#compared to my art last year or even a couple months ago this is insane idk how I’m doing this shit now

[justanotherfanartist]

I be doin’ things

[astrarobotica]

20 years ago...

20 years ago, Mobile Suit Gundam: Char's Counterattack premiered on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim block, on January 4, 2003 at 11PM, and I was a distraught ten year old.

My bedtime... was 11PM.

About half a year earlier, Mobile Suit Gundam had become my favorite thing. My friends in school were becoming obsessed with anime like Dragon Ball Z and Yu-Gi-Oh!, but they didn't really pique my interest, and Pokemon was essentially the only anime I had watched regularly before. But I remember seeing the box art for Mobile Suit Gundam: Journey to Jaburo behind the case at Walmart on multiple occasions. It reminded me of the Armored Core demo I had played on the PS1. I thought mechs were cool, but never really got into any sort of mech media. I convinced my parents to buy me the game, and became obsessed with it.

Around the same time, a Gundam anime began airing on Toonami. It was... Mobile Fighter G Gundam.

And well... I watched it. I even enjoyed it. Some of my friends watched it, and I could talk with them about it at school. But even then, I knew it was ridiculous, and even downright inferior, compared to Mobile Suit Gundam, whose story I only knew from Journey to Jaburo, which spans about the first two-thirds of the plot of the anime. One of my friends had the Federation VS Zeon game, which doesn't really have a campaign with a story, but is set during the anime and contains content from the last third of the series. I was enamored with the world of Mobile Suit Gundam, specifically the Universal Century timeline. Yet beyond a couple of PS2 games, I had no way to properly experience it.

I grew up in a rural area where the closest mall was a forty minute drive from our house. No matter where I went, I never found any Gundam DVDs. I had no way to watch the original series. Or 08th MS Team. Or 0083: Stardust Memory. Or 0080: War in the Pocket. All of which I only knew of because trailers were included on the Journey to Jaburo disc. Walmart sold figures from all of those series, but there was a wealth of Gundam content I desperately wanted to experience and just couldn't.

Then, 20 years ago, I saw this promo for the Char's Counterattack film on Cartoon Network, and it was torturous. I knew I wasn't going to be able to watch it. My parents weren't strict, but staying up until 1AM to watch a movie was out of the question at that point. I didn't have access to the satellite tv in my bedroom, and the tv in the living room was right on the other side of the wall of my parents' bed. There was no way I could watch it without getting caught. I was able to watch the first ten minutes or so, and then it was off to bed. My memory of this is so vivid.

Only a few months later, while at the mall that was a forty minute drive from my house, I saw it. Right there on the shelf at FYE, the DVD for Char's Counterattack. My mom told me she couldn't buy it then, but my dad said he would check to see if it was still there on his way back from his out-of-town job later in the week. And he brought it home with him. My parents watched it with me, and I think they were perplexed at how not-for-children the movie was. Not that it's graphically violent, although a lot of people die. But rather, it had mature themes that I didn't fully understand at the time; manipulating children to fight in wars, propaganda and the grey-ness of conflict... I remember them laughing at the part where the space colony residents give flowers to Char and sing a song dedicated to him on the train while he's accompanied by Quess Paraya, a runaway teenage girl who he intends to exploit in battle. They had watched G Gundam with me, but that was like a Saturday Morning Cartoon compared to this.

The explosion of anime accessibility over the past decade is insane. 20 years later, I can legally stream The Witch from Mercury on the same day it airs in Japan. Throughout middle and high school, I didn't watch much anime because I was worried I would be made fun of for it. Then I stopped giving a shit about that in college, and only got back into anime properly six or seven years ago. And I'm so glad I didn't just grow out of it. I'm glad I can now experience and enjoy Gundam as much as I wanted to 20 years ago. The PS2 games don't hold up especially well control-wise (I still prefer them to the modern attempts that feel compelled to cram every Gundam series into one game rather than actually try to produce a cohesive story), and it's difficult for me to view G Gundam as anything but absurd. But Char's Counterattack is still one of my favorite anime films.

[journalofsorts2]

WHAT AM I ON BRO???? i've had a horrible creative block since like JANUARY, like it's been excruciating to draw, excruciating to write, excruciating to do anything creative, y'know? and like a week ago i tried making a new art style and i studied a bunch of my favorite artists and it took a while but eventually i came up with something uniquely my own that i was happy with that could transform depending on what i wanted to draw while still looking good. and i was super happy, i was like sick! this is awesome, so i tried drawing more to practice it more and i HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO STOP. literally everyday i get up to do school work, i end up drawing the whole time and once i'm done with school work i still sit at my desk drawing. like literally on thanksgiving i spent a good couple hours holed away in my room just drawing. like what is happening?? i haven't been this creatively productive in a LITERAL YEAR?? i mean i'm not complaining, oh my god i'm not complaining no no no, it's just so weird to be able to draw again?? and like at night before i had kinda stopped coming up with stories to put myself to sleep cause i couldn't think of anything anymore, but now i've got a new story every night it's insane. idk it's such a weird change of pace to be halfway through a sketchbook i got a month ago, compared to my previous sketchbook i had since last christmas that had like one doodle per page that i never even filled fully. idk i'm so grateful for dbh for bringing my back from the dead when it comes to art, cause all i've been drawing is dbh fan art lmao

[sweetsubharry]

hi! can you give me your hottest, dirtiest, filthiest bottom harry fics?

Hiya!! Yes I can! ^-^

Now there are 41 different fics under this list, so it’s quite long! Obviously what people find dirty/filthy can be a large range, so if you ever want to narrow it down just send another message like ‘no plot’ for example :) and then I can make it more suited to your taste if this one isn’t! I hope you enjoy this though love ❤

In case no one gets to the bottom of the page I’ll say it again here too! Please make sure to stay safe and read the tags!! �� ❤

you're my favorite ride by louislovesharry

no summary 

At Least As Deep As the Pacific Ocean (I wanna be yours) by babylouis

Louis can’t help but stop and watch him for a moment, how beautiful he looks, sprawled out on the bed, his cock red and hard against his tummy, collar snug against his neck and the bow still placed neatly in his curls to keep them back from Harry’s face.

His boy may be the most beautiful creature on the planet.

Especially tied up like this, body begging to be fucked. Begging to be destoryed.

or

Louis likes to push boundaries, and Harry takes what he gets. Lots of subspace Harry and fonding Louis ensues.

redder than the devil by mercutionotromeo

It's half past 9, and all Harry wants is for Louis to touch him. Preferably after a good spanking.

If you combine a lazy Saturday afternoon with a distracting, pouty Harry, you'll end up with Louis spanking his baby over his knee in the middle of a paused FIFA match.

Pretty please, take care of me ? by kurtcobain

Louis is stressed. Harry wants to help.

Step into the Light by Smolbeanandhisqween

Harry is on the set of his new music video "Lights Up". His husband, Louis, is watching him film the video. He gets jealous of all of the people touching Harry and teaches him a lesson.

Destroy Me, King by stylinsexualxo

After SNL, jealous Louis has a little surprise for Harry when he arrives home.

Can We Pretend (honestly reality bores me) by SadaVeniren

He felt Louis chuckle. “Dreaming of being my supportive, no-name boyfriend again?”

“Always,” Harry whispered. It was true. After all this time together there was no point in hiding any of his fantasies from Louis, no matter how innocent they were. So Louis was well aware of Harry’s desire to be anonymous sometimes - the “no-name” as Louis called him - loyal, a constant presence at Louis’ side.

aka Harry comes and supports Louis at his Scala concert

Let Me Be Good For You by onlyhuman for haroldtbh

His distress over the bun is nothing compared to the thrill Louis feels shoot up his spine at the outfit Harry’s donned. He’s changed into leather jeans that cling to his legs, hugging his thighs snugly. On top of it, a floaty, black sheer shirt is contouring his frame, doing absolutely nothing to hide his puffy nipples or the endless array of tattoos scattered across his torso. It’s Louis’ favourite outfit in the entire world.

Or, Niall's only birthday wish is to go clubbing with his boys in Vegas. Harry ruins it all by wearing that god forsaken black sheer shirt.

You Like Playing Games by orphan_account

Louis knows Harry likes to flirt and tease. Louis knows that he doesn’t particularly like when Harry flirts and teases. Louis knows that Harry knows that Louis doesn’t particularly like it.

But what Louis doesn’t quite know is why, despite that, Harry’s decided to grind against 5 Seconds of Summer’s Luke Hemmings during “Teenage Dirtbag” in the last show in Melbourne.

Basically pure smut.

Do Not Disturb (kiss me beneath the milky twilight) by SadaVeniren

“I was talking with Nick a couple months back and he was saying how our sex life seemed boring and we’d need to keep doing new and interesting things to keep it exciting or else we’d become boring and heterosexual and I defended us of course but then work picked up and we started living off of studio handjobs and missionary position sex in the dark and so I panicked. I googled BDSM and after looking into it I really want to try some of it because I think we’d enjoy it but we just don’t have the time.”

aka Harry doesn't want to become a boring old married couple a year into their relationship and tries to spice up their sex life.

Forgetting Frisco by iwillpaintasongforlou

Harry probably knew when he decided to wear that goddamn sheer shirt onstage in Toronto that it was going to drive Louis absolutely insane with want. He probably didn't know that Louis was going to proceed to fuck him so good he had flashbacks for years to come just like Frisco, but then again, you won't hear him complaining.

(Basically 6k of Louis worshipping Harry's body and doing it all in front of a mirror so Harry can worship, too.)

Mon Petit by coffinofachimera

Harry wears the 'Mon Petit' sweater while Louis records them on their private 

falling for you, i can't keep away by hegotthedagger plane

Harry wants Louis really bad and Louis might want him just as much.

Always In My Heart by sweaterpawstyles

The tweet itself was not startling at all. Harry saw people retweet it nearly every day for years now. It always made him smile to see how many people had retweeting Louis showing his love for Harry on that day.

What was startling was underneath where the fan had retweeted it, Harry saw the small number 1M written on it.

Harry froze, completely unable to move anything in his body. He knew Louis had the second most retweeted tweet of all time, but it reached a million retweets. One million people believed in Louis' love for Harry. Or AIMH hits 1 million & facetime sex ensues

You and Me by louisgrindsonharry

Harry and Louis have dabbled in the idea of BDSM but Harry finally wants to take it farther and Louis has to figure out how to take care of his boy.

they shake, you conquer (and I'm left to their devices) by butidontreallycare

smut. a little love for Harry's thighs, but mostly just smut. I am not ashamed

Daddy Came Home by RuinedBy5Guys

“You got yourself off.” He says quietly, his eyes locked on Harry’s. Harry’s face flushes and he tries to cover it, shoving himself towards Louis. He drops to his knees, leaning close between his husbands spread thighs. He puts his hands on his dress pants, carefully feeling the material at his knees.

“How did you know?” He asks quietly. Louis drops his face, grabbing over Harry’s hands with his own. Harry lowers his gaze, staring at the carpet underneath him.

“You were asleep. You always get tired after an orgasm. Not to mention how flushed you are.” He says quietly, raking his eyes over Harry’s body. Harry glances up at him, his actions becoming more clear to him now that Louis was home.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, dropping his eyes again.

