#i agree that he probably has a wonderfully colorful taste

[poorlemons]

Theres something sad about the way i imagine michael shelley being such a people pleaser, someone who doesnt push against the line and just trusts and goes with what people says... i dont think he really indulged in his more colorful fashion taste beyond a fun shirt or pair of socks. and how in contrast i imagine the distortion being *so* colorful, *so* bright. Michael is gone but in some ways he still clings to Michael

[greenhikingboots]

Jon’s Pre-Canon Crush

Okay, Jonsa fam. I’ve seen a lot of great posts, especially in the last few months, about Jon’s reactions to Val. Among them, there’s one particular vein I like to assume everyone loves as much as I do. That is, when Jon thinks of Val’s hair as silver vs. when he thinks of it as the color of dark honey. You’ve seen those metas, right? They explain the likelihood of Jon’s future connection to Dany being negative — The air tastes cold. / My tongue is too numb to tell. All I taste is cold. — while his future connection to Sansa will be positive — It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

Well, in this post I want to expand on the angle of Val-is-sometimes-a-stand-in-for-Sansa. Only, I don’t want to speculate on what will happen between Jon and Sansa in the future, if we ever get GRRM’s last two books. Enough people have already done that, and they’ve done it so wonderfully that I have little to add. Instead, as the title of this post says, I want to focus on Jon’s pre-canon crush. More specifically: I want to focus on what Jon’s thoughts and feelings about Val say about his thoughts and feelings about Sansa.

But let me lay some groundwork first, okay? Until a few weeks ago, I went back and forth on pre-canon crush theories. I agreed they held a lot of potential and were a lot of fun to daydream about — a great premise for a one-shot, to be sure! Oh, and I’ve always loved it when people said things like, “Hey, Jon, your Targaryen is showing.” That’s classic stuff. But did I really think GRRM meant to hint at prior feelings rather than just laying a foundation for future feelings? Again, until a few weeks ago, I wasn’t totally convinced either way. But now I am fully committed to the Pre-Canon Crush Camp, assigned to cabin Jon-Had-Feelings-for-Sansa. [Did Sansa have feelings for Jon too? Ummm maybe? I think there’s some evidence to support that, but not as much. But, hey, that’s not the point of this post. Sorry. Moving on.] So what changed? Well, basically some ideas I’d previously had sunk in on a deeper level. It started with this post from @sherlokiness. It talks about GRRM commenting on a discrepancy in the books, two occasions where Jeyne Westerling’s physical descriptions do not match up. GRRM said the discrepancies were a mistake, a really unfortunate one because it distracts from the times when he intentionally included discrepancies of physical appearances. And basically us Jonsas loved it. Like, “Yep! Make sense! We assumed as much already, Mr. Martin.” And that’s because of the canon line mentioned earlier, right? You know the whole thing, don’t you? Oh, but you want me to quote it here anyway? Okay, fine, I’ll oblige.

They [Ghost and Val] look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white [bleh, bleh, bleh] …but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

Direwolf. Lots of white. Suspicious ellipses. Blue eyes. Long braid the color of dark honey. Right, okay, got it.  [BTW. Did you know there’s also a point, early on, where Val’s described as having high cheekbones? You know, a feature Sansa has as well!?!?] Anyway, when I saw sherlokiness’s post about GRRM’s comments and the Jonsas relating it to that canon scene with Ghost and Val, I reblogged it. Naturally. And in the tags I said something like, “I’ll have to double check but I’m pretty sure the willowy creature line comes after this line. As in, maybe Jon knew exactly who Val reminded him in that moment and he was trying to talk himself out of his pre-canon crush coming back to the surface.” I’m paraphrasing here. My tags were probably not as clear as that. Also, I was being a bit facetious. It was a thought I’d had before, but just a passing one. Again (AGAIN! Do I say that too much?), I’d been going back and forth about pre-canon crush theories for a long time. But @agentrouka-blog saw my tags and was like, “You might be onto something there.” And then @zimshan saw my tags too and did the double check for me. Thanks! And guess what? GUESS WHAT, JONSA FAM!? I was right about the order. First, Jon sees Ghost and Val, thinks her eyes are blue and her hair is like dark honey, and it is a lovely sight. Second, this line:

Val looked the part [of a princess] and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

But guess what else? The order isn’t even the most striking thing. The most striking thing is how closely these two lines appear to one another — within just a few pages!!! That's what zimshan said. So I went back to read it myself. Not just the two lines to check the order, but a little before, and a little after, and everything in between. If you want, you can do the same. It’s ADWD Jon XI.

Want to know what stuck out to me most? The willowy creature line actually seems… so odd, and out of place, and unnecessary. I swear to you. Let me try to explain.

Basically, by that point in the chapter, Jon has already clearly established his take on Val. She’s beautiful, everyone knows it, but she’s more than that. She’s strong and capable. She found Tormund and brought him back to Castle Black when Jon’s Night’s Watch Rangers couldn’t manage it. Like, Jon’s thankful for Val, okay? 

Oh, and he also seems aware that he holds her in higher regard than the rest of the men who keep calling her a princess even though she’s not one. I think he feels smug about it, to be honest. Like, he wouldn’t use these words because it’s ASOIAF, but he knows he’s a budding feminist and he’s proud of himself for it. Like, “I’m so much better than these asshats who don’t respect women and think all Val has to offer is her pretty face.”

How great is that? I love book Jon so much.

Where was I, though? Oh! Oh, oh, oh! This next part is key. Up until the willowy creature line, Jon has not had a single disparaging thought about Val. Val being cruel about Shireen’s greyscale hasn’t happened yet. But for some reason — *Getting too executed. Brain malfunctioning!*

AH! I SWEAR JONSA FAM! If you read the willowy creature in fuller context, it comes across as if Jon’s correcting himself for having a disparaging thought about Val, like he’s reminding himself of who she truly is. She’s a warrior princess, not a willowy creature. But like, why? Why does Jon feel the need to do this? He hasn’t had a disparaging thought about Val, so why correct himself as if he has?

Just because she’s beautiful? Just because he’s tired of other men calling her a princess? I mean, I guess that could be the whole story. That’s certainly how we’re supposed to take it, if we’re taking it at face value. But I’m not convinced. Go read it again, and I think you’ll see that when the willowy creature line happens, it actually feels like a weird logic leap.

The dots aren’t connecting because one dot is missing!!!! Let me put a pin in that for a moment while I turn to other mini metas in our Jonsa fandom. Antis like to say, “Jon doesn’t like girls like Sansa. He doesn't like willowy creatures, he said so himself.” But we know that’s crap, right? The boy who liked Ygritte’s gentle side? The boy who helps Alys Karstark by marrying her to Sigorn? The boy who dreamed his mother was a highborn lady with kind eyes? The boy who wanted to show his hypothetical wife Winterfell’s glass gardens and bath with her in the hot pools?

Yeah, that boy is a budding feminist, like I said.

So again I ask (AGAIN!) why would Jon — who is not especially critical of women in general and has not been critical of Val at all up to this point — feel the need to correct himself by thinking this critical thing about willowy creatures? In other words, why does he lift up Val by putting down some vague idea of other women he’s never had a problem with before?

Well, obviously it turns out that I believe my facetious, tongue in cheek tags more than I realized when I wrote them. My position is that somewhere in the two pages between ...a long while since Jon had seen a sight so lovely… and ...not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair… Jon realized Val reminded him of Sansa, he felt guilty and ashamed about it, and then felt the need to do damage control. And because guilt and shame are icky, confusing feelings, his damage control took the form of being critical of Sansa even though he isn’t normally critical of such women. 

Am I making sense? How do I explain myself further? Like, why am I so stuck on this idea Jon’s willowy creature line being two pages after the Ghost and Val looking lovely together line must mean Jon had a pre-canon crush?

I think the crux is what I said about the willowy creature line feeling like a weird logic leap — like the dots aren’t connecting because one is missing. The missing dot is Jon being aware that he’s mentally swapped Val with Sansa. He just doesn’t acknowledge this on the page.

Let me be extra clear. I’m now differing from several others who have written about pre-canon crush theories in that I think Jon was aware of his crush. I’ve seen many say it’s all subconscious. But this stuff with Val makes me think otherwise.

I mean, I know Jon has a pattern of dissociation. For him, thinking, and speaking, and acting from his subconsciousness is a common occurrence. So, yes, he could have subconsciously thought Val looked like Sansa and subconsciously felt guilty and ashamed and therefore subconsciously decided to do damage control by subconsciously reminding himself Val is a warrior princess and therefore not a willowy creature.

But I think GRRM was hinting at an exception to Jon’s pattern with these canon lines. Because if the first part is happening subconsciously — Jon thinking Val looks like Sansa and that it’s a lovely sight — then he wouldn’t feel the need to do damage control afterwards? If he wasn’t aware of thinking of Sansa in that moment, isn’t it more likely he’d just carry on with taking Val to meet Selyse, and the odd, out of place, unnecessary line about a willowy creature wouldn’t have been included? What else, what else?

I said earlier that I think Jon’s crush is an innocent, not sexual thing. Let me expand on that. And uuuuuhhhhh... let me clarify that I think that might be changing some over time.  My guess is when Jon was younger, his thoughts were more along these lines: “Sansa is pretty, and a proper lady, and everything men are taught to want. She’ll be a good wife for someone someday. Obviously not me. That’s sinful, I don’t want it, and I’m a bastard so I can’t marry a highborn lady anyway. But objectively, Sansa’s a good catch.” Which kinda matches how Jon thinks of Val at times, right? Like, she’s a catch but he doesn’t want her. He’s not taking Winterfell and a Wife because Winterfell belongs to Sansa and he’s a man of the Night’s Watch, dammit! But hang on a second. Sometimes Jon’s thoughts about Val are more elicit, aren’t they? He thinks about the size of her breasts and she’s the hypothetical wife he pictures romancing in Winterfell. Don’t worry, I’m not saying I’m secretly a Jon/Val shipper. What I’m getting at is this other thing we’ve talked about in the Jonsa fandom. Jone projects his general desires onto Val. He’s getting older. He’s unhappy at the Wall. Winterfell isn’t Robb’s like he thought it would be, and Bran and Rickon are thought to be dead. And Stannis is offering Winterfell and Val to him. Plus he’s now been intimate with a woman, Ygritte. So he knows that sex feels nice. All in all, Jon’s becoming more in tune with wanting Winterfell, and a wife, and a family, and wanting to fu—

You get the idea. ;)

Soooooo. If you buy into the premise that A) Jon considered Sansa a good catch when they were younger B) He’s thinking more and more about romance and sex C) Val is also a good catch and easy to project feelings onto and D) Woopsies, Val just reminded me of Sansa! Well, then where does all that leave Jon? Feeling like he needs to distance himself from positive thoughts about Sansa, right? But without ever thinking her name because of his pattern of dissociation and because GRRM is tricky like that.  Am I making my point clearer, or just talking in circles?  Like, I know plenty of people have already said Val is a switch-back-and-forth-stand-in-for-other-characters. The first two short paragraphs of this post mentions those metas.  But holy smokes! If Jon is aware of A-D mentioned above, that adds a fascinating layer of subtext to his scenes with and thoughts about Val.  Let’s talk about it forever!

Just kidding. I think I’m almost done here.  Basically, I think the willowy creature line is Jon knowingly saying to himself, “Yikes, the thoughts I had about Sansa in the past didn’t bother me much because they were 99% innocent. But they are less innocent now and that’s a problem! You can’t like Sansa! Don’t confuse Sansa with Val,  dummy! Val is a warrior princess! Sansa is a willowy creature and willowy creatures are bad!”

Okay, sure, Jon.  Let me wrap up with one more canon line.

Of Sansa brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow.

We often link this line to Ygritte for obvious reasons, but I’m now in the habit of linking it more to Val and the canon lines mentioned previously. I think GRRM wrote a the three lines — a sight so lovely + willow creature + of Sansa brushing out Lady’s coat — as a subtle continuation of one another. Us Jonsas saw the potential for underlying romantic feelings in the last one, that’s nothing new. But I want to add that it’s a direct contrast to the willowy creature line. As Jon is bleeding out, he can no longer be bothered to put up a front and pretend he doesn’t have feelings for Sansa, feelings that have gotten more complicated as of late.

Oh so subtle. Really not that much different than what others have said before me. But different enough I wanted to mention it. Now someone put it in a fanfic!!

[itsmydreamlifethings]

Requested by @scorpionchild81:

Henry x reader: after some months apart, due to Henrys career - they end up in the bedroom after a super romantic evening. As they almost rip each others clothes of, their lovemaking is intense, rough and steamy! Its gets to the point to that she passes out in the heat of the moment...

Warnings: All the smut: Language, Oral, Fingering...hell, all of it. (18+. You’ve been warned.) Do not repost anywhere outside of TUMBLR!

The moment you stepped foot inside the airport, your heart quickens. You’ve been dating Henry for a year now, but he’s been gone for three whole months, working on a brand new project. The thought of seeing him again, flesh and bone, made your entire body tingles with nerves and excitement.

It seemed like an eternity passed before finally you see him. His huge frame standing on the descending escalator, surrounded by other people. He has his assistant a couple of staff, as he insists he doesn’t need body guards or anyone to really draw more attention to him. 

His eyes spot you immediately and he grins. Your heart races so fast you can hear it in your ears. He comes over, drops his bag on the floor and wraps you into his arms. The warmth of his body pressed so closely to yours is like heaven. You have missed his cologne, a musky and citrusy blend, and the way his muscles tighten and then release as you mold into him.

“Baby, finally,” he whispers then pulls back slightly. He kisses you gently on the lips, but it’s brief. You’re both not huge fans of making out in public, especially in front of his staff, but of course he couldn’t wait to greet you properly with a soft kiss.  You take his appearance in. You’ve facetime with him a million times the last three months, but in person he’s even more handsome. He’s clean shaven, wearing a navy blue sweater that brings out the steel color of his eyes. 

