outside crafts

episode two :: Yuri realizes, suddenly and terribly, he might be a little bit in love.  

Victor doesn’t even try to go to sleep.  He just lays in bed with his laptop, watching the thirty-seven takes of Yuuri trying to get “hi, I’m Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m the Bachelor” out of his mouth.

Don’t they know who I am?” Yuuri slurs on screen.  

Yuuri, you have to put the champagne bottle down, you have to pretend to be sober,” Phichit says off camera, all authority gone from his voice.  He’s trying not to laugh.

Phichit,” Yuuri says, and he takes a big swig from the bottle, bubbles pouring down both sides of his lips. “You can’t tell me what to do.  I’m Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m the motherfucking Bachelor.

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Craft vs. Art

I was thinking about @jenroses’s answer about the arbitrary nature of what constitutes the line between fanfiction and original fiction, and I started thinking about how it relates to the supposed differences between craft and art, and also why doing something that’s considered more of a “craft” can sometimes be more creatively freeing than working on “art.”

Given that I do needle arts, this craft vs. art thing is an issue that comes up a lot. Crafts seem to be things that people classify as something to keep your hands busy. The implication is something small in meaning. “Not something that would go in a museum.” Pleasure, not “real work.” Cross-stitch, needlepoint, embroidery, knitting, crochet, quilting, weaving (basket and cloth), beading, but also woodworking and blacksmithing and pottery. These are all things that are seen to require skill to do well, but the end results are only rarely held up as examples of “art,” and are thus not often seen as truly creative endeavors by people outside that crafting community.

If the work isn’t seen as 100% the maker’s original idea, no working from instructions or patterns at any point, is it really art? they ask.

Does it matter? I counter.

When I started writing fic this past June, I hadn’t written fiction of any kind in 16 years. Nor had I drawn or painted. My artistic creativity, as I had been told to define it, had seemed burned out, gone, dead. All I’d been doing in those years (“all”) was extremely complex cross-stitch, temari (a Japanese form of geometric embroidery), and knitting. It was the temari that really grabbed me, so I worked hard enough at it that I started to get some recognition for making original pieces, which, in the temari world, means combining techniques that are centuries old in possibly novel ways, or at least novel colors. And at this point, people started asking me what it was that kept me coming back to temari. Why did I keep doing it, sometimes variations of the same design again and again? The answer I came up with was this:

I like the way temari sets up rigid constraints that you must work within (the geometric divisions, the stitching techniques), but then challenges you to be as creative as possible within those constraints. Sure, I did that particular pattern five times in a row, but each time I varied the colorway, or I explored how changing just one element would affect the overall final look. And that spurred me to greater and greater creativity.

Fanfiction is very much the same for me. Exploring how to be as creative as possible in a few areas while operating within a set of constraints is oddly freeing. I can experiment with changing just one aspect of canon and explore how that would change the overall dynamic of the established world, or I can push everything into an AU setting and work to keep the character dynamics recognizable even with everything else changed. And if creativity within constraint is what’s inspiring me to actually write/draw/stitch, I’m not going to look down on that.

Nor should anyone.

Blur that line in your mind. It’s all art. It’s the value judgements that are fake.


Took the boys out for some photos, its the first warm afternoon in weeks and its nice to feel a little sunshine. Their three older brothers have gone off to new homes but these two are still looking! Egg, and his brother Dawson are for sale at $50 each, with more are hatching out all the time now as we amble on into spring. If you’re interested, feel free to contact me! There’s nothing I love more then sending my boys off home. …Too many crows in one room does tend to inspire a lot of mess.

Give Dan Howell the role of Christopher Robin in the new Winnie the Pooh movie

This petition needs about 4,000 more signatures to reach its goal!
This petitions goal is to get Dan to play Christopher Robin in the next Winnie the Pooh movie and we all know how fantastic that’d be

Link: (if it’s not working for some reason just message me)

@soluscheese In which Dean is a fisherman and Cas is a selkie. Sam’s POV

There’s no denying it: Dean’s new friend is strange.

Where to begin?

Well, the fact he’s dripping wet and naked in their small beachside cabin is a pretty good start. Which might have been acceptable (albeit horrifying) if Dean was also naked, but unlike the mysterious man, Dean’s fully clothed.

But that’s not all, no, the guy is naked in their cabin being spoon-fed soup by Dean himself.

Even without the bizarre situation, the man would be strange. His skin is oddly pale, though there are dark freckles down his calves, making his feet a dark grey that would have looked sickly in another situation. His eyes are as blue as the ocean on a clear, sunny day and his teeth look sharper than teeth ought to.

“Meet Cas,” Dean tells Sam with a grin.

