draftie

: and the boat is no matter

feast yr eyes on my little boat out there at sea
it is barely noticeable amongst barraging waves
upon its little deck, and have we left it for the wreck

well i can’t know nor tell a splendid way
past any other, corner some idea,

maybe: turn a raft a begging man and have it make sense,
no: i am the bronchial travesty that love forgot,

i make no aims, i glisten with my lovely spangled routes
to beginning a statement: about, what:

my, my: the lynchpin’s got stuck out again
into drafty layers that splash palsy on themselves
to give life to what’s to forego and piece together of
what hasn’t even been enough

what isn’t old enough
what cleverly disguises plans in shifty diamonds
spangled in splashes on the raft a beggin man
for the turncoats to inspire him, again
before drowning

no matter how you read my pomes,
it is always me, writing alone. that is what i want to reach to you.
my aloneness in my hands. i want to give you that universe you

cannot penetrate. it will always be
my asides to nothing, thinking nothing there to hear,
yet people are, yet i will never know,
bc that is the place my fingers go

Based on the message I sent to my bb Colette

Basically Levi giving Erwin a sort of handjob while in the middle of a meeting.

It’s the first fic I’ve made about SnK, and it’s also the first fic I’ve made the breaches past a T rating, so that’s something. Please be gentle

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Could u please do another chapter to the holly drawing gail fic please?! X

But of course :)

[ part one | part two | part three ]

(COM)POSED, part IV

Holly focused on calming her nerves. Then she chided herself. She wasn’t the one naked and on display, after all.

She glanced up at Gail, trying her best to see her through a purely artistic eye. But it was hard not to appreciate the smooth, pale skin, striking blonde hair that spilled across her shoulders and upper arm, shapely breasts, then down to her almost flat abdomen and long legs. Holly was fascinated by Gail’s paleness. Society standards these days said that tanned skin was more beautiful, but looking at Gail, Holly realized that those standards were ridiculous.

She also tried not to notice that in the cool air circulating the large, drafty room, Gail’s light pink nipples had tightened. She really tried to keep her libido in check, but she was only human and Gail was stunning.

Holly shook her head and returned the tip of her pencil to the paper, sketching along Gail’s chin and neck. She still sucked, but something about Gail made her want to do better. She wanted to do this drawing of Gail justice, even if it didn’t turn out perfect.

Keep reading

lotte18 asked:

solangelo and 50. please?

Certainly! 50 was Writer’s Choice, and I liked 11 a lot for Solangelo.

11:“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”  

Here you go! 


Nico di Angelo scowled as he pulled his coat tighter around himself. Mr. D had decided to celebrate the halving of his sentence by declaring a snow day for the camp. This translated into the camp borders allowing the snow to blanket the camp. The rest of the campers were ecstatic, but Nico was just annoyed at the cold. The Hades cabin, he’d discovered, was incredibly drafty. It hadn’t been a problem up to this point, but he’d woken up with blue toes this morning and that was just not on. He was headed for the Hecate cabin, where they were busy spelling self-warming blankets.

The last he’d heard, the Ares cabin was organizing a massive game of Capture the Flag, the Hephaestus cabin had redesigned their stash of potato guns to fire snowballs, and most of the other campers were dividing themselves up into teams and making bets. Nico himself expected the two main opponents to be, as usual, the Athena and Ares cabins.

He turned the corner around the last of the cabins and walked into Will Solace. The other demigod laughed and pulled him to the ground behind a snowbank, the two of them narrowly avoiding a hail of snowballs. Nico blushed, realizing that Will was covering him almost entirely with his body. Will wasn’t paying the least bit of attention, he was leveraging himself up on his elbows, looking around for more snowballs. When he was satisfied they were safe from any projectiles, he shifted his weight to his knees, which did not help Nico’s situation at all, now he was kneeling over Nico, practically straddling him- Nico made a strangled noise and Will looked down at him in surprise. The other demigod’s cheeks were red from the cold, and he smirked evilly at Nico when he realized their position.

“Hey, di Angelo, what’s up?” he waggled his eyebrows and Nico scowled at him and twisted out from under him, pushing Will back into the snow.

“You’re not funny, Solace.” he said, brushing snow off his pants. His hands were bare and he noticed he was shivering worse than before. Stupid snow and it’s stupid low temperatures. Will noticed too, and he frowned before he grabbed Nico’s hands in his. Nico felt his hands warming up and fought a smile. Will almost never got cold, and had a talent for raising others’ body temperatures. Perk of being a son of Apollo.

“Hey, I just saved you from a face-full of snow, courtesy of the Hermes cabin. You’re welcome.” He pouted at Nico until the other demigod rolled his eyes and gave in, leaning forward to quickly kiss him on the cheek.

Nico and Will had been dating since the previous summer, after the end of the Giant War. At first Nico had been worried about the rest of camp finding out, but his fears had turned out to be unfounded. They’d started to sit together at meal times, and holding hands in public around camp, and no one had said anything aside from some comments from the Aphrodite cabin about what a good couple they made.

Will beamed at the kiss and Nico swore he actually glowed a bit. He pulled him to his feet and led him around a snowbank to other Apollo campers. They were busy assembling more snowballs and barely glanced up at their new addition. Nico looked around and noticed more groups of campers ducking out from various vantage points.