“Let’s go home, beautiful,” he says and snaked an arm around your waist as you leave the airport.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

You and Henry had rented a place together about five months ago. It’s a penthouse in the heart of NYC and even though you’re both more into a countryside living, you both agreed this location suits your life and career at the moment.

By the time you’re back home and get settled, it’s evening. You had prepared a lovely welcome home dinner for Henry, which he devoured. Away from the cameras and his staff, his demeanor has changed from careful to downright touchy and clingy. You’re not complaining.

Slipping away for a few moments, and feeling grateful your boyfriend is back for a long while, you stare outside the wall size penthouse window. Millions of little lights glare as NYC’s night life begins to stir. Somehow the lights and commotion sooth you, almost lulling you into a lazy feeling.

Just then, Henry’s arms snake around you as he presses his chiseled body against your back. His lips nip and kiss your neck, his hot breath tickling you. You angle your neck, making space for him.

“Baby, I missed you so much,” he whispers. Hs voice is a deep growl, one you have missed so dearly. It comes out when Henry’s lustful side comes out in full force.

“I missed you too,” you coo. 

“Yeah? Show me,” he counters, but before you can even answer, he flips you around and pushes you against the enormous window. You gasp, his body pressing close to you, closing any distance. He kisses you, softly at first, but then his tongue finds its way inside your mouth, and once it meets your tongue, they can’t help but engage in a passionate dance. His lips and tongue taste amazing. 

His hands slide under your dress and you can tell that both of your pent up sexual frustration is about to culminate. He practically tears your panties off, and before you know it he has thrown you on the couch, slipping two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans, your wetness dripping all over his fingers. “You did miss me, baby.” He pumps his fingers and curls them with each thrust in, hitting your g-spot in the most delicious way. But that’s ho sex with Henry has always been. He knows exactly where your spot is and knows how to work it too. Soon, you’re unleashing the best, overdue orgasm on his hand, and he grunts, the feeling of your juices on him driving him wild.

You’re relishing in the last waves of your orgasm as Henry grabs your thighs and places them over his shoulder as he crouched between your legs. 

“Henry--” you moan, but he’s already in the zone, his tongue burying inside your folds and sensually licking up the evidence of your orgasm. 

“I missed the way you taste,” he murmurs, then plunges his tongue again and follows it with a nibble. “So sweet.”

The way he’s eating you surprises you with a second orgasm, another wave of pleasure peaking into ecstasy. Your heart is beating rapidly and you’re trying to catch your breath as Henry pulls back and grins at you. He reached up to your face, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his lips. 

Then he picks you up and throws you over his shoulders, carrying you to your bedroom. He throws you down on the king size bed and steps back. He starts by peeling out of his t-shirt, revealing the hard, thick muscles he’s been working hard of for the last project. You eye him with delight, still not believing this gorgeous, sexy man is all yours.

When he unbuttons his pants and pulls them down together with his briefs you feel another bout of lust come over you. His dick is completely erect, so hard and veiny that it reminds you again how he stretches you when he’s inside you.

In one quick stride, he returns to the bed and grabs your hips. It’s clear he is so aroused, so impossibly hungry for you, and so pent up with sexual energy, that he is going to devour you like a savage. Flipping you around on all fours, he clenches your hips tightly, forcing your ass up higher. Most of the time, he takes slow deliberate thrusts, easing his big member inside you. But now, starving for you, he isn’t about being gentle.

He pushes in deeply, making you cry out. His cock pushes against your walls, stretching and splitting you in the most amazing way. You moan lewdly, unsure how you’d be able to tolerate another mind blowing orgasm. Within minutes, Henry’s pumping inside you, hard and fast, his usual coordinated rhythm dominated only by his need to have you, to fill you up, and to take what’s his. His thrusts are deep and violent, and although you are hypnotized by the way he takes you, loving the way he claims you, you’re feeling light headed. He drains you for a long time, pumping and thrusting, over and over again, his stamina topping any other great sex sessions you ever had. His hand grasps your hair and pulls your head back. You can see his darkened eyes. They’re filled with animalistic need, his thirst for you reaching a brand new level.He loves seeing your long, dark hair curtaining down your back. He yanks on the strands, eliciting a loud, sinful scream from you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet, sweetheart,” he groans, his breathing becoming erratic.

You keep moaning and screaming, each of his thrust a mixture of ecstasy and pain.You feel his dick tremble inside you as the head slams into your cervix, and much to your shock, another orgasm begins to roll inside you. Henry’s own release is coming and he decides to move back onto his haunches and bringing up to ride him as you still have your back to him. An orgasm overtakes you both as he slams you up and down his cock, his strong hands grasped at your hips, sure to leave some nasty bruises. He spills inside you, a loud groan erupting from his chest and a cry from yours.

You fall onto the mattress, sweat layering your body and tears of pure joy and a sensitivity running down your face. Henry rolls next to you, patting your back.

“I-I need water,” you whimper, barely able to catch your breath. You stand up but a foot away from the bed, you feel so lightheaded that the room spins. You fall to the ground, blackness overtaking you until your eyes close and you pass out.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

“Shit, babe, are you ok?” Henry’s voice trails over to you as you open yours.

You watch him, his curls still dampened by sweat and sticking to his forehead. He has his cell phone in his hand, the other one behind your head. You’re lying back on the bed, still naked, and he places the cell down.

“I should call 911,” he says, worry causing worry lines on his forehead.

“What? No, no, I am fine.”

“Y/N, you passed out, I should call an ambulance,” he counters.

You giggle and sit up on your elbows. You still deel a bit dizzy and probably dehydrated, but you are feeling back to yourseld. “And tell them what? I fucked my girlfriend until she fainted.”

His face turns red and he smiles sheepishly. “Baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You caress his face. “You didn’t, Henry. It was just a .....wonderfully rough lovemaking session. My blood pressure spiked, I am dehydrated, and I just got fucked within an inch of my life.” You smile at him and wink. “Just get me some water, honey, I’ll be ok.”

He leans in and kisses you. “You sure? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

You savour the taste of his lips. “I promise.”

“Okay, but it’s nothing but cuddles and rest fo the night,” he warns. He gets up and heads to the kitchen to grab you a drink. Once back in the bed, he tucks you in, and takes his side of the bed. He wraps you closed into his arms, your head lying on his chest. He massages your scalp gently and places soft kisses on the top of your head.

“Feeling better, baby?” he asks, heavy concern still lacing his words.

You nod. “Yes. Better than I have in a long, long time.”

[seeroftodayandtomorrow]

A Musical Affair

Chapter 11

Read on AO3

Blaine's heart stopped in his chest, and he stood there with his mouth open for what felt a long time.  Why hadn't he anticipated this would happen? Bringing Kurt right into the lion's den, as it were—what a stupid idea.

He had to tread carefully now. Sebastian was an earl, albeit newly made under dubious circumstances. He had had some time to become accustomed to always getting what he wanted, and the upbringing to fight for it. Blaine was no rival for him, unless—well. He did not think Sebastian would take an unwilling man to his bed. If he said Kurt was his—but no. Kurt was not his. It wasn't for him to decide whom he bedded, not when they didn't have any kind of arrangement. Kurt might like Sebastian. He was certainly attractive, and an earl, and though Kurt wasn't mercenary, there were advantages of being with an earl that had little to do with money.

"Kurt -" he managed, then started anew. "I-"

"Right," he was interrupted. With a start, he noticed Kurt standing in the doorway. He looked slightly amused.

"While I am flattered by your interest, your lordship, there are certain circumstances at play here you might not be aware of."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Please tell me you are not another brother I knew nothing about."

Kurt smiled. "Not that I'm aware, no."

"What then?"

Blaine was torn between being afraid, amused and flabbergasted. Sebastian seemed unaware that there might be other reasons for not wanting to bed him than family relations. Even preferences in gender didn't seem to matter to him, since he hadn't thought of asking Kurt if he even liked men that way. Granted, Kurt had...something of an air about him that indicated he leaned in that direction, but then again, no more than some of Blaine's more dandy-ish acquaintances that were happily married.

"I think I will just demonstrate, if you don't mind," Kurt said.

He stepped very close to Blaine, pulled his head close to him, and kissed him in a way that left no doubts as to the kind of their relationship.

Stunned beyond belief, Blaine just closed his eyes and surrendered to the kiss. He probably wouldn't have been able to move away even if he had wanted to, but of course, he didn't want to. For Kurt to kiss him, like that, while someone else could see it, was....it was a dream he didn't even know he had.

Someone cleared their throat. Blaine had not exactly forgotten Sebastian, but he had shrunk to something insignificant, someone who certainly had no business interrupting something as beautiful as this. But Kurt drew apart, and Blaine reluctantly stopped focusing his attention on Kurt's mouth and looked at Sebastian.

Who looked more amused than anything else.

"I see," he said, chuckling. "You have sufficiently demonstrated your....attachments. I beg pardon if my advances have given offense. I assume you would like connecting bedrooms?"

They had broken the rules, taking dinner in their travel clothes because all of them had been too hungry to care for formality. Sebastian had indulged them, but the ladies had insisted they be proper now and change for the remainder of the evening.

It could be so easy, Blaine thought as he dressed in a bedroom with a connecting, open door to Kurt's.  He would have to find Sebastian later and thank him, and also praise him, for that answer had been as diplomatic as anyone raised to it could have given. Sebastian would always be an eccentric, at least for the more narrow-minded among London society, but he was learning, and quickly.

A knock on the interconnecting door made him turn around and smile. Kurt looked resplendent in his new evening suit that he had reluctantly agreed to let Rachel buy him for the occasion, and he looked at Blaine as though he appreciated the sight of him just as much.

"Nice waistcoat," he said, coming nearer and touching one of the mother-of-pearl buttons. Blaine grinned. He had chosen one of his more colorful ones that had been firmly banished to the back of his closet for the last few years, worn only, clandestinely, to his Wednesday mornings at the St. James's house.  This waistcoat was a tasteful purple with thin silver-gray stripes; he had also packed a gray one with red embroidered lobsters, and a pink-checkered one. He had thought it best to not subject his friends to the extremes of his fashion taste on the first evening, but he was determined to wear them at some point.

"I'm sorry for Sebastian," he said. "I should have known he would try something like this."

Kurt shook his head, still smiling. "I actually was flattered. I have never had an earl proposition me before. And he reacted very well, considering..." He shrugged. "What would you have done had I not come in?"

Now Blaine shrugged, awkwardly. "I must confess I have no idea. I was trying to convey my...sincere displeasure at the thought of you and Sebastian, without making it seem like I was laying claim on you like a jealous husband. Without insulting Sebastian. It was hard to find the right words."

"Well." Kurt took his hands, gently rubbing the sensitive skin of his wrists with his thumbs. Blaine felt like closing his eyes and purring. "It was very honorable of you to not lay a claim on me. Even though....I did, it has to be said. Rather forcefully, too."

There was a hint of doubt, question, or apology in Kurt's voice, enough to make Blaine say, very quickly, "I didn't mind. I liked it."

He had loved it, really. And also, there was a difference between him claiming Kurt and Kurt claiming him.

"This -" he gestured awkwardly between them, "has to be your choice. All of this has to be your choice."

He didn't say why, because both of them knew. It had to be Kurt's choice because all the advantage was on Blaine's side, because Blaine, although fallen and disgraced, still had the money and the connections to make any accusations of gross indecency or buggery go away. Kurt didn't. Kurt had nothing.

Kurt nodded. He repeated the gesture and said, "I do choose this. And as I rather clearly demonstrated earlier, I choose you."

Blaine closed his eyes as Kurt leaned in, accepting an eagerly awaited kiss that was sadly cut short by a knock on the door.

"His lordship bids you come downstairs," a servant announced, "as Mr and Mrs Evans have arrived."

Blaine was happy to see Mr Evans again. He was. He just wished he'd arrived maybe a half hour later, so they could have kissed some more—and Blaine could have had tome to recover and wait for the uncomfortably tight feeling in his breeches to go away.

As it was, he had no choice but to hide his discomfort and smile brightly as he greeted Mr and Mrs Evans, who, he noticed, looked rather different from when he had met her in the city.

In fact, she reminded him of himself, after the death of his father and the subsequent scandal. Gone were her brightly colored dresses and feathered bonnets, replaced with lace caps and demure pastels. He wondered what happened to her, but had not thought of a polite way to inquire when Rachel already started passing out sheet music, his primary goal of teaching Sebastian to dance apparently forgotten in favor of the concert she planned.

"Hold on," Blaine said, "not so fast, please. We should talk about why we are here, and what we want to do. Sebastian, we thank you very much for your kind invitation."

Sebastian bowed with a distinctly ironic air; all of them knew that, while the house was Sebastian's, Blaine and Rachel were their hosts.

"Tomorrow, we will talk to your steward and your tenants, decide what has to be done, and so on. Our evenings will be spent more pleasurably, though we have work to do here also. Our first objective has to be to teach you to dance. Mr Hummel will play the piano, and I will teach you the steps. Miss Pierce here is a very good dancer, I'm sure she will-"

"I will," Santana interrupted. "I will dance with his lordship. I may not be as good as Brittany, but I'm good enough for that."

Blaine shrugged, looking over to Sebastian to see his response. He looked resigned and slightly scared, which, Blaine thought, was an appropriate response to Santana's personality.

"Miss Lopez will dance with you," he corrected himself, "and I'm sure you will learn in no time."

"He better," Santana mumbled, and he saw Kurt hide a grin behind his hand.

"Then there is the little concert we're planning," Blaine continued, only to be at once interrupted by Rachel.

"Right. I have taken the liberty to choose a few songs for us to perform. They are all suited wonderfully to my voice, so we will, of course, feature me as a soloist, but at least his lordship should have a solo part as well, since we want to introduce him musically..."

Back in his room, far after midnight, Blaine finally sighed.  The evening had been more stressful than productive, because while Rachel was used to saying what she wanted and getting it, the others, especially Santana, were not content with leaving everything to her now they were on neutral territory, so to speak. It came to no surprise to Blaine that she could be quite vicious, even constrained by polite society and manners. Rachel had given back as good as she got, and then Mrs Evans had stated her wish for a solo part as well, in a manner that proved her demure clothing a mere façade. The men had stood bemusedly for a few moments until Sebastian and Mr Evans had added their voices, making everyone talk at once.