Cas fixes Sam with an intense gaze and replies with a bark. A bark that might sound like “Cas,” but only if one strained.

Sam shoots Dean a look. There is something seriously wrong with this situation. The world’s fraught with magic and monsters, after all, and their family business, their fishing business, is perfectly safe and perfectly ordinary. Sam isn’t interested in making it any more interesting. Up until now, he’s assumed Dean felt the same. 

Dean merely shrugs and continues to spoon feed the strange, naked man. “He doesn’t speak Common,” Dean informs his brother.

Sam’s not entirely sure Cas speaks at all.

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Art From An Insane Asylum

Agnes Richter was a German seamstress held as a patient in an insane asylum during the 1890s. During her time there, she densely embroidered her straitjacket with words, undecipherable phrases and drawings which documented her thoughts and feelings throughout her time there.

wip wednesday

there have been a lot of questions about the bachelor AU, which is BEING WRITTEN, but i’m trying to finish up the last part of LHC tonight.  so, in lieu of that, have a teaser for episode two:

Victor pushes past the canvas tarp of the production tent only to be greeted with quiet.  A dozen or so of the production staff are mingling in hushed tones, all showing varying degrees of hangover.  Mila is wearing sunglasses, despite the only light in the tent coming from several dimmed monitors, and Cao Bin is holding two greasy brown bags that smell a lot like McDonald’s breakfast, and not at all like the untouched table of fresh fruit laid outside by craft services.  Everyone smells like stale alcohol and sweat, wearing layers on layers despite the early morning summer heat of Los Angeles to mask two hours sleep with no shower.  

“Where’s Sara?” he asks, looking around.

“Puking,” Mila says.  Her voice sounds like gravel, and she takes a long, long sip of iced water.  

“Well, at least she’s here,” Victor says.  He’s mildly impressed and a little proud that no one called in or was arrested after last night.  “Could someone go get her?  Emergency producers meeting.”

Mila salutes him and ambles off to go find Sara.  Victor goes over to the production grid on the far side of the tent and starts pulling down all the cards–cards that indicate villain plots, tearful confessions, potential rivalries, coordinated confrontations, a projected final two–only to rip them up and throw them on the floor.  

“Thanks to Mr. Chulanont’s carefully planned deceit of his best friend, we have been served a curveball for a bachelor this season,” he says, letting the scraps of cardstock flutter down past his Prada wingtips.  

Phichit tries to call out, his tone both miserable and apologetic.  “Victor–”

“I’m not mad,” Victor says, cutting him off.  “I’m excited.  We need to take last night into account moving forward, because Yuuri Katsuki doesn’t fit into any standard formula.  We need new characters.  We need unpredictable stories and unpredictable villains.  We need fresh chemistry.  I’ve had today’s entire schedule pushed back three hours so Yuuri doesn’t come back to set still drunk and we have a solid plan moving forward.”                             

                             (Yuri Plisetsky, 21, Team USA Gymnast)

Phichit pins a card to the board’s Week One column that says “YURI P. - VILLAIN” in thick, purple marker, and Victor puts a pleased finger to his lips to hide his smile.  

“No way,” Mila says.  “No one is going to buy him as the villain.”

“If we’re thinking outside the box, then there doesn’t have to be just one villain,” Phichit replies.  His is the only card on the board.  “And also, I think it’ll be a lot easier than you think.  Yuri’s PR team approached us to help with his image.”

“What?” Half the room sits up a little straighter, leans forward, drop their pens.

“That’s not public information,” Victor says, staring at Phichit curiously; he always plays his cards closer to his chest more than Victor would normally like, but it’s only because he’s working three steps ahead of everyone else.  Phichit gets off on the element of surprise as much as Victor, and maybe that’s why Victor trusts him so much.  “How did you know?”

Phichit digs his phone out of his pocket, tap tap taps a few times at the screen, and turns it around to show the rest of the room the still of a grainy film.  “Anyone who knows where to look can figure it out.  Yuri Plisetsky may be America’s Golden Boy after the medals he earned us in the last Olympics, but only because his team was working overtime to keep content like this off of mainstream news outlets and social media websites.”

He presses play.        

The video is poor quality, probably taken on an older model of phone, and it features someone who looks and sounds exactly like Yuri Plisetsky screaming at a Burger King employee.

“How did he make it past the psych eval?” Cao Bin asks quietly after the video ends. “He tried to whip that kid in the face with a gold medal.  Does he usually wear that everywhere?”

Crafting some occultic stuff for the cosplay and just for fun. Dearest Che, what about starting to make the outfit itself at last, eh?