“What was that?” Louis snaps, reaching to bring Harry’s face up again. Harry gulps, shuffling closer on his knees, the joints aching already.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Harry says, his green eyes locked on Louis’ blue ones. Louis smiles slightly, stroking his fingers over his husbands cheeks softly.

“Just gonna have to spank you now, aren’t I?”

OR... Harry teases and Daddy punishes him in the best ways possible

take me into your loving arms by blankiehxrry

twas the night of the brit awards

I Wanna Do What Bunnies Do With You by MoreThanTonight

“Lou.. Not here?” Harry pulled off with a gasp. “There are people in the next room. What if they hear us?“

“Then I guess you’ll just have to be quiet, won’t you, love?” Louis winked.

It's Harry's birthday and Louis wants to make it a birthday he won't forget. Louis is an art student, Harry is his boyfriend and muse.

if they find out, will it all go wrong? by blankiehxrry

madison square garden shenanigans

Happy Birthday by sleepingalone

“You wanna use that right now?” he asked incredulously, wondering how horny Louis must be. They had just fucked a few hours ago, before falling asleep. Surely he didn’t want to use it already.

“You said we had to wait till my birthday, and it’s my birthday,” Louis said cheekily, throwing Harry a small grin. Harry groaned into the pillow, burying his head in it.

“But I’m tired, Lou. I need my beauty rest.”

“I already undid the packaging,” Louis whined. “Please, can we just do it real quick? It would really make my day. My birthday,” he added. “You can go to sleep afterwards, Sleeping Beauty.”

or

Louis just really wants to use his new vibrating butt plug on Harry and turn him into a broken mess.

I Knew Right From the Beginning That You Would End Up Winning by aalexandravictoriaa

"I remember the first day I met you," Louis says, using his thumbs to make Harry open up to him even more. "I remember wanting to take you right there on the fucking street. I wanted to bend you over and bury myself in you over and over again. I couldn't then, but I'm going to now, baby. First with my tongue, then with my cock."

OR

Harry is Louis' favorite camboy and Louis becomes his Daddy.

In Motion by FictitiousFanatisch (orphan_account)

They'd only talked about it once a few weeks ago. Harry always liked it when Louis was in control and he said there was something about being denied constantly that made him even more turned on.

or

It's a lazy day and Harry wants Louis to edge him. (That's literally it.)

I'm Gonna Love You (Until You Hate me) by sweaterpawstyles

As if reading his mind, Louis glanced over his glasses at Harry, presumably because Harry didn't reply to his statement earlier.

"I decided to get my glasses out again," he chuckled, winking at Harry. "Do you like them?"

Harry felt his face heat up. No, he didn't just like them. He fucking loved them and wanted to ride Louis and call him daddy while he wore them. But he didn't want to just tell Louis this.

Or

Louis wears glasses and Harry doesn't like to be teased

I have often prayed for an angel by orphan_account

“Daddy,” he whines, voice already growing high in pitch. “Can I? Please?” “Of course angel,” Louis whispers fondly, hand tangling in Harry’s hair as he brushes it back. He loves Harry’s long strands, maybe even more than Harry does himself. “You look so beautiful on your knees like that, so eager to suck my cock.” “Mhm,” Harry hums, already licking at Louis’ slit. He begins to suckle softly at the head, peering up at Louis with wide eyes. The angel wings stretch on either side of him, and it’s so obscene, how filthy the act they’re doing is in contrast to the white feathers adorning Harry’s back. “Love your cock Daddy.” Or, the one in which Louis fucks Harry in the VS wings after he wears them onstage.

down and dirty, you're loving me so loud by orphan_account

Harry's finally twenty and there's a few things he wants.

feels so good getting what i want. by stylescantstop

Harry is a slutty yoga teacher with his sights set on Louis and Louis wants to pull that long hair of his while he fucks him really hard from behind.

Empyrean, You Fool by becauseitrhymes

Louis only realized it was actually happening once the reality of getting to carry boxes to his new flat settled in. He’d moved out of his parent’s just two days prior, with a stomach full of butterflies and no knowledge of how to do anything remotely adult, like, at all.

He’s only twenty-three years old, too, and he thinks he’s done pretty well for such a young age, considering he’s bought a flat with his money and had driven his car to get there and hadn’t cried (much) when leaving his parents. All in all, Louis thinks it’s pretty cool.

And then he’s sitting on his couch watching football in his lounge in his flat and hell yeah, it’s pretty cool.

AU where Louis moves next door to Harry, Louis falls in love with Harry, sex ensues.

Love Me Like You Do by sweaterpawstyles

Of all of the things Louis had imagined, never did he expect to become a chief editor for a magazine and to date the world-famous model Harry Styles. But he certainly never imagined one day that he would be anxiously awaiting a phone call from the top floor of an office building to tell the Harry Styles to get himself dolled up and ready to wait for his Daddy to come home before he got fucked into the mattress.

Or

Harry is a famous model and Louis is a quiet writer who may or may not be his Dom

A Hard Day's Work by louisruinedlife (orphan_account)

A bad day at work for Harry usually means turning in early. A bad day at work for Louis leads to something else entirely.

*Can be read as a stand alone.

the big idea by orphan_account

University students Harry and Zayn are filming a prank for YouTube that requires Harry to walk around campus asking random men if he could suck their dick. One of the guys, Louis, who agrees to such offer is too attractive for Harry to pass down.

He doesn't think its much of a prank anymore after that.

throw me in the deep end, watch me drown by orphan_account

“That's why you were late, eh?” he teases as Harry frantically tries to hide the dildos and the collar in the drawer. “Having too much fun to think about good ole Louis?”

“You were having fun too,” Harry replies weakly. Louis honestly has never seen a person be in such a shade of red.

“Yeah, but my fun didn't involve colourful dildos and nipple clamps.”

or the one where louis really needs to pass his a-levels and harry is his tutor who doesn’t really own a dog.

Give It To Me (I'm Worth It) by sweaterpawstyles

"Who the hell puts lube packets in their sock?"

"A boy who wanted to get fucked in the locker room by his daddy," Harry said innocently. "I have my good intentions, Lou."

or

Louis can't resist Harry in the red shorts that he wore during the James Corden skit. Featuring locker room sex.

don't let nobody touch it (unless that somebody's me) by stylescantstop

written for this prompt:

"louis knows Harry gets handsy when he's drunk, but that doesn't stop him from showing harry who he belongs to."

or the one where harry dances with other men and a jealous louis reminds him he's the only one who can make him come completely apart.

causing trouble up in hotel rooms (baby, I'm perfect) by felixandtae

A fan threw a Green Bay Packers crop top on stage and Harry kept it. We all know what happened after that.

sweet like cinnamon by brainwaves for SuburbanWarrior

It all started with bumping into Louis at Gemma’s mate’s wedding. Well, maybe it really started with Harry making heart eyes at the boy in jersey number 17 all those years ago. Now all he can think about is getting into Louis’ pants and maybe staying there for a really, really long time.

Or the one where Harry calls Louis daddy and it all spirals out of control from there.

Fulfilling Your Needs by unmeshed

“You want to be messy, baby? Filled with Daddy’s come? So much that you can barely hold it all in?"

Harry nods softly and Louis leans in to kiss him on the lips with a smile. “Want Daddy to plug you up after? Keep it inside of you all day?"

“Lou,” Harry whines, softly rubbing himself against his boyfriend, biting down on Louis’ bottom lip before he deepens the kiss, sneaking his tongue inside.

Louis’ll be damned if he can’t make Harry’s dreams come true.

or

Louis buys Harry an ejaculating dildo because Harry wants to feel full.

Like a Kitten by peaceloveandlarry

"Erm, I, uh, well, I think... I think you're really pretty, and I, um, I want to fuck you- I mean! Oh god. I- I want to go out? Yea! I want to go out."

Or Harry likes to wear kitten ears, and Louis happens to think Harry looks nice with them.

into another serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry's the yearbook photographer who's been assigned to take pictures of Louis, the new captain of the football team. Harry's got a massive, obvious crush on Louis and somehow, Louis feels the same way.

Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

need a little sweetness in my life by mercutionotromeo

Harry's always liked feeling desperate and small when Louis touches him, but when he sucks Harry off...it’s fucking otherworldly. Desperate’s not really the word at that point - it’s helpless. Like… like the fucking world could stop spinning and Harry wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until Louis finished him off with his lips and his tongue.

Or, Harry and Louis go to university together. Harry really likes it when Louis sucks him off, and Louis really likes it when Harry calls him Daddy.

(Sequel to "into another serotonin overflow")

Cheeky Princess by Noelle1224

Harry and panties. What more is there to explain?

I'm Tired Of Using Technology, I Need You Right In Front Of Me by Phillipa19

Louis goes away on yet another business trip, but when he stops calling Harry to check in, Harry decides to take matters into his own hands.

OR- Louis is Harry's sugardaddy who has gone away on business and Harry feels neglected. Louis is possessive and gets a camera installed in their bedroom so he can check up on Harry, so Harry decides to use the camera to his advantage.

Got A Lot You Wanna Show Off Baby by Phillipa19

Louis had been in meetings all day, he should have known that Harry wouldn't be ignored for much longer.

-OR-

Louis is Harry's sugardaddy and his younger boyfriend is definitely not happy being ignored whilst Louis holds meetings in his home office. There may also be Harry in lacy knickers involved.

As always please make sure to stay safe and read the tags!! ❤ ❤

[foxwatchesanime]

How I stopped caring about comments: A rambly post by me

This is rambly so hold onto your seats, I apologies. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about comment/review culture in the last few months, particularly after returning to a brand new fandom as a writer and regular content creator. Maybe this is something I’ve been thinking about for a while, maybe not, but I wanted to share my thoughts on the way I perceive comments, how it’s changed for me since I’ve been in fandom and I’d love to hear from other people what their opinion is and how they relate to comments on their work.

I’ve been creating content in fandom spaces for about eleven years now. I started out on YouTube when I joined my first fandom, Merlin, and I made my first fanvideos in 2009. In December of 2009, I published my first fanfiction, plus one sequel which remains unfinished as well as a few other smaller projects. In October of 2010, I published my first podfic and would go on to publish two more. My focus in fandom had always been YouTube, where I regularly created fanvideos. My schedule was never consistent, as with most vidders back in the day, but I’d be comfortable in saying I posted regularly discounting three unintentional hiatuses, one in 2013 following the Merlin finale, one in 2015 probably due to a lack of inspiration and one in 2017 after what I was sure was going to be my permanent comeback to YouTube, only for my hard drive to break and delete all my footage yeeeeeey. 

I’ve now made an actual, official return to my original platform, this time creating videos for my new passion and fandom: anime. Since February of 2020 I’ve also been regularly publishing fic and have no desire to stop doing so. I’m thoroughly invested in new fandom spaces again and am engaging with its fans and the content. 

But the one thing I have seen change drastically in my approach to things is commenting, following and general engagement. 

Let’s take a step back. 