“I thought everyone was going to play Capture the Flag?” he asked, looking back at Will. His boyfriend looked at him and laughed.

“Yeah, that devolved pretty quickly into all out snowball warfare. Welcome to the front, soldier.” Will gave him a mock salute and Nico just scowled.

“Oh no, I’m not part of this.” he said, stepping back. “I just wanted to get blankets for my cabin-” he broke off as Will stood, a snowball in hand. “Will, what are you doing-SOLACE!” he ducked as Will let the snowball fly, barely avoiding taking a hit.

He ran for it, cursing Will who he could hear laughing behind him. He swerved to hide behind one of the cabins, he wasn’t paying attention to which.

“Solace, I swear by the gods if you don’t-” a snowball hit the wall and Will cackled. He stepped out from the building and shook a threatening finger at his boyfriend. “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!” he cursed as Will nailed him in the face. “Solace, it is so on!” Will was doubled over, laughing hysterically. He stopped when the ground around him rumbled, eyes widening as skeletons exploded from the frozen soil.

“Nico, what are you doing?” he asked cautiously. He squeaked as one of the skeletons grabbed his shirt, pulling it back from him as another stepped up and shoved a handful of snow down the back of his shirt. “NICO DI ANGELO I AM GOING TO KILL YOU.” he screeched, lunging away from the skeletons to tackle Nico into the snow. It was Nico’s turn to squeak as Will shoved his hands beneath his jacket and started to tickle him mercilessly.

“SOLACE, unhand meEEe!” he gasped out, swatting at Will’s hands and rolling them over in the snow until he could shove his face into the snow.

They ended up side by side in the snow, laughing with tears streaming down their faces. Nico’s skeletons were wreaking snowball filled havoc, splitting off to join the groups of demigods in the melee of a snowball fight. Nico looked at his boyfriend, cheeks flushed from the snow, golden hair shining in the sun, and decided that maybe the snow wasn’t so bad after all.

- Hope you like it! Thanks for sending me a prompt. It was super fun to write. 

Home (Tao x Reader)

So I decided to take this one a little more down the subtle and classier road when it came to the smut, but I think both you and I prefer the graphic, extra smutty ones lol  This requested prompt was just dripping with angst, so I hope I created a satisfying amount of feels for you, dear hearts! I hope you all enjoy it, especially catching-the-galaxies, who requested this! 

P.S. Yes; the gif is indeed irrelevant, but the Kungfoo Panda looks handsome as hell. 

P.S.S. Hope the ending wasn't too abrupt! I usually write before I go to bed, so maybe I was just a little bit sleepy?

image

 You sat primly, silently in your satin chair at the long, banquet table. A stillness permeated the air, leaving the drafty dining room suffocating. But you were used to this stifling loneliness; it was something you had grown accustomed to over the past two years. It was routine. Something you both resented and sought refuge in. 

 You pushed your slightly warm food around the fine china plate, an unreadable expression on your porcelain face to those who happened to pass through the dining hall, servants and the like. Again, your life was clockwork now. Wake up, stomach breakfast. Stay out of the way, attempt to eat lunch. Maybe read another book, push dinner around the plate. Deep down, you knew it shouldn’t be like this. This confinement like a pair of shackles on your ankles and wrists. An old friend wanted to visit? Sorry, I’m going to have to decline. That’s not what he would want. You push your plate away, suddenly too upset to eat; not that you were going to anyway. The only sound is the scrape of the finely carven oak chair’s legs on the wood flooring as you drift away from the table. A manservant opens the door to the grand hallway and you give him a gratuitous nod.  

 Your shoes click hesitantly against the floor, as if just that sound would cause the whole house to collapse. A few house servants are dusting and polishing, their apparent whispering cease as the subject to their conversation floats by. You already know what they say about you, you’re not a fool. They say you should pluck up the courage to talk, leave, or do anything other than just wait through it all. The servants call you things other than Mistress _____ sometimes; they’ll call you Mistress Geisha because of the way you are always seen, but never heard. 

 Your steps become increasingly slowed as you approach your bedroom, your heart already beginning to ache pitifully. As you grasp the shining, brass door handle, you push the door open painstakingly slow, wincing whenever it creaked loudly. As you walk into the dimly lit room, you’re blissfully aware that you’re alone. That is, until you hear the telltale shuffle of papers and scratching of a pen in the adjoining room: his office. 

 You bite your lip, inching close to the cracked door. Resting a hand on the door frame, you lean in to see your husband working tiredly away at his large desk. You watch quietly as he drops his pen, leans back into his high backed chair, and passes a hand over his handsome face. His hair is disheveled and his eyes red with sleep depravity, but he’s still beautiful. Tao has always been just so. 

 He notices your timid figure in the doorway with but a single glance before he turns to the tall windows behind him. You used to feel a piece of your heart break each time he did that, but since then, you’re heart had hardened into something close to steel.  

 Rain smacks the window panes rhythmically, as he softly speaks to them, “I suppose you’re wanting to go to bed?" 

 You gulp, disappointment already creeping into your throat, "I suppose so." 

