Stunned mortal who just saw a miracle happen: Whatâs your name, angel?
Crowley, who really shouldnât be caught dead doing one of Aziraphaleâs miracles, and whoâs about to invent a whole ass angelsona named Raphael: Oh, havenât you heard?
you know how fandom likes to try to make nicknames out of aziraphale iâve seen azi and zira and honestly I still think his only legitmate nickname is âangelâ but
Raphael is the back half of Aziraphaleâs name
crowley invented a whole ass angelsona and named himself after Aziraphale
crowley and aziraphale bumbling their way into wildly misconstrued and misinterpreted appearances in historical and religious texts is basically already canon, so
@goodomensblog iâm including your tags because seriously, same, itâs so in character for him thatâs the first time iâm agreeing for real with the raphael hc thing.Â
#THIS IS MY FAVORITE CROWLEY IS RAPHAEL HEADCANON#tbh iâm not crazy about the idea of Crowley being Raphael pre-fall#but the idea of him bullshitting his way through an awkward social interaction#and accidentally inventing a whole ass new angel??#with part of aziraphaleâs name????!#lsndksnsksnsns its the equivalent of that scene where the person glances around the room and picks a random object as their name lsnsksmsms#this is so funny#good omens#crowley#favorite
This is exactly what Iâve been thinking.Â
Some old art featuring Raphael does show red hair and/or dark wings. - But not all the time. So perhaps on the odd occasion Aziraphale used it as well to cover them or to re-enforce that heâs totally a real person, why are you pulling that face, Gabriel?
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Sebastian Sallow / Ominis Gaunt
4.4k Words
Based on this post by @into-the-undercroft and the reblogs by @the-ominis-gaunt Hope you both enjoy :) I will probably write a second part to this at some point, this was just too fun to work on.
Content Warning: None, just fluff.
Summary: Sebastian is a sketch artist who enjoys secretly drawing Ominis as he does everyday things around the castle. One day Ominis finds out and confronts him and agrees to pose for him.
Sebastian didnât like lying to Ominis, it was never easy. Even on the topic of something as seemingly simple as this. Claiming the need to be elsewhere, to have plans with someone else, only to sit in the same room as his friend at a good distance, with his sketchbook and charcoal in hand, silently studying his features and transferring the likeness onto his pages.
It always made Sebastian feel a little guilty. Not just the secrecy of his hobby⌠or rather of the subject material... but how shamelessly he let himself stare at Ominis in the name of his art. His sketchbook had dozens of drawings of Ominis in various settings⌠reading with his wand in their common room, leaning back on his palms outside of the castle in the grass, sitting among his other friends near the lake, playing wizards chess⌠The list was endless. And thatâs not even mentioning the pages upon pages of quick sketches of his individual features... most frequently, his eyes and his hands as they fiddled with his wand.
Sebastian had taken up this hobby during sixth year, as a release for his stress of the previous year, as a way to clear his head and focus himself on something pleasant. Since then, he had become quite good at it. The sketches were all instantly recognizable and Sebastian thought he took great care in covering the pages as other classmates passed by, trying to get a peek at just what was on them. But it was no secret. Anyone could easily just follow his gaze back to Ominis. When he was sketching, the rest of the school seemed to melt away.
Today, Sebastian had excused himself from Ominisâs side with the excuse of needing to serve detention for disrupting a lecture. He packed up his materials and left Ominis sitting in the library working on an assignment at a table alone. He headed towards the library doors, even going as far as to open them without going through them, to really try to make it seem like he left. Then, he crept his way to an armchair that offered him a good view and the comfort heâd need since he knew heâd be there awhile.
Ominis was sitting with his head propped in his hand with his wand pointing at his book, speaking quietly to himself while his quill scrawled down his words on his parchment. Sebastian folded his sketchbook open to an empty page and pulled out a little packet of charcoal and an eraser and got to work, first taking in the shape of his face, something he could probably draw blindfolded at this point. He mapped out his hair, and the way one eye brow arched just a bit higher than the other as he focused to worked on his assignment. Merlin, he is beautiful.