When I first started posting content, comments were not something I even had in my consciousness. I think I knew YouTube comments existed, but I didn’t really pay attention to it. I didn’t even know what subscribers were until I started hearing other people talk about them and then I suddenly felt like it’s something I should be keeping an eye on myself. 

In a centuries old vlog of mine that is now private on my channel, I noticed that when I hit 100 subscribers, I made a video thanking everyone because I was so excited that with more subscribers, I was going to “make more friends.” Oh dear xD 

But the truth is, I have been consistently and chronically bad at keeping up with or caring about the analytics of my various platforms. It wasn’t till writing this post today that I went to check my FF.net account to see how many comments my first two Merlin fics ever got. I still couldn’t tell you my exact number of YouTube or Ao3 subscribers, how many hits or kudos my fic have and I don’t think I’ve ever checked my bookmarks for notes, or whatever you’re able to leave on there. 

Commenting culture on YouTube, for all my joking earlier, was primarily about connection, at least back then. Most of the old guard have moved on and those who have remained are now vidding in other fandoms. The social aspect of YouTube in my opinion has changed dramatically since I was at my peak output on there, but I remember how interactive the comments sections used to be. They literally were, where you made friends.  

A couple of years ago, me and a friend of mine started a Merlin podcast called Merlisten. We created it for fun and without many expectations of what might come out of it. And it was this that changed my relationship with commenting for good. 

Doing Merlisten felt, for the first time in a long time, like pure creativity and passion without anyone’s permission. We always encouraged people to leave feedback as one does, but I don’t think either of us expected to get much, if any. Even considering the incredible support we’ve received with feedback coming in almost every single episode now, there is still a clear and overwhelming gap between the amount of comments given to an episode of Merlisten, to one of my old fanvids or fics. It’s even more interesting when one considers how much more effort and time went into creating Merlisten compared to say, editing or writing, at least for me personally. The amount of man hours spent on creating one 2.5 hour episode from pre-production to final posting often outweighs any other video or chapter I’ve created. Not always, but often. 

What struck me as interesting, however, was that even though comments weren’t always consistent and I always love and continue to love reading them, it’s not what was fuelling me to work hard on this project. I was doing it because I adored it and I knew it was something I was proud to put into the world. 

And that literally changed everything.

I think for a long time, I was always trying to cater my art to what might get the most attention or please the widest demographic of people. It’s how you think when you’re young and you don’t know any better. But for the first time, I was creating something on my own terms that I had no idea if anyone would even listen to and the actual creative process of making said art was ten times more rewarding than any single comment I could ever read. Which really, what I realised, is what art is supposed to be. I can safely say that if Merlisten didn’t get a single comment from here on in, I would still want to see it to its conclusion for one very simple reason: Because I had something to share. 

This brings me to my recent return to writing fic in fandom and it’s not a decision I’ve regretted for a second. More than anything, I’ve realised how personal art can really be, especially when it’s in writing. I’ve found it revealing and cathartic and fascinating in a way that I didn’t ever imagine.

But more importantly, I’ve realised that the real beauty for me in engaging in art is the ability to get an emotional response from it or to relate to it. And that goes for both other people’s work and my own. I can feel just as invested in my own work as someone else’s and that’s not because I think my work is amazing, it’s because I know it’s come from something that was living in me. When I put something out there that I made with my own two hands, that feeling now trumps any sort of feedback I could possibly get and that’s the endorphin I live off. 

Don’t mistake this for me not liking comments, that’s obviously not true. My brain gets the same dopamine hit as anyone’s when I get a notification for something or other, but I’ve realised that I have a very specific relationship with comments that I definitely didn’t have before, if my requests for review on FF.net is anything to go by.

Now, what I find exciting and thrilling is the thought that, if writing this fic got this sort of emotional response out of me, the writer, I wonder if there are other people out there who think the same way I do? Who have a similar way of experiencing joy or suffering or humour or who like the same things as me? That, is an insanely invigorating feeling. And then when someone chooses to take time out of their day to tell you that what came from your head is the same sort of way they feel about life? That’s not a comment, that’s not feedback, that’s a connection you have with another person. And that’s where I start to get excited. And it’s taken me this fucking long to realise it. 

Honestly, I was really worried upon returning to writing and vidding this year that my experience working in digital marketing, where everything is about numbers and social media is all about engagement and nothing else, that I would be overwhelmed and not be able to switch off the part of my brain that’s been trained to think like that. I’m so relieved that that’s not the case. 

As previously mentioned, I suck at giving a shit about analytics and looking at my own stats. I couldn’t give a flying fuck. But I did just go and check my YouTube videos since returning back to vidding. Not a single one of them has views over 200 at this point. Most have less than 100. My most viewed video on YouTube has 57,000 views. And the thing is, there might have been a time when I looked at that and thought, well, this means I suck. This means I can’t make art. This means there’s no point to it.

But no, that's not true.

The point is not how many people see it, how many people like it, how many people comment on it. The point is that I made it. I’m going to continue making YouTube videos despite the fact that the algorithm will destroy any chances they have at getting engagement or views. Even if not one single person comments on them. Because when I’ve finally rendered a new video, or finished proof reading a new chapter, I feel so fucking happy that everything else is just window dressing to me now. 

Because not only is online engagement and following such a stab in the dark these days anyway with algorithms changing and trends moving constantly, but this is the real truth about comments, following and feedback:

The truth is, I don’t need a stranger on the internet to praise me so that I can feel good about my art. The day that I start doing that, I’ve already lost. I used to think that way on a regular basis. Guess what, it didn’t make me produce better art. It didn’t make my life better. Because being validated by others never does. It doesn’t matter how many keysmashes I might get or how many sonnets or kind words, because If I don’t like what I create, there isn’t a single human being on the planet who will make me like it, no matter what they say or how they say it. For others, this might not be the case. But this is my reality. 

I know this, because I recently speed-wrote and published a fic for a fanweek. I wrote 13k in about 8hrs. So far, it’s received nothing but positive words. But it doesn’t matter. After I published it, I had a crisis about how it wasn’t good enough, that there should have been an extra arc, that it ended too quickly, that there wasn’t a climax. Even as the comments came in, it didn’t change my mind. Because other people’s comments will never really lead to fulfilment. 

I want you all to know that I get emotional over every single comment that is sent to me. Every personal story, ever keysmash and heartfelt thoughtful message that took the time to analyse my work. Connecting with you guys has been one of the biggest joys of entering this fandom. But it’s not going to be what fuels me to create and to carry on doing the best work I can. All I can do is treat it as the wonderful privilege that it is, and not any part of the reason I do it.  

In conclusion:

Finally, at age 27 and in the midst of enjoying fandom after a very long period of being either meh about it or lurking, I finally feel content with the fact that I want to create in order to put things out into the world that I worked hard on, that I’m passionate about and that hopefully, in whatever way it might be, it might have touched someone who feels the same things too. It makes me feel accomplished, it makes me feel like I might be contributing something small to the world and it makes me feel like maybe one other person was made happy by it. And even if they never tell me that and if no one else ever comments on what I create, or even if they comment on it in spaces that I never see; private servers, chats between friends or blogs that I don’t follow, that’s also fine. Because there’s always at least one person who is going to feel happy that she made something. And that’s me. 

The short version: I never used to care about comments, then I did, and now I no longer do. 

Sorry for the ramble, but I wanted this here for myself to look back upon in case my opinion ever changes on this or I ever start to lose my way again and feel overwhelmed. I’d love to hear your guys’ experiences with this sort of thing and whether you’ve ever felt bogged down by the need for feedback.

[youknowmymethods]

Content Creator Interview #8

Here we are again folks, number 8! This time we’re continuing on from last week’s interview with a bit of role reversal, @ellis-hendricks posing questions to her friend and beta @geekmama, chatting about Brit-picking, bad writing habits, favourite authors, and, most importantly, which of Sherlock’s shirts does it for her. 

But starting off with a recap of last week’s intro...

We are, respectively, a Californian and a Geordie, and we got to know each other through reading and reviewing each other’s fics (geekmama’s ‘Time of the Season’ series was one of the first fics I read and loved). Geekmama has been writing in the fandom for around 3 years, and I’ve been doing the same for around 2 years, spurred on by the end of series 4 (and the ILY scene in particular). We started beta-reading each other’s work around a year ago, and are always discovering new and unexpected words and phrases that don’t translate across the pond! Although we’ve used the same set of questions for these interviews, we haven’t seen each other’s answers – so it does mean that if nobody else is interested, at least we will be!

Series

 ellis-hendricks: Was there a particular moment in the series that set the ship sailing for you?

geekmama: I think it was A Scandal in Belgravia, and specifically Sherlock’s unprecedented apology to Molly, that got me thinking that the possibility was there, that it wasn’t just Molly’s schoolgirl crush vs. Sherlock’s needs when the game was on. I have to say, even though the Sherlock/Molly ship is easy to board, Mofftiss, etc., were very clever about leaving the way open for other pairings throughout the series. Even the ILY scene and its fallout could be interpreted very differently, if one was so inclined. It is really thanks to all the amazing fanfic authors out there that I jumped on board and took up residence on the good ship Sherlolly.

ellis-hendricks: What's your favourite episode and why?

geekmama: I love bits and pieces of all of them, but the one that I’ve watched more than any other is The Sign of Three. It’s heartwarming, hilarious, and only mildly heartbreaking. Even the villain of the piece, as little as we see him, has a motive one can understand.

ellis-hendricks: If you could ask/tell the series writers one thing, what would it be?

geekmama: Killing off Mary was a mistake, and I don’t care if that event sets up the entire story arc of season four, you should have thought of something else. Come on! You are brilliant writers, you could have done it.

ellis-hendricks: Do you have a controversial opinion about the series? E.g. a character who everyone else hates, but who you love?

geekmama: Or everyone loves but you hate? I’d say Moriarty qualifies. Andrew Scott is very cute, but though he’s in a number of the episodes we’re never given much insight to his character’s motives. Moriarty is pretty much just murderously insane in canon, and I don’t understand how one gets around that to write Molly/Moriarty or any of the slash pairings.

ellis-hendricks: Have you ever, when watching an episode, cracked a case before Sherlock?

geekmama: Well, if the writers want us to, then we’re given the information to crack the case before Sherlock.  The series is about him, after all. The cases are secondary.

ellis-hendricks: With whom would you rather be stuck at a wedding table –

Janine or Irene?

geekmama: Janine, she is just fun and rather ordinary, whereas Irene has numerous ulterior motives under her veneer of smug vanity.    

ellis-hendricks: Donovan or Anderson?

geekmama: Anderson, since he actually felt remorse for what they did to Sherlock, and came to admire him, too. There might be more to Donovan than what we’re given, and certainly that’s what fanfic is for -- I’ve made her a sympathetic character in a couple of my own fics. And apparently she and Sherlock have some pretty interesting history between them.

ellis-hendricks: Who would you rather bring back in series 5 - Mary or Moriarty?

geekmama: Mary, of course -- she is a far more well-rounded (and loveable) character. One wants to know more about her.

ellis-hendricks: Whose house would you prefer to live in - Sherlock's, John & Mary's, Molly's or Mrs Hudson's?

geekmama: Probably Molly’s, though Sherlock’s would be tempting. Molly’s looks pretty state-of-the-art in the ILY scene, if rather bland -- I couldn’t imagine Molly living in a place that’s all granite gray. It doesn’t reflect her personality at all, and I didn’t even think it could be her home the first time I saw that episode.

ellis-hendricks: In your opinion, who has been the best series villain - Jim Moriarty, Charles Magnussen, Culverton Smith, or Eurus Holmes?

geekmama: Eurus. We’re at least given some idea of her motives, and one can feel some sympathy for her, even though she is as insanely murderous as the other three. The other three are pretty equally revolting.