 He sighs, rubbing his face again with both hands, ”…I’ll be there shortly.“ 

 Without another word, you turn back to your bedroom, quickly changing into a suitable and sturdy nightgown for the suddenly chilly night. You pull the silk covers of your luxurious canopy bed back, sliding to your side of the bed. He walks in just as your settling in, his long stride heavy with fatigue. You watch in fascination, slightly red-faced, as he pulls his clothes off piece by piece, until all that remains are his underclothes. His chest is tantalizingly bare, muscles rippling below his lean physique as he slides into the bed next to you at a respectable distance. He lays there stiffly and you do the same, both staring intensely up at the maroon canopy of the bed.  

 You can hear the rain’s pattering on the glass windows, his breathing, the shifting of the covers. If the silence was hard to bare, then this was ten times more stifling. You try to keep your breathing quiet as you listen for a simple ‘good night’, but it never comes. Resigning yourself to just sleep, you turn away from him, your chest constricting up in the telltale sign of heartbreak. It never does though because you’ve already accepted the inevitable. 

 It felt as though you were barely asleep for five minutes when a rapid knocking is heard on the heavy oak doors across the room. From next to you, Tao rises with a groan, rubbing his eyes with an annoyed look on his handsome face. You sit up, curious as to who could be knocking at such a late hour. Tao wrenches the door open to find the old and kindly head butler to the estate, his wrinkled face creased with sadness.  

 His words are positively distraught and his voice wavers unsteadily, "Master Tao, I’m afraid to…to say…,” he pulls out a crisp white handkerchief and dabs at his eyes and beaky nose. The butlers silver mustache quivers, “I’m afraid to say that your father has passed away in the night." 

 You gasp, a hand covering your mouth in shock; you had always loved your father-in-law from the get go because he was one of the few to actually pity your situation after the arranged marriage. You see Tao’s shoulders freeze, his back unnaturally straight as he dismisses the butler without a word, pushing the door closed with a thump. Tears have already begun to form, but you silently will them away, not wanting Tao to see you visibly shaken like this, but you can’t help the sad little cries that slip from your tongue. You notice Tao turns to you, his expression unreadable in the shadows of the room as he walks over to the bed curiously slow.  

 A warm hand from the dark pushes the hair from your eyes gently, running a thumb down your wet cheeks. The bed creaks as Tao shuffles closer to you, his hand still wiping the tears from your face, "You haven’t cried like this in a while, _____.”  

 You jump at the sound of your name, which you only last remember being uttered at your wedding ceremony two years ago. The way he says it is as if he was used to saying it; as though he cherished the sound of it. But that puzzled you due to the fact he hardly ever spoke to you or addressed you. 

 In the faded paleness of the moon, you can see the shining streaks of tears running down his face, but his voice is still composed as he murmurs, “You used to cry so much, and I always felt so powerless and weak when you would. It was always because of me, wasn’t it?" 

 You don’t know what to say, so you remain silent. He gives a long sigh, settling down close to your body, causing you to unintentionally shrink away from him much to your horror. It was dark, but you couldn’t have imagined the look of hurt that crossed his face…did you? Tao allows himself to cradle one of your hands between his own, holding it delicately as if it were glass instead of flesh, "He always liked you, ____. He always told me I should treasure you with all my being, telling me that I would be mad not to treat a woman like you as my most precious person." 

 You suck in a gasp, your voice quavering, "I always liked him too." 

 Tao gives you a small smile, crooked and beautiful, but it turns wry, "It seems like I failed him though,” his eyes pierce into your own, “I’ve mistreated and neglected giving you attention because I was so consumed in my own work. I thought that to give you space after being married to someone you’ve only met a few times, would cushion the pain and sadness; but it only left you with more and more." 

 You turn to him now, your small hand clenching his larger one tightly, "You’re not the only one at fault, Tao." 

 He starts, his eyes widening in amazement, "Say my name again." 

 You’re confused, but the room had suddenly become warmer as you whisper urgently, ”Tao.“ 

 He shudders, his body enveloping yours as he pulls you into his chest, "All this time, I thought you’d come to resent me." 

 You curl a hand against his chest, "Even in my darkest moments, I could never bring myself to hate you. Because,” you look up at him earnestly, “I still find myself strangely in love with you after all this time.” His sinewy arms tighten around your frail frame, his breath catching in his throat as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. A wild feeling wills you to kiss the place on his neck where his pulse races, and you do. He shudders again, his hands running up and down your arms as you kiss the sensitive spot first hesitantly, then with more gusto and lust. 

 Tao seems to find himself and pushes you away at arms length, your heart contracting again. He’s panting, trying to catch his breath as he whispers, “Please, ____. Don’t force yourself to do anything you’ll regret.” For one of the first times in your life, you’re furious. Your eyes flash with fire and you whisper back fiercely, “I’ve never once regretted loving or marrying you, despite what I may seem like on the outside.” And with that you claim his lips with a vengeance, as if to steal the doubtful words from his very mouth.  

 Tao doesn’t protest and instead chooses to savor the sudden fiestiness within you as you dominate the kiss. You straddle his waist and wrap your arms around his neck possessively, a groan escaping his lips. His hands lay softly on your hips, still gentle as can be.  

 It’s annoying actually.

 You break away from the kiss with a gasp, “Touch me more Tao. Feel me." 

 His eyes widen significantly, "Where?" 

 You breathe out, ”Everywhere.“ 

 That’s all it takes for you to reach down and throw your nightgown overhead, leaving you gloriously nude in the moonlight. Tao had only ever seen you naked on accident when he’d walked in on you changing, so his eyes rove over your skin, brushing his fingers against it all.  