Sebastian often blushed as he sketched Ominis, and now was no different. He shaded the angles of his jaw thinking about what he wouldnât give to drag his lips along it. He sat there with a grin on his face and flushed cheeks, looking between Ominis and his sketchbook, as he got lost in his art. He barely noticed when Imelda sat down next to Ominis and started running her mouth in his ear. He just kept drawing.
âUgh, I wish someone would look at me like that,â she said as she set her bag down on the table beside Ominis, and pulling out a textbook of her own. She rolled her eyes as she spoke and looked genuinely jealous of whatever affections she was speaking of.
âHm? Like who looks at what?â Ominis turned his attention to her, setting his wand in the crease of his book.
Sebastianâs ears perked up at the sound of Ominisâs voice. He did a double take and met eyes with Imelda as she began to speak again. The color left his face as her words left her mouth.
âLike Sallow looks at you of course. While heâs sketching you. I donât know how you get anything done, Iâd never be able to focus knowing someones eyes are burning into me like that.â She said and gave a little chuckle, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, not giving her words a second thought because surly Ominis had to know he was always the subject of his best friends hobby.
âIs Sebastian here?â Ominis asked her quickly and in a hushed tone. âHe told me he was serving a detention...â
It was only then that she realized he had no idea. Ominis had no idea that Sebastian was drawing him... Not now, or ever. She cleared her throat and shot Sebastian an apologetic look, realizing she had crossed a line in which Sebastian was clearly not ready to cross. âUmâŚâ She could think of absolutely no good way to answer him.
Sebastian hastily shut his sketchbook, stuffed his charcoal and eraser back into their little drawstring
pouch and tried to shove everything back into his satchel as fast as he could. His mind was scrambling, this was not a conversation he wanted to have with Ominis. Not now and possibly not ever. Admitting these kinds of feelings for your closest friend was one thing but secretly sketching them for months without their knowledgeâŚ. Oh the very thought of him finding out made Sebastian's stomach churn.
As he was cramming everything into his bag, several sketches fell from the worn binding of his book. The sounds of paper scattering caught Ominisâs attention and he just knew that it was him, that Sebastian was in fact here. Sitting just a few yards away from him, this whole time. Sebastian grabbed the loose pages, his bag, and shot Imelda a scornful look before tearing out of the library, before Ominis had even finished getting out of his seat to approach him.
But Sebastian couldnât hide forever. Not from Ominis, anyway. Ominis actually thanked Imelda for her slip of the tongue, with a flushed face. He gathered his classwork and made his way out of the library as well, the corners of his mouth pulling upwards in a satisfied grin.
The obvious first place Ominis decided to look for Sebastian was the undercroft. He strode through the clockwork door with his wand outstretched in front of him, into the middle of the room and listened carefully. Silence. Perhaps this was too obvious a place for Sebastian to run off and hide at. Just as Ominis was heading back through the gate, he heard the exhale of a deep breath. He was here. He turned back around and called out this time.
âSebastian. I know youâre here. I heard you breathing,â Ominis stated and waited for Sebastian to relent.
Sebastian scoffed, but before he spoke, his voice softened. âListen, Iâm sorry I didnât tell you-â
Ominis cut him off, âYou donât have to apologize, Sebastian.â His voice sounded⌠sweet. Too sweet, in Sebastianâs opinion, for him to be angry about the bomb Imelda dropped on him out of no where. He sounded flattered. âI⌠I donât mind if you sketch me.â
âWell, thanks. That⌠that certainly makes things easier.â Sebastian replied and gave a nervous chuckle.
âI wish I could see your sketches. To see how you view all of your friends, you know? I find the concept of art very interesting. Who else have you drawn?â
Oh of course. Of course Ominis wouldnât assume heâs the only one Sebastian has been sketching all this time. But he was. That didnât mean Sebastian was any more ready for that question. It hit him like a spell to the chest. Sebastian ran his hand along the back of his neck and paced a bit, trying to think of an answer that wouldn't be absolutely foolish.