Runes and some old&new bone charms. Gonna make more new ones (with 2 and 3 bones) later.
Materials: wood, polymer clay, metal, acrylic paint and a bit of dark magic~

UPD: There are some problems in the mobile version: some of the photos disappear, and I don’t know how to fix that o.O
UPD 2: fixed it!

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Post from my full moon ritual including making moon water and charging my favorite crystals ( kyanite , rose quartz , amethyst , and moon stone ) the roses are given to a tree at the end of the night to be returned to the earth so their energy rejoins the flow, the salt circle and incense cleanse, purifies, and protects the area

(The thing that no one ever asked for but that I wanted to do anyway)

the headcanon challenge:

Who hogs the duvet?

Chirrut. Not just the duvet but the whole entire bed. Baze got used to sleeping up against the wall back when they were young because Chirrut was always crawling into his bed for warmth/because he had a bad dream/because Baze had a bad dream/because neither one of them could sleep. Chirrut is a restless sleeper and just takes all the space he can get, kicks, flails, rolls while Baze, when he can sleep, is pretty solid so it just made sense for him to make himself as small as possible and take up the least amount of space. He doesn’t mind even when he gets an arm to the face in the middle of the night. Though he definitely just, like, locks an arm around Chirrut some night to hold him close for a few hours. And Baze runs hot anyway so he doesn’t mind when Chirrut steals the blankets except that sometimes Chirrut makes himself into a blanket burrito and then rolls off the bed and the resulting cursing will wake Baze.

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zionwade  asked:

What do you think makes a good wrestling entrance theme?

That’s a good question. Thank you for asking. There are three things that make a wrestling thing good: 1) it has to match the wrestler’s character; 2) it has to be catchy; and 3) it has be memorable. I’ll share with you some of my all-time favorite wrestling themes.

“Million Dollar Man” Ted DiBiase’s theme is pitch-perfect. You hear his supervillain laugh at the beginning and you know right away he’s hitting the ring. The refrain “Money money money money money” and DiBiase’s spoken lyrics dovetail nicely with DiBiase’s character as an arrogant rich asshole. It’s basically Wrestling Theme Composition 101 if you ask me.

The Rock’s theme song has gone through many iterations over the years, but it’s retained and/or remixed some elements without turning it into a completely different theme. It always starts the same — The Rock yelling “If ya smeeeeeeeeellllllll… what The Rock… is cookin’“ — before launching into a barrage of blaring guitars. Here’s what it sounded like in its first version.

See how close the “new” version sounds to the original? Preserving the character of The Rock’s leitmotif keeps fans clued in, even if the song gets tweaked or revised.

Finally, let’s go over a more recent example: AJ Styles.

I love this theme for many reasons. First, the gospel-like opening gives this leitmotif a very distinct sound. It stands in contrast to the more rock-driven themes that are prevalent in the WWE, although the saturation level of “generic metal” themes is nowhere near as awful as it was in the mid- to late-2000s.

But this difference also sets him off immediately as different from the rest of the WWE roster. He *is* different — not a homegrown WWE talent like a John Cena or Randy Orton, but an accomplished outsider, having honed his craft elsewhere and abroad.

That use of gospel tones also carries some other subtext. It ties in with AJ Styles’ Christian faith and his fondness for Christian hip-hop music. While there is no mention of his religiousness on WWE television, his theme is a slight nod to that fact, which a more perceptive wrestling fan might notice.

Suffice it to say, it’s one of my favorite entrance themes in the WWE presently.

anonymous asked:

What movies should i watch

literally about to post my fav movie list so beware

Across The Universe
Almost Famous
American Beauty
Bridget Jones Diary
Coyote Ugly
Cruel Intentions
Dazed And Confused
Death Becomes Her
Desperately Seeking Susan
Edward Scissorhands
Elvira: Mistress of the Dark
Employee Of The Month
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
For A Good Time Call…
Girl Interrupted
Gone Girl
Hairspray (original)
Hard Candy
Hell Raiser
Hot Chick
House Bunny
Hurricane Bianca
Jay And Silent Bob
Jennifer’s Body
Kill Bill Vol. 1 and 2
Naomi And Ely’s No Kiss List
Natural Born Killers
Party Monsters
Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure
Percy Jackson
Perks Of Being A Wallflower
Perfect Sisters
Pulp Fiction
Red Riding Hood
Remember Me
Requiem For A Dream
Rocky Horror Picture Show
Romy & Michelle’s High School Reunion
Sucker Punch
The Breakfast Club
The Craft
The Outsiders
The Shining
We Need to Talk About Kevin
Zero Hour
6 Years
10 Things I Hate About You