Kurt had been quiet at first, on account of, Blaine guessed, being a paid pianist instead of a guest like the others. But when Blaine had tried to bring a little order into the chaos and find a compromise that might work for their concert without leaving everyone unsatisfied, he had helped and played a vital part in bringing the evening to a satisfactory ending.

With another sigh, he sat down a the bed, loosening his cravat.

"And there you are already where I want you," a voice said from the door—from the connecting door, Blaine realized, and turned his head with a smile to greet Kurt, gorgeous in just his breeches and shirt, a bottle with a golden liquid in his hand.

Blaine did not stand up, since if Kurt wanted him where he was, why would he leave? But he turned, kneeling on the bed so he could watch Kurt approach with a smile at once mischievous and shy.

"This was on my nightstand," Kurt said, indicating the bottle in his hand, which Blaine only now realized was not a beverage. "I think it's—it's a complimentary bottle of oil, courtesy of his lordship."

Blaine felt heat rise in his cheeks. "That's very considerate of him. And mortifying."

"I brought it just in case. It doesn't mean we have to do anything, if you don't-"

"I do," Blaine interrupted quickly. "I want. I just—I never-"

He had never done anything he would need oil for. Quick hands and mouths in an alley or beneath the blankets of a dormitory bed, that was all he knew. There had never been the time or the opportunity or, except maybe once, the right person he'd have wanted to do more with. He suspected Kurt would have more experience than him in this regard, having had his own room all this time.

Kurt nodded, came closer and put the bottle on the nightstand. Then he stood there, unmoving, waiting, and Blaine knew that now it was his turn - this had to be his choice, he would have to take the first step.

So he rose from the bed, took off his cravat and his waistcoat, and stepped into Kurt's waiting arms.

[dragon-temeraire]

Put away all I know for tonight

Summary: “I imagine it’s hard to get in the mood when someone might discorporate you at any moment,” Aziraphale muses. “Which means Hell must be absolutely full of sexual frustration.”

“One of the main elements of Hell’s atmosphere,” Crowley agrees.

(Or: Aziraphale discovers that Crowley has never had an orgasm, and decides to help out)

Notes: I just really felt like writing some smut, but with neither of them having any real experience. The sex still manages to be (miraculously) good. On AO3. 

_______________________________________________________

 Crowley isn’t nearly drunk enough to be having this conversation, but he’s doing it anyway, because he needs to know. He glances over at his sunglasses, sitting innocuously on a side table, and decides it would be too telling to put them back on now. “Angel, is it just food? Is that the only human thing you indulge in?”

Aziraphale, probably also not drunk enough, looks at him oddly. “Well, there’s alcohol, of course. And I’m quite fond of the clothing. So many varieties and colors!” he says cheerfully.

“Obviously they’re delightful,” Crowley says dryly, taking a pointed look at his all-black ensemble. “But I was more wondering if you engage in…self-pleasure.”

Aziraphale makes a thoughtful humming sound. “I do love a good bubble bath, or taking in the smell of newly-blossomed flowers. And it should be apparent that I take great pleasure in both collecting and reading books,” he says. “But if you meant masturbation, then yes, I do that too,” he adds casually.

Crowley chokes on nothing, but manages to recover enough to take a fortifying gulp of wine. “You do?”

“I think you’ve surely realized by now that I’m a bit of a hedonist,” Aziraphale says, smiling. “I’ve tried nearly every sort of pleasure this world has to offer.”

“I see,” Crowley says, distractedly setting his glass down before he drops it.

“Do you?” Aziraphale asks curiously. “Engage in self-pleasure, that is.”

“No,” Crowley says, without hesitation. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“It’s not possible for demons,” he says, shrugging. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“What…happens?” Aziraphale asks, then looks horrified at himself for doing so.

“Nothing,” Crowley says dourly. “Nothing at all.”

“So, you can’t—not by yourself—but what about with someone else?”

“Yes,” Crowley says.

“Then you have?” Aziraphale says, cautiously. “With another demon?”

“No,” Crowley says, though he doesn’t particularly want to admit it. “What you’ve got to remember, angel, is that demons don’t trust each other. At all.”

“I imagine it’s hard to get in the mood when someone might discorporate you at any moment,” Aziraphale muses. “Which means Hell must be absolutely full of sexual frustration.”

“One of the main elements of Hell’s atmosphere,” Crowley agrees.

“And you’ve never,” here Aziraphale hesitates, “had an orgasm? Ever?”

“No,” Crowley says again, rubbing at his face and feeling rather more than frustrated. “I haven’t.”

“Well. Would you like to?”

And even though he absolutely knows it is, he still has to ask. “Is that an invitation?”

Aziraphale smiles at him encouragingly, with a little hint of pink in his cheeks. “If you want it to be,” he says.

And oh, how Crowley does want.

 *

 Aziraphale feels himself fairly trembling with anticipation as they make their way up the stairs to his flat. He’s very much looking forward to introducing Crowley to a new form of pleasure, and to expressing what he feels for Crowley in a different way, whether Crowley realizes it or not.

Aziraphale’s bed gets only occasional use from his forays into self-pleasure—and much of that has, admittedly, been spent thinking about Crowley—so it’s a wonderful treat to actually see Crowley sprawled across it, looking delectable.

He admires the view for a moment, then joins Crowley, covering him with his body. Aziraphale kisses him first, because he believes this sort of thing should have a lead-up. He himself has spent many hours lightly touching his own neck, and chest, and stomach, places he feels Crowley would kiss him if they were in bed together.

Crowley looks surprised by the kiss, but settles softly into it, mouth opening for Azriaphale. Neither of them are particularly skilled, but that doesn’t matter. Aziraphale fumbles at the buttons of Crowley’s shirt as the kiss deepens, and with a snap of Crowley’s fingers, it’s gone completely.

Aziraphale pulls back far enough to frown at him, but Crowley looks so amused—and aroused—that he can’t hold onto it for long. “Let me handle the rest,” he says sternly, then huffs when he sees Crowley���s boots and socks have joined his shirt on the floor.

In retribution, he presses light, tickling kisses to Crowley’s chest and stomach, making him squirm and grin. “All right, all right, the rest is yours,” he says, gesturing to himself. “Angel, are you planning to take any of your clothes off?”

Aziraphale, who is barefooted but otherwise fully clothed, smiles sweetly at Crowley. “Not at the moment, no.”

Then his hands are at the waist of Crowley’s rather tight trousers, unbuttoning them and pulling them down those long, long legs. He’s met with a pleasant, musky smell as he does, and he looks at Crowley in surprise.

“Oh, making an effort, I see,” he says admiringly.

Crowley looks embarrassed. “This is actually what happens when I’m not making an effort. I can change it, if you want?”

“No, my dear, you’re perfect as you are.” He brushes his fingers across Crowley, where he’s hotter than anywhere else, and already damp. Settling himself eagerly down between Crowley’s thighs, he pauses long enough to ask, “May I?”

Crowley, who’d covered his eyes with his arm, moves it enough to look at him. “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?” he says, and it’s an obvious attempt at bluster, but Aziraphale can hear the nervousness underneath.

“I do hope you’ll like it,” he says, then takes a tentative lick.

The texture of wiry hair against his tongue is strange, and on second attempt he does better, pushing between Crowley’s soft lips and finally, finally getting a taste. It’s good, mild and a little sweet, and Aziraphale finds himself breathing in deep as he maps Crowley with his tongue, keenly exploring.

He loses himself a bit, like he always does when trying something new, but he realizes quickly that the noises Crowley’s making are too good to miss. They’re wonderful, desperate and yearning, and Aziraphale wants more. He moves down just a little, just far enough that he can push his tongue inside, and oh, the sound Crowley makes at that.

He thrusts his tongue inside Crowley, slow and deep, loving the way he shoves up into Aziraphale’s mouth, gasping and needy. Crowley tastes even better here, and Aziraphale would be happy to stay right where he is and taste him forever, but knows it wouldn’t be fair to leave him in suspense that long.

He moves away, replacing his tongue with two fingers, curling them up as he rocks his hand forward. He’s touched himself this way and enjoyed it, so he hopes Crowley will too. Then he returns to licking Crowley, running his tongue across him in short, firm strokes as he speeds the pace of his hand.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says, sounding overwhelmed, his whole body moving and shifting restlessly against him. “Aziraphale, something is happening.”

Aziraphale makes an affirmative noise, working his tongue across Crowley just a little bit faster.

Crowley’s noises suddenly turn ragged, breathless, and he bucks up under Aziraphale as he finds his release, clenching around Aziraphale’s fingers in waves.

He keeps moving, though more slowly and gently, to work Crowley through the aftershocks. Then he carefully pulls his fingers free, and begins to kiss and nuzzle Crowley’s thighs, giving him a moment to recover.

“That’s,” Crowley tries, still sounding breathless. And maybe stunned. “I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on that all this time.”

“I think it’s a bit more intense for us than it is for regular humans,” Aziraphale says. He hopes he doesn’t sound too smug. “But it is rather nice, isn’t it?”

“More than nice,” Crowley mutters, rubbing his hands across his face.

He doesn’t say anything after that, seeming content to stay right where he is and catch his breath.

But left unsupervised Aziraphale has never been great at resisting temptation, and since he’s still optimally positioned to taste Crowley again…he tilts his head and does just that.

Crowley makes a surprised grunt, but rolls his hips encouragingly.

Aziraphale is just getting into the rhythm, Crowley wonderfully slick against his tongue, when Crowley’s hand slides into his hair and tugs him up.

“Angel,” he says a little breathlessly. “Now I need you to make an effort.”

Aziraphale is momentarily affronted—he is most certainly putting forth a great deal of effort—when Crowley’s actual meaning strikes him. And it’s no trouble at all, because he’s been making an Effort this whole time, and had in actuality been rather helpless to prevent it. The pleasure flooding through his body at being able to touch Crowley, to taste him, had needed to be expressed somehow.

It’s also made his trousers uncomfortably tight, and as Aziraphale is rather low on patience right now, with a snap all his clothes are neatly folded somewhere in Crowley’s apartment. Hopefully.

“Is this the sort of Effort you wanted, my dear?” he asks, sitting back on his heels so Crowley can see him.

Crowley’s eyes take a long and languorous path down his body, pupils widening as he clearly likes what he sees.

“You’re perfect, Angel,” he says, and while Aziraphale’s not certain he actually answered the question, he appreciates the sentiment nonetheless.

Crowley opens his arms, beckoning, so Aziraphale settles down on him, gently at first, then relaxing when he realizes Crowley isn’t bothered by his weight. He tips his head down to kiss Crowley, but finds himself distracted by the way he’s now nearly perfectly aligned, pressed up against Crowley’s slick heat.

Crowley looks at him a moment and then folds his legs up, thighs bracketing Aziraphale’s hips, and it changes the angle enough that Aziraphale actually begins to slip inside.

“Oh,” he gasps, startled by both the sensation and by Crowley’s almost immediate come on angel, please.

So he keeps going. There’s a moment of resistance, at first, and Crowley makes a displeased noise, but after a deep breath and a bit of patience, he’s able to slide all the way in, slow and easy. Crowley makes another noise at that, and Aziraphale lifts up enough to take in his expression.

“All right?” he asks, doing his best to keep completely still.

Crowley makes a face, mouth pulling down thoughtfully. “Feels strange,” he says, wiggling his hips a little. Aziraphale fights not to gasp. “More unyielding than I expected,” he says, “but maybe kind of good, too.”

Then he squirms again.

This time Aziraphale can’t help the sound that escapes him, nor can he keep his hips from jerking forward.

“Hmm, that’s it,” Crowley says encouragingly, tugging at his shoulders. “Just need some motion.”

Aziraphale has, of course, observed sex, but observing and participating are two very different things. He never anticipated the way pleasure seems cyclical, how hearing and seeing Crowley’s enjoyment only increases his own. How his body seems almost out of his control—but in a good way—moving and driving toward the sensation it seeks, toward fulfillment.

Fortunately, it seems Crowley is also gaining something from Aziraphale’s admittedly quick, desperate thrusts, body drawing tight in anticipation. His hand steals down between them to touch himself, and it only takes a few rough motions before he’s coming, clenching around Aziraphale.

Aziraphale manages to shudder to a near-halt, letting Crowley chase the dregs of his orgasm, but he can’t manage it for long. He’s aching with need, with pent-up desire, and his hips jolt forward of their own volition. It’s an urgent pace, one that has him burying his face in Crowley’s neck, trying to muffle the moans he’s making. It all just feels too good, like nothing he’s ever experienced before, and the fact that he’s experiencing it with Crowley only heightens the pleasure.

Crowley’s hands slide down to rest at his lower back, an encouraging pressure that helps Aziraphale let go completely. He’s not sure if he’s extended Crowley’s orgasm, or if he’s having another, but he’s suddenly tightening around Aziraphale again, back arching. And all at once Aziraphale’s release is there, and he thrusts deeply into Crowley as he comes. He trembles with it, every muscle tensing, then relaxes into Crowley, breathing hard.

They lay there for a while, sated and still entwined, before Crowley curls a hand around the back of Aziraphale’s neck and gets him to lift up enough to look at him.

“Angel,” he says very seriously. “Angel, we have got to do that again.”

“Of course, my dear,” Aziraphale says, stroking a thumb across Crowley’s cheek and feeling his love burning brightly in his chest. “Any time you like.”

He can see the trust and contentedness in those unguarded eyes, and tries to convince himself that, even if he never has Crowley’s love, this will be enough.

[bing-fucker]

I Can Write and That Is Everybody Else's Problem

A fic that might or might not be vore that I wrote and am now posting for @ollieoxyn!

Characters: Bim Trimmer, Darkiplier Wilford Warfstache (mentioned)

Pairing: Bim/Dark

Warnings: Cannibalism (maybe vore?), gore, dubious consent on Dark's part.