 He suddenly resumes kissing your mouth with more vigor then before, your heart racing as heat course towards you now soaking core. Another strange urge washes over you, so you rock your hips into his clothed member, arousing it with your persistent rocking. "Oh!,” you gasp, your hands clasping onto Tao’s shoulders as he tightens his grip in your hips and thrusts back at you. With a whirlwind of sheets and underclothes, the two of you find yourself at the moment you’d both been nervous about. Tao’s face is full of apprehension, but his hands are sure as he massages your soaking core. His fingers pumping in and out, in and out. You writhe and wail insistently, “Please just…just take me now." 

 He pauses, his face both surprised and awed at the same time, "Say my name first." 

 Again with the name? You’re far too aroused to care, ”Tao, please take me!“ 

 He moans and quickly pushes his pulsating length into you, making you gasp. The next part fades from hurt to pleasure, and soon you’re sailing through an ocean of sensations. His rhythmic thrusting takes you higher and higher, leaving you with less and less oxygen. His pants are erratic and breathy when you clench unconsciously around his length.  

 Much to your surprise, you don’t realize you had released until you hear him swear quietly, your walls tightening around him as he releases his load into you as well. His seed is hot as it shoots straight into you in powerful spurts.  He pulls out gently laying back down beside you, no words escaping his lips. As you lay next to him, you begin to understand that this may never happen again; that it was a one time thing. It was just because he was seeking comfort in the form of company. He never actually loved you. Every word he said was just his way of convincing you to give yourself to him, just for his own needs. Nothing more, nothing less. You feel a single tear roll down your cheek as you realize you have to leave.

 [Five Years Later

 "Shanglu! Stay close to me, please,” you tighten your hold on your son’s pudgy little hand, “What did I say about running off in such a busy park?" 

 The familiarly beautiful child gives you a toothy grin, "Sorry, Mama! I just wanted to chase the birds away." 

 You smile back, brushing his hair from his eyes, "Next time let me know, so that I may help you!" 

 Your son’s face practically splits in amusement, "Mama, you’re so silly.” You smile to yourself again, relishing the feeling of happiness that washes over you. Yes; it was hard raising your son as a single mother, but it’d all been worth it in the end. 

 Shanglu suddenly stops, his eyes widening in wonder, “Mama look! That man is feeding the birds! I want to try!” You laugh merrily, approaching the man from behind, feeling giddy and lighthearted, almost reckless. You reach out a hand and tap the man’s shoulder lightly, “Excuse me sir, my son was wondering if he could possibly feed the birds with you?…" 

 The shoulders freeze. You freeze. A crashing wave of sudden coldness grips at your heart painfully.  The man turns around: same beautiful eyes, same beautiful mouth, same beautiful everything. "Tao?…" 

 His eyes widen to the size of saucers, ”____?…,“ he reaches out a hand and touches your face.  

 You want to lean into his touch but you step back and address him curtly, "Hello Tao." 

 He flinches at your coldness, causing the ice around your heart to chip bit by bit. He looks a mess; his hair unkempt, bags beneath his eyes, clothes in disarray. But he’s still so beautiful.  

 He rubs the back of his head, but is distracted by the other, drastically shorter presence: Shanglu. He gapes and crouches down, marveling at the practically miniaturized version of himself. You run a hand through your son’s hair, "This is Shanglu,” you see Tao’s head snap up his mouth about to open, but you answer his unspoken question, “He’s yours too." 

 Shanglu had been grinning up at Tao in amazement as he boasted proudly, "Mama always told me that you were very handsome Daddy! She said I look just like you because she always had a picture in her pocket of Daddy. That means I must be handsome too, right?" 

 You blush scarlet, but seeing the way Tao smiled at your son made the final layer of ice around your heart melt. How could you have ever denied your son this relationship with his father? How could you ever deny yourself the opportunity to raise him with the husband you’ve loved for seven years?  

 No words are spoken as if Tao could read your thoughts and he gazes at you with different eyes. Something you realize that you’d always failed to notice from the moment you said 'I do’: Love. It’d always been there, a little flame in his eyes that you’d been too busy muttering 'oh woe is me’ to notice. 

 You feel tears prick at the back of your eyes, "Tao, I-” But you’re cut short as he embraces you, pulling you into his chest, just as he did five years ago on that fated night. You don’t hesitate to embrace him back, your fingers clenching the fabric of his coat in a death grip, as if holding on for dear life. 

 His voice is a scared whisper, “Promise me you’ll never leave again." 

 You whisper back, "I will never leave you. Ever." 

 Shanglu grabs Tao’s hand, along with your own; he insistently tugs you both with him, another face splitting grin on his face, "Let’s go home!” You smile down at him and then at Tao who captures your lips in a short kiss, “Yes,” you say, “Home." 

Man and wife work in glorious Soviet tractor factory. One day, they get tired from building communism, so go into city to stand in bread line. They hire babysitter to watch over children for night. Babysitter left with children in proud Soviet home. Tells parents will take good care.

Father get call from babysitter after a few hours. Babysitter tell father that children reading Marx like good Soviets, but room is drafty because there are no windows. Asks father if okay to move children to parents’ room to read Marx. Father says okay, but babysitter have one final request. She ask if can cover up Lenin statue in room because it is frightening her. Father drop phone (should have worn gloves), then tell babysitter, “Take children and get out of house. We do not have Lenin statue!”