 Your writing

 ellis-hendricks: What was your first fic? What prompted it, and how do you feel about it now?

geekmama: My first in the Sherlock fandom was Visiting Hours, written in March 2016. I first watched seasons 1-3 of Sherlock in October 2015 and I’d been reading other authors’ work for several months. There were ideas I wanted to explore, and I wanted to see if I could still write at all, lol! I hadn’t written anything since July of 2013, when I celebrated a decade of being in the Pirates of the Caribbean fandom with a series of ten 50 word drabbles. Visiting Hours is only 100 words, official drabble length, and it’s held up pretty well, I think. I don’t hate it, at least.

ellis-hendricks: Which fic are you most proud of/most attached to, and why?

geekmama: This is a really difficult question since I’ve written quite a few Sherlock fics. If I had to narrow it down, maybe Idiots in Love, which is part of the Aftermath series and from Greg Lestrade’s pov, which is always fun, and The Kensington House, kid!fic from my Time of the Season series. But then there are all  the holiday fics… and the historical AU’s…

ellis-hendricks: You write great AUs set in other historical periods - do you prefer this or present day?

geekmama: I’ve read, and written, a lot of historical fiction, and certainly writing it comes much more easily to me than writing something set in the present day -- particularly current culture in the UK. It’s a good thing my dear Ellis_Hendricks is willing to Brit-pick for me. I did my best, but I’m sure my early Sherlock fic has plenty of errors in that regard. That was the most difficult thing for me when I was beginning to write in this fandom. However, I have grown to enjoy writing fic set in the present almost as much as writing historical fic.

ellis-hendricks: What are your worst writing habits?/What are your most overused phrases, plotlines, etc?

geekmama: Wow. There are probably a LOT of bad habits (run-on sentences, excessive use of parentheses and ellipses, etc. etc.etc.), and overused phrases/words. As for plotlines, I find the (comparatively) reality-based canon of Sherlock to be somewhat limiting to begin with (which is why AU’s were invented, I suppose). I try not to repeat plotlines, but of course I’ve used post-ILY scenarios multiple times (and no doubt will again -- the anniversary is coming up on the 15th), and I tend to overdo the h/c as that’s one of my favorite things.

ellis-hendricks: Do you have a writing routine? Where and when? And is everything digital, or are things ever handwritten first?

geekmama: Laptop, ideally in the morning, alone in bed (except for a pile of snoozing dogs), with no distractions like music etc. I can write with the TV or music on, but it takes a lot longer to produce anything. I haven’t produced finished handwritten works since I was in high school, and when I first got back into writing in late 2003 it was on a laptop I borrowed from work -- and it was a revelation! I wouldn’t bother handwriting more than a drabble or the outline of a story, now. Computers FTW!!!

ellis-hendricks: Who do you enjoy writing the most?

geekmama: Sherlock (if I have to choose -- I love Molly, Mycroft, and Lestrade pov, too).

ellis-hendricks: Who do you find easiest/hardest doing first person POV? - Sherlock seems fairly easy a lot of the time (hopefully readers agree -- I may be way off base, who knows?), and maybe Molly for hardest. We see so little of Molly over the course of the series it’s sometimes difficult for me to get a handle on her.

ellis-hendricks: Which fic would you recommend to someone who has never read your stuff before? - Benefit of the Doubt, maybe. I like the way it came out. It was one of those that practically wrote itself.

ellis-hendricks: What do you value most when it comes to feedback?

geekmama: Any feedback is very much appreciated, from Kudos to brief comments, but it’s always nice when someone references a particular phrase or idea they liked. I know how difficult that is to do, sometimes, though.

ellis-hendricks: Would you ever go back and revise old fics - or do you consign them to history once they're published?

geekmama: If I discover (or someone points out) an error I will go back and correct it, but I don’t really revise my stories once they are posted.

ellis-hendricks: What's the nicest/weirdest bit of feedback you've ever had? And does feedback ever influence what you write next, either within a story or in terms of future fics?

geekmama: I have to say I’ve had a lot of great, encouraging comments over the years, and maybe a few negative ones, mostly on FF.net, which I pretty much ignore, though one or two brought up interesting points. I think mostly people leave a comment if they really like something, or just go away if they don’t. Feedback does influence what I write to an extent -- say if someone really wants more of a certain story, or aspect of a story, that gets me thinking how it could be done.

ellis-hendricks: Do you - or would you - write other pairings?

geekmama: Well, yes, I’ve written Mycroft/Lady Smallwood, and John/Mary, and I have a few fics that reference Lestrade/OFC. And of course there are other F/M possibilities. But mostly it’s Sherlock/Molly.

ellis-hendricks: How would you define your style? (E.g. mine was called 'fluffy realism’, which I quite liked!)

geekmama: I agree with that ‘fluffy realism’ definition, the sweetest stuff and easily related to. I would call mine “Romance” if I had to choose a word, the old definition of romance that entails fluff, angst, humor, adventure -- all the stuff that makes a story interesting and fun to read.

ellis-hendricks: What's your method in approaching a story? Do you plan methodically, or wing it?

geekmama: I am somewhere in between. With longer fic I sometimes use an outline, but more often I have a basic plot in mind, complete with ending, and think about it until I’m finally ready (and have the time) to write it.

ellis-hendricks: Who do you write for? Is it you, or are you thinking about trying to please your audience?

geekmama: Mostly me. I started writing fanfic in the Pirates of the Caribbean fandom because I wasn’t seeing fic that went where I wanted to go with that story. With Sherlock it was some of that, and the fact that I wanted to further explore these compelling characters, and writing fic was the best way to do that. But I do write for my audience, to an extent, and it is fun to accept a prompt or theme from someone and write to it. In the PotC fandom we had a weekly drabble challenge for years, and I really miss that sort of thing.

ellis-hendricks: Do you have any WIPs, and do you think new chapters will ever see the light of day?

geekmama: I do have a WIP, Souvenirs, for which I’ve written a couple of additional chapters, and hope to finish some day. But it sort of got waylaid by the whole post-ILY thing. I may finish it. You never know. I also hope to write some more of that Regency AU, Uncertain Terms.

ellis-hendricks: Are you working on anything at the moment?

geekmama: I’m going to try to write something for the ILY Anniversay (January 15th).

ellis-hendricks: What’s harder for you - writing the start of a fic, or coming up with a decent title?

geekmama: Writing the start, I guess. Titles are usually easy. It’s plot and particularly a good ending that take a lot of work.

 Reading other people's fics

 ellis-hendricks: What are your favourite tropes in the fandom?

geekmama: Post-ILY scenarios, for sure, h/c, kid!fic, Mary is still alive, Christmas stories. Etc.

ellis-hendricks: What things are likely to turn you off a fic?

geekmama: Bad characterizations (we read fanfic because we want more of the characters we love);  poor editing / grammar; too many crazy tags; Intro posts that have TMI (I don’t want to know that you’re bad at titles/summaries/etc.), or that solicit reviews too blatantly. Well, those things and just stuff I don’t want to read -- bad porn, excessive violence (torture in particular), stories focusing on characters I dislike. I’m kind of picky, actually. But we write and read in a particular fandom for personal pleasure, and I think authors have to expect that their work won’t please everybody (or maybe anybody - who knows?).

ellis-hendricks: Can you recommend 3 favourite fics that aren't your own?

geekmama: Only 3??? Well, I’ve printed out miabicicletta’s A fearful hope was all the world, and sunken_standard’s Fumbling Toward Ecstasy, so I guess that counts for something. It’s virtually impossible to choose one of  Ellis_Hendricks’ fic, they reference so many of my favorite tropes and are all of them deliciously  memorable. But then, how can I leave out Quarto’s Competition? Or Emma_Lynch’s Quarantine? Or so many others?

ellis-hendricks: What compels you to leave comments on top of kudos?

geekmama: If some idea or turn of phrase stands out for me, and if the fic is well-done in general.

 ellis-hendricks: Quick-fire questions!

 John's TEH moustache or his TAB moustache?

geekmama: TAB (I don’t think we are meant to like his TEH moustache, are we?).

Sherlock's purple shirt or white shirt?

geekmama: Gah! Why do I have to choose? Purple, then.

Molly's stripy jumper or cherry cardigan?

geekmama: Stripy jumper, I think, as their relationship is more fully developed at that point.

Mary's christening outfit or black-ops gear?

geekmama: Christening outfit, for sure.

 Submitted by OhAine: this is a joint question for Ellis and geekmama: Do you feel that working together as betas has changed the way you both write?

geekmama: Not really, my process is the same and any input from Ellis_Hendricks is given after the fact. I edit the story accordingly, but there are usually only minor changes involved. I am particularly grateful for her “Brit-picking” skill, which obviously makes her far more valuable to me than I am to her -- it’s surprising how many little differences there are between the UK’s culture and California’s. I was woefully ignorant about that when I became involved in this fandom, and I don’t feel I’m much better now, really.

Next week, Friday 12th April 2019, @thisisartbylexie interviews @writingwife-83

[grimelords]

Finished writing my January playlist up a couple weeks ago and forgot to post it. Sometimes things are like that I suppose. A pretty good mix of all the songs I was very into two months ago.

Terrapin Station (Suite) - Grizzly Bear & The National: It's shocking to think that a 5 hour long Grateful Dead tribute album changed my life but it really did. It's so good all the way through which is a feat in itself and it's a great introduction to every side of a band that can sometimes feel culturally overwhelming to try to get into. This song is a highlight, veering over every kind of territory for 16 minutes but always maintaining the sort of precision of purpose I associate with Grizzly Bear.

New Year - Beach House: January baby! I've got tickets to see Beach House later this month and I'm excited because they really surprised me as an incredible live band last time I saw them, building their songs with a lot more dynamism than the sort of drum machine play alongs their albums are (which I love!!).

BAGDAD - Cap.7: Liturgia - Rosalia: I'm still working my way into fully appreciating how good this Rosalia album is. The Justin Timberlake melody is so beautifully repurposed and I absolutely love the church choir behind the 'junta las palmas y las separa' part. It's just a heartbreaking and beautiful song even if I did have to google translate it.

Signs Of Life - Arcade Fire: I've been thinking a bit about Everything Now and how it was received and weirdly it seems to have a lot of parallels with the Achtung Baby/Zooropa/Pop era of U2, 20 years before it. Well established megastar bands who turned from their extremely heartfelt authentic origins and explored the world of pop and commercialism with varying critical success. Everything Now doesn't feel old fashioned but it's kind of weird they're playing with a lot of the same ideas U2 were in their Pop-Mart era so long ago. Anyway this is one of their best songs ever I think. The disco instrumentation versus the paranoid lyrics is just great, the backing vocals especially.