Bim was hungry, Dark could tell. But then again, it wasn’t actually that hard to tell when Bim was hungry. He tended to snap more easily when he was hungry, and get angrier easily. Of course, Bim would always look at Dark with the same intimidated puppy dog look he always did, but Dark could always see the ferality growing in his eyes.

“Bim, can you stay behind for a moment,” Dark said, dismissing all the others from the meeting. They left quickly, with only a brief mutter from Wilford of ‘Ooooh, you’re in trouble’. Bim remained seated, looking at Dark nervously.

“D-did I do something wrong?” he asked worriedly, squirming anxiously in his seat. Dark almost found it cute.

“Can you come over here,” Dark said, leaving absolutely no room for argument or hesitation. Bim stood and walked over immediately, and that, Dark did find cute. He’d always liked how scared of him Bim was. It made him wonderfully obedient, and rather adorable when he thought he was in trouble.

“Have you been eating properly?” Dark asked, leaning his head on his palm. He knew he very much looked like a predator sizing up its prey but given Bim’s… inclinations, Dark didn’t think he would mind.

“Yes,” Bim said, looking like he very much doubted this was what Dark wanted from him. “I ate last night. A-and I made sure to clean up properly, so if that’s what you’re worried about, it’s okay.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried about you,” Dark purred, emphasizing the last word and raking his eyes along Bim’s slim frame. Bim blushed and shuddered at the look.

“S-sir?” Bim said softly, clearly confused. Dark scooted his chair away from the table and gripped Bim’s hips, pulling the young celebrity down into his lap.

“You see,” Dark said, ignoring the embarrassed squeak Bim gave. “I know you’re lying to me, Bim. I can tell when you haven’t eaten.” Dark quirked an eyebrow and rested his hand on Bim’s stomach. “We can all tell.”

“I-I’m sorry for lying,” Bim said, looking like he expected punishment. “I didn’t… I thought… I was planning on eating tonight.”

“I can tell when you’re lying,” Dark sighed, releasing Bim’s hips and reaching up to shrug off his own suit coat and unbutton his shirt.

Bim’s eyes widened in shock as he said, “Wh-what are you doing!?”

“You’re hungry, and I have high pain tolerance,” Dark replied, rolling his eyes like it was obvious. “Obviously I won’t let you take everything, just what you need to make it a few more days until you find a new victim.”

“I- Dark, I can’t do that!” Bim replied, blushing brightly. Dark sighed and rolled his eyes, gripping the back of Bim’s hair and pulling the young celebrity down to his own shoulder.

“I’m not giving you a choice, Bim,” he said firmly, ignoring the heat in his stomach at the whimper Bim gave. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t have something in you. So I suggest you take what you need to make it a few days without an incident.”

“Are you sure?” Bim asked, his voice deeper than usual, and that definitely did something to Dark. The entity smirked and stroked Bim’s spine like he was a particularly murderous, particularly prized pet.

“Very, my pet,” Dark replied. Bim nodded and stood up, lacking any of his usual hesitance as he stripped off his top layers, setting them at his usual spot at the table before taking his glasses off as well and walking back over to Dark. Dark quirked an eyebrow, expecting Bim to seat himself back in his lap, and finding himself surprised when the cannibal placed his hands on either side of Dark on the back of his chair, essentially caging the entity in- or appearing to, at least.

“We do this by colors,” he said quietly, a growl accentuating his words. “This is not a scene, but it is dangerous. I ask for a color, you answer me honestly. Green means keep going, yellow means slow down, red means stop. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Dark purred, watching Bim with more than a little amusement.

“Try not to squirm too much,” Bim said, seating himself back on Dark’s lap and leaning forward, gently nipping along the column of his throat.

Dark’s breath hitched slightly. When he had offered to do this for Bim, he had not been expecting to actually enjoy the idea of it. Dark had always liked pain - inflicting it on others, mostly, but he didn’t mind receiving - but this was unexpected. This was Bim. A coworker at least and a friend at most. A friend whose teeth were currently sinking into Dark’s shoulder deep enough to draw blood. Above him, Bim let out an animalistic moan and Dark settled his hands back on the younger’s hips, tilting his head to the side to allow Bim more access.

Bim moaned again, pulling away from the bite and rolling his tongue over the small rivulets of blood that escaped from where his teeth punctured skin, moaning at the taste. He barely noticed Dark’s hands settling back on his hips, having quickly sunk his teeth back into the injury and tearing the flesh away brutally, chewing and swallowing like it was the last thing he’d ever get to taste.

Dark groaned softly, tightening his grip on Bim’s hips as the cannibal nuzzled his neck gently.

“Not there, my pet,” Dark said firmly, not wanting to have to deal with the tenderness of a healing neck. Bim nodded but didn’t move his head away, and it was then that Dark realized he was kissing, not biting.

Dark smirked, moving his hand to the front of Bim’s crotch and feeling the beginnings of a hard-on. “Ah, I see,” he purred, grinding the heel of his hand against Bim’s clothed dick. “That’ll be why you take so long to choose a victim, won’t it, my pet? You have to make sure they’re pretty enough to satisfy your other needs~”

“They don’t taste good if they’re ugly,” Bim replied, his voice a bit distant as he made his way back to the wound on Dark’s shoulder, lapping and tearing at it, his face practically coated with Dark’s black blood.

“No, I imagine they don’t,” Dark agreed, moving his hand away and allowing Bim to rock his hips against Dark’s. The cannibal groaned softly, tearing off a bit of skin with his fingers and eating it quickly.

It probably said something about Dark’s psyche that he was getting off on his friend - one who always seemed so innocent, no less - eating his flesh while grinding against him. But that was a thought for a moment that wasn’t now, as Dark quickly undid both his and Bim’s slacks.

Bim paused, looking confused for a second. “What are you-?”

“Hush, my pet,” Dark replied, pushing Bim’s boxers down his hips and taking his dick in hand. “I’m already taking care of you. Why don’t you let me do the rest as well~?”

“I-” Bim blushed, moaning at the feeling of Dark’s cold hand stroking his dick. He looked like he might have protested more, had he not been as hungry as he was. Instead, he simply buried his face in Dark’s shoulder again and tore into it, moaning and whining at the taste.

Dark grunted in a mix of pain and macabre pleasure, pulling his own boxers down and holding his dick against Bim’s has he stroked them. Bim whimpered softly- whether from Dark’s movements, or the act of eating the entity, Dark didn’t know. But he didn’t exactly care as Bim tore his shirt open and bit into his chest, right above his heart.

“Color?” Bim said softly, looking up at Dark.

The entity simply smirked. “Green,” he purred, using his free hand to press Bim’s face back to his chest. Bim went willingly, tearing the flesh savagely and letting out an animalistic grunt. Dark cocked his head and stroked Bim faster, wondering how much it would take for Bim to lose control completely.

Turns out, not that long. It only took about five more minutes before Bim was pulling away from Dark completely and standing. He looked a mess. His usually neat hair was completely mussed, his face covered in blood, and his dick hard and out in the open. Dark only had to wonder what he would do for another minute before, in a surprising show of strength that betrayed his wiry frame, Bim hauled Dark out of his chair and onto the meeting table, stripping the entity of his clothes before climbing onto the table after him.

“Oh dear,” Dark said, amused. His amusement melted away as Bim forcibly spread his legs and bit into his inner thigh. “Fuck!”

Bim simply growled in response, tearing the flesh away and grinning up at Dark with bloody teeth. Dark returned the smile as best he could, watching Bim nose at his dick briefly. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about having those teeth near something so delicate, but his body certainly knew how to feel, given he thrust unwillingly up against Bim’s cheek.

Bim growled again and pinned Dark’s hips down, biting his hip as a warning before he went back to properly biting at Dark’s thighs.

“I’m not going to be able to sit comfortably for a while, Bim,” Dark commented, hissing softly. Bim looked up at him, only the vaguest hint of understanding in his eyes. “And I’m not sure how fair it is that I’m not getting anything out of this.” Bim cocked his head, looking far too innocent for a man who’d just been eating Dark and rutting against him like an animal.

Dark laughed and patted his chest, gesturing for Bim to come up towards him. Bim did as requested and Dark wasted no time in tearing the young celebrity’s remaining clothes off. Bim cocked his head curiously for another second, before biting back into Dark’s chest. Dark ignored his own disgust as he covered his hand in blood and carefully slicked up his dick before gripping Bim’s hips tightly and guiding the young celebrity onto his dick, groaning at the feeling.

Bim let out a pained whimper, looking up at Dark with pained and confused eyes, either at the unprepared intrusion, or the intrusion at all. Dark kissed his forehead soothingly and Bim was soon once again distracted by licking up the blood decorating Dark’s chest and shoulders.

Dark groaned softly, not even having to move to make Bim start moving on his dick, the cannibal’s own arousal making him roll his hips down against the entity as he cleaned Dark’s chest of blood. Bim growled and leaned forward, burying his face in Dark’s throat and nipping at it.

Dark growled and gripped Bim’s hair, pulling the cannibal away from his throat, Bim whimpered desperately, hands scrabbling weakly at Dark’s arm. Dark huffed a laugh. He knew Bim wasn’t even close to done eating, but the young celebrity had done quite a bit of damage already, and Dark wasn’t interested in seeing what would happen if he continued to feast.

“Just relax my pet,” Dark said patiently, pulling Bim’s head further back and thrusting up into the young celebrity. It was unfortunate that Dark didn’t take long to spill inside of the younger man on top of him, although it took Bim even less time. Fortunately, the image of Bim so animalistic and willing to do anything was one that Dark would keep with him for a while.

Bim slumped forward as soon as Dark let go of his hair, letting out another pained whimper before he promptly passed out. Dark laughed and lifted the cannibal off of him, standing and grunting painfully in response to his wounds.

“These will take a while to heal, my pet,” he sighed, picking Bim up and tearing a hole through the void to his bedroom. “I’ll punish you for that later.” Bim shifted innocently in Dark’s arms and the entity grinned, stepping through the void and already making plans.

[ship-to-hell]

Being A Collection Of Letters Across The Sea

Have an emmhono epistolary fic, written uh...several months ago on AO3 and somehow neglected in the drafts of this tumblr since then. I offer no excuses, I’m just bad. have a future!fic with FEELINGS.

AO3

This letter has been written on the back of a colorful postcard proclaiming “Greetings From Kugane.” The penmanship is elegant, but a little scratchy on the rough paper. It’s also notably more cramped near the bottom where the author starts running out of space.

My lord,

I pray this letter finds you well. I have arrived in Kugane after a very uneventful journey; the only event of any import was the sighting of a great whale, which ignored our ship completely. The Bokairo Inn has opened its doors to me upon the Warrior of Light’s recommendation, and their hot springs are very relaxing. I wish Were you here, you would no doubt enjoy them; after spending three bells traversing Kugane’s winding streets with my bags, I’m not sure whether to credit my good opinion of them to the waters themselves or the sheer relief of reaching them. The cuisine here is unlike anything I am used to, but it is very good if you like fish, rice, and combinations thereof. You would not like wasabi paste; it is v. spicy. You would however like horses – like unicorns without the horns, and most of them are very friendly and not at all inclined to bite your fingers off. Please take copy of attached notes for safekeeping.

 Wish you were here,

Sincerely,

Honoroit Banlardois

The attached notes stretch to several pages of dense handwritten vellum, and contain what seem to be a week’s worth of very keen observation of the city of Kugane. Amidst the footnotes referring to other works for background information, the author has noted major shops, cultural institutions, the correct method of donning a kimono, and how to perform a tea ceremony. There is a small, crooked sketch of a horse in one corner.

The handwriting on this fine parchment surmounted with the Fortemps seal bears a strong resemblance to Honoroit’s, but is looser and messier, suggesting the writer has much more practice with it. Blots of ink mark spots where the writer was distracted or searching for a word.

Honoroit,

Praise the Fury you arrived in one piece! The Warrior was very keen on telling me all about her first voyage to Kugane, including what she assures me was a thoroughly haunted ships’ graveyard. I, of course, knew you would encounter no such thing – and if you did, you would surely emerge unscathed. Kugane seems like quite the place; I wish I could see even half of the wonders you’ve described so well. Do they truly eat with sticks? However does that work? Speaking of food, I think you do me a disservice, my boy. This wasabi cannot possibly be stronger than good Coerthan horseradish. I demand a sample for comparison!

Kugane seems to love its tea nearly as much as you do. I’ve sent you a box of ours in case you miss it; it ought to arrive with this letter or I will be having words with the postmoogles. Pray write back soon; my days are very long and cold until I hear from you are missed dreadfully at Dragonhead. Corentiaux has been moping, and I have needed to reassure poor Medguistl a dozen times that you are not going to die eating foreign food. Please don’t die eating foreign food I pray this letter reaches you in good health.

All my love,

Emmanellain

P. S. - Unicorns are much better. They come with their own spears.

The heavy box of tea is stamped with the insignia of a shop in the Pillars known for its exorbitant prices and high quality. There is also a tea infuser shaped, for some reason, like a sleeping chocobo with its head tucked under a wing.

This letter has been written on smooth Doman paper. There is a slightly damp spot in one corner, probably tea, and the handwriting is less sure than it was.

My lord,

Thank you very much for the tea; I’m enjoying a cup as I write this, and the infuser is wonderfully charming. I had not realized how much I missed the tastes of home until you sent it to me. The tea in Kugane is very different; they seem to be very fond of a variety called matcha which is bright green and truly astonishingly bitter. I am assured that it is an acquired taste. Speaking of which, I must warn you again not to risk the wasabi! Though if you have the chance to try fresh sushi – I understand a fine Hingan restaurant has recently opened in Mor Dhona? – I think you would enjoy it. Yes, they do eat with sticks; I have provided a diagram, though I am no great artist.

Do tell the troops there is no need to fret over me; I remain quite well, and Kugane agrees with me. I would have preferred to explore more of Hingashi, but you know how they feel about foreigners. ‘Tis much like Ishgard before the opening of our gates. Likely by the time you get this letter, I will have left for Doma by way of the Ruby Sea. That country is far more welcoming; I understand their Enclave owes much to adventurers. Pray do not fret if my next letter takes overlong to reach you, but know that I lo you are in my thoughts. Please take the attached notes for my records, and do not mix them in with your own reports.