But Sebastian was nothing if not foolish at times, and he settled on putting honesty above his pride this time. He felt he owed Ominis some honestly around this for a change. âI havenât sketched anyone else. I havenât sketched anything else.â
The thick silence that hung in the air felt crushing. Surly Sebastian should have said anything else. He should have lied. Ugh what a way to break your feelings to someone. But when he finally replied, Sebastian felt a rush of relief, Ominis again, sounded flattered.
âOh.â
âMhm.â
âWhy me⌠why only me?â
âI meanâŚâ Sebastian sighed and let that nervous laugh fall from his lips again. âYou just look like you were born to be drawn. Your features⌠Your⌠bone structure.â He swallowed hard after answering. He wasnât lying. Ominis already looked like artwork walking around the castle everyday. He deserved to be recognized for the beauty he was. âAnd I mean, youâre my best friend. I feel more comfortable just drawing you.â
âI see.â Ominis sounded only half convinced, mostly because Sebastian was only giving him half of the truth. But his curiosity was sufficiently satiated for now.
Before he even knew what he was saying or why, Sebastian blurted out, âMaybe you can pose for me at some point.â He felt his skin get hotter as he spoke and could feel his heart race in his chest while he waited for Ominis to answer.
âSure, I guess. I⌠Wouldnât mind that.â
Sebastian let out a sigh of relief. âAlright then.â He cleared his throat. This was incredibly awkward, but, at least he agreed. âWell⌠Iâve got class. Iâll see you later in the common room, then.â
âSee you.â Ominis replied.
Sebastian headed out of the undercroft quickly, and made his way to his NEWT Potions class, where heâd be able to completely focus his mind on something else for awhile. He welcomed the distraction. Ominis paced around the undercroft a bit more now that he could be alone with his thoughts. He didnât want to jump to any conclusions, but if his best friend felt so strongly about sketching him, indulging him in his hobby didnât seem like it could hurt. He would leave the timing up to Sebastian and discuss it with him later. He headed back to their common room to resume his classwork that Imelda had interrupted earlier.
Despite spending dinner with each other as always, and spending the evening in the common room together, they let the topic of Sebastianâs art lie for the time being, chatting about other things instead, as they usually would. Sebastian was intentionally trying to avoid the topic, and still feeling a bit embarrassed over the way his little habit got revealed to Ominis, while Ominis didnât see it as too big of a deal, was still feeling flattered, and was not thinking it was something that needed further discussion, at the moment, anywayâŚ
~~~
The following morning was another story however. Ominis always rose earlier than Sebastian, and he readied himself for the day quickly and headed down to the common room, where Imelda could also always be found stretching and having some tea, before making her way to the grounds for flying time before breakfast.
Assuming sheâd be there as usual, Ominis called out for her as he entered the common room.
âOver here.â She called back and he let his wand guide him towards the sound of her voice. She was sitting on the couch.
âAre we alone?â He asked as he sat beside her.
âMm, mostly. Couple of lower years about. Only a few. What is it?â
âHow long have you known about Sebastian sketching me?â He asked her quietly, leaning in towards her slightly as he spoke.
She let out a hum, as though she was expecting more questions on the subject since she had inadvertently let it slip yesterday. As expectant as she was, her first instinct was to deflect. âWhy donât you talk with him about that?â
âI did. I found him yesterday after he left the library. I just wanted more clarification than I felt like heâd have been comfortable giving me in the moment.â
This little bit of coaxing was enough to get her to answer him. âHm. Well. Iâve known for awhile. He thinks heâs slick covering the pages with his hand when someone walks by, but he doesnât ever take his eyes off you. It isnât his best kept secret, thatâs for sure. That being said, I thought you were aware. Obviously.â
âHave you seen them? The sketches. What am I doing in them?â
âEveryday things. Just⌠being. Nothing inappropriate, if thatâs what youâre getting at.â
Ominis nodded. He appeared to have thoroughly satisfied his curiosity now. He thanked her before getting up and heading to get himself some tea of his own.