Mother and father race home to find KGB at house. KGB arrest babysitter for finding Lenin statue frightening, then arrest parents for not having Lenin statue.

Such is life in Moscow.

Spring cleaning today. Mom is taking out our icky dirt to put in new dirt. She’s also moving our pen across the room where it is less drafty. I am supervising.

Requesting (fan)  service, please!

It’s official! Bamon’s endgame and since Bamon is about to blow up, I plan to slap down a ton of requests but I will start with just one…for now.

Dear Plec & Dries,

I request a scene where Bonnie is dancing barefoot, in a silk gown, with an imaginary partner…as Damon watches her through a windowpane. But just as she begins to waltz towards the drafty part of an empty loft, she feels a pair of strong hands capture hers and lead her on the dance floor. And fyi, those “strong hands” belong to Damon. 

That’s my request and I demand to be serviced A.S.A.P.

10

http://bedfordandbowery.com/2015/04/jj-brine-is-absconding-from-new-york-city-satanic-gallery-may-be-doomed/

NEWS

JJ Brine is Absconding From New York City, Satanic Gallery May Be Doomed

APRIL 7, 2015

BY NICOLE DISSER

I met with an old friend of the blog, JJ Brine, last night at his Satanic gallery on the Lower East Side. Thankfully, it was a warmish evening, otherwise the busted picture window would have made for a very drafty Vector Gallery. Instead, it imbued the place with a different sort of vibe, distinct from when we last visited– something JJ also acknowledged– the sounds of the street became part of the experience. I no longer had to guess that people outside were talking about the strange happenings going on inside. Gaggles of teenagers intermittently giggled and gasped, pointing at a flower-crowned JJ and the eerie, reflective and neon decor, all visual terrorism.

The previous night a burglar had broken the front window, stepped inside the gallery and absconded with a piece of art. “I guess someone wanted to express themselves by throwing something through the window– taking the neon Tumblr sign might have been an incentive,” JJ sighed. “I felt something brewing.”

He admits he’s not sure who could have done this. “But I think that will become clearer,” he said.

But in spite of this act of vandalism, JJ was in excellent spirits. He welcomed in curious 20-somethings who looked up, down, and around, mouths agape in wonder. He thanked them for stopping by. At one point during our conversation an exceedingly normal middle aged woman knelt down to get closer to the cracked glass. “We’re really sad to see you go!” she shouted and timidly waited for a response. JJ quietly thanked her as well.

All of these goodbyes hung over us like a sad cloud. This week, JJ announced via his Vector blog that he’s packing up his relics, Charles Manson and Condoleeza Rice art, and closing his gallery. “Eye will go on to open VECTOR gallery in Los Angeles,” he writes. “But the City of New York must know that Eye leave this parting gift : To you NYC Eye present the advent of an irreversible decline into a shadow of all of the glories that you carry as a matter of pride. ‘New York City’ will be a metaphor for something once great that has since died.”

By this time tomorrow JJ will be on a plane to Vanuatu– a small island republic in the South Pacific, if you’ve never been– where he says he’ll be staying for two weeks, entering what he calls “irreversible decline mode.”

“I was chanting for hours, trying to arrive at some destination, because I knew I needed to go somewhere,” he recalled. “When I came to Vanuatu, it just stuck and there were no more questions.”

Life on the island will be very different for JJ, even though it’s a temporary arrangement. “Without electricity, I may not have neon signs,” he said. “But I can still generate the same kind of currents. I’m really interested in just engaging all that is there that wants to be engaged with.”

JJ will also disconnect from the internet– an integral part of the post-human experiment– and be completely isolated, though he says “no more isolated than I am here.” But the future beyond these next few weeks is uncertain. The lease for the Lower East Side gallery space however, ends this summer. “It will just sort of sit here and interact,” JJ said of what will happen until then. “I haven’t really heard any radical proposals for what else might be done with it.”

You might be able to catch JJ at Vector Gallery today, if he feels like going. But New York will have just one last piece of JJ to hold onto until the end of April at Silent Barn– an installation by the artist that opens as soon as he boards his flight. “I’m installing a prescription for the end of the world,” he explained of the installation.”It’s a prescription that determines something and reflects it at the same time. That’s one of the laws of reality that I’m testing and experiencing and verifying.”

While the VICE article and others interpret JJ’s leaving as a sign that New York City is declining further and further into mall-ish banality, which might be true, what the artist told us is a little more complex and, above all, murky. “I’m not feeling like speaking in absolutes,” he said. “I’m not uncertain, but I’m feeling more certain of things if I say: maybe.”

Though JJ he is indeed planning to open a Vector Gallery in LA, things are still up in the air. “I don’t think anything is for sure. But I can say that, currently, that is my plan of action. I’m totally open to being deviated and open to anything intervening,” he said.

A remarkably different JJ presented himself at this meeting. He looked happy, bright-cheeked and dare I say… optimistic. Maybe his impending trip has something to do with it, or perhaps vice versa. Above all, he barely mentioned Lucifer, Satan, the devil, and of that until the very end up our conversation. And only until I prompted him. In fact, he mentioned God well before he mentioned the Dark Lord.

“I’m realizing that it’s potentially very distracting,” he said. “I think it’s best understood by me being Satan and it not being important besides from me being that.”