 The tea makes me think of you.

Sincerely,

Honoroit

The abovementioned notes are, if possible, even denser than the previous ones, and seem to contain nearly everything the author thought noteworthy about Kugane. He seems to be especially keen to educate his audience on local folklore and cuisine, including several clumsy but charming sketches of various shrines and festivals. There is indeed a diagram showing how to eat with chopsticks.

The parchment is crumpled, as though it has been hastily shoved into a mail bag. One corner is ripped.

Dear Honoroit,

How dare you, old boy! You must know it’s been simply ages since I’ve mixed up anything with my own paperwork, never mind anything as important as your next manuscript outline! I keep your notes in a locked chest especially so that they come to no harm; I should die if anything happened to something you’ve worked so hard on. Regarding which, incidentally, I have enclosed your month’s profits for The White Yonder, and your publisher demands wishes to know when you will write another. I have told him quite firmly that he will get your next book when it is ready and not a moment before.

I have reassured the men that you are well, but you know how they will worry. I don’t suppose a daguerreotype is a possibility? I We should like to see for ourselves that you are doing well on your travels. Is it yet warm in Doma? The weather here continues freezing, and I pray that you at least are comfortable. I will send you more tea, and do please let me know if there is anything else. or if you want to come home

I have also tried wasabi thanks to the Warrior. I must admit, once again, that you are far wiser than me. On the upside, it does wonders for head colds, have you noticed? I will take your recommendations of Mor Dhona under advisement; I would far rather have my culinary adventures by your side. (And it shall give me more time to practice with the chopsticks.) Would that I could join you on your travels! Alas, were both of us to go on vacation, the garrison would surely collapse. I believe I owe my very life to Yaelle, though she can never compare to you.

 I miss you so--

Praying for a swift reply,

Emmanellain

This letter has been written on a torn-off piece of notepaper, so rushed as to be nearly illegible.

My lord,

Your letter arrived barely a bell before my ship is due; I am glad to hear that all is well at home and v v thankful for the gil you sent; passage across the Ruby Sea is v expensive. It is warm here. When I return, we will go to Mor Dhona together & I insist it is my treat.

The daguerreotype is for you.

Yrs,

Honoroit

In addition to the by-now-expected notes on Kugane, there is a daguerreotype in a cheap frame. It’s smudgy and not very clear, but it shows the author—freckled, lean, with slightly shaggy hair pulled back off his face and just showing the very edge of a scar on his temple —smiling for the camera in front of a massive building. The reverse is etched Shiokaze Hostelry, 5 7AE.

My

Dear

Honoroit,

Thank you for the picture; it rests on my desk, where I may be reminded of your face. Not that I am likely to forget, you understand – I could never do that – but you have been gone simply ages and I own that travel always changes a man. You look so handso very well in Kugane; longer hair suits you. It makes you look like quite the adventurer! Speaking of, you have not been neglecting your archery I hope? I have heard that Doma is home to monsters. And we will have no talk of this paying for meals – you must know I would simply die of shame. You who do so much for me deserve to be taken care of! Which does remind me: while I was perusing the fashion plates I saw a doublet I think would suit you very well for a dinner Artoirel is holding for the Feast of St. Valerinne, by which time you must be home. I’ve attached the plate in question; do let me know what you think regarding materials?

Ah – has the news reached you yet? I know the Warrior writes you, but in case she didn’t mention – I am an uncle again! Tristechambard de Fortemps weighs just a hair over ten ponzes and is simply the most adorable infant. (Do refrain from telling Linie and Charlemend I said that; I think they’re jealous that their new brother is getting so much attention.) Artoirel says I shall be a bad influence, but I think the little ones only need the sobering influence of their Uncle Honoroit to come out as perfect little ladies and gentlemen – and the Lady Rivienne agrees with me, so hah! You’ve only two more months of travel before you may prove me right, I think?

Please know that you are in my thoughts, and write back swiftly. And tell me everything about Doma, so I can see it through your eyes.

Yours,

Emmanellain

The attached fashion plate is a remarkably well-done engraving showing a generic young Ishgardian gentleman in the very latest sable-trimmed velvet coat, with a doublet of blue silk damask edged in gold to match the buttons on the coat. It is very fashionable and very, very expensive.

This scrap of paper is crumpled so badly that it’s difficult to unfold without tearing, and damp spots blur the ink.

Honoroit it’s been a month since your last letter where are you? Did something happen? Did you decide to stay in Doma you should, if you knew No, I know you wouldn’t want to stay, only to visit, but you’ve been gone so long and I miss you, I miss you

I love you please come home

The handwriting here is legible, but just barely. Seawater has dried on the torn page, leaving white streaks behind.

Emmanellain

If you get this letter, please know that

(a slash of ink)

--the captain of the Hideyori is a grasping skinflint who refused to pay the Tithe until we passengers mutinied & I don’t know if they will accept it

(An ink splot leaks onto the edges of the words, but they are still clear) --you hold my whole heart

H

This letter is written on cheap paper in a slightly trembling hand.

My lord,

Kindly disregard the previous missive; I was overwrought and have since landed safely in the village of Isari. The Ruby Tide Confederacy is really quite reasonable if paid properly, and our new captain is a very intelligent young woman. The village is small and close-knit; their local wares are mainly fish-based, but I have enclosed a scarf I think you might like. I have not been neglecting my archery at all; already it has come in quite useful, for the wilds of Doma have no shortage of beasts and Isari is willing to pay for their removal. I am afraid I had to spend most of my proceeds from the book on the Tithe. Never fear, however; I have quite enough funds to see me safely to the village of Namai, and from there the road to the Enclave is well-maintained.

I was overjoyed to hear of your new nephew; I hope he continues in good health. I look forward to meeting him, but you must cease calling me his Uncle Honoroit; though I would of course be proud to hold such an honor, people will talk. As regards the fashion plate, I shall reserve judgement until I am in the tailor’s shop myself; I do not think such bold embroidery quite suits.

Sincerely,

Honoroit

Attached to the envelope is a burlap-wrapped package; opening it reveals a finely-woven wool scarf in a deep brick red. It’s quite plain, but very warm.

At several points in this letter, the quill has torn small holes in the parchment. The handwriting shakes.

Honoroit Banlardois,

I shall not be disregarding any letters you send me. Did you think I would dismiss you? That it would be possible to know you, to live beside you, and not love you in return? I have been near to dying with thoughts of you. I have been dreaming of nothing but your smile; I haven’t been able to look at anyone else Fury knows I tried, and yet I could barely look at you – you are so beautiful and clever and wise and wonderful, I felt so sure you would hate me, that if you knew what was in my heart you’d just stay in Doma and count yourself well rid of me--

Forgive me. I have far too much to say to you to ever put my thoughts to a proper letter. By the time you get this, I will be well on my way to the Doman Enclave, where I intend to kiss you breathless until you are quite, quite sure that I love you beyond my own life.

With all my heart,

Emmanellain

P. S. - And if you call me my lord after that, I shall be quite put out.

This letter is dated several months after the preceding ones, and is written on very fine paper indeed.

My lord brother,

Must I apologize again for my sudden trip to Doma? Well, you’ll be happy to know that Honoroit and I are on our way home, and you may expect us for Valerinne’s Day. This letter ought to arrive before we do; you know how taxing aetherytes can be. I am glad that all remains well at home; Corentiaux assures me that, contrary to what you may believe, Dragonhead has not collapsed, burnt down, or otherwise been destroyed since my departure. Give my love to the children, and let them know that their favorite uncles are coming with as many toys as they can carry. Honoroit is telling me that I shall spoil them; I think you’ll agree that they deserve the best we can give them. As for the adults, I am sending you several bottles of the finest Doman rice wine – well, they call it wine, but really ‘tis more like beer with how it’s brewed – and enough silk for a gown for Rivienne and a doublet for you. I think they will meet with your approval, especially the wine.

Yours in the Fury

Emmanellain de Fortemps

P. S. - Honoroit’s manuscript is nearing completion. You and Father will, of course, be entrusted with the advance copies.

These notes have been written on high-quality paper, but appear to have been torn from a larger sheet. The edge of the Fortemps sigil is just visible in one corner.

S,

I never thought this day would come, but you were right. Gil enclosed.

~H

H,

I told you so. To think it only took five years of the most awful pining I have ever seen. If he stops treating you right, I know where he sleeps and which laundry bags are his.

S

S,

Your concern is touching but unnecessary. He is wonderful.

~H

This particular note has been ripped into pieces and reconstituted from the scraps.

H,

So, a spring wedding?

S

[otterlydeerlightful]

LazyTown Ship Week #3

Day #3 - Sportscandy/Food --------------------------------------

A dark shadow blocked out the cozy sunshine. Glanni whined in protest, opening an eye and squinting for a moment before lifting his sunglasses to his forehead and replacing his hand behind his head.

“You tire yourself out already?” Glanni asked with a yawn from where he was sprawled on the blanket. “That has to be a new record.”

Sportacus laughed, hands clasped behind his back as he admired the image of his, admittedly, unlikely boyfriend lounging on his own beach towel. Something about seeing the renowned criminal relaxing against the backdrop of his own heroic colors just sent his heart an affectionate flutter. After staying on his feet for another second, just to take in the sight of the other man for that much longer, Sportacus spun around to sit at Glanni’s side.

“Not tired at all,” he said cheerfully, leaning over to give Glanni a peck on the cheek. “I just missed you.”

“Charming little shit,” Glanni giggled, tilting up his chin and smacking his lips together. “Get down here so I can kiss you.”

It was a good thing the children weren’t around, or Sportacus would have been horrified with Glanni’s language. Luckily, it was a nice, quiet day away from all responsibility and worry. The kids were all home working on science fair projects, and Milford had even promised not to partake in any physical labor of any sort to ensure that Sportacus could have a lovely, uninterrupted date with his significant other. He leaned over to let his lips brush Glanni’s, enjoying the minty freshness that showed just how considerate the man could be in his presence.

“Will you come swimming with me?” Sportacus asked hopefully.

Glanni sighed, falling silent for a few seconds as he mulled over the prospect. Eventually, he sighed and pulled his hands out from under his head to better reach out and pull Sportacus down to him, smothering his own body in that of the wonderfully bare-chested hero. The criminal let his fingertips dance over the back of Sportacus’ neck as he met the man’s lips with his own for a long, lovely kiss.

“Is that a maybe?” the hero snickered only after they parted.

“For you, I’ll consider it,” Glanni relented. “It’ll give you a taste of your own medicine, you awful man.”

The hero looked genuinely confused at the statement. “What do you mean?”

“Can’t have you being the only god in swim shorts and sparkling in the sunlight with water dripping down his gorgeous stomach—” Glanni traced a finger down the hero’s front as he spoke. “—looking like the most beautiful, alluring man on the goddamn planet…” He gave Sportacus a wink. “’Cause I’m gonna put you to shame.”

Sportacus giggled, leaning in to kiss his partner again, more briefly this time. “I’m glad. It will be fun, Glanni. You’ll like it.”

“I know I will,” the man purred. “But…after a snack. You’re always going on about high duration or whatever, right?”

The hero rolled his eyes. “Hydration, Glanni. It means drinking water to make sure you—”

“Bleh,” the other man interrupted, scrunching his nose. “Nasty stuff. I’ll stick to my soda, thank you.”

Sportacus’ smile wavered. “Glanni, soda isn’t good for you. You shouldn’t drink it all the time. It doesn’t help you stay hydrated at all, it—”

The hero fell silent at the touch of Glanni’s finger upon his lips.

“Sporty, what did I say about the lectures?”

The blond pouted.

“I do your little twenty times time, I let you wake me up at the crack of ten o’clock, I even let you guilt me into having an entire day every damn week where I don’t have any candy. You try to talk me out of my soda and I’ll have to give something else up instead, understand?”

Sportacus frowned around Glanni’s index finger, his mustache drooping ever so slightly.

“’M un’leh terin’ ter—”

“I know, I know you’re only trying to look out for me, Sweetie, but you overdo it. Sometimes you’re as bad as the yellow menace at home.”

Sportacus frowned, tilting his head in curiosity when Glanni pulled back his finger and pushed Sportacus off of him so he could sit up properly. The hero blinked, staring at the sky for a moment before turning his head to gaze at his boyfriend again.

“I just worry about you,” the hero said from where he now laid. “I know you do not like healthy things, Glanni, but they’re good for you! I want you to feel good and be healthy and…live a long life.”

“Health is more individualized than you think,” Glanni sighed contently, rolling his shoulders. “Anyway, if you’re going to have me running around out there looking like a drowning fool, we should fuel up first, don’t you think?”

Sportacus smiled at the change in subject, sitting back up so quickly that Glanni startled at the movement.

“That’s a good idea!” the hero agreed. “It’s important to have regular breaks when you’re playing, especially outside,” he recited as he reached for his small, blue cooler.

Glanni gave a noncommittal hum in response as he reached into a large floral patterned beach bag to produce a small, pink cooler of his own.

“Oh, you have your own! That was very smart planning, Glanni.”

The con man flashed a smile at his boyfriend and set it in his lap. “Of course. Can’t have my goodies mixing with your little sports muffins or whatever and having you go into overload.”

Sportacus laughed and nodded. “We wouldn’t want to do that again,” he agreed. “Though I feel like I probably packed too much, now. I brought extra in case you wanted to try anything.”

Glanni waved a hand and lowered his sunglasses again as the sun emerged once more from behind a fluffy cloud overhead. “You knock yourself out. I have my orange slices anyway.”

The hero paused, hand frozen in mid-air where it held his sandwich. Glanni didn’t seem to notice and set about unlocking the lid to his cooler.

“You have orange slices?” Sportacus asked in amazement.

Glanni gave him a curious look, one eyebrow raising above his sunglasses. “Yes.”

“That you’ll eat?”