Discotheque - U2: The vocals in this song are so interesting. There are at times upwards of three Bonos harmonising with each other. It creates an unsettling image of a world overrun with Bonos. I do however love the extremely strangled guitar sound in the breakdown. I sort of wish this song were longer, long as it is, because it really starts to build into something serious by the end but then it just fades out disappointingly.

Violent Shiver - Benjamin Booker: I love Benjamin Booker but he needs to take a lesson from this song and do some hot licks again. He doesn't do hot licks like this in barely any other songs! Benjamin Booker sounds like he's from an alternate timeline where rock n roll stayed black and this is where it's at now.

Dawn Of The Dead - Does It Offend You, Yeah?: Can you imagine naming your band 'Does It Offend You, Yeah?' in 2019? What a time to be alive 2008 was. I absolutely love the steel drums in the prechorus and the bass and 'ooh ah' in the chorus. The production is just so chunky throughout. This whole song is thick.

Golden Skans - Klaxons: Anyway speaking of the heady days of English 'new rave' Golden Skans is a masterpiece. It's also masterfully compact, it's over in 2 and a half minutes. Amazing.

Go Bang - Pnau: I really applaud Pnau for having the audacity to release Chameleon and Go Bang on the same album right after each other when they're essentially the same song. Close enough to be the same song but different enough that you're still completely hyped when either of them come on.

Say You See Why So - Eleventh He Reaches London: I found this extremely serious Perth screamo band a little while ago they're so good i'm surprised I'd never heard of them before. I love the style of just endless new sections on new sections with barely any repetition, it makes you feel crazy which is perfect for this music.

Why Write A Letter That You'll Never Send - The Drones: I don't really know what to say about this song other than imagine literally getting this email verbatim lol.

Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me - U2: Fully fucked up that one of the best U2 songs only got released on the Batman Forever soundtrack.

Dead Of Night - Orville Peck: I'm so glad Lana Del Rey has been around long enough now that she's inspired a second wave. I absolutely love the whole concept Orville Peck has going, masked gay cowboy is a criminally underexplored genre.

Trip The Mains - Methyl Ethyl: I can't believe Methyl Ethyl are onto their third album already. I love how dancey this is compared to their other stuff, and his voice is still completely blowing my mind.

Strange Days (1999) - Health: I've had the cover for this single as my lock screen for two months now. It's simply very good and such a direct distillation of Health's essence. They've simplified and moved closer to pop ideas on this album and I'm all for it, they sound like Purity Ring if Purity Ring exploded occasionally which sounds very good to me.

Milk Crisis - The Go! Team: I'm racist because I thought for a long time that this song was gibberish but it turns out it's actually just in Japanese.

Cream On Chrome - Ratatat: It's fucking sick that Ratatat have been able to not only survive but thrive for so long making music that sounds like the loading screen of a Dreamcast racing game.

Will The Circle Be Unbroken - The Staple Singers: This is maybe my favourite example of 60s stereo recordings making completely bizarre decisions. The drums and bass in this are panned extremely far left and the guitar far right, which has the nice effect of letting you take out your left headphone and listen to a very beautiful stripped back guitar and vocals only version.

Angel From Montgomery - John Prine: I'm seeing John Prine next week and I'm very excited. He's approximately one million years old and seems to only now be getting the recognition he's deserved for decades.

(My Friends Are Gonna Be) Strangers - Merle Haggard: It's interesting thinking about the parts of American culture that don't really get exported to Australia. We got Johnny Cash and Hank Williams to a lesser extent but I hadn't really heard of Merle Haggard before this year which seems insane now that I've realised just how massive he was.

Debbie - Architecture In Helsinki: I have so much love for this vocal performance. Sitting in a weird half falsetto out of breath and just shrieking your way through it, mwah mwah I'm doing a chef's kiss right now.

Yandere - Yamantaka / / Sonic Titan: It's reassuring that the enthusiastic art nerd mindset of bands like The Red Paintings and The Sound Of Animals Fighting will never truly die. There should be more bands where they all have costumes and multi-movement songs songs telling an inscrutable story and a guy in the band whose whole job is just doing the lights.

Sweetness And Light (For Life Remix) - Itch-E & Scratch-E: My lifelong grudge against Paul Mac for enabling The Dissociatives and various other crimes will always be slightly tempered by how much this one song bangs.

Ontheway! - Earl Sweatshirt: I am such a big fan of this album. All the way through it feels like laying on the floor feels and it's addictive because of it. Every time I listen to it I just want to start it over again and lay the fuck down.

Mistake - Middle Kids: This song made me feel like a record producer in a movie or something when I first heard it because I got about one bar into the chorus and was absolutely smitten. It's just incredible.

Pressure To Party - Julia Jacklin: "I know where you live, I used to live there too" is maybe one of the best ever breakup album lines I've ever heard.

Our Shadows - Deantoni Parks: Deantoni Parks has a huge brain. The thing he does, where he sort of plays live mpc as part of a drumkit could be extremely naff and I'm sure there's a million guys on youtube doing it and making bad music, but he ain't one of them.. His take on it is so completely alien that the human element serves to bring it back to earth, all the disconnect that you would get from someone making a song like this on a laptop is metered out by a physical human body feeling every sound out personally and it's amazing.

Head To Toe In Morocco Leather - Muslimgauze: What's the word for being a weaboo except about the middle east and getting totally radicalised about it but never leaving England? Anyway Muslimgauze rocks and every six months or so I reread his wiki article and listen to his music exclusively for a couple of days before whatever that feeling is wears off again. I have a lot of respect for him but also suspect he may have just been a nut, which I respect as well.

In The Nervous Light Of Sunday - Circle Takes The Square: Very excited that Circle Takes The Square is on spotify now!!!

I'm In It - Kanye West: I heard that when they were recording this there was steam coming out of the horny meter that they have in the studio and then the glass broke on the horny meter and the needle started spinning around and around because the horny levels were so high.

Do Me A Favour - Arctic Monkeys: Alex Turner has two songwriting modes: incredibly tangible story songs and songs where he's just playing word association rhyming games and the craziest thing is both types are good. This is absolutely one of his best of the first kind I think​.

listen here

[kachinnate]

as you all know, the only venting i ever post on here is reblogged subtle depression feels *sparkle emoji* or an explosion of all the shit that’s happened to me like every three months because i cannot take Any More under a read more 

the three month deadline has come now 

triggers below, check the tags please

this year has unabashedly been the worst year of my life. 

and that sounds dramatic, and i know i could have it worse, and maybe i’m being selfish because literally all the things that have happened this year have been all inner turmoils and i’ve literally had years where my family went through financial struggles + death and stuff and even that doesn’t compare to the emotional toll i’ve went through this year but it’s just. bad. it’s so bad. 

i don’t know how or why but my depression seemed to just fucking turn itself up 8 notches after january hit to the point where i had to tell my dad that i needed medical help lmao... and i got my first diagnosis, my first perscription.. and it didn’t work, so they upped the dosage, and that didn’t work, so now i’m on a new medicine which has a starting dosage of 150mg, and my doctor told me if this one didn’t work she’s going to refer me to a psychiatrist, and i must have looked so broken and on the verge of tears when she said this because she immediately had to reassure me that this wasn’t a failure on my own part, which logically makes sense right, but at the same time it’s just so?? fucking disheartening?? after months of my upper dosage not working i just cold turkeyed them until my next appointment which probably wasn’t the Best Thing because shortly following that i realized that i wanted to k*ll mys*lf more in a two week period than i’d have ever in my entire life, and i thought that suicide idealization was an issue i struggled with since forever, but boy howdy was i wrong because these past couple of weeks have been sooooooo fuckin bad lmao. like i struggle opening my medicine because sometimes i dump like all of it out and just. look at it. in my hand. i never actually do it because i’m way too scared of having a seizure or my dad doing something stupid if i were dead but what if. what if what if what if. it’s more of an intrusive thought than me planning on it, but. what if. my new medication has a specific warning that it’s dangerous for overdoses which is. genuinely kind of scary. what if. 

i realized that i don’t have anyone friendwise irl anymore over the course of this school year. to save you and myself the retelling of the most bullshit high school drama i’ve ever been apart of, i realized that all my friends in my Group (tm) couldn’t care any less about me than they already do. i’ve always adored them and loved them with all of my being, and yeah i am not endowed to their appreciation back i guess, but watching them slowly and gradually ditch me and exclude me and ignore me and go out of their way to show me that they don’t care about my existence has been the biggest fucking emotional blow. people outside of this group told me that they were awful people and bad for me and so incredibly toxic and guess what? i defended them and now the fact that i was wrong makes me want to tear my fucking guts out. i spent three whole years with these group of people only for them to decide in the past six months that i’m not worth it. i feel so fucking empty. one of those people was supposed to be my best friend of nine years. and i still fucking love him despite all of that, y’know? i love all of them even though they have made me sob every night over the latter course of a school year and feel unsafe in a club that i was once prominent in and that’s so bullshit and so unfair but it’s fine it’s whatever. and like, i should have seen it coming, because the build up was them treating me so fucking badly. it’s an ongoing joke that despite being rank 1 in my class, i’m.. an idiot? like it’s a joke that haha i’m short and haha i’m stupid and haha i can’t interact with people and i have debilitating anxiety and i make mistakes all the time and i’m the ditzy lesbian of our friend group, even when i express that i hate being called stupid but they just insist that they’re joking with me and that i’m too sensitive. i can count on one hand the amount of times they picked at me for my eating habits even though at least one of them knew i have a pretty bad ED. they picked and picked and picked at me and then when we have our first fight they all immediately fucking drop me, and i still love them and i still try to fix everything but suddenly i’m not worth the effort anymore. it’s draining. i’m so, so tired. outside of the toxic group(tm), anyone that was close to me as i friend (or otherwise) i ended up pushing away or drifting away from or fucking up the relationship on my own, and even if it’s ‘Okay’ on objective terms, to know that i fucked up something that was once really really nice and now i can’t even feel comfortable opening up a message first because i know i’ll get left on read or, even worse, have to read a one-sided, hardly caring/pitying conversation makes me just not want to bother at all. it’s so hard to reach out to the few people i know do kinda sorta care for me, but the fact that i’ve been absent for this long? it makes the few relationships i have strained and forced so i can’t even bring myself to put myself out there knowing that it’s only going to make me feel worse

working makes me?? so miserable ????? i worked at pizza hut up until the beginning of june and while i was good at it and i had friends there, i didn’t get paid enough so i had to quit. i started a new job. i fucking hate it. i actively dread going there. people refuse to train me or are incredibly fucking disrespectful/unfriendly to me if i ask for help or just don’t know how to do something. i feel bad ranting about it because every single person i’ve asked for advice from just says that i’ll get used to it or it’s in my head, which.... regardless of whether or not it is, making me feel like it’s my fault or that i’m being crazy makes me feel sooo fucking sick and like i’m actually insane. i heard it enough from my friends this year. i’m so tired of being blamed for things happening that, while they might be worsened by the anxiety in my head, it isn’t JUST THAT. sometimes things are just BAD but they’re not because I’M making them seem bad, they genuinely just are!!!! not everything is in my head !!!!! things can be upsetting with it being solely because i’m fucking anxious every moment of every fucking day !!!!! regardless i need money so i can’t quit but goddammit i hate every minute i’m not at my house. 