It wasnât long before Sebastian had awoken and made his appearance around the common room. He blushed at his first sight of Ominis for the day, and thought back on their chat from the previous day.
He was feeling more confident now, given that the rest of their evening the day before went smoothly and without awkwardness. He felt ready to plan a time for them to meet for their little arrangement.
âMorning, Ominis.â Sebastian greeted his friend as he approached him. He had been sitting in an armchair along the common room wall.
âGood morning, Sebastian.â He said with a little smile.
âI was thinking this evening after dinner we could meet at the room of requirement, if youâre still willing to pose for me, that is.â He spoke in a low voice, a hint of trepidation present.
âOf course. Yes, Iâm still willing to do that.â His reply came easily, much to Sebastianâs relief. And Sebastian couldnât be certain, but he was nearly positive that Ominisâs face reddened slightly as he assured Sebastian he was still on board.
âRight. Ok then, Iâll see you there this evening.â
The rest of the day went on as per usual, breakfast, classes, lunch, studying in the library, more classes, and finally, dinner. Sebastian found as dinner was nearing an end, he was becoming ever more nervous. He couldnât pin point why, when he had drawn Ominis countless times, and now, finally, he had Ominisâs permission. Not only that but approval. Willingness to participate, even. But thatâs what made it so nerve racking. Why was Ominis so willing? The possibility of him returning Sebastianâs feelings was absolutely too much to even consider. The mere thought of it made his knees feel weak and his heart palpitate. No matter how enticing the idea, Sebastian forced it from his mind as quickly as it crossed it, else he may not have had the strength to climb the seemingly infinite number of stairs to the seventh floor.
Despite leaving the Great Hall at the same time, the two did not make the trek to the seventh floor together. Sebastian first had to go back to his dorm room to gather his supplies. When it wasnât on his person, he kept his sketch book at the bottom of his trunk at the foot of his bed. He pulled it out and packed it up, along with his charcoals and an eraser, put everything into his bag, and then he was off to meet Ominis, who headed off right after dinner.
When Sebastian approached the hallway, he faced the blank wall he paced, thinking of his need to meet with Ominis to get the door to appear, and it did. He headed inside. This was a version of the room heâd not seen before. There were already art supplies here â an easel, new sketch books, jars of fixative, weaponously sharp sticks of charcoal in more variety of hardness than Sebastian held in his personal collection. He shouldnât have been surprised⌠the room does provide whatâs needed. The room was smaller and more intimate that it had ever previously appeared to Sebastian. Ominis was inside, in the middle of the room, sitting on a stool with the most perfect and most magical lighting cast upon him. It was though the lighting was tailor made to highlight the bone structure of Ominisâs face, the glistening of the golden strands of his hair, and the angular cut of his jawline. All of Sebastianâs favorite features to draw. He had never seen Ominis look more perfect than he did in this moment. He looked like an absolute treasure.
âWow,â Sebastian muttered.
âDid the room deliver?â Ominis wondered.
He quickly snapped out of his trance and gave an appropriate answer. âDid it ever. My own little art studio. Itâs perfect.â
Sebastian dragged a small end table over to the provided easel and began perusing the stash of supplies shelved along the walls for what he wanted to use, and setting things up on the end table. Ominis sat on the stool, tipping it back and forth with his heels pressed to the floor.
âHow do you want me?â Ominis asked, definitely not meaning for this to be construed in the way that Sebastianâs mind did initially.
Sebastian almost choked, stifling a giggle before shaking his head as though to rid it of the nonsense in his brain. âHow youâre sitting is fine. ButâŚâ He approached Ominis slowly, and reached nervous fingers forward for the clasp of his robe. âLetâs take this offâŚ. It really... inhibits your form.â
âAh, of course.â Ominis replied, shrugging his robe off into Sebastian's hands, a playful tinge to his voice. He smiled as Sebastian pulled the robe away and walked to hang it over another chair in the room.