“They’re good! What, I can’t have one sportscandy that I like?”

“I didn’t think you liked any!” Sportacus replied with a grand smile. “That’s wonderful, Glanni! I’m so hap….”

His words died in his throat when he saw what his partner was pulling out of the cooler. It was spherical, yes; orange, yes; but that was definitely not sportscandy. Sportscandy wasn’t made out of tinfoil wrappers.

“Glanni, what is that?” he asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

The thin man gave him a look. “What does it look like? Orange slices.”

Sportacus could practically feel the blood draining from his face at the sight of Glanni unfurling the wrapper to reveal the wedges of chocolate arranged in a sphere within, each of them attached to a center spindle. He couldn’t decide whether he should be intrigued or disgusted at the level of detail in the wedge that Glanni picked from the bunch and raised to his lips. The chocolate pieces were all textured to look like actual orange slices, only…they weren’t. They weren’t and they could never be.

“Glanni, that’s not an orange.”

“What are you talking about? Of course it is. The package said so.”

Sportacus felt his shoulders drop. “You of all people should know that packaging doesn’t always tell the whole truth!” he pointed out. “Glanni, that’s candy, not sportscandy!”

“Says you.”

The hero nodded. “I do! That’s chocolate! Ah…here!” He set his sandwich aside and rummaged around in his cooler for a moment, soon producing a piece of fruit. “This is an orange!”

Glanni’s jaw dropped as he stared at the round thing. He tilted his head for a better view, inspecting every angle of the thing in Sportacus’ hand. After a moment, he blinked a few times and sat back. “Huh. Well, would you look at that,” he said in vague surprise. Glanni shrugged and popped another chocolate slice into his mouth.

“Glanni!”

“What?” the criminal whined. “I like mine better.”

Sportacus sighed, shaking his head as he watched his unlikely beloved eat his faux sportscandy. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked, a faint smile on his lips.

Glanni grinned, wiggling as he secured his comfort on his towel. “Give me a cuddle while I enjoy my orange slices and watch the water with me?”

The hero’s heart fluttered again and he moved closer to cradle the other man against him while they both ate. “I can do that.”

[project-runway-rankings]

Season 16 Episode 14- A Fitting Finale

This finale was one of my favorites in quite a few seasons.  I truly had no idea who was going to win, and I could see any of the four of the designers winning.  The last time that I could see any of the designers in the finale legitimately winning was way back in season 7 with Mila, Emilio and Seth Aaron.  I also believe that any of these collections is superior to every collection from the past twos seasons, with only Kelly and Erin’s coming close.

Do I agree with the winner?  Well you will have to see my rankings, but in short I think I would have been happy with any outcome. Onto the rankings:

4. Brandon

I loved the flamingo print and most of his silhouettes, but as a collection is was very one note.  There is a hint of teal/aqua in the flamingo print and I would have loved to see him use a really saturated form of the color like he did with the pink leather in a few looks.

This is my favorite look from his collection.  The leather shirt over the dress gives an interesting silhouette and layering effect.  The print works very well here because it was broken up and his styling is on point.

The play on the shirt construction on the skirt is fun, but it is starting to become an old and worn out trend.  The top is very Brandon in every way possible.

I love the shirt dress underneath.  For all of the menswear Brandon has done he never made a shirt dress until the finale which I found interesting.  The proportion of the vest to the dress is all wrong and the vest looks a bit tortured.  I also wish it was in a different fabric.

The top is a snooze fest and it needs to be a color far more different than the flamingo print.  I really like the skirt with the closures at the bottom and extreme asymmetrical hem.

I am still trying to figure out what is happening here and if I like it.  From the front it is a long coat dress but from the back it looks like a shirt over a dress.  I do like the ruffling along the hem and the you can see the gradient of the flamingo print because it such a long piece of fabric.

This look I love.  It is a simple shirt dress but the details make it special.  The oversize sleeves balance out the relative shortness of it from the front, but I also like that it is longer in the back.  I can take or leave the straps, but the don’t feel over superfluous here.

This piece lacks balance.  I like everything individually, it just so happens that everything draws your eye to her right thigh and not her upper body.  I’ve seen the shirt before in his collection so I would have likes something different on top to balance it out.  The bottom just looks messy.

That paper bag waster is still not working but I am glad he got rid of that tortured top from last week.  Too bad he just added a basic tank instead.  I like to imagine this look with an aqua/teal shirt like in his first look.  The waist down is great and I wish he did more pants in his collection.

This is my second favorite look of the collection.  I love the play on a paper doll dress, and I love the crispness of the leather juxtaposed with the flow and busyness of the dress underneath.  The proportions are right as well.

This is quite underwhelming as a finale piece.  From the back it gives his model a much better shape than the front.  Overall it’s just a bit bland and more of the same from his rest of his collection.

3. Ayana

It was tough to decide between 2nd and third place because I genuinely liked both collections.  Ayana ultimately came in 3rd for two reasons, repetitiveness and the fact that were a few looks I thought were wasted spots in her collection. In the end I truly thought the judges would award her the win because she really showed her modest aesthetic and probably would have done the most with the money.

I love this geometric lace and that she decided to make an entire look out of it.  The pants could be a bit more fitted and I don’t understand why she hs basically the same top on twice (I know one is a shirt and one is a jacket but still).  

I’m not well versed on hijab traditions but I think a hijab out of that lace on this look would have been killer.

I don’t need this hoodie at New York Fashion Week and I don’t understand it within the context of the collection.  the pants are essentially the same cut as the previous look but fabric blocking in a hexagonal pattern mimicking the lace was shows Ayana’s fabrication genius.

If she would have put this top with her pants from look 2, scrapped these velous pieces and created a new top and skirt combo I’d be happy.  The top is gorgeous and unabashedly Ayana.  The skirt is a throw away.  There isn’t much of a market for that length and that cut of skirt.

I sang the praises of this look last week and I will sing them again.  every single piece is gorgeous on its own and together they are even better. The lighting last week didn’t really show off the shine of the shirt which plays well the matte jacket and pants.  I love how loose the jacket is from the front yet it is still fitted in the back. J’dore.

I like this marginally better than when she showed it last week.  The greens are definitely popping more, but I still wish it was injected with even more color.  I think this model may be a few sizes smaller than her model last week and I think it definitely moves better on this one.  It’s just boring.

I love this look.  This is her fifth pant in six looks yet it is different than of them. This is a master class in proportions.  The ruffles on the sleeves hit in the right spot and the skirt hits at the right point on the thighs to lengthen the model while also making your eyes move around her body.

This is the only look in the collection where I can feel Ayana trying to make a modest look.  There is no reason to have pants on under this dress unless it is to create a modest look.  This is also just too much of this fabric, I think the shinier print would have worked better.

This is so luxurious.  I love the asymmetrical ruffles on her waist and thighs which make this special.  It is also her only jumpsuit which is impressive considering we live in a world of jumpsuits right now. (Though it may be a shirt and pants)

When Brandon said this looks like an amphibian I totally agreed.  Not only is it because of the fabric, but when it moved down the runway it reminded me of a newt swimming through the water.  What I’m saying is I loved it.

This may be the single best piece that ever walked down the runway.  There really is just nothing else to say because that says it all.

2. Margarita

Margarita’s collection came down to one thing, taste.  I love how she went full force into tropical island girl style and didn’t neuter her collection like others (Candice) have in the past.  From head to toe, beginning to end, this collection was a Margarita moment.

You know what you are getting from a collection when this looks turns the corner.  From print, to cut, to color, to the feathers this is a wow look without going over the top.  I love the sunglasses she designed as well.  I wish she used this blue throughout her collection more.

It felt a little odd to have the only gown in the collection be in the middle, but then again this also feels a bit like a cover up.  The print and color are vibrant and the up close beading detail is gorgeous.

The judges disliked the feathers but i am all about them.  She mixed all three of her prints in one look and it worked out fabulously.  The way she used the striped print from front to back is fabulous.

I agree with the judges, this is the one piece I could do without.  It does make her model look thin and tall, but it’s just a bit busy yet underwhelming at the same time.

Yes. Bitch. Work.  This look was a moment with a capital M.  the suit is gorgeous on its own and very flattering to Jazzmine, and the cover-up converts it into a cute part dress.  I could see a lot of girls wearing that as a dress on a summer day.

This is where I think the feathers go to far. Other than that I think this is pretty great.  the cut of the pants is sublime, it is not easy to line up that pattern like that across her thighs. I’m not sure how the top works and if it would fall off if the drapes came around front.

The dress I can live without but that bomber is the star.  I love it.

This may be my favorite piece in Margarita’s collection.  it is unabashedly latina in its silhouette and print, but the sheer skirt takes it from costume to fashion.  It’s a dramatic silhouette and different from the rest of her collection.

Honestly, this look was one of my favorites last week, but it is a bit of a low note in her collection as a whole.  The pants are still great, but the top is too heavy for the pants.  They have a sense of humor and he shirt is just to serious.

I love every piece here, but the problem is that this is not a finale piece.  I understand it in the context of the collection, but this is not a memorable final piece.  the trench is everything but the clothes underneath are just that, clothes.  I almost wish her bathing suit was the finale piece.

1. Kentaro

Was there any other option?  I guess the answer yes because every designer sent down a strong collection, but this was the most FASHION we have seen on this show since the Christian and Leanne back to back knock out collections of seasons 4 and 5.  There were a few low notes, but over all this collection hit all the right notes.  I’m glad that, like Margarita, Kentaro just went for it with reckless abandon.

If anyone ever asks you how to open a show, this is it.  The silhouette from behind the screen was breathtaking, if not a bit comme de garcons.  he would have gotten further away from that with a different sleeve length.

A wonderfully simple note. The painted/dyed leggings were perfect with the bagginess of the top, and the sleeves work better here than in look 1.

Made in one day, but that doesn’t mean that I can give it a pass.  The front is boring and the back is awful.

I love everything about this.  the cut out tee is a fresh note in the collection and I love the double sided pants.  They shouldn’t work but they do.

Kentaro showed a real color story through his collection and it looked almost like a Japanese ink painting, utilizing black, white and red.  The nudes are like the red bleeding into the rest of the collection.  This is such a simple dress but extremely well executed.  The proportions are perfect.

This dress sings.  It still have the proportion issue in the top from last week, but the concept is so strong and because the flaw isn’t egregious this ends up being on of the stars of his collection.

AB-SO-LUTELY! The note of red works perfectly in the context of the collection. Once again it is a bit Comme de Garcons however it is still very Kentaro and not a knock off.  The v is so low cut but the rest of her is so covered it works perfectly.  It is like this top was made for his model, it sits perfectly on her.  I want this.

I shouldn’t like this, but at the same time it is amazing.  I love the layering of the fabrics and it fits her like a glove.  It is a new silhouette for the collection but still remains part of the story.

We’re pretending this didn’t happen right?  He made a slip dress.  I’m surprised the judges didn’t mention this look (or his finale) at all during judging.

Because this finale look is everything I have ever wanted from project Runway.  It’s so odd and quirky yet hits a perfect note of sophistication.  For me this look won him the competition.

Not since season 3 has the show had 4 finalists who so clearly showed their point of view in stunning finale collections.  Faith restored in this show.

Winner: Kentaro

2nd, 3rd, 4th: Ayana, Brandon, Margarita

[suteshiro]

(1) Do You Sleep With Your Closet Doors Open Or Closed?

Open, kinda? My closet is built into a wall and one of the sides has like, shelves I use often so it’s just open for accesibility

(2) Do You Have Freckles?

Nope! I got nerfed, honestly. I’d look lovely with freckles

(3) Can You Whistle?

Hahaha nope,

(4) Last Song You Listened To.

Night of Fire bc im listening to an eurobeat mix while working on a school assignment skjfvnskjfv last song I Willingly listened to is The Hearse by matt maeson which fucking slaps

(5) What Is Your Favourite Colour?

Probably purple!

(6) Relationship Status.

Single

(7) What Is The Temperature Right Now?

18 celsius/64 fahrenheit. pretty average but for some reason im cold

(8) Did You Wake Up Cranky?

Nope! I woke up feeling wonderfully actually

(9) How Many Followers?

404. Very nice number

(10) Zodiac Sign.

I’m a scorpio and a dragon :3

(11) What Is Your Eye Colour?

Brown!

(12) Take A Vitamin Daily?

I do not, though I used to and might start again, who’s to say

(13) Do You Sing In The Shower?

Not rlly. I shower listening to music and I have a lot of trouble singing along to things im hearing for some reason skfnvskfjb

(14) What Books Are You Reading?

I’m too embarrassed to say publicly which one im reading now skjvnskfjb i kinda wanna read some cute cheesy romance in the nearby future

(15) Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 64, Give Me Line 14.

I grabbed the first lotr book and gottt

“Ah,” said Ted, “ you hear them, if you listen. But if I wanted to listen to old lady tales and childish legends, I’d stay home”

(Translated a bit roughly bc my physical books are mostly in spanish

(16) Favourite Anime?

You cant ask me thatt skjfvnklabmksfjb It might be Violet Evergarden? It’s the only anime that’s really made me cry

(17) Last Person You Cried In Front Of?

I think I cried in front of my mom at some point recently while pretending i wasnt crying

(18) Do You Collect Anything?

Notebooks skfnskfsnb I just think they’re neat

(19) What Did You Have For Lunch?

havent Lunched yet, dont scold me

(20) Do You Dance In The Car?

I’m rarely in cars and they’re usually not mine

(21) Favourite Animal?

Coatimundis pretty...... and adorable

(22) Do You Watch The Olympics?

Nope

(23) What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed?

I try to go to bed a bit before midnight but im needy and like talking to my friends so its usually around 2am

(24) Are You Wearing Makeup Right Now?

Nope! I p much never do that

(25) Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean?

Both have their pros! I think I tend towards pools bc as a rule they dont rlly have like, annoying consequences

(26) Favourite Tumblr Blog?

@yournewapartment​​ keeps popping up in my dash with good advice and nice stuff and i appreciate it

(27) Bottled Water Or Tap Water?

