That’s never a good idea and it’s part of the reason he gets into trouble later on. He started out too strong.
0:33 Around this point he is avoiding eye contact with the audience in a very strange way. It almost looks as if he’s already not happy with the way he sounds and wants to start over. Again, a lot of what happens in this video can be boiled down to nerves, which are a total nuisance when it comes to live singing. They wreak havoc on your vocal chords. Not even kidding!
0:34 For the next several seconds, he has his eyes closed. Now, many performers are able to do this and still make a performance out of it. Him doing it is a very obvious attempt at avoiding looking at the audience. Again, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt on this one. At least he tried to make a performance out of it.
0:53 He opens his eyes and immediately shifts them away to avoid eye contact and closes them again a few seconds later. Again, breaking the already unstable connection. You just can’t do that in as intimate of a setting as SNL.
I realize that theatre and Hollywood/music industry (whatever you want to call it) performing is very different but they’re both performing nonetheless, so they do share some qualities. You never want to close your eyes on stage at all, if ever due to the fact that it breaks your connection with the audience. I’m not saying that you should never blink but the eyes show much more emotion than you could possibly imagine. Use them normally. If you’re going to close them, either use it as a genuine moment or keep it limited. Closing your eyes might seem more intimate, it’s not. Think about it. Eye contact is much more intimate. And believe it or not, looking in certain directions can show certain emotions or produce certain emotional responses in the audience. There’s a lot of power in that.
0:56 He looks down. Again, breaking eye contact. Putting his head down is something that he does multiple times throughout the performance.
1:00 Okay, I’ve heard a lot of people saying that the original track is playing behind him during these parts. I can’t be certain but I’m pretty sure the lady on the piano is singing with him here. From what I can hear, he is hitting the high notes but they’re very soft and breathy coming out.
1:10 This is the first etch of a worried face that we see. You see how the inner eyebrow is arched upward and his forehead is ridiculously stretched? If he’s doing that to reach high notes…well, we’ll get to technique later. And he still has his eyes closed!
1:28 His face. His eyes. His jaw is tense. He’s already unhappy with himself. Guess what, Harry? You’ve still got about four and a half more minutes!
1:30 Okay, this is where I’m going to start talking about vocal technique. I will say, he has a ton of potential as a singer. However, do you see that HUGE breath he takes at 1:31? Yeah. That’s not good. If you read my rant, that’s a little thing that singers refer to as ‘breathing from the chest.’
This is usually one of the first habits that singers are taught to drop as soon as they start vocal lessons. But your lungs are in your chest, so where else are you supposed to breath from exactly? Your diaphragm. You need to sing from your diaphragm. The musical/singer term for this is Breath Support. It helps you hold notes longer and helps you not to get lightheaded. In other words: the belly should be what is moving; in and out, in and out. Not the chest or the shoulders. Do you see his shoulder movement there? This is limiting the amount of oxygen that he could potentially take in. It’s similar to holding your breath under water. Don’t hold it in your cheeks, hold it in your chest. You’ll stay under longer. It’s definitely a core workout and is something that needs to be learned.
However, he’s finally getting into the song. He’s making eye contact and he’s moving a little bit.
1:44 He still has the nervous, worried, panicked look etched across his face. Also, this is something that I just noticed: If you watch his eyes throughout the entire video, he is trying to look everywhere except the audience. He’s looking above them, he’s looking below them, he’s looking way off to the side. If he looks directly at them for a split second, he immediately finds a different point. Harry, did you ever give presentations at school? You have to give everyone an equal amount of attention. That means looking at the audience and in every direction at least once. Especially if it’s a solo.
2:00 That face. He does not look happy. For what reason? We may never know. If I had to take a wild guess, he’s already judged how the performance in going to go from here on out and, in his eyes, it’s not going to go well. Once a singer digs themselves into that pit, there is no coming back from that abyss. He’s judging himself before he’s even had a chance to redeem himself and honestly, you have time Harry! You have about three more minutes! It hasn’t been THAT awful.
2:07 Again, he’s not happy. That is not acting. He’s not a theater performer, he’s not required to act. Why would he be acting?
2:09 What is this? He literally cannot look at the audience.
2:15 Aaaaand we’re back to eyes closed. Harry Styles, open your eyelids!! Let the world see your beautiful, green eyes! You know they’re the rarest type, right?
2:17 This is where we start getting into stage movement. Do you see that arm swing? He does that two times in the span of about 10 seconds. Now, I’ve seen him do that before during 1D concerts but this is a very awkward and hesitant motion. He’s uncomfortable, he’s trying to figure out what to do with himself.