âYou know, I havenât done very many full body sketches like this. I appreciate you letting me do this.â Sebastian thanked him and readied a sheet of sketch paper on the easel. âJust, try to stay still, and Iâll get started.â
âMhm. This is an interesting feeling, you know?â
âWhat, exactly?â
âKnowing that you see me as something worthy of⌠appreciation, like this.â
Sebastian had barely began stroking the charcoal against the paper before he set it down to digest Ominisâs words. âWell⌠does it feel good?â
âWell itâs certainly not a bad feeling.â he chuckled, âJust an unexpected one. But, I am very flattered.â
Sebastian smiled, and was thankful for the fact that Ominis couldnât see the blush rising on his cheeks. âYou do make a good subject. Iâm not sure I could stand to stare at anyone else for so long.â
Ominis chuckled a bit and fidgeted with his hands in his lap. Sebastian was back to working the charcoal against the paper, his dark eyes floating between Ominis and his sketch. Time passed slowly, with the two mostly in silence from then on.
An hour must have passed since their last words. Sebastian took a step back and admired his work thus far, deciding he wanted to change the placement of one of Ominisâs arms. He walked towards him and muttered a quick âmay I?â before taking his right hand and moving it from his lap to resting on the edge of the stool at his side, with his elbow slightly bent.
This time Sebastian was certain, Ominis blushed as he arranged his body, and Sebastian could feel heat rising in his own cheeks in response. âThatâs nicer.â Sebastian said finally, taking a step back to admire the updated pose. âYou look relaxed. Why donât we roll up your sleeves, too?â
âAlright.â Ominis agreed and began to reach a hand towards the other to pull his sleeves up before Sebastian caught his wrist and put it back where it was.
âYou stay still, let me. Canât have you moving too much or it will mess up my shading.â Sebastian instructed. Maybe it sounded believable, he hoped it did. But really he just wanted another excuse to put his hands on Ominis. He unbuttoned the little button at Ominisâs wrist and folded the sleeve up a few times to his forearm. Sebastian inhaled shakily as his fingers dragged against Ominisâs pale skin as he moved up the fabric.
âAh, of course. Canât mess up your shading.â Ominisâs other arm laid across his lap while Sebastian did the same to the sleeve on that arm, the gentle and light brushing of Sebastianâs fingertips against Ominisâs skin sent goosebumps down Ominisâs arms and left him undeniably red in the face.
Sebastian grinned as he stepped back to the easel. âThere. This is a good look for you, you know.â He said as he picked back up his charcoal and got back to work.
âIs it now? Well, itâs definitely outside of my typical styling.â He replied with a soft laugh.
âI know, thatâs why I like it so.â Sebastian said, his smile must have been audible because Ominis gave him one in return right away.
âYou know, if youâre wanting to style me outside of my typical fashion, I could do thisâŚâ Ominis offered, his voice heavy with mischief. Sebastian directed his gaze away from his sketch to see what Ominis was talking about. He looked up in time to see Ominis had brought his fingers to the buttons of his waistcoat, and began to undo them slowly.
Sebastian crossed the room to him quickly, grabbing both of his wrists gently and stilling them, before speaking to him in a quiet playfully scolding tone, âKeep your hands in place, Ominis.â He guided his hands back to their posed position. âLet me do it.â
âBe my guest, then.â Ominis permissed with a grin crossing his face as he felt Sebastianâs hands move to his buttons.
Sebastian stood close to Ominis, leaning over him slightly, Sebastian's warm and unsteady breath finding Ominisâs forehead, giving him chills, as Sebastian undid the buttons of the waistcoat, letting the garment hang more casually from Ominisâs shoulders. The tension between the two was undeniable, but Sebastian did his best to ignore it. He exhaled deeply as he adjusted the fabric just right, and made his way back to the easel.