Bottled waterr the tap water in my building is weird and doesnt seem very safe to drink and by now i hate the taste skjvfnkjn

(28) What Makes You Happy?

My friends, comedy shows, reading good fanfiction, writing fanfiction, drawing my characters, reading about others’ characters, giving gifts, the smell of roses, fairy pokemon, butterflies-

I like being happy

(29) Post A Gif Of What You’re Currently Feeling Right Now.

Im not really a Keeps Gifs That Convey Emotions kinda guy

(30) Do You Study Better With Or Without Music?

Depends a lot skjvfnskfjvn my brain keeps switching

(31) Dogs Or Cats?

Very hard questions,,, I think I tend towards dogs bc they’re like me. Big. Excitable. Needy.

(32) If You Were A Crayon What Colour Would You Be?

Purble.,......

(33) PlayStation Or Xbox.

PlayStation

(34) Would You Swim In The Lake Or Ocean?

I have been in the ocean before and idk how much i liked it but sure id do it again. A lake sounds fun!!

(35) Do You Believe In Magic?

I practice it!

(36) What Colour Shirt Are You Wearing?

Red

(37) Can You Curl Your Tongue?

I’m not sure what exactly this is asking

(38) Do You Save Money Or Spend It?

I like saving money skjfnvksjv I rarely think of things to spend it on

(39) Is There Anything Pink Within 10 Feet Of You?

Ye! There’s a bag I use to keep my chargers in it when im outside. it has flower pictures. very pretty

(40) Do You Have Any Obsessions Right Now?

Love Live,,,,, and now my character Curiosity bc @zuramaru​​ is an angel and running a campaign he’s in and we played yesterday and holy shit theres a lot going on

(41) Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly?

Oh yes!! this one time I was in a place absolutely full of butterflies and I caught one between my cupped hands and it stayed there when I opened them and it was a wonderful experience

(42) Are You Easily Influenced By Other People?

Ya,, I do the fawning thing so I tend to agree with other people by default, lest we have any kind of conflict

(43) Do You Have Strange Dreams?

Oh yes, most of the dreams I remember are. bizarre

(44) Do You Like Going On Airplanes?

Yeah!!! Only done it twice but it was a blast

(45) Name One Movie That Made You Cry.

Inside Out fucking got to me

(46) Peanuts Or Sunflower Seeds?

Peanuts,,, I don’t like sunflower seeds. I mean they’re tasty but. Too much effort for too little reward

(47) If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be?

Uuuuh, FOB probably

(48) Are You A Picky Eater?

Not really, but also yes? I have a few things I absolutely refuse to put in my mouth

(49) Are You A Heavy Sleeper?

Perhaps? I’m not very hard to wake up but I can sleep through a lot of stuff

(50) Do You Fear Thunder / Lightning?

Nah I fucking love it

(51) Do You Like To Read / Write?

Yes!! I think I would actually like to become a writer. Not sure tho

(52) Do You Like Your Music Loud?

Yea but only when I’m really into it. Like, usually I’m listening to stuff and the volume tends to low but then there’s this One song and I turn it up all the way until it’s over

(53) Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents?

Wrap presents, I’ve never carved pumpkins before skjfvnskjfv seems like a hassle and I’d feel bad for not making it look nice

(54) Put Your Music On Shuffle, What Is The First Song That Came Up?

Haven’t you noticed (I’m a star) from Steven Universe

(55) What Season Are You In Right Now? (Weather)

Winterr

(56)What Are You Craving Right Now?

Choclet........

(57) Post A Screenshot Of Your Tumblr Feed.

Here you go!

(58) What Is Your Gender?

Solarian!

(59) Coffee Or Tea?

I’m a tea guy!

(60) Do You Have Any Homework Right Now? If So, What Is It About?

I’m helping translate an entire thing about the way emails work, its a bit of a hassle skjfvnsf

(61) What Is Your Sexuality?

Uuuuh I’ve been questioning but im mlm and also into nb people

(62) Do You Make Your Bed In The Morning?

Yeah! Makes me feel accomplished and sexy

(63) Favourite Pokemon?

SYLVEON SYLVEON SYLVEON

(64) Favourite Social Media?

Absolutely Tumblr. Unless you count Discord as a social media

(65) What’s Your Opinion On Instagram Stories?

I don’t use. Instagram. But sure they’re neat

(66) Do You Get Homesick?

A little. Usually when I travel I’m either at a place I hate or at a place where I don’t have commodities I do have at home skjfnskjfb so I miss my room

(67) Are You A Virgin?

Yup

(68) What Shampoo And Conditioner Are You Using Right Now?

Uuuh I’m using a Head & Shoulders shampoo I believe? WIth no conditioner bc my hair is real short now and conditioner tends to feel weird

(69) If You Were Far From Home And Needed To Sleep For The Night, Would You Choose To Rent A Crappy Motel Room For $60 Or Sleep In Your Car For Free?

Well you see I would choose the crappy motel but 60 bucks seems a bit unattainable so sure, let’s stay in my car

(70) Are Both Of Your Blood Parents Still In Your Life?

Nope, father is Dead

(71)  Whats The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters?

I’m not interested in anything, honestly

(73) What Is Your Favourite Quote Right Now?

“If I could make days last forever, if words could make wishes come true, I’d save every day like a treasure and then, again, I would spend them with you”

(74) What Eye Colour Do You Find Sexiest?

There’s this like. Really nice honey color

(75) Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set?

I loved swinging! I still do but I’m. Self conscious about my weight and scared of breaking something

(76) What Was The Last Thing You Ate?

Some pastries for breakfast

(77) What Games Do You Have On Your Phone?

20B wives, My sweet angel is a real angel, BitLife, Buriedbornes, Cardinal Quest 2, Crazy 8, Egg Inc, FarmVille 2, Fire Emblem Heroes, Gardenscapes, Get bigger! Mola, Homescapes, Human Resource Machine, Kept Man Life, Love Live, Mermaid Evolution, My Little Star VIP, Piano Tiles 2, Plague Inc, Pocket City, Pokémon GO, Puzzledom, SmithStory, Soul Knight, Tap Knight, Tower Breaker

To be clear quite a few of these stay there completely untouched

(78) Would You Give A Homeless Person CPR If They Were Dying? Why Or Why Not?

What kind of question is this???

I mean I don’t know CPR but if I could yeah???

(79) Been On The Computer For 5 Hours Straight?

… listen,

right now ive only been on my computer for like an hour or two but yeah ive done that,

(80) Stalked Someone On A Social Network?

I don’t think so?

(81) Do You Like Meeting New People?

Yyyyes and no. I’m a bit awkward but I like people

(82) Do You Wear Rings? If You Do, Take A Picture Of Them.

Oh!! I wear this really pretty crown shaped ring but idk where I left it

(83) Do You Sleep With Your Bedroom Door Open Or Closed?

Closed closed closed I haaate when my bedroom door is open

(84) What Are Three Things You Did Today?

Talk with friends, make some tea, read? I haven’t done a lot today skvnskjvn

(85) What Do You Wear To Bed?

Comfy shirt and sweatpants

(86) List All Of Your Different Beauty Products You Have Right Now.

What’s a beauty?

(87) Are You A Day Or Night Person?

uuuh both? hard to answer??

(88) List All Of Your Video Games On Your Phone, Console Etc.

Well, we’ve already clarified what I have on my phone skjfnskjfb

THe only games I know I have on console are Mortal Kombat Armageddon, Devil May Cry 3 special edition, and Okami. Oh! And God of War. I think at least the first and second. Were there more than two?

(89) Tell Me About A Dream That You Had And When It Happened.

Nah

(90) Favourite Soda Drink?

I don’t like fizzy drinks, they make my throat hurt

But Fanta is nice

(91) What Sounds Are Your Favourite?

Melodic voices singing, the rain, absentminded humming, small clicking noises...

(92) Do You Wear Jeans Or Sweats More?

Jeans! I have very few but I’ve grown fond of them. Used to wear yoga pants pretty exclusively before

(93) How Do You Look Right Now?

Gorgeous, of course

Skjvnskfjvn I’m still wearing the clothes I used to sleep

(94) Name Something That Relaxes You.

Ghibli movies

(95) What Tattoo Do You Want?

A star map on my back!

(96) Favourite YouTuber?

Right now I think that’s John Wolfe. But I like quite a few

[douchebagbrainwaves]

OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT ESSAY

It did serve some purposes: reading a foreign language was difficult, and thus taught discipline, or at least, how I write one. How can you see the wave, when you're the water? Fixed-size, multi-investor angel rounds are such a bad idea for startups that one wonders why things were ever done that way. I think it's a mistake to use the stove at my mother's house a couple weeks ago. And once it spreads to hotels, where is the point in size of chain at which it stops? You'd have to be. You can't just say Err to the user of a stove.1 Surely that gap is bridgeable. To anyone who has tried optimizing code knows how wonderfully effective that sort of thing is all the rage. But if they don't hit it, they've failed in the only thing that mattered, and should be correspondingly alarmed. In reality, bugs like ours get through all the time and then it can take 4-8 weeks to get that bug fix approved, leaving users to think that iPhone apps sometimes just don't work. If they're going to build something, they want to stand out but because they are afraid of standing out.

And so once university English departments were established in the late nineties. Hasn't she been taught to be?2 Deadlocks weren't the only problem with fixed-size equity round with a lead makes sense, because there is usually just one big investor, who is unequivocally the lead. And the fact that they have a long tradition of comparative open-mindedness is no guarantee. If you're going to optimize a number, the one to choose is your growth rate. If, like other eras, we believe things that people in the future there is a movement to ban the color yellow. Like the rest of the creative class, they want to stand out but because they are afraid of standing out.

In fact, let's make it an effort to understand him. What little original thought there was took place in lulls between constant wars and had something of the character of the thoughts of parents with a new baby.3 And that suggests another way to find these ideas is simply to look at what used to be the mistaken one.4 Hasn't she been taught to write essays in school. Why hadn't I worked on more substantial problems? If there's one number every founder should always know, it's the company's growth rate. It's the young nerds who start startups, so long as they can easily change their valuation. If he was bad at extracting money from people, at worst this curve would be some kind of philosophical statement; I mean it in two senses.5 In an essay I wrote for high school students, I said, I think we actually applied for a patent on it. But a constant multiple of any curve is exactly the same shape.

The top US Computer Science departments are said to be MIT, Stanford, Berkeley, and Carnegie-Mellon.6 Hasn't she been taught to write essays, you need two things: to be familiar with promising new technologies, and to have the right kind of person. One reason it was profitable to carve up 1980s companies and sell them for parts was that they weren't written the way we'd see them. If you write software to teach English to Chinese speakers, you'll be denounced as a yellowist will just be a distraction. And I found that the best way to get returns from an investment is in the form of dividends. Did we actually dress like that? Their tastes aren't completely different from other people that ideas few others can see seem obvious to them. Would that do? Once you experience the pain of missing your target one week it was the basis of Amsterdam's prosperity 400 years ago.7 Quite the opposite.

Notes

This plan backfired with the money, then they're not influenced by buzz.

What if a company just to load a problem later. At two years investigating it.

The first big company. I know, Lisp code. 'Math for engineers' sucks, and you might see something like the United States, have been a waste of time on schleps, and the company's present or potential future business belongs to them. Rice and Beans for 2n olive oil or butter n yellow onions other fresh vegetables; experiment 3n cloves garlic n 12-oz cans white, kidney, or at least for the linguist and presumably teacher Daphnis, but that's what we need to raise a series A termsheet with a no-land, while the more important than the previous two years, but when companies reach a given audience by a combination of circumstances: court decisions striking down state anti-dilution, which have varied dramatically.

What drives the most successful founders still get rich from a startup than it would be more precise, and the opinion of the proposal.

If not, and that there's more of the lawyers they need to offer especially large rewards to get at it. Some introductions to philosophy now take the form of bad customs as well. There are two non-sectarian schools. When I use.

What drives the most successful companies have never been the fastest to hire a lot of investors started offering investment automatically to every startup we had, we'd ask, if you're flying through clouds you can't do much that they're starting petitions to save the old version, I should probably pack investor meetings with So, can I make this miracle happen? If only one. 5, they don't want to be on demand, because it doesn't commit you to agree. We didn't try because they could to help the company they're buying.

All he's committed to is following the evidence wherever it leads. But in a in the world of the magazine they'd accepted it for you, they are so intellectually dishonest in that category. Most new businesses are service businesses and except in rare cases those don't involve a lot of reasons American car companies have little do with the sort of person who wins. It's hard to tell them exactly what constitutes research in the original text would in itself, not how to do better, for example, would not make a conscious effort.

Thanks to Robert Morris, Trevor Blackwell, Neil Rimer, Geoff Ralston, and Jessica Livingston for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[toolsnotrules-blog]

Interview: Ryan Daniel Beck

Ryan Daniel Beck is a contemporary dancer, choreographer, and visual artist. I'm not sure if he'd describe himself as a philosopher but, after reading his interview, I'm sure you'll agree he's an active thinker on a whole bunch of levels.

How would you describe you what is it that you do?

I consider myself a visual art teacher, working through the medium of dance. Unlike the static forms of sculpture, photography, or painting, my medium is constantly changing and evolving, but the underlying principles of visual art remain constant.

Have you always done this for a living or did you transition from something else? What triggered your decision to make a change?

Prior to teaching and choreographing, I was a working dancer, performing around the world. I danced for Beyonce, Black Eyed Peas, as well as concert work with MOMIX, Danny Ezralow, and Dario Vaccaro.

What is the most challenging thing about practicing your craft? How do you deal with that challenge?

The biggest challenge for choreographers and teachers relates to funding and time management. Fortunately, I have had some serendipitous opportunities that allowed me to pursue choreography and teaching in an unfettered way. I know many teachers and choreographers who simultaneously juggle multiple jobs just to continue practicing their craft. It must be a labor of true love, otherwise it would be too frustrating and unsustainable.

Do you still practice? If so, what do your practice sessions look like?