JJ has changed and his philosophy has with it. “Change is the adversary of the status quo, until it’s absorbed into the status quo,” he said. “I wonder why there is this notion that change is not something that would be part of a system, that there would be a fixed way of understanding it. Everything is changing as a matter of its existence, that’s what it depends on.”

Change then, is exactly what JJ found he needed– hence the move to LA. But the most striking split with the past is that JJ isn’t taking souls anymore. While visitors stepped gingerly around the art work and piles of objects, he assured them they could feel free to step into the back room without having to forfeit their souls. “Maybe it was suddenly time to realize that I had come to another stage in the project and that I was more interested in answering the question as to whether or not I believed in such a thing as a soul,” he explained. “And maybe I was more concerned with acting on that answer.”

But why LA? I asked this obvious questions first. Does moving there have anything to do with the Charles Manson connection? I wondered. “Oh Charlie?” he asked. “I’m not really thinking in those terms any more, but sure somehow I guess that’s some part of it.”

This sweeping dismissal of “Charlie” confounded me. Well, did the move have something to do with Amanda Bynes? After all the tabloids have been all over this one. I once even got a call from a gossip columnist asking me to spill the beans on JJ and whether or not I thought he was “dangerous.”

“She and I have a great time together, that’s for sure,” JJ said. “I certainly wouldn’t mind being closer to her.”

But that wasn’t quite it either. Understandably JJ shied away from talking about his celebrity pal and lieu of speaking on his own terms. “Maybe it’s the sun, maybe having spent a little bit of time there and enjoying it, and maybe it feels a little bit like the Middle East,” he said. (Years ago, JJ lived in Beirut, a place he found fascinating.) “In LA people are willing to talk to themselves, to admit they are still reaching a conclusion. I think here it’s very frowned upon to feel anything is still resolving itself.”

And essentially, that’s it. JJ said he’s responding to what he sees as New York City’s shortcomings, or more accurately, the city’s crisis. “I think if it’s too driven by the idea there is no other option but it, it doesn’t serve it well. I don’t think it’s serving me well– that notion that hangs in the air, that this is the only place to be. I don’t want to internalize that. I’m not internalizing that, I’m rejecting it, in fact, that this is the only place where reality has a purpose or it’s the best place to realize all of one’s potential or the potential of a given created culture or religion or idea,” he explained. “I’m not sure that I want to be in a place that feels it is second-to-none in every category.”

JJ has been to known to speak in riddles, but this is maybe the clearest I’d ever heard him. Something about this city being “the hegemony without alternative” made a lot of sense to me. “I hear that cited as a reason for staying, that there really is no other option, that there’s not viable alternative, and I dispute that,” he said.

What’s really driving JJ up the wall though, is the inability of New Yorkers to live in the present moment.

“This is a city that is suffocatingly aware of its history and it’s always prizing a past that is unattainable. Especially here there is not moment that is less authentic than the present moment,” he explained. “There’s always some shortcoming measured against this storied past that can’t be accessed, that just disappeared, or disappeared two decades ago. There’s always some reason to feel that this is not the most important time. I reject that, I feel this is the most important time.”

As an artist, JJ says he doesn’t want to live in a place where “all innovation is thwarted.”

“This now is a very consequential time and I want to be in a place where that is an embedded awareness, or at least a place where I can easily operate on that awareness,” he said. “New York is suffering from this notion of glory days that are choking it, prohibiting it from growth. Because anything that would come would pale in comparison to that storied tradition, so it thwarts all innovation here.”

The most depressing part is that JJ’s frustrations may have stemmed from the general reaction toward his gallery. “I don’t think of Vector as being particularly radical,” he said. “And the notion of it being seen as radical is almost troubling, because it feels like the most normal kind of, sort of intrinsic place.”

Suddenly, I felt a pang of deep sadness. “I’ll just continue doing this, but in another place,” JJ assured me.

“I think people give extant realities too much credit for how they are and not thinking they can change them. I’m not saying I’m not open to staying, but no one is trying to intervene in any way or arrange for such  way that it might be more agreeable to me to stay,” he said.

But everything, even JJ’s departure is part of his work. “Maybe it’s performance art in so far as I’m living it. Maybe I don’t know why people would make the distinction between art and their every day lives. But maybe I know why and it’s my art project to dissolve that. Maybe that’s part of the point.”

Note: JJ has requested that we add his closing thoughts, “All of this is an advertisement for the end of the world.”

It feels like Hirst really did want Athelnar, but didn’t have the guts to do it right. He could have put A in bed with R and L right from the beginning, which in reality would have happened for warmth, if nothing else, in that cold, drafty hut in winter. Then, he could have got on with the story in a logical way, with R’s pit-of-snakes death, and A grieving along with everyone else, like it would have been.


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5

http://bedfordandbowery.com/2015/04/jj-brine-is-absconding-from-new-york-city-satanic-gallery-may-be-doomed/

NEWS

JJ Brine is Absconding From New York City, Satanic Gallery May Be Doomed

APRIL 7, 2015

BY NICOLE DISSER

I met with an old friend of the blog, JJ Brine, last night at his Satanic gallery on the Lower East Side. Thankfully, it was a warmish evening, otherwise the busted picture window would have made for a very drafty Vector Gallery. Instead, it imbued the place with a different sort of vibe, distinct from when we last visited– something JJ also acknowledged– the sounds of the street became part of the experience. I no longer had to guess that people outside were talking about the strange happenings going on inside. Gaggles of teenagers intermittently giggled and gasped, pointing at a flower-crowned JJ and the eerie, reflective and neon decor, all visual terrorism.