2:35 Lovely face, Harry. Now, please tell me what the hell you’re doing…this is where we get into the weird side of vocal technique. Face movement and expressions? Really? Oh, yes, really!
Constricting your face in that manner makes it even harder to get notes out. Especially when singing high! The faces that he’s making should be reserved for singing low, baritone notes. When you’re singing high, your face should be relaxed (eyebrows slightly raised, eye open, jaw relaxed, and mouth LONG - I’ll talk about this later).
2:45 Okay, so he redeemed himself a little bit. He hit the notes a little bit better - albeit constricted - and he’s starting to engage the audience ever so slightly. He’s smiling a little, there’s a glint in his eyes, he’s getting into the beat a little bit! FINALLY! YES!
2:50 No. This arm-swinging. No. This has to go. He clearly does not know how to move to this song. Not saying that I do but perhaps he didn’t know that he should have blocked out a few things before performing.
Block = a theatre term for figuring out what you do while on stage.
Here’s the thing about stage movement; it’s very different from average, every day moving around. It has to be deliberate. You have to know what you’re doing, otherwise, it looks very awkward and very sloppy. Stage movement requires preparation. We’ve seen him perform. He usually develops tiny trademark moves for most songs. That is what I’m talking about here. He had that Little White Lies dance thing, the Girl Almighty knees thing…etc. He has not figured out specific movements to do for specific moments/beats in this song. I’m assuming he wasn’t anticipating that. Also, people are most likely to awkwardly move their arms on stage if they don’t know what else to do.
2:53 Did you see that eye roll? Classic performer ‘I Made a Mistake’ or ‘I Broke Character’ face.
2:55 Did he actually smile? Praise Jesus! …No! Harry! No! Don’t close your eyes! Don’t constrict your face! You were doing so well!!
3:05 …another arm swing.
3:13 I don’t know why but this makes me sad. He’s so closed off and tight. Relax, Harry. You’re fine. Relax!
3:15 There you go, Harry! You’re doing it! You’re making eye contact, you’re moving a little, you’re singing better even if your breathing is still crap. This entire section is probably the best he does throughout the performance in terms of stage presence. You can’t miss that still worried/nervous/panicked look on his face though.
3:25 Nice note/riff. There you go.
3:30 Almost did the arm-swing, but he’s starting to do more movements. Thank you! There’s that talented performer we all know and love!
3:37 Stop looking so worried! You’ve got this!
3:43 Oh God…big, deep, chest breath there. Did you see that? And did you see how he lifted his body up a little? He is literally, physically reaching for that note. Harry Styles, open the back of your throat! It’s much easier that way! Oh, sorry…you don’t know what that means?
You know how open your throat feels when you yawn? That’s what I mean. This space in the throat makes it easier to produce notes, especially high notes. Again, it’s a strange feeling and takes some getting used to. It’s a very strange thing to describe but your throat basically has to go from a whimper to a yawn. He’s literally constricted everything that could make singing so much easier. He’s making singing so much harder than it needs to be by staying in the ‘whimper format’. If you open your throat, no matter what note you’re singing, it will come out easier.
3:50 Did he just startle himself? He looked away and then back at the mic and jumped. Did he forget the mic was that close? I have no comment on this…I just found it funny :)
3:52 Haha! He is so done! At this point, he’s probably wondering “why the hell did I make this song so long?!”
4:00 That was…cute? Doesn’t quite match the song though. Can he smile a little? Please?
4:03 Okay, good! He’s moving around a little. That’s good!
4:10 I don’t know what the hell that was but I appreciate the effort, Harry.
4:12 Oh good Lord…what happened? I think this is a good time to talk about vocal technique and the lips/mouth region. Yup, there’s a lot more to singing than people actually think. If there’s one thing that Harry’s actually pretty good at, it’s using his lips when singing. Let’s be honest, he’s got great lips. He utilizes them pretty well. Sticks them out in a pucker fashion. That’s good! That’s what you’re supposed to do in order to get the best sound! So, I don’t think I have to talk about that aspect all that much. The mouth a whole, however…
It is a common misconception that, in order to reach high notes, you have to stretch your mouth horizontally. Again, nope. He is limting the space in which his mouth opens. When you sing high, you want your mouth to be open LONG. In fact, I wouldn’t recommend stretching your mouth outwards, horizontally for any singing. It’s uncomfortable and strains the face.