all in all, i just feel so, so fucking alone. i have friends on here, and i’m so thankful for them - i’m so grateful to every lovely message i’ve gotten on anon and i’m so thankful for my buds on discord and i’m so thankful for streams and my stream team and i’m so thankful for people who follow me for musicals or art and actively talk to me about them - but it’s just.. here. when i log off and step back from my computer, i’m just immediately fucking alone again. if i were to disappear one day, no one would know what happened to me or where i went, and eventually no one would even care, given that anyone even noticed my absence to begin with. i’m so replaceable. i’m literally just another fucking face on here. another cutesy musical blog ran by a very, very fucking dysfunction kid

anytime i’m shown any shred of kindness, i just. start sobbing. like i cannot even interact like a person, or hell, like the person i was a year ago. this girl i’d been talking to momentarily told me that for as much as i’m there for other people, i need someone that i can jsut lean on and have care about me, and like. i cried. so much. when was the last time i had that? when was the last time i just had someone, anyone just to be here for me? and again, not saying it in a way like i deserve that or am entitled to that, but god fucking damnit i haven’t just rant on and on or spilled my feelings to someone without worrying that they’d get upset with me or deflect it back onto themselves in so, so long. i just want someone to listen. i just want someone to care. 

and it’s who i try to be, all the time. the person that cares, the person that listens, and that just might be part of the problem. i say this all the time, and it’s a mantra and probably one of the main highlighted points that comes with my depression: i put so, so much out, so much energy and love and time, and i get almost nothing back. and it takes suuuuch a fucking toll. in such, it causes me to retreat and suddenly just cut people off or distance myself because i’m scared of letting myself get hurt again because the emotional turmoil i go through genuinely, genuinely almost fucking kills me every time. when that whole thing happened with my friend group, i went days without eating and just. wouldn’t talk. wouldn’t do anything other than school. because school is my safety, i can always rely on school, school will always be there - so i threw myself in school and overworked myself and overmaxed my credit hours and like. if i didn’t have that, if i didn’t have my classes, i really don’t know if i’d be here right now. and it sounds dramatic and i’m sorry, i hate it too, but it’s just the fucking truth.  but - yeah again, i’m the person that’s always there. that’s why i never fucking rant like this on here. i don’t want to be triggering, and i don’t want to cause people distress, and i want people who are having a hard time to see my blog and maybe feel a little bit better and feel happy and have fun. but in the end, this is the only place i have to scream out into the void because i genuinely don’t have a space to do that in real life anymore. nothing. there’s nothing else. 

i’ve always said that when i go to college, i’m just going to do a hard-reset and change up everything. reinvent myself. but sometimes i really don’t see myself getting out of this year alive, or at the very least in one piece. i’m already fucked in so many regards. i’m predestined to be an alcoholic. my brain is actively trying to fucking detonate itself. i’ve never been in love, and sometimes i worry that i never will be. i cry and cry and cry out, but i can’t get help. my solutions to problems is just working until i forget or sleeping until i forget or just finding an alternate way to fucking forget. everything that i’m looking forward to is so incredibly temporary or so short lived or so pathetically small in the grand scheme of things. i have to stay alive to see my AP scores on july 5th. i have to stay alive because i promised my friends i’d stream on this day. i have to stay alive because i promised addie i’d go see this show with her in september. but it’s not for me. it’s never for fucking me. i couldn’t care less. 

i’m not going to ever kill myself because i’m too scared of the pain or the symptoms that i’ll feel right up to it. but otherwise, i really don’t know why else i’m obligated to stay here. 

[handeaux]

More Than Charlie Chaplin: Cincinnati’s Uncensored 1916 Movies

Adultery, abortion, venereal disease, prostitution, even full-frontal nudity were all on screen at Cincinnati’s movie theaters a century ago. Audiences flocked to racy “moving pictures” while the State of Ohio attempted to censor films.

Looking back from the blasé Twenty-First Century, we think we know all about the pre-World War I movies. Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Keystone Kops and lots of maudlin melodrama with “soundtracks” provided by piano players with straw boater hats, right? You might be surprised to find that your great-grandparents watched some fairly risqué  stuff. Here is a selection of films that played in Cincinnati over just one year – 1916:

Forbidden Fruit

This 1915 film by writer and director Ivan Abramson concerns a young woman who breaks her engagement when she discovers that her fiancé has slept with multiple women. She marries his best friend instead. In a moment of financial panic, her husband forges the ex-fiancé’s name to a stock certificate. The ex-fiancé offers to drop the charges if the woman has sex with him. She does. Drama ensues.

Damaged Goods

Most Cincinnati exhibitors compared “Forbidden Fruit” to a 1914 movie still in circulation titled “Damaged Goods,” which explored the travails of a young married couple whose lives are ruined because the husband contracted syphilis while in college. While censors railed against the loose morals of the film, the Post [21 February 1916] advised teenage girls to see it:

“This scenario contains a wonderful lesson in purity and hygiene and brings out truths which all young people should understand. Ask your mother to go with you and explain the purpose of the play.”

The Little Girl Next Door

Another “lesson” film playing Cincinnati in 1916 was “The Little Girl Next Door” which focused on white slavery and prostitution. The distributor solicited endorsements from local clergy and social workers and advertised the importance of seeing this movie “for your daughter’s sake.” The Cincinnati Enquirer [25 June 1916] described the docudramatic content:

“It really has no plot. It is merely a recital of the lives of several unfortunate girls; how they were trapped, and, in some cases, rescued, and in others forced to lead a life of shame.”

Where Are My Children?

After infidelity, venereal disease and prostitution, it’s no surprise Cincinnati audiences flocked to a film about birth control and abortion. In this Tyrone Power (Senior) vehicle, it is revealed that the wife of an ambitious prosecutor has avoided pregnancy when she can and procured abortions when she can’t, all to maintain her glamorous social calendar. Audiences packed the Grand Opera House on Vine Street for two months at inflated prices of 25 cents to watch this melodrama.

The Eternal Sapho

Cincinnati’s own Theda Bara got into the censor’s crosshairs with “The Eternal Sapho.” Based on a French novel, the film tracks Bara as, of course, a vamp who schemes the marry a rich man but is forced to return to a poor sculptor, only to discover that he has committed suicide. This leads her into insanity.  The manager of the Walnut Theater, where “The Eternal Sapho” was exhibited found himself arrested on charges preferred by a local minister who claimed the Cincinnati theater was showing a print containing scenes ordered excised by Ohio censors. The Cincinnati Post [9 May 1916] gave the film a good, if circumspect, review:

“The ‘Sapho’ of Theda Bara is a very vital, a beautiful and interesting thing. Sometimes we have suspected – even said – that the acting art of our own Theda is limited to big eyes and an ability to shiver; but that suspicion is unfounded. In ‘The Eternal Sapho,’ a Fox film, now on exhibition, Miss Bara has a big role, and she fills it. No adjectives necessary. When you’ve said that of any role, you’ve said all there was to say, you know.”

Undine

While the films described so far tested the limits of censorship with situational content like extramarital sex, infidelity, venereal disease and prostitution, Ida Schnall’s 1916 film, “Undine,” went for sheer – very sheer, apparently – exhibitionism. Schnall was famous for her athleticism as a swimmer, diver, skater and baseball player. Undine was about mermaids. The film played at the Nordland – now known as Bogart’s. Trade publication The Moving Picture World [5 February 1916] described the attraction:

“’Undine’ promises to uncover possibilities for a sensational vogue – and ‘uncover’ is a word well chosen.”

Purity

While “Undine” attracted audiences with scantily clad mermaids, “Purity” featured total female nudity, in the form of a true 1916 supermodel named Audrey Munson. Famous – or infamous – for her career as an artist’s model, Munson portrayed Purity, a country girl who gains employment as (Surprise!) an artist's model and wins the affections of a young poet. He rejects her when he learns of her scandalous profession – until he discovers that she was saving up her modeling fees to pay for publication of his first book. Multiple scenes involve Munson naked in the studio and in nature. How did this get by the Ohio censors? The Cincinnati Post [23 January 1917] explained:

“Ohio censors have decided there may be such a thing as nude art in the photoplay, just as there are in pictures and statuary. As a result ‘Purity,’ the big ‘morality photodrama,’ featuring Audrey Munson, artist’s model, will be given its first showing in Cincinnati next week at the Walnut. Miss Munson has been rated as possessing a perfect feminine physique.”

The Enquirer [29 January 1917] approved:

“Its frank treatment of the subject of art, and its arraignment of mawkish prudery are the things that stand out with virile force.”

Your proprietor believes that last comment to be an intentional double entendre, but the author of that amazing line is, alas, no longer available to interrogate about things that “stand out with virile force.”

[cskiner]

Barak Marshall’s Umbilical Whiplash

(photo by Carolyn DiLoreto for USC Kaufman)

Barak Marshall is a few minutes late to meet me in the lobby. Not because he was stuck in traffic coming eastward from Santa Monica, where he takes care of his elderly parents. No, he just got wrapped up in some work in his office upstairs. I’ve just sent him an email—a “just making sure you know we were supposed to meet five minutes ago” email—when the elevator door opens. Barak steps out of it and spots me sitting in the corner, mouthing I’m sorry the second we make eye contact. I forgive him instantly. I’m one of many students that require his attention. He is one of few faculty members that actually makes the time, and he’s not even full-time faculty.

Several dancers have gathered in the hallway. Their repertory class starts in a few minutes; the class where we first met Barak. A few of them have just performed excerpts of his work, Monger, at the Laguna Dance Festival. It’s a festival founded and directed by our school’s vice dean—comprised mostly of classical ballerinas performing for old white people, to persuade them to donate fractions of the money they bleed in order to support slightly less classical dance work. Barak’s choreography is far from classical ballet (he’s simultaneously had all the training in the world and none of the training at all, but we’ll get into that later), but Monger is quite a crowd pleaser.

           “How was it?” he asks a group of juniors on his way over to me.

           “They loved it,” one girl volunteers, and the rest echo.

A couple more dancers file into the lobby to prepare for their evening classes, and Barak has the same conversation with each one of them. They all give the same response—they loved it, Jodie loved it, we love performing—but Barak welcomes each answer as though he’s never heard it before. His black hair is particularly mad-scientist curly today, and the curls bounce as he nods in earnest at the students. He’s proud of them, and he already knows that, but he’s making sure they know, too.

Marshall finally sits down to answer my questions, but not until he’s heard updates from all the dancers. I don’t actually have that many questions for him, and I know his answers to these ones. It’s more of a formality, making sure that I quote him directly for an upcoming article. But if I’m trying to answer the real questions, no thirty-minute interview will compare to learning Monger last fall; having enough context to perform the piece required that we spend many hours with Barak, learning about his lineage.