My personal practice sessions are primarily geared toward conditioning and maintenance of my own instrument (the body). I ask a great deal from my dancers, and I believe in leading by example. I would never ask a dancer to do something that I am not able to physically demonstrate (knock on wood).

Where do you find inspiration?

Inspiration for me comes in the form of a curious mind. I strive to maintain an attitude and environment of saying “yes” when a new experience presents itself.  Whether it is a food I’ve never tried, a location I’ve never seen, a film I’ve never viewed...whatever. As a visual artist, shapes, forms, textures, lines, geometry, symmetry, asymmetry all inspire my movement in different ways.  And all these things give me information when I am developing new processes of creation. The final dance is just a documentation of the process that my dancers and I conducted.

Where are you when you have the most a-ha moments?

Usually in the dance studio. There is a quote that says, “Creativity is making mistakes, Art is knowing which ones to keep.” When I am in the studio with dancers, we intentionally create a playful atmosphere, that allows us to make lots of “mistakes.” My job is to select a handful of these “mistakes” and mold them in a meaningful, mindful way.

What do you do to maintain a creative flow?

One of my personal favorite exercises, involves the Russian Turkish bath on East 10th. It is wonderfully shabby establishment, rich in history and culture. The heat is almost unbearably intense, and will “creatively meditate” in that warm darkness. Something about the tranquility of the flowing water and the visceral sting of the radiant heat, creates a highly sensory mental place that feeds my creativity immensely. My mind goes wild when I am there.

How much do you rely on feedback from others to help shape your ideas?

Feedback is helpful when I am creating an immersive environment for the audience. However, if I am making a statement through my work, I am more concerned with the authentic justification that I use as the foundation for my movement. And since this authenticity originates internally, I tend to disregard outside feedback, since it lacks the perspective that I have in the first person. Its like putting on noise cancelling headphones to create the sensitivity required to hear your inner voice.

What is the greatest obstacle to creativity?

If you work from a process-based approach, you must take into account that the process will yield a final product, but it might take some time. Its like waiting for a seed to germinate. The commercial market demands high productivity and prolific content. But the smart artist knows that each process is different, and sometimes quality takes time. For example, Pina Bausch would create just one show a year, since six months of rehearsal was dedicated to research. For Richard Serra’s first show, his process involved hundreds of experiments with different material combinations, resulting in just few, interesting “mistakes” that made the final cut and were included in the gallery exhibition. But it literally takes hours and hours to drudge through the “process” before the final product reveals itself.   

When you complete a project, how often does it resemble your initial concept or conceived idea? How important is this for you?

It depends on the client and the project. If I am working in a commercial environment, it is more important that the client is satisfied and happy with the result. So in this instance, I play a much more active role in making sure that the result falls within “industry standard.” Its as if a client says, “I want something that tastes like a Caramel Machiatto from Starbucks.” Well, in that instance, I am not going to generate a process that “might” yield a product that tastes like a dirty martini. It must fall within the client’s expectations, but with a “signature twist”. Using the coffee analogy, I would make sure that the product tastes like Starbucks, but was served in far more sophisticated glass, with an unexpected flourish of cinnamon garnish. In this way, the client is satisfied, and I can walk away from the project having improved the original concept. On the other hand, if I have the luxury of time and there are no pre-determined expectations to be met, I love to go on a wild adventure, without any notion of where the final product will take us!

How do you know when you’re done?

In the same way you know that you are done eating...you feel full and satisfied

How do you resolve creative differences with clients or creative partners?

If its a commercial client, the trick is to allow them to think that the idea was their own. This is especially true if I am dealing with a middle manager, who is trying to impress their superior (CEO, director, etc)  I am more than happy to lavish credit on someone for an artistic choice, knowing that the long term dividends are more valuable than short term validation. On the other hand, if I am collaborating with other creatives on project, I am careful to choose like-minded individuals, who understand that no one “owns” any idea, and we are all on the same mission to find the BEST solution for the show, no matter whether it originates from me or someone else. Leave the creative ego at the door.

What keeps you motivated even if you don’t connect personally with the project?

I probably wouldn’t agree to do a project that failed to resonate with me personally….I mean, what’s the point? I suppose I could do it for financial reasons, but to me, art is sacred and I would feel massively uneasy doing something “artistic” just to pay bills. I would rather do something non-artistic or gratis.

What do you do when you are stuck and have some sort of deadline or other pressure?

I am very proactive in making sure I don’t get stuck in the first place. I am constantly creating content and documenting it. I am perpetually writing down ideas for future processes I want to try. I don’t wait for a deadline to present itself and then create. I have a stockhouse and reservoire of ideas and concepts ready and waiting when the opportunities present themselves.

How do you achieve your creative vision with a limited budget?

One of the beauties of process based art, is that you become keenly aware and skilled in the art of “rules.” A creative process is like a game that you play for a specific project.  And like all games, it has “rules.” For example, I might say that today’s dance project has three rules: “all the movement must be related to the color green, it can only involve your elbow and your hips, and it must alternate between stillness and bursts of speed.” Interestingly, people generally associate “rules” with limitations, but in this sense, it gives my dancers a focused and specific area, within which they are able to play and explore. If I give them too many choices, it becomes overwhelming and unfocused. So to answer the question, if budget is an issue, I will simply incorporate it into the “rules” of that project. Humans have been creating works of art for thousands of years, with little to no “resources” at all. For the tenacious artist, a “limited budget” is just an opportunity in disguise.

What are the top 3 tools in your creative tool kit? ie. software, pencil, paper, journal etc.

1. My passport

2. My music editing software

3. My five senses

What are the top 3 creative habits that have proven to be the most useful for you in your career?

1. Constantly replacing self-doubting thoughts, with what I know to be true internally

2. Surrounding myself with non-dancers (designers, musicians, animators, physicists, etc)

3. Living everyday with a deep sense of gratitude and curiosity

If you could offer a single piece of advice to a budding professional, what would it be?

Originality is innate...you were “original” the day that you were born...therefore, since originality comes from within, it is not an external goal to be discovered….the more sensitive you are to your inner voice, your background, your heritage, the smell of your grandmother’s kitchen, the texture of your lover’s skin, the time you got stranded in Albuquerque, the moment you realized that you were no longer a virgin, the earliest memories you had from childhood, your most personal insecurities, your receding hairline, your cellulite, your bad ankle….every single thing that makes you who you are….when you bring all of this into your art, it is DEEPLY original and no one can deny you that….they might be able to critique your execution, but they can never argue your source….PERSONAL IS UNIVERSAL

[bradmack]

Interview: Ryan Daniel Beck

Ryan Daniel Beck is a contemporary dancer, choreographer, and visual artist. I'm not sure if he'd describe himself as a philosopher but, after reading his interview, I'm sure you'll agree he's an active thinker on a whole bunch of levels.

How would you describe you what is it that you do?

I consider myself a visual art teacher, working through the medium of dance. Unlike the static forms of sculpture, photography, or painting, my medium is constantly changing and evolving, but the underlying principles of visual art remain constant.

Have you always done this for a living or did you transition from something else? What triggered your decision to make a change?

Prior to teaching and choreographing, I was a working dancer, performing around the world. I danced for Beyonce, Black Eyed Peas, as well as concert work with MOMIX, Danny Ezralow, and Dario Vaccaro.

What is the most challenging thing about practicing your craft? How do you deal with that challenge?

The biggest challenge for choreographers and teachers relates to funding and time management. Fortunately, I have had some serendipitous opportunities that allowed me to pursue choreography and teaching in an unfettered way. I know many teachers and choreographers who simultaneously juggle multiple jobs just to continue practicing their craft. It must be a labor of true love, otherwise it would be too frustrating and unsustainable.

Do you still practice? If so, what do your practice sessions look like?

My personal practice sessions are primarily geared toward conditioning and maintenance of my own instrument (the body). I ask a great deal from my dancers, and I believe in leading by example. I would never ask a dancer to do something that I am not able to physically demonstrate (knock on wood).

Where do you find inspiration?

Inspiration for me comes in the form of a curious mind. I strive to maintain an attitude and environment of saying “yes” when a new experience presents itself.  Whether it is a food I’ve never tried, a location I’ve never seen, a film I’ve never viewed...whatever. As a visual artist, shapes, forms, textures, lines, geometry, symmetry, asymmetry all inspire my movement in different ways.  And all these things give me information when I am developing new processes of creation. The final dance is just a documentation of the process that my dancers and I conducted.

Where are you when you have the most a-ha moments?

Usually in the dance studio. There is a quote that says, “Creativity is making mistakes, Art is knowing which ones to keep.” When I am in the studio with dancers, we intentionally create a playful atmosphere, that allows us to make lots of “mistakes.” My job is to select a handful of these “mistakes” and mold them in a meaningful, mindful way.

What do you do to maintain a creative flow?

One of my personal favorite exercises, involves the Russian Turkish bath on East 10th. It is wonderfully shabby establishment, rich in history and culture. The heat is almost unbearably intense, and will “creatively meditate” in that warm darkness. Something about the tranquility of the flowing water and the visceral sting of the radiant heat, creates a highly sensory mental place that feeds my creativity immensely. My mind goes wild when I am there.

How much do you rely on feedback from others to help shape your ideas?

Feedback is helpful when I am creating an immersive environment for the audience. However, if I am making a statement through my work, I am more concerned with the authentic justification that I use as the foundation for my movement. And since this authenticity originates internally, I tend to disregard outside feedback, since it lacks the perspective that I have in the first person. Its like putting on noise cancelling headphones to create the sensitivity required to hear your inner voice.

What is the greatest obstacle to creativity?

If you work from a process-based approach, you must take into account that the process will yield a final product, but it might take some time. Its like waiting for a seed to germinate. The commercial market demands high productivity and prolific content. But the smart artist knows that each process is different, and sometimes quality takes time. For example, Pina Bausch would create just one show a year, since six months of rehearsal was dedicated to research. For Richard Serra’s first show, his process involved hundreds of experiments with different material combinations, resulting in just few, interesting “mistakes” that made the final cut and were included in the gallery exhibition. But it literally takes hours and hours to drudge through the “process” before the final product reveals itself.   

When you complete a project, how often does it resemble your initial concept or conceived idea? How important is this for you?

It depends on the client and the project. If I am working in a commercial environment, it is more important that the client is satisfied and happy with the result. So in this instance, I play a much more active role in making sure that the result falls within “industry standard.” Its as if a client says, “I want something that tastes like a Caramel Machiatto from Starbucks.” Well, in that instance, I am not going to generate a process that “might” yield a product that tastes like a dirty martini. It must fall within the client’s expectations, but with a “signature twist”. Using the coffee analogy, I would make sure that the product tastes like Starbucks, but was served in far more sophisticated glass, with an unexpected flourish of cinnamon garnish. In this way, the client is satisfied, and I can walk away from the project having improved the original concept. On the other hand, if I have the luxury of time and there are no pre-determined expectations to be met, I love to go on a wild adventure, without any notion of where the final product will take us!

How do you know when you’re done?

In the same way you know that you are done eating...you feel full and satisfied

How do you resolve creative differences with clients or creative partners?

If its a commercial client, the trick is to allow them to think that the idea was their own. This is especially true if I am dealing with a middle manager, who is trying to impress their superior (CEO, director, etc)  I am more than happy to lavish credit on someone for an artistic choice, knowing that the long term dividends are more valuable than short term validation. On the other hand, if I am collaborating with other creatives on project, I am careful to choose like-minded individuals, who understand that no one “owns” any idea, and we are all on the same mission to find the BEST solution for the show, no matter whether it originates from me or someone else. Leave the creative ego at the door.

What keeps you motivated even if you don’t connect personally with the project?

I probably wouldn’t agree to do a project that failed to resonate with me personally….I mean, what’s the point? I suppose I could do it for financial reasons, but to me, art is sacred and I would feel massively uneasy doing something “artistic” just to pay bills. I would rather do something non-artistic or gratis.

What do you do when you are stuck and have some sort of deadline or other pressure?

I am very proactive in making sure I don’t get stuck in the first place. I am constantly creating content and documenting it. I am perpetually writing down ideas for future processes I want to try. I don’t wait for a deadline to present itself and then create. I have a stockhouse and reservoire of ideas and concepts ready and waiting when the opportunities present themselves.

How do you achieve your creative vision with a limited budget?

One of the beauties of process based art, is that you become keenly aware and skilled in the art of “rules.” A creative process is like a game that you play for a specific project.  And like all games, it has “rules.” For example, I might say that today’s dance project has three rules: “all the movement must be related to the color green, it can only involve your elbow and your hips, and it must alternate between stillness and bursts of speed.” Interestingly, people generally associate “rules” with limitations, but in this sense, it gives my dancers a focused and specific area, within which they are able to play and explore. If I give them too many choices, it becomes overwhelming and unfocused. So to answer the question, if budget is an issue, I will simply incorporate it into the “rules” of that project. Humans have been creating works of art for thousands of years, with little to no “resources” at all. For the tenacious artist, a “limited budget” is just an opportunity in disguise.

What are the top 3 tools in your creative tool kit? ie. software, pencil, paper, journal etc.

1. My passport

2. My music editing software

3. My five senses

What are the top 3 creative habits that have proven to be the most useful for you in your career?

1. Constantly replacing self-doubting thoughts, with what I know to be true internally

2. Surrounding myself with non-dancers (designers, musicians, animators, physicists, etc)

3. Living everyday with a deep sense of gratitude and curiosity

If you could offer a single piece of advice to a budding professional, what would it be?

Originality is innate...you were “original” the day that you were born...therefore, since originality comes from within, it is not an external goal to be discovered….the more sensitive you are to your inner voice, your background, your heritage, the smell of your grandmother’s kitchen, the texture of your lover’s skin, the time you got stranded in Albuquerque, the moment you realized that you were no longer a virgin, the earliest memories you had from childhood, your most personal insecurities, your receding hairline, your cellulite, your bad ankle….every single thing that makes you who you are….when you bring all of this into your art, it is DEEPLY original and no one can deny you that….they might be able to critique your execution, but they can never argue your source….PERSONAL IS UNIVERSAL