Unless you are singing the E vowel (which is the grossest vowel to sing, if you were curious). In which case, you do have to stretch your mouth a little bit but open it vertically at the same time. Elongate your mouth, open it vertically, up and down. The sound comes out much easier and fuller that way. Relax the mouth and untilize the lips more than the inside of the mouth (besides the tongue for obvious reasons).
4:53 Okay…I think he’s pretty much given up at this point but he has to finish the song. He can’t just walk off the stage. But yes! Good note there! Just loosen your lips a little bit, and relax your jaw and throat.
4:57 Okay, okay there buddy. Calm down. Take a deep breath. You’re fine. I know this is the part where people are saying “Omigosh! I thought this sounded so much better! Such raw emotion! Such passion!” …no. He just strained his voice like crazy. That is not passion. In this case, it’s a good thing he stopped, even if he was disappointed. He was hurting his voice.
5:12 This is what I’ve been wanting to talk about this entire time because it is something that has always bothered me about the way that he sings but I wanted to save it for the last few moments because that’s when it comes into play the most in this performance. Do you see that head tilt he’s doing? Where he’s tilting his head backward? Yeah…that’s a big no, no. You are never supposed to tilt your head in that way or ‘reach for’ a note like he is doing. It’s unnatural.
When you tilt your head in that manner, you are straining the larynx. When you strain the larynx, you are putting pressure on your vocal chords. When you put too much pressure on your vocal chords, you run the risk of damaging your voice. Pretty badly in some cases. Do you hear that rough, groggily sound that is coming out of his throat? That’s not passion. At all. That is a straining of the vocal chords in a way that is not good or natural. He’s pressing himself too hard. He’s taking too deep a breath. He’s tightening his throat. There are certain ways to do a rock growl and scream-o and all that fun stuff that singers can do in ways that are healthy and comfortable for the vocal chords. What he just did there…that was not intentional. Nor should it be. What he is trying to do is belt.
Belt = singing really fricken loud.
Let me hear you say this, please? Yelling is not belting. Belting is not yelling. What is he doing here? He is yelling. This is the type of stuff that got the likes of Demi Lovato and Adele and Kelly Clarkson told that if they didn’t start singing differently, they could damage their chords for good. I really don’t want that to happen to him. He’s got so much potential.
5:28 He is not happy.
5:30 Not the worst it could have been. Not at all. But can be very much improved.
5:37 Aw, God damn, he looks like he’s about to cry. Don’t cry. You’ve got time. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. It happens to everybody, even the best of us.
Summary: You are volunteering for your school’s city-wide dance competition when you meet Jungkook for the first time.
Word count: 1.6k
Why you decided to volunteer for your school board’s annual dance competition, you didn’t know. Why you were elected to lead the committee, you really didn’t know. All you were intending to do was design a few posters. Instead, you found yourself devoting hours every day to organizing this damn event.
Today, on the day of the competition, you were finalizing everything. Since you attended an art school, there was a classic theatre that seated around three hundred people. You currently stood in centre stage as you monitored the last sound check.
“Hey, Y/N,” Namjoon, the president of the Stage Crew, called from the crowd. You couldn’t see him because the stage lights were too bright. “Try to relax. My team’s got you!”
You sighed, sticking your hands into your pockets. “I’m trying, but this is the day of the event and I really need everything to go smoothly,” you answered.
A teacher beckoned you to the side, alerting you of the arrival of the first school. You nodded and rushed to greet them. Darting through the hallways (the floors had been cleaned and waxed, as per your request), you arrived at the front of the school just in time to see the students exit the bus.
You pushed through the entrance with your best smile plastered on your face. At this point, it probably looked more like a grimace.
“Hello! I’m Y/N,” you greeted. “Welcome to YG School of the Arts.”
“Hi, Y/N,” the teacher responded. He was a large, friendly looking Asian man. “Nice to meet you. We’re representing BigHit Collegiate.”
“If you can follow me, I’ll show you to the changerooms,” you said with a smile, starting to turn towards the school.
“Actually,” a voice interrupted. You turned, seeing a smirking, tall boy looking back at me. He had pale skin and a muscular build. “We’re all dressed and ready to go.”
He motioned towards himself and the rest of the crew. Finally, you took in the fact they were all wearing ridiculous costumes. Each member was dressed in all-white military uniforms–little hats, squeaky clean dress shoes, and everything else. You wanted to be embarrassed for not noticing, but you were more embarrassed for them having to wear that.
“Oh, so you are,” you replied easily.
Another student hit the good-looking, sassy boy in the back of the head.
“Jungkook!” the shorter, also muscular student hissed. “Don’t be rude! This is why we never get to go to events like these!”