~

He was born into a legacy to begin with: Barak’s mother, Margalit Oved, graced Israel’s Inbal Dance Company as a principal dancer for over a decade. Known for her storytelling, singing, and beautifully generous gestures, Oved was praised by modern dance’s mother, Martha Graham herself. When Oved she retired from the company in 1965, she moved to Los Angeles to teach dance in UCLA’s department of World Arts and Cultures.

Barak always tells us that he grew up there, underneath her drum as she counted the dancers in and out of movements. His blood was steeped in rhythm if his genes didn’t have it already, and the dance studio was his second home. Like any teenager, as he grew up, he rebelled against the thing he knew best, swearing he would not become a dancer..

Barak finished high school on the west side and packed his bags for Harvard, where he studied social theory and philosophy and aimed straight for law school. He didn’t get quite that far, though. After finishing his undergraduate studies, he moved across the country for—gasp—a woman. It didn’t work out.

Barak accompanied his mother to Israel in 1994, when she was appointed artistic director of the Inbal Dance Theatre. SuddenlySix months later, his aunt fell ill. She had helped raise him in Los Angeles while his mother was working, and then returned to Inbal to direct the company.—their bond was strong to say the least. But when she died, the Inbal Dance Company was left without artistic direction. she died, six months after the move to Israel, and Barak’s mother had no time to grieve with a company to manage.[I went to Israel with my mother in 1994 when she was appointed artistic director.  My aunt died 6 moths after we arrived and that is how I started dancing by creating my first work Aunt Leah.  My mother remained artistic director of Inbal. I was appointed artistic director 20 years later]

This is the part of his career that Barak refers to as umbilical whiplash, the part in which he runs desperately hard and fast in the opposite direction of his mother’s legacy, and the harder and faster he runs, the harder and faster he is pulled right back into dance’s iron grip. He was not trained—he knew his mother’s [my father is Jewish, but from the Bronkx, Mew York] Yemenite traditions and his mother’s gestures, he knew how to sing (boy, did he know how to sing), but he had never trained formally in dance. Yet he in 1994, he accompanied his mother to Israel, in a last attempt to keep her home company afloat. He sat in on rehearsals, helping his mother here and there, not doing much but doing his bestsupporting her the best he could. One day, a company dancer caught him mourning his aunt in the studio, and was astonished initially. It turned out, however, that nobody was truly surprised.

He was dancing.

The company dancer watched for a few days and finally confronted him, insisting that he make a work for the company to honor his aunt and heal the wounds of loss. He finally agreed, and she filmed his process in the studio, translating it into dancer-language: one-two-threes and five, six, seven, eights. It was built out of the things he knew from his mother, and his father,a and the combination of his Yemenite and Israeli heritage with his anti-training set him apart from the contemporary ballet aesthetic that monopolized the dance world.

The work, titled Aunt Leah, was a booming success—Marshall’s career took off in the direction he thought least possible. He toured Europe with the company, and in 1999, dance pioneer Ohad Naharin asked him to become Batsheva Dance Company’s first in-house choreographer. Naharin, a contemporary dance giant, is known for his insanity, to put it lightly. His temperament is notorious, and though he may make rash decisions, he does not make wrong decisions. Marshall accepted his offer, choreographing for Batsheva until a severe leg injury halted his course in 2001.

~

It’s important to note here that Barak still does not have any formal training. He didn’t pick up ballet or jazz or modern along the way, a la Wayne McGregor (an artist who went straight to choreography and skipped the dancinge training). His choreography is of the movements he knows: bold gestures and Yemenite exclamations, each imbued with a very specific meaning. For Barak, context is everything. If he’s not telling you a family story with each movement, he’s doing an Israeli accent or showing you how to properly spit at the person beside you. His choreography is laden with rebellion: servants against mistress, women against men. These themes are especially strong in Monger, which illustrates ten servants in the basement of a cruel rich woman, doing everything they can to resist breakdown from begging mercy to spitting in her food. Of course, we as dance students don’t have the same background in social structures, so Barak ends most rehearsals with a tale of life in Israel. Usually, he starts his stories when he can tell that we are tired, overwhelmed with midterms and exhausted by other dance obligations. It’s merciful, but also economic and efficient. We come to rehearsal the next day with eyes slightly brighter.

Barak’s always making sure we’re not hurt. In the entire piece, four small counts of the choreography are especially hard on the knees: he doesn’t make us do those four counts until the week before the show—just a few times, to make sure we can actually do it. Maybe it’s because he wasn’t raised as a dance student, but he doesn’t have that insane twisted voice in his head that prevails in our conservatory. You know, the one that tells you that dancing on an injury is just proving your strength and dedicationself.

Monger is almost entirely an ensemble piece, and almost all of the choreography is done in unison. The movement is contemporary, performed barefoot, with fast and furious gestures (four gestures per one count). Nobody has a solos—Barak just wants to make sure that we’re all ourselves, within the greater narrative.

“I don’t want to see the choreography,” he says. “I want to see you. Show the audience how valuable you are, because you are.”

Dancers are given a literal voice in Monger, and in his other works, Rooster, Wonderland, and And at midnight, the green bride floated through the village square. Besides just the exclamations throughout the choreography (hey!, no!, shh!) there is a microphone center stage. The dancers speak monologues that Barak writes himself, some based on seminal philosophy works and some based on Israeli folktales and some just cheeky banter. He coaches the delivery, asking for accents wherever possible and most often giving the note, “louder. Less hesitant.” In Monger, the texts begin as a pleading last effort not to be let go: Mrs. Margaret, please! It’s not my time yet. I’ll give you anything you want, whiskey, cigarette? Mrs Margaret! And end as a biting fuck-you (there are gestures for that, too): I spit in your coffee. I spit in your food! She wears your dresses! So do I! StudentsWe are empowered through this role as servant. They’re We’re yelling insults onstage—we they never do that. WeThey do pas de bourree, jeté, pose, smile. The women are pushing the men, spitting at them. We are encouraged to make real spitting noises. One girl actually spits by accident, and Barak yells, “good!”

We are not students anymore. We are people, and Barak knows us. He tells me one of the reasons he accepted the invitation to return as an artist in residence this year: he wants to know the students better. He wants to see how he can make the work better for us.

The gestures take a long time to learn and even longer to master. They’re incredibly specific and you have to convey so much meaning with just your hands. My hands are really small, so I grow my nails out because every bit counts. I end up dancing almost too fervently and accidentally scratch my shoulder in one gesture. I break skin, but it’s fine. I could care less about the blood: the work is important. Once you learn the gestures, the satisfaction comes in finishing four minutes straight of intricacy with a final exhale. We all feel the liberation—dancing as a unit makes us more ourselves. It’s even better when we put the costumes on: we wear servants’ clothes, and we put on our aprons on to do the work but tear them off when we rebel against Mrs. Margaret. Barak makes sure that we throw them to the ground with enough fervor that the audience can read the subtext, which is effectively, “you bitch, I hate you.”

One very special evening, when we have learned the full excerpts, two special guests are wheeled into rehearsal. Barak pushes both his mother’s and his father’s wheelchairs. They are smiling ear to ear, and —they Mrs. Oved speaks softly and in a thick Israeli my father is American accents only Barak and his father can understand. He translates their her English, but we’re still hanging on to every word, trying desperately to hear what they think about us. To us, they are legends: we’ve only heard Barak’s fond stories of them, of his childhood. Even now, he speaks of them in awe. Even when they’re in wheelchairs and he keeps his phone on ring in case something happens while we’re in rehearsal.

Barak puts a small drum down in front of his mother, and sits behind a larger one himself. She can’t walk, but she has not forgotten how to drum. He tears up as she sings, joining in for the chorus of an old Israeli folk song. Her voice is beautiful—even with the cracks of age, her renowned generosity prevails. Her smile is enough to make an audience sit for hours. Barak’s ties to tradition suddenly make sense. He is American, born and raised. He has no accent. But he is Israeli.

Mrs. Oved finishes her song, and we all applaud. Her smile somehow grows wider.

“My father is a singer,” Barak says, as though his mother isn’t. He counts his father in and a perfect harmony escapes both of their lips, as though they’ve been rehearsing for weeks. They haven’t—his father forgets the words halfway through the song, and Barak prompts him. I start crying when they return to unison.

We run our excerpts of Monger for them (our official performance is next week, so we’re focusing on the details now) and Barak’s mother asks if he can help her stand, just so that she can give us a standing ovation. I cry again. Barak looks at his mother as though she shaped the world with her own two hands, and we all believe it. Mrs. Oved looks back at him, and we know from her eyes that he has carried on her legacy just as she wanted. It kind of makes you wonder if she planned it all along.

Right before the big performance, Barak catches me in the hallway doing what I do best: doubting myself. I probably don’t know the steps. I’m probably going to mess up the unison choreography, and give myself away by being the only dancer that’s off the music. He sits down on the floor next to me.

“I’ve seen the way you carry yourself outside class,” he says. “You are articulate and you are unique. Promise me you’ll be that person on the stage. It’s not about the steps anymore. You have all that. Trust me, I’ve been watching rehearsals.”

Needless to say, I cry again, but not until after he has left. While he’s talking, I just nod and smile and manage to be my least articulate self.

By the time Barak sits down with me for his interview in the lobby, I already know exactly what I want to say about him. This interview is just for an article I’m writing for the school’s communications department. He keeps apologizing, telling me he’s a little frazzled today, that his mind is in a million places at once. Lately, he’s been spending his free time collecting audition postings for graduating seniors and pulling strings to get us into classes at companies where he has connections. He wants to make sure we end up in a healthy work environment, doing the best repertory in the world.

Despite the scattered mind, he isHe’s more articulate than most of the choreographers I’ve interviewed in the last four years, if not all of them. Not a single like or um escapes his mouth. Even if he wanted you to forget he was Harvard-educated, you can’t.couldn’t.

We finish the interview: all my questions are the same, and I’m worried I didn’t cover enough bases. The last question, the one I ad-lib, is what have you learned from the students during your residency? I ask all the artists this—you can tell when they’re making up their answers to seem humble. Barak’s answer is honest: we devour the choreography, and he feels like he has to keep up and give us more material. He respects us, he sees us occupying space as authors and not just dancers.

I decide that now is the time. I pull out a postcard I found in a museum when I studied abroad in Paris this summer, one I have been keeping in my backpack. It’s a Lichtenstein painting, with a  has a lyric from a very special song that accompanies one of his pieces: the melody haunts my reverie, it reads. , and I bought it expressly for the purpose of thanking him, trying to explain what his piece means to me. Though it has been written for months, I have never found the right time to give it to him—he’s always surrounded with people. I’ve scrawled a written a few sentences on the back that could easily be bullshit, but he knows they’re sincereare so sincere they could easily be bullshit, but he knows me well enough to read them accurately. He scansreads it in front of me while I pretend to occupy myself otherwise.

“This is why I teach,” he says. “You know that. Give me a hug.”

By Celine S. Kiner

[ts1989fanatic]

Spencer Pratt Reviews Taylor Swift's Reputation Tour

"If the world felt more like a Taylor Swift concert, I don't think there would be wars."

If you've paid any attention to Spencer Pratt's Snapchat in the last eight months or so, then you know he's one of Taylor Swift's biggest fans, if not the biggest. On Saturday, he finally got to live his dream of seeing Reputation performed live, when he attended Taylor's show at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena with his wife Heidi and their son Gunnar. It was the first time Spencer had ever seen Taylor, but he's already thinking about rearranging his schedule so he can go see her in Colorado. Here, Spencer weighs in on everything from the openers to the costumes to Taylor's mid-concert surprise guests.

On the opening acts, Charli XCX and Camila Cabello

"My only issue is I wish the openers just covered Taylor songs. I kept thinking they would be so good if they were singing Taylor songs."

On meeting Taylor

"Right when Camila Cabello is winding down, I'm like, 'Oh my god, I don't think we're gonna meet Taylor, she's gotta go on stage.' And then I get an email like, 'We're coming to get you guys, stay in your seats.' Then we go backstage and Taylor's mom talked about how wild it is that we met Taylor ten years ago...and we're still in each other's lives. I was like, 'We're in Taylor's life? AHHHH!' Taylor brought up my hummingbirds and was talking about what a pure love it is. Then it hit me, I was like, 'Are you on Snapchat?' And she's like, 'No.' She only knows my IG story. I was like, 'Oh my god, I'm quitting Snapchat again.' So Taylor in her freakin' robe in her dressing room, holding Miracle Baby. I'm gonna have to have Heidi talk."

Heidi: "So we get in there and they're so nice offering to take the photos, and then I put Miracle Baby in her arms and he was so happy. He loved her. She held him for a while and he's really heavy, so I think she was probably like, 'OK, here's your baby! I’m not babysitting, I’m about to go on stage!'"

"I just run right in and I'm like, Please take Miracle Baby! Give him your energy!' My dad can't even hold Miracle Baby, he's so heavy. I could have gone home for the rest of my life happy right then and the show hadn't even started. She literally left us and walked on stage. I started thinking she's not a human. That's the level."

On the opening number

"She has this like trailer going off about all the media [that starts the show]. It's kind of like a little highlight sizzle reel about how the media was turning on her, like a little movie. It got me so pumped up. I was like, — sorry media — 'I HATE YOU MEDIA, WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO TAYLOR?!' And then this ghost says, 'REPUTATION,' and then it's like, [sings opening notes of "...Ready for It?"] 'Are you ready for it?' Then '...Ready for It?' drops and it's like, oh my god. The album is insane bumping loud in your car on eight espressos, but two skinny margaritas, front row, when that goes off? I swear to god I thought I was gonna explode.

I didn't realize until last night, but her album is designed for a stadium tour. It’s designed for that level of sound and light. The coolest part about getting there at 12:00 is watching hundreds and hundreds of 18-wheelers with the Reputation art on them loading in. It looked like she was invading Pasadena. My heart's pounding right now thinking about it.

It was easily the most fun at an event I've had in my whole life, times 100. And the fact that I'm looking over and Miracle Baby's got his headphones on, right there, like could reach out and touch Taylor. He's listened to this album as much as I have. He's a real fan! It was just so magical."

On his run-in with Taylor's security

"I had the most realistic dream a couple months ago [where] Taylor grabbed my phone from me and did a Snapchat with my phone, and that ended up happening. Then also in that dream, Taylor's security jumped over a fence and tackled me. They thought I was some crazed super stan. I told people all this stuff months ago, I’m not making this up."

Heidi: "I heard!"

"Heidi heard. But last night out of nowhere, all this security and the sheriffs jump over the fence and surround me and grab my diaper bag that I'm carrying. Like, 'How did you get this backpack in the building?' It's not really a diaper bag, I just call it the diaper bag because I put diapers in it, but it's the biggest Gucci backpack you can buy. Keep in mind you're only allowed to have a clutch the size of, like, a sticker, or a clear handbag the size of a sticker. It couldn't look more suspicious. And I rushed the stage into the Snake Pit. Heidi said I looked like a psychotic fan. So they all circle me and grab me and open up my bag and everything. I'm like, 'It’s just diapers! We're with Taylor!' So they emptied out my whole bag right there in the front row. My dreams literally were like premonitions."

On how Taylor's performance compares to other concerts he's seen

"I think everybody else should just quit. There's no competition. Nobody's gonna bring that level of performance. How does she do that? How many espressos is Taylor getting? She is running and flying, she's in cages, crossing stages."

Heidi: "You're turning into a poet!"

"Flying in the air, in these like...Heidi, help me! Help me, Heidi! Nobody's even in the realm of this. I never went to a Michael Jackson concert, but I...feel like it's that level of superstardom. I don't think anyone's ever gonna catch this. Maybe people say things about her right now, but 20 years from now they're gonna look back and be like, 'Who was this?' Obviously I knew she was a huge superstar, but I didn't appreciate the level of actual performer. You think of performers that are good, and everyone's like — I'm gonna have the Beyhive coming for me — Beyoncé's amazing. She's also got like 15 years on Taylor. Fifteen years of performing and practice, and Taylor in my opinion is right there at that level right now. People are gonna be like, 'How did you say Taylor's like Beyoncé?' Well I said it, OK? I said it."

On Taylor's fans

"Taylor's fans are like the best humans. I've never been anywhere where the energy was just so electric but, like, pure. I felt like I was at a birth or a wedding. It felt like everyone was like a big family. Everyone's dressed up like it's freaking Halloween, too — the amount of time and energy people put into their looks and outfits and makeup. I'm so upset this isn't every Saturday night.

My only issue with the whole experience is it's over. If the world felt more like a Taylor Swift concert, I don't think there would be wars. I don't want to shade anybody, but you don't need to take a bunch of drugs and go into the desert for Burning Man. Have a skinny margarita and go to a Taylor show. You need to trip out? You don’t need to go to EDC and OD. Just put on one of these Taylor wristbands and just get in the middle."

On the merch

"I got a black hoodie, I got the Taylor PopSockets, I got the snake ring, I got the Rep hat, Heidi got the gray sweater. My one issue with the tour is they don't sell baby clothes, but then when Taylor was holding Miracle Baby in her dressing room, she did say he's definitely the youngest human in the entire building, so it made me think that's probably why they don't sell baby merch. I'm not sure how many babies are buying merch."

On Selena Gomez's surprise appearance

"I'm not gonna say which one, but Selena's best friend DM-ed me and was like, 'It's gonna be so amazing.' I felt like she was telling me she knew the secret, so I was telling everyone I think Selena's the [guest], and when Selena came out I was like, 'Oh my god, everything in my brain is happening!' Selena gave a talk that was like — I mean I'm all about women empowerment and all the hashtags women wanna have, I back that — but whatever Selena said I was just like, 'Say that every day on the internet!' It was like, 'Yes, girl!' And then after meeting Taylor, obviously we only knew Taylor for so little time, but I was like, 'I feel that Selena! That is who she is! Yes! I'm voting for her!'"

On the other celebrities in attendance

"Kobe Bryant was sitting to the left of us. That's when you know Taylor's a superstar, when I was not even Snapping him. I was like, 'I don't care about you, fool.' Any other setting I'd be like, 'Kobe, Kobe, I love you!'"

On the stage, costumes, etc.

"It's definitely on a Cirque du Soleil level. If Taylor wasn't even there and they were just playing the music with the lights and the pyrotechnics, it would be worth paying the money, like if it was just a live show in Vegas without her. That's how good the dancers are, the costumes. When were backstage with these dancers, their costumes are legitimate like, Mad Max, Game of Thrones–level leather. I bet each costume is like 10 grand. They look like action movie outfits. The snake that comes out of the stage? It's like Universal Studios level. It looked doper than King Kong. I was like, 'How's she beating King Kong right now?'"

On how much he'd spend to see Taylor, if Taylor hadn't gifted him with a VIP pass

"I would easily drop 25 hundo. Because it's a priceless memory! People are like, 'They're so high priced,' but when you see the amount of budget that goes into it, there are a lot of people that are needing to get paid. That money is not all going in Taylor's pocket. I saw 200 18-wheelers. The gas alone! She performs for hours. So you spend $2,500, I'm obviously not good at math, but if you do the math on that, what you're actually paying Taylor per minute? She's worth more than even that. She's a wizard. Let's just go ahead and say it. She's a dang wizard."

[theramblingonesie]

No More, Mr. “Nice Guy”.

My heart breaks and goes out to all of the women who have had the courage to come forward recently in the media about men in power who have violated them.  I refuse to compare traumas, and some could make the ignorant argument that what I’m about to say “DOESN’T EVEN COMPARE” to other more violent acts in Hollywood, but this particular story about Aziz hits very close to home and has left me slightly undone.

Yesterday, my little sister bravely put a post up on her social media that I hope contributes to changing the minds and hearts of Aziz’s defenders.  Years ago, she had an encounter with him that leaves no doubt in my mind that this man is a serial predator, and is in fact very aware of his behavior.  When I started seeing posts going up about him not knowing any better, it being a one-time accident, give him a chance, etc, my blood boiled over.  Because for every one story that receives light, there is almost always a painful trail of those that don’t.  We, the general public, have absolutely zero knowledge or qualification to conclude this man’s innocence.  But I’ve heard enough true stories that absolutely confirm that he is guilty, and NOT a “nice guy”.

When I first heard this news story, I became very upset about how this brave woman, Grace, is being torn apart by the media.  The criticism, the atrocious “open letter” by another woman, was deplorable enough being directed at her.  But these attacks go further than Grace.  Just like we’re unqualified to say that Aziz is innocent, criticizing and destroying Grace’s character is also insane, because nobody making these comments actually knows her.  Therefor, these words are attacks on every woman, every person, who has ever suffered at the hands of sexual assault, violation, and manipulation.  I moved through the phases of generalized rage, to rage over my sister being targeted, and eventually right over to my own miserable encounter with a different celebrity who is widely known to be a “nice guy”.

What happened between this “nice guy” celebrity and I could also be judged as just a really, really bad date.  Okay. Hm. Here are some examples of dates I’ve been on that qualify as really bad, in my opinion:

1.       Met up with a dude on OkCupid around the corner from my apartment.  He was totally different online versus in person.  He didn’t pick up on any social cues, spoke about himself the entire time without asking me any questions, begged for a kiss at the end of the night, and then attempted to make plans to see me again. It was so gross that I desperately texted another OkCupid match immediately after in an attempt to brain-bleach the experience away.  Dude #2 picked me up around midnight and took me to a diner. He was super nice, but I didn’t feel any chemistry. All in all, the night left me feeling gross, sad, lonely and exhausted.  I deleted my profile shortly thereafter.

2.       Went out with a guy who claimed that he was such a powerful wizard that he could turn invisible, and had me “watch” him do it (I…still saw him).  Later that night he somehow convinced me to go back to his place, where he proceeded to makeout with me under a crystal pyramid.  I still laugh about that one.

3.       My first super-serious boyfriend didn’t know I was 20 when he asked me on our first date. I got kinda lost and was late to meet him in Revere, realized I had forgotten my wallet with all of my money back in Rhode Island, got in the car with him while I was still on the phone with another friend, and then when I asked what we’d be doing that night, he responded that there was a bar he’d like to take me to. I had to give him the news that I was underage. I was absolutely the cause of this horrible date. We ended up being together for five years after that, but good lord was that awful. Forever