The previous night a burglar had broken the front window, stepped inside the gallery and absconded with a piece of art. “I guess someone wanted to express themselves by throwing something through the window– taking the neon Tumblr sign might have been an incentive,” JJ sighed. “I felt something brewing.”

He admits he’s not sure who could have done this. “But I think that will become clearer,” he said.

But in spite of this act of vandalism, JJ was in excellent spirits. He welcomed in curious 20-somethings who looked up, down, and around, mouths agape in wonder. He thanked them for stopping by. At one point during our conversation an exceedingly normal middle aged woman knelt down to get closer to the cracked glass. “We’re really sad to see you go!” she shouted and timidly waited for a response. JJ quietly thanked her as well.

All of these goodbyes hung over us like a sad cloud. This week, JJ announced via his Vector blog that he’s packing up his relics, Charles Manson and Condoleeza Rice art, and closing his gallery. “Eye will go on to open VECTOR gallery in Los Angeles,” he writes. “But the City of New York must know that Eye leave this parting gift : To you NYC Eye present the advent of an irreversible decline into a shadow of all of the glories that you carry as a matter of pride. ‘New York City’ will be a metaphor for something once great that has since died.”

By this time tomorrow JJ will be on a plane to Vanuatu– a small island republic in the South Pacific, if you’ve never been– where he says he’ll be staying for two weeks, entering what he calls “irreversible decline mode.”

“I was chanting for hours, trying to arrive at some destination, because I knew I needed to go somewhere,” he recalled. “When I came to Vanuatu, it just stuck and there were no more questions.”

Life on the island will be very different for JJ, even though it’s a temporary arrangement. “Without electricity, I may not have neon signs,” he said. “But I can still generate the same kind of currents. I’m really interested in just engaging all that is there that wants to be engaged with.”

JJ will also disconnect from the internet– an integral part of the post-human experiment– and be completely isolated, though he says “no more isolated than I am here.” But the future beyond these next few weeks is uncertain. The lease for the Lower East Side gallery space however, ends this summer. “It will just sort of sit here and interact,” JJ said of what will happen until then. “I haven’t really heard any radical proposals for what else might be done with it.”

You might be able to catch JJ at Vector Gallery today, if he feels like going. But New York will have just one last piece of JJ to hold onto until the end of April at Silent Barn– an installation by the artist that opens as soon as he boards his flight. “I’m installing a prescription for the end of the world,” he explained of the installation.”It’s a prescription that determines something and reflects it at the same time. That’s one of the laws of reality that I’m testing and experiencing and verifying.”

While the VICE article and others interpret JJ’s leaving as a sign that New York City is declining further and further into mall-ish banality, which might be true, what the artist told us is a little more complex and, above all, murky. “I’m not feeling like speaking in absolutes,” he said. “I’m not uncertain, but I’m feeling more certain of things if I say: maybe.”

Though JJ he is indeed planning to open a Vector Gallery in LA, things are still up in the air. “I don’t think anything is for sure. But I can say that, currently, that is my plan of action. I’m totally open to being deviated and open to anything intervening,” he said.

A remarkably different JJ presented himself at this meeting. He looked happy, bright-cheeked and dare I say… optimistic. Maybe his impending trip has something to do with it, or perhaps vice versa. Above all, he barely mentioned Lucifer, Satan, the devil, and of that until the very end up our conversation. And only until I prompted him. In fact, he mentioned God well before he mentioned the Dark Lord.

“I’m realizing that it’s potentially very distracting,” he said. “I think it’s best understood by me being Satan and it not being important besides from me being that.”

JJ has changed and his philosophy has with it. “Change is the adversary of the status quo, until it’s absorbed into the status quo,” he said. “I wonder why there is this notion that change is not something that would be part of a system, that there would be a fixed way of understanding it. Everything is changing as a matter of its existence, that’s what it depends on.”

Change then, is exactly what JJ found he needed– hence the move to LA. But the most striking split with the past is that JJ isn’t taking souls anymore. While visitors stepped gingerly around the art work and piles of objects, he assured them they could feel free to step into the back room without having to forfeit their souls. “Maybe it was suddenly time to realize that I had come to another stage in the project and that I was more interested in answering the question as to whether or not I believed in such a thing as a soul,” he explained. “And maybe I was more concerned with acting on that answer.”

But why LA? I asked this obvious questions first. Does moving there have anything to do with the Charles Manson connection? I wondered. “Oh Charlie?” he asked. “I’m not really thinking in those terms any more, but sure somehow I guess that’s some part of it.”

This sweeping dismissal of “Charlie” confounded me. Well, did the move have something to do with Amanda Bynes? After all the tabloids have been all over this one. I once even got a call from a gossip columnist asking me to spill the beans on JJ and whether or not I thought he was “dangerous.”

“She and I have a great time together, that’s for sure,” JJ said. “I certainly wouldn’t mind being closer to her.”