The only sounds in the room were the scratches of the charcoal against the paper and the quiet breathing of the two. Slow, intentional breaths, both of them trying to appear calm to the other. Sebastianâs hand trembled every so slightly now, as he looked over Ominis with an insatiable desire in his eyes. He let his gaze rest on his forearms. Such an inconspicuous part of him, yet one that was so rarely seen under Ominisâs typically more formal dress. Sebastian took care to add the details of the lean muscle and protruding veins along his arms to his sketch, and took equal care to chisel the actual form in front of him into his memory.
He kept on and kept on. Sketching wasnât usually this slow a process for Sebastian. He didnât mean to, but this time, having his muse actually pose intentionally for him, he indulged his eyes greedily for far too long, apparently. Ominisâs posture slowly sank, and his expression grew tired as time passed. It was late in the evening now, definitely past curfew. Even in his viably tired state, Ominis didnât complain.
Sebastian was nearly finished, with his sketch, but not quite. His eyes were tired, but so fulfilled. âItâs almost done,â He assured in a soft voice. âI know itâs late, I appreciate you sitting for me for so long. Truly.â Ominis smiled at him and gave him a nod as he straightened up his posture.
About twenty minutes later, Sebastian set his charcoal down and roughly brushed his hands together trying to rid them of at least some of the excess charcoal dust. He took deep breath and sighed happy as he sat back and admired his work. It was his best sketch yet, he was proud of himself and he beamed thinking of how lucky he was that Ominis agreed to pose for him like this.
Ominis could feel the mood shift in the room. While he was sketching, Sebastian grew serious and mostly silent. The air felt lighter now. âAll finished?â He wondered.
âI am.â Sebastian confirmed. âItâs my best piece yet.â
âIâm glad.â Ominis said, sounding genuine. He shifted in his seat, stretching out his back and rolling his shoulders a few times. His body was stiff from posing for hours now.
Sebastian crossed the room over to him. âI just, I donât know how to even thank you for letting me do this⌠How can I repay you?â
Ominis chuckled and shook his head slightly, âYou donât have to repay me, Sebastian. Like I said⌠knowing how you see me, as something special⌠Itâs a nice feeling. That made be happier than you could know.â
âIs that so?â Sebastian asked, raising a brow, his voice growing playful. As quickly as the playfulness came on, it had passed, his next words sounding much more serious. He didnât want them misconstrued as a joke. âIâm glad I could make you feel happy. You make me feel⌠more than just happy.â
Ominisâs cheeks flushed and he let out a sigh. He tilted his head up towards Sebastianâs voice. He could tell he was standing close in front of him. He slid forward off of the stool he had posed on, making Sebastian take a step back, else get bumped into. They were still standing closely enough to feel the others soft breathing.
They didnât need words anymore. It was clear after the hours in this room together, their little bouts of flirting punctuating the long stretches of silence while Sebastian worked, their most recent sentiments towards each other... Their feeling were mutual and there was an understanding between them finally.
Sebastian smiled and exhaled the smallest laugh. He brought his hands to cup Ominisâs face, just holding it tenderly for a few moments, taking in the feel of his warm skin, before closing the gap between them and pressing their lips together firmly. Sebastian held the kiss for a few seconds before letting up, still holding his face gently, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs.
Ominis grinned and leaned his forehead against Sebastianâs and brushing their noses together. He rested his hands on Sebastianâs hips and brought his body closer. He spoke softly to Sebastian, âWell⌠Iâd say youâve thanked me for my time sufficiently, now.â
âI donât know⌠You sat there for an awfully long time,â Sebastian reminded, bringing their lips together again, keeping him longer this time and humming in satisfaction as he took in the feel of Ominisâs lips with his own.
âAnd Iâd do it again, if this was my repayment,â Ominis told him through a grin when their kiss broke.