The teacher sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Please, Y/N, just lead the way.”
After you had escorted the BigHit representatives to the waiting area, the other schools began to arrive. Guests also began to file into the theatre, and as the event progressed smoothly, you felt a weight fall off your shoulders.
You handed out brochures with the greeting committee, and once Namjoon signalled you that the show was starting, you slipped into the theatre.
The MC of the event was an outgoing student named Seungkwan, who was a junior and a year younger than you. He commenced the competition with a series of jokes that had the entire audience, including you, in tears.
The event was divided by genre, although there were only contemporary and hip-hop being performed. Each school was able to perform a five-minute set in each category.
Since YG was the home school, our representatives presented first. As always, your classmates slayed the hip-hop category. Your friend, Lisa, was the head choreographer and she never failed to impress.
You barely watched the other schools. Their performances were nothing special. But you weren’t really one to judge, since your expertise was in Fine Arts, not dance.
Finally, the last school to perform, BigHit, appeared on stage. This was only their second year performing, but they had quickly established a name for themselves.
The BigHit boys caught the attention of the entire audience as they began their segment with a powerful marching sequence. The boy at leading the crew caught your attention. His face was downturned and his cap obscured his features, but you could the still see muscular legs he possessed. You were fairly certain this was the boy that had sassed you earlier, Jungkook.
As the track transitioned from a marching band track to a hip-hop one, the dancers on stage threw their hats into the crowd. Another boy switched places with Jungkook, and you struggled to locate the dancer as he fell back into the mass of other dancers.
You had to admit, their dance was leagues above everyone else’s. They included nuances (like a machine gun of bodies, what was that?) that the other schools couldn’t dream of attempting.
You watched, rapt, as the track transitioned to a rock song and Jungkook took centre stage. His movements were so sharp and powerful, and the expression he wore was charismatic. The BigHit dancers finished the performance, standing completely still as Jungkook cooly regarded the audience.
He was looking in your general direction, the sweat dripping down his neck illuminated by the stage lights. The bright lights highlighted the sharpness of his jaw and the muscular chords of his neck. As the lights dimmed, he caught your eye and smirked.
You swore, in that moment, your heart stopped. You could do nothing but gape back at him before the stage turned completely dark and Jungkook disappeared. Your could feel your heart beating quickly in your chest, and your mind went blank.
“Woah,” you breathed.
The judges deliberated in between the transition from the hip-hop groups to the contemporary ones. You made your way backstage to give the remaining performers a rundown of the events.
Once backstage, you were met by a smaller group of students dressed in less flashy costumes. Most were barefoot in loose, neutral coloured clothing. Most of them didn’t look nervous and regarded you disinterestedly.
A little awkwardly, you cleared your throat and instructed them through the rest of the night’s proceedings. Everyone acknowledged you halfheartedly, opting to practice their dances in the limited space.
Sighing, you turned around to return back to the audience to regroup with your fellow committee members. As you began to walk forwards, you bumped into a hard, unmoving body.
“Oh, sorry!” you exclaimed, stepping back.
It was Jungkook. Dressed in all black. His shirt was loose and slipped past his collarbones, revealing a muscular chest, still slick with sweat from his previous performance. Your mouth went dry as you looked at the glowing boy in front of you.
He cleared his throat and your gaze snapped to his, a fiery blush dusting your cheeks.
“Hey, I’m Jungkook,” he said with a small smile. His front teeth protruded slightly, and his cute bunny smile made his presence a little less intimidating. Just a little. “You’re Y/N, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” you replied. An awkward giggle bubbled up, and you couldn’t stop it from escaping. “Um–your performance was really good. I haven’t seen anything like that before.”
“Thanks,” he grinned, his smile larger and more genuine than before. “Hoseok, the one who led the hip-hop part of the track, choreographed it. He’s the best out of all of us.”
“It was really impressive,” you agreed. You fidgeted with your hands and averted your eyes before saying, “You were, uh, really good, too! Very powerful, and stuff.”
Jungkooked laughed, tilting his head back a little bit. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said, his voice lowering. “Watch this performance, too.”
You agreed and rushed out of there, your face on fire.
After the competition was over, the adrenaline that had kept you going throughout the event had vanished. You were left, completely drained, bidding farewell to the schools that had attended.
BigHit had won first place in both categories, which was unheard of until now. You did watch their second performance, and Jungkook was as smooth as he was strong. Their contemporary piece was sensual, to say the least. The relentless bedroom eyes Jungkook gave the crowd certainly added to that.