But that wasn’t quite it either. Understandably JJ shied away from talking about his celebrity pal and lieu of speaking on his own terms. “Maybe it’s the sun, maybe having spent a little bit of time there and enjoying it, and maybe it feels a little bit like the Middle East,” he said. (Years ago, JJ lived in Beirut, a place he found fascinating.) “In LA people are willing to talk to themselves, to admit they are still reaching a conclusion. I think here it’s very frowned upon to feel anything is still resolving itself.”

And essentially, that’s it. JJ said he’s responding to what he sees as New York City’s shortcomings, or more accurately, the city’s crisis. “I think if it’s too driven by the idea there is no other option but it, it doesn’t serve it well. I don’t think it’s serving me well– that notion that hangs in the air, that this is the only place to be. I don’t want to internalize that. I’m not internalizing that, I’m rejecting it, in fact, that this is the only place where reality has a purpose or it’s the best place to realize all of one’s potential or the potential of a given created culture or religion or idea,” he explained. “I’m not sure that I want to be in a place that feels it is second-to-none in every category.”

JJ has been to known to speak in riddles, but this is maybe the clearest I’d ever heard him. Something about this city being “the hegemony without alternative” made a lot of sense to me. “I hear that cited as a reason for staying, that there really is no other option, that there’s not viable alternative, and I dispute that,” he said.

What’s really driving JJ up the wall though, is the inability of New Yorkers to live in the present moment.

“This is a city that is suffocatingly aware of its history and it’s always prizing a past that is unattainable. Especially here there is not moment that is less authentic than the present moment,” he explained. “There’s always some shortcoming measured against this storied past that can’t be accessed, that just disappeared, or disappeared two decades ago. There’s always some reason to feel that this is not the most important time. I reject that, I feel this is the most important time.”

As an artist, JJ says he doesn’t want to live in a place where “all innovation is thwarted.”

“This now is a very consequential time and I want to be in a place where that is an embedded awareness, or at least a place where I can easily operate on that awareness,” he said. “New York is suffering from this notion of glory days that are choking it, prohibiting it from growth. Because anything that would come would pale in comparison to that storied tradition, so it thwarts all innovation here.”

The most depressing part is that JJ’s frustrations may have stemmed from the general reaction toward his gallery. “I don’t think of Vector as being particularly radical,” he said. “And the notion of it being seen as radical is almost troubling, because it feels like the most normal kind of, sort of intrinsic place.”

Suddenly, I felt a pang of deep sadness. “I’ll just continue doing this, but in another place,” JJ assured me.

“I think people give extant realities too much credit for how they are and not thinking they can change them. I’m not saying I’m not open to staying, but no one is trying to intervene in any way or arrange for such  way that it might be more agreeable to me to stay,” he said.

But everything, even JJ’s departure is part of his work. “Maybe it’s performance art in so far as I’m living it. Maybe I don’t know why people would make the distinction between art and their every day lives. But maybe I know why and it’s my art project to dissolve that. Maybe that’s part of the point.”

Note: JJ has requested that we add his closing thoughts, “All of this is an advertisement for the end of the world.”

he will tuck his hands   DEEP   in his coat pockets  &&  ignore shivers running down his spine as he   w a i t s.   he wouldn’t mind it so much if it weren’t for the wintertime chill of drafty new-york.

whether tom or freddie will come along, he isn’t sure ;  just like he still   IGNORES   the reason for this …   ‘ brother bonding time ‘ ?   ––or whatever sonny has in mind for them to do.

until, eventually, a car pulls over by the sidewalk.

  • Paladin:I roll Knowledge Nobility to see where the evil ritual room is likely to be in the palace.
  • Wizard Xed (Albrecht):We had THREE in my parents' castle.
  • Wizard Xed:Never used the one in the west wing, though. Bit drafty. always blowing the black candles out.

anonymous asked:

bellamy x reader, in the actual tv show setting: reader gets overwhelmed with all the things going on( but she is still very strong and independent, kinda badass, kindda :)) reader runs off to a calm place to get her thoughts settled, bellamy finds her and comforts her and some how they end up slepping together, not in a sexual way, but actually sleeping. Thanks! Love your blog, you a wonderful writer, keep up the fantastic work!!!!!!!!

I dig it - and thank you for the kind words! Here you go, friend. xx

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Who does Raven live with in the hospital AU?

she got legal emancipation from her mom at 16 so she works as a mechanic after school & the owner of the garage lets her live in the little apartment above the shop. the water never stays warm & the windows are drafty but it’s safe & it’s hers, so

I’m a pro.

Within 20 minutes of being offered a horse (for free) that’s perfect for what I need right now, I made a deal with the person wanting to get Arwen to get this draft mare hauled here when she comes to get Arwen, and I’m just waiting to hear back from the hauler on whether or not she has room to get Drafty down to Penticton so Arwens hopeful new owner can haul her here.

Connections, quick thinking, and being a genius is what I do best.

elvenbutterflies asked:

Lol I saw your comment about wondering why anyone would want to wear a dress cause they're drafty. My whole wardrobe is like, 90% dress! Lmao. They're so comfy and free flowing! When I wear pants my heart is sad haha

Yeah, but you LOOK good in them.  I never have,at least to me. I’m a jeans and tee shirts gal, always have been.  On the rare occasions I dress up, I’m uncomfortable and just waiting to spill something… LOL. You are a fairy princess and you should wear lovely things!