âWell, I think you have yourself a deal then.â
Professor Aesop Sharp (fl. 1890) was a wizard, who worked as an Auror for the British Ministry of Magic and later a Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the 19th century. [He] had a gruff and keenly acute nature, was not easily impressed by his students, and was a difficult taskmaster. Although he was wholly unwilling to suffer fools in his class, he was by no means entirely unreasonable in his methods, as he was known to take genuine pride in students who excelled in his class in spite of his challenging curriculum.
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Tillyâs litter came with a free box house. Not sure who loves it more - her or me! https://www.instagram.com/p/CpubZEDoKhQa8i1m8k7nNwI0cap7aXpYTMRjvQ0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Okay, you know what? I just reblogged this but I wanna get geeky over it. âCause this is some high-class humor right here, and if you donât get that you need to be educated so here I am about to do the thing youâre not supposed to do and explain the joke, because Iâm just really impressed by this jokeâs construction, okay?
So back in Paris in the 1920s, the surrealist movement in art was just starting to take off. The surrealist movement was born from the dadaist movement, which was a response to strict societal ideas of what was âartâ and what wasnât. The dadaists made a lot of works to try and challenge societyâs ideas of what art even was in the first place, and this continued on into the more sophisticated abstract works of surrealism.
One such artist, Rene Magritte (also known for his paintings of people with invisible heads, or with fruit for heads), painted a work called âThe Treachery of Images,â depicting a pipe, and underneath the words (in french) âThis is Not a Pipe.â The words were meant to refer to the fact that the painted pipe was literally not a real physical pipe that a viewer could smoke out of, it was just a painting of a pipe.
The painting was extremely meta, and really challenged the habit of allowing oneself to get so immersed in a work of art that one forgets it is a created representation of life, and not actual life. Understanding that alone takes a good deal of abstract thinking ability. And really appreciating and enjoying it requires a certain amount of oneâs own frustration with societyâs habit of trying to put limits on the definition of art; and being unable to think outside the box and really see something from all possible perspectives, including the perspective of being completely outside the thing.
Now whatâs even more fascinating to me is that modern art movements (and I donât mean âmodern art,â I mean actual contemporary art movements that are being led by our peers) are kinda doing the same thing the dadaist movement was doing, but in reaction to the art that came out of the dadaist movement. Things have circled back around again, and abstract surrealist art is now what society has decided âartâ is. And our generation doesnât accept that. Comics, video games, TV shows and movies, graffiti art, web series, even flash mobs, all of these are our generationâs way of saying, âno, society, you donât get to define art as strictly as âif it doesnât make sense to me it must be brilliant.â Art can be simple to understand, art can be accessible to all people, art can make you beg to find out what happens next!â And thatâs really interesting to me.
Flash forwards to 2006, when rapper Gucci Mane writes a song called âPillzâ in which the phrase âbitch I might beâ was coined and used several times. In the song, itâs used as a sarcastic, somewhat indignant but not wholly angry way to say âitâs none of your business,â in response to a beautiful woman in a club accusing the rapper of being high. The phrase became a meme in 2013, following Gucci Maneâs indictment for assaulting a soldier, when a redditor photoshopped a screencap of news coverage of the trial to reference the song. The photoshopped image changed the previous on-screen text to read âRapper Gucci Mane responds with âbitch I might beâ when asked if guiltyâ. Again, the usage of the phrase is a sarcastic and indignant ânone of your business.â The phrase then quickly gained popularity and was added to numerous other photoshopped images.
Now, memes are really cool as a concept anyways, when you think about them hard enough (I mean, the speed at which an entire world full of young people are able to latch onto something as simple as a phrase that they all mutually find funny, and within a matter of days explore every possible usage and implication of that phrase, including how it might relate to other complex systems of knowledge and understanding such as the rich character and plot developments of stories that generate fandoms), but lets put that aside for now and talk about sarcasm, instead.