Just as you were saying goodbye to your friends from SM Academy, the resonating whoops and hollers from the victors sounded from behind you. The boys rushed past you, trophies clutched in Hoseok’s arms, as they raced into their bus.
Suddenly, an arm snaked around your waist. You jumped in surprise, but the strong arm kept you firmly in place. You looked up and were met by Jungkook’s heavy gaze.
“Hey, Y/N,” Jungkook said. His grip around you loosened slightly, but his arm didn’t move. “So, what did you think of our contemporary?”
“It was too sexy,” you blurted out without thinking. “I couldn’t watch properly.”
Jungkook laughed, his bunny smile brightening his face. You couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“Well, at least you’re watching me now,” he smirked, his eyes alight with mischief. He leaned in closer, until your noses almost brushed. His gaze lowered to your lips. You held your breath. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”
As Jungkook pulled back (you couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed), his hand brushed–and lingered–against your ass. You squeaked and jumped back.
“Yes! Later,” you hissed, pushing him towards his bus. “Goodbye, Jungkook.”
He waved at you as he boarded the school bus, eyes full of mirth. You watched as the bus drove away and the distance between you and Jungkook grew. You wondered if you and Jungkook would ever meet again.
At home later that night, you were putting your clothes in the laundry hamper when a slip of paper fell out of one of the back pocket of your jeans. Curious, you picked up the folded paper and opened it.
Inside, in hurried, scrawled handwriting, was a phone number accompanied by a drawing of a bunny.
- Girl in Luv
Thanks for reading! Send more requests our way! Check out our prompts post if you need any inspiration xx
Prompt: Reader came to Earth searching for something but she found the biggest galaxy nerd.
Word Count: 769.
Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader.
A/N: Birthday drabble for @thetrashfromouterspace, I know this isn’t exactly what you asked for, but it’s where the story took me. Hope you enjoy it Hanna and sorry for the delay.
Chris Beck hated to do field work unless it was in the space, but since his and his team return all they would do was stayed in the lab or go in useless field work. He knew this dynamic will be the same untill everything that happened in Mars will be cleared out but it didn’t matter, his mind was going crazy with apathy. He did not sign up for this, for going to some mountain in the middle of nowhere and stood there with nothing to do. It was not his specialty, it was not what his 8-year-old dreamt about.
But weariness was about to make its great exit the day Beck was sitting with his back on a tree watching Watney collecting soil samples and internally dying. As his eyes were about to close for the hundredth time, a shadow was caught in his peripheral vision. It didn’t seem from this planet, the aura of the creature was something that warmed his spirit. A warmth he hadn’t felt since his days in space. Without notice, he got up and followed the shadow. His mind blank except for one goal: to know more about the creature that lurked him to the end of a pine boulevard.
As Kiawe began his performance on stage, the fireworks display was set off behind him. To the side, his sister and an unfamiliar face were seen sitting down, waiting for their cue. The lady patted Hoshi’s back as if to reassure her.
Midway into the performance, the two joined the fire dancer on stage. Their movements flowed and were slow rather than the quick ones with Kiawe’s dance. The ladies spun as his torch flew once more. However, instead of stopping, Hoshi’s partner still spun.
The lady began to bubble up in laughter spinning on stage, out of cue of the dance. Kiawe stopped his dancing, almost to belittle the woman. But then she began to glow.
Soon her entire body was enveloped in the bright light. Hoshi had stepped back behind Kiawe’s form, staring wide eyed as he was. The other guests’ voices began to grow louder and louder - in fear and awe.
The woman’s form changed rapidly, into different silhouettes until it settled on the form of a familiar one. One that the Akala Island captains and Kahuna could tell from afar.
The light cleared and Tapu Lele was still spinning, giggling and dancing. Flying around the garden.
Black lace accented with tulle, with frills, and feathers adorn Tani’s familiar, and willowy frame. His hands are laced together, one palm upon the other, over the concave tilt of his midsection, drawn into a svelte curve beneath thick-boned corseting until his waist seems as waifish as the brittle harp behind him.
There’s a mask upon his features — one gilded with studded amethysts, and a silver-edged trimming; until the mismatched blue of his eyes is almost hooded entirely beneath the feline slits cut through fabric. His lips are painted a deep plum, and even his tail has been dotted with muted, glittering rubies not unlike stars scattered across a blanketed night sky.
He descends the stairs in no dire rush. The hems of his robes bundle along the cedar wood under the heels of his boots as he comes to a slow halt at the midst of the stairwell, hands still laced together, apprehensive gaze still lowered, even as the instruments behind him are brought to life in a slow, rumbling, unhurried lullaby.
Jewel-laden ears slowly lift from his bundled curls, spun into an artful braid as he listens, as his head half-turns toward the harpist behind him. He nods, as if in time to the slow tune, as if to count the bars between. His tail flicks forwards, and drapes over the bundled hem of his lavish robes.
Tani closes his eyes. His hands curl, his fingers tangle together, his pale, painted lashes kiss the crests of his cheeks as a faint smile pulls across his too-full lips. He lifts his chin, and he draws in a breath. His eyes flutter open, and regard his gathered audience with veiled apprehension.
“Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. ♪”
“Darkness stirs, an’ wakes imagination. ♪”
“Silently the senses abandon their defences. ♪”
His gaze remains downcast, voice wrapping his words in sugar-sweet invitation. His head lightly tips, the corners of his lips quirk into a partial smile as his fingers grow lax, as the music behind him gradually swells in slow rhythm. His confidence is coming to him. His ears lift the rest of the way from his hair, his earrings sway under the glittering lights. He draws in another breath..
“Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendour. ♪”
“Grasp it, sense it, tremulous an’ tender. ♪”
His hands unfold, and his right extends. Painted, heliotropic claws press, palm-out, toward his audience as his eyes slip closed; as the visible facets of his glitter-doffed makeup catch, and refract off the beaming gold kissing his flesh until he’s a relative kaleidoscope of gold, and velvet.
“Turn your face away from the garish light of day ♪.”
“Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeelin’ night. ♪”
That smile returns to his lips; and it’s coy, it’s mischievous, it’s broad. His fingertips crawl toward the curve of his cheek, his thumb folds beneath the edge of his mask until the ribbon fastened beneath his curls by the nape of his neck begins to unravel.
“..an’ listen to the music of the night. ♪”
His mask is lifted from his features, from the aether-bright blue of his mismatched eyes, and the scattered freckles covered by gilded stars upon the crests of his cheeks; to the artificial flush painted across his alabaster skin as his hand lowers, as his fingers grow lax upon the mask until it slips from between them to topple to the stairs at his side — forgotten.
“Close your eyes an’ surrender to your darkest dreams. ♪”
“Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before. ♪”
“Close your eyes, an’ let your spirit start to soar. ♪”
He holds the note. Clearwater-blue eyes draw back to his audience, brimming with the looming presence of thinly-veiled aether as his hands dance back, as they sweep back toward the svelte curve of his waist under his iambic pentameter as it unfolds in sweet succession- a sound like a pleading, desperate siren, calling from her place on the jutting rocks for a sailor lost at sea, high, soprano, and so utterly -lovely-.
It tapers off, he draws in a short breath to keep himself from falling breathless. He takes a slow step forwards, his tail flicks aside, his glittering stars catch under the beaming lights as his hands lift. His features soften, they turn something close to pleading — emotion shines clear in his uneven gaze, in the waver to his parted lips as he continues, softer, gentler.
“..an’ you’ll live as you’ve never lived before. ♪”
For a moment, his gaze lids over, his chin tips down, his hands lower to grasp small handfuls of the front of his robes as he starts his slow descent down the shallow steps, toward the jutting stage; movements slow, and decisive. His hands grow lax, lace is released, and his fingers splay.
The courtesan’s delicate hands turn palm-up as they lift from his sides. His gaze lifts, briefly settling to the chandelier centered into the heart of the dim room. The effervescent aether dwindling to life behind his eyes steadily begins to amplify, and a strange, omnipotent mist begins to build above the crowd— almost like a cloud, almost.
“Softly, deftly, music shall caress you. ♪”
He dips his chin, eyes still glued to this aether-borne apparition as it slowly begins to swell— blotting out the rafters, blotting out the scuffed scratches adorning the ceiling’s ardent covering until only the faint glow of the golden light above can be made out through it - indeed, like some crawling dawn-borne mist.
Tani’s hands lift, and the aether brimming in the stringent air before him is momentarily, utterly, utterly overwhelming. It tips over, it cracks at the seams until glimmering, fading, pinpricks of illustrious light pour from his transient illusion. They thread like shooting stars, harmless ribbons of aether that fade, and bounce.
A loose thread spirals from the rafters to twirl about Faye Covington, to thread about the hems of her robes, to sweep about the sway of her waist, to tuck beneath her arms, before fading into nothingness; trailing transient stardust in its wake like a fading thread of pure ivory.
Another spins about the broad curve of Dondubhan Kelly’s shoulders, it whittles by the crest of his chest, before zipping into his pocket, where it vanishes, and should he move to seek it out — he’d find nothing, perhaps a few mere fragments of glitter tucked into the lint of his pocket, but little else.
There’s a smile upon Tani’s lips; and his magic catches, bounces, and flutters about him — indeed, just like stars torn from the night sky, and offered a moment to dance amidst his audience. He watches it for a mere moment, and his hands extend, pressing before him, fingers curved, wicked, beckoning.
“Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you. ♪”
The stars rain outwards, like running water filtering through the crevices and rafters and -lights- above. They drift and flutter like something out of a dream, something as ethereal and otherworldly as Tani’s sweet lullaby. It’s a serenade, a pleading, a love song to the night all in one- something twisted, something ill-spun by the voice of a full-blooded Keeper splashed with golden freckles covered by glittering stars.
“Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind. ♪”
“In this darkness which you know you cannot fight. ♪”
“The darkness of the music of the night. ♪”
Those stars slowly rise like an eerie waterfall tumbling in slow reverse, dashes of silver and white striping the ceiling nighttime sky he sings so fondly of, transforming the room in what is a skilful illusion into some lush, fading fantasy in no great rush to move under the familiar night’s cloying cold; the perfect dashed backdrop to his gloomy hymn.
“Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world. ♪”
“Leave all the thoughts of the life you knew before. ♪”
The courtesan drifts toward the edge of the stage where he stops; movements punctured by the quiet pals of the bells tethered to the fur of his tail, and the hems of his robes. His stars pause; hanging as if suspended in the air about him, frozen in place upon the stage, tabula rasa without their guide.
“Let your soul take you where you long to go~..♪”
He holds the note. He draws it out. His eyes press closed, damp under the effort placed upon the emphasis of his voice. He turns, head tilting, drifting into a loose sway carried by fluttering sandy hair; as if in some broken waltz with his warped melody as his only partner, framed by his stars.
His hands press outwards, his finger unfurl — his eyes glow with that same preternatural light. His aether bristles in the air, it -pulls-, sharp, and sudden— and his stars curl toward him. They soar toward the heart of his palms as he gathers them up, like some goblin chasing a fae creature to collect every drop of illustrious stardust they leave behind.
Their silvery glow laces between his fingers as they curl around his aether-borne stardust; threatening to leak between, to fall from his greedy grasp. He gathers them to his chest; until the only sign they even remain is a faint, silver glow illuminating the softest edges of his fair, fae features.
His eyes flutter open, the light behind them fades, until something odd, something foreign, gleams between them as his full, painted lips part to resume his song. Slow, soft, and gentle; a juxtaposition, if anything, to his envious plea.
“..only then, can you belong to me. ♪”
His fingers come apart. They unthread, and pull apart from one another. His palms open, and his light fades into a dwindling fire under the pads of his fingertips, until no trace of his stars remain; until his glittering palms are pliant, and vacant.
“Floatin’, fallin’, sweet intoxication. ♪”
His hands lift, his left palm glosses over the base of his throat, leaving a swathe of glitter in its wake as he steps forwards, as his voice rises, as his opposing hand folds over the sway of his waist to drop to the front of his skirts, to draw them back across a woven slit across the tilt of his right thigh to reveal the curve of a stocking-clad knee.
“Touch me. ♪”
“Trust me. ♪”
“Savour each sensation. ♪”
His eyes are alight, burning with some sugar-sweet intensity that has nought to do with his magic, with some enthralling, alluring desperation; as if he truly does seek to envelope his audience into his song, as if he truly does intend to lure them into his stringent darkness.
“Let the dream begin. Let your darker side give in. ♪”
“To the power of the music that I sing. ♪”
“The power of the music of the night. ♪”
He holds the note, his voice unfolds across it; the instrumentals behind him swell, and rise; until Tani can scarcely even hear the racing beat of his own heart. His palm presses to his chest as he lets it go, as he draws in a short huff, breathless, -panting-. A disbelieving smile drifts across his plum-painted lips, his gaze lifts, wordlessly seeking out those few familiar faces in his audience as his ears give a merry -twitch-.
Still, the courtesan gathers himself, his fingers spread, and he swallows - a slow tilt of his throat beneath his choker as he closes his eyes to steady himself. The strings behind him slow, and soften as he prepares the ending to his lullaby.
“You alone can make my soul take flight. ♪”
It fades, all of it fades— his magic, his aether-borne cloud, his accompanying instrumentals, his vehement, vacant plea; until all that remains are the vestiges of a lonely, desperate man, and the slow pull of a (twisted, wrong) harpsichord somewhere behind him. He extends his left hand, palm up; as if in the enfeebled hope of having it taken.
“Help me make the music of the night. ♪”
His eyes drift closed, his fingers curl over nothingness. His chin tips down, and his gold curls come tumbling over his narrow shoulders as that smile fades from his parted lips as he slips into a slow, and fluid bow. He tucks one leg behind his wiry frame, his hands pull at the edges of his gown into some odd half-curtsey and half-bow.
Tani straightens, eyes drawing open as he draws out of character, as he drops the facade he had been upholding beneath his magic, and his glitter. His smile is sunny, and it’s -his- again. He lifts a dainty, prim hand — and he offers the audience a lingering wave as he turns his back with a downright giddy -bounce- to his steps, to make his way off stage.
How do I get a job, like I've had two previous jobs in fast food but i had school and other things going on they weren't very understanding with scheduling, I'm trying to get a new job and I've been applying online going in for applications and taking those back but no one seems to want to hire me, I'm only 18 and that sometimes seems to like think I'm inexperienced but honestly I'm just trying to pay my bills
From what you’ve said, it sounds like you need to update your resume and/or your interviewing technique. I’ve done a step by step listing below, but take a look at this right off the bat.
Resume + Cover Letter
1. Creating a resume. The first step to setting out on a job search is creating the perfect resume! Try to limit your resume to one page that is packed with well worded information about all you have to offer. You may want to create several different resumes that highlight your different skills. For example, I have an IT resume, a teaching resume, and a general resume. Here is a pretty thorough article on creating a resume.
2. Buff up your resume. Now that you’ve created your resume, go over it and exaggerate the fuck out of everything. Nobody is going to stick their neck out for you or going to talk you up. You need to be your own cheerleader. You need to create the most impressive version of yourself on paper as possible. Check it.
3. Keep it clean. First impressions matter! Your resume is going to be your potential employer’s first impression of you. You want that impression to be of someone who is organized, intelligent, and talented. Don’t clutter your resume or make it overly complicated.
4. Cover letter. Not all entry level jobs will require or even ask for a cover letter, but it’s good to have one prepared on the off chance that they do. Think of your cover letter as a teaser to your resume. You don’t want to reiterate it word for word, but you want to spark your potential employer’s interest. Check out this post on constructing the perfect cover letter. Remember- keep it brief, intelligent, and tantalizing.
1. Work on your interviewing skills. Your resume will get you through the door, but your personality is what will eventually win you a job. Extroverts have an easier time turning on the charm, but introverts may have to work harder to gain the same ease of conversation. I would recommend seeing some amateur theater or live music performances in your community. Go to a high school musical, see the college Drama Club’s new play. You want the chance to see different levels of confidence in people. Just by watching the performers you’ll be able to easily see who is comfortable being the center of attention and who is not. Let the mistakes or triumphs you see on stage influence the movements, eye contact, and tone of voice that you will use when addressing potential employers. Also, if you don’t want to actually go out, there are loads of community theater youtube videos.
2. Practice makes perfect. Come up with a list of questions that an employer might ask you, and ready your answers confidently. Have a friend “interview” you and have them rate you based on how you respond. If your friend is too positive about your performance, get another one to interview you. You want honesty, you want critiques! If you have no friends or relatives who are able to help you, record yourself answering questions using a webcam. Luckily, there are lots of posts about job interviews on the internet. This is a good one.
3. Talk yourself up. In the interview, you never want to even imply that there is an aspect of the job that you can’t handle. You don’t want to outright lie, but exaggerate your skill levels knowing that once you get in the door, you’ll be competent enough. Never say “I don’t know that skill” say “I’ve heard a lot about that skill, and I’m interested to learn more”.
4. Ask questions. After the interviewer has asked you all their questions about the prospective job, make sure to ask them several questions in return. The more, the better. Really, truly, honestly. Ask them so many goddamn questions that they feel like they’re being interviewed! These questions should be as specific as possible and should show your interest in the company. Tie in any tidbits of information that you picked up on during your interview, and reiterate important points. Remember, people love talking about their jobs. Use this to your advantage. Get your interviewer talking about the different aspects of what they like and dislike.
5. Follow up. Send a “thank you” email to your prospective employer directly after meeting them. Thank them for taking the time to meet with you, and let them know that you look forward to hearing from them soon. This will show that you have initiative and follow through. Employers love that shit.
Feel free to message me directly about any of this information! I literally got an incredible job by beefing up my resume and talking myself up.