Because sarcasm is a very sophisticated, complex, and subtle form of wit. Itâs a difficult thing to be able to understand, through tone of voice alone, that what someone says, and what they mean, are two different things. And to be able to discern the actual meaning when the words were not said. As wikipedia says, âdifferent parts of the brain must work together to understand sarcasm.â Itâs even harder when those words are typed and not spoken audibly, as the reader must imagine the tone in the first place. Thatâs a lot of brain work involved in even understanding the true meaning behind that simple little phrase.
And sarcasm is popular right now. More than popular, itâs a hallmark of our generation. People have been writing lengthy articles and psychological, sociological, and anthropological studies and musings on why weâre so sarcastic. As this article suggests, itâs because weâre so angry. Weâre a generation that was promised a lot and the world didnât deliver. Weâre disenchanted, and jaded, and mad. And we vent that through sarcastic humor. We laugh at things older generations donât think are funny. We have come to expect so much disappointment, that we no longer afford âseriousâ things the respect weâre told they deserve. Because we no longer believe they deserve it. As the article states, âWe are a generation that believes nothing is sacred. And if nothing is sacred everything becomes profane.â
One could even go so far as to make the argument that the popularity of the statement on the above image is due partially to the attitude amongst todayâs youth (especially on tumblr) that oneâs own life and choices are oneâs own, and not the business of anybody else. This attitude can be seen in everything as simple as the âbe yourselfâ and âfollow your dreamsâ statements many of us were raised on, to the more serious issues we deal with today of discrimination against the LGBTGA+ community, fat shaming, slut shaming, prejudice against muslim people, etc., to political issues like free speech and government invasion of privacy, and even into more subtle ideas present in social media of privacy settings, controlling who gets to see what posts, block and ignore features, and even the philosophy of ânobody can tell you what to post in your own space. If somebody doesnât like it, they can unfollow.â
None of this would be happening consciously, of course, but we canât help but be influenced by the world around us. And a phrase whose meaning is essentially âitâs none of your businessâ is very likely to resonate strongly with a group of people whose fundamental philosophies of polite interpersonal conduct revolve roughly around the same concept.
Taking all this into consideration, this joke is taking a lot of pre-knowledge and putting it all together to kind of say, in a funny way, âstop acting like you have it all figured out, because you donât. And some things are just not for you to figure out anyway.â
So to sum up, to understand the above image, you must:
have a descent grasp on art history to recognize the original painting.
have good abstract and/or creative thinking skills to understand and appreciate the original painting.
have a good grasp on modern pop culture, internet culture, and current slang and memes (basically, be an active participant in the wider world).
have the complex emotional and interpersonal understanding necessary to understand the subtleties of sarcasm.
understand enough of whatâs going on in the world around you that you are disenchanted enough to appreciate sarcastic humor.
participate in our generationâs general philosophy of life and how to interact with other human beings in the world at large.
Harry Potter: stream of angry texts posts a la "MY LIFE SUCKS. MY PARENTS ARE DEAD, MY MENTORS ARE DEAD, MY OWL IS DEAD MY WAND IS BROKEN AND MY SCAR HURTS."
Ron Weasley: food porn blog
Hermione Granger: social justice SPEW blogger calling people out on their bullshit. "let the elves decide whether they are house or garden. check yo privelege."
Ginny Weasley: "day 394-I am not yet dating harry potter" + gifsets dedicated to his scar.
Luna Lovegood: the nightblogger.
Draco Malfoy: hipster blogger
Filch: reblogs pictures/videos/gifs of cats.
Hagrid: the fluffy chicken girl-"if i get 700,000 notes my headmaster said I could get a chimera."
McGonagall: that one person who ruins everyones fun text posts.
Snape: anonymously leaves this in harry's ask "10 point from gryffindor" and then reblogs it.
Bellatrix Lestrange: fanart of her and the dark lord in compromising positions.
Voldemort: the blog that just steals everyone else's gifsets to gain followers - "Follow this lord, you will love him on your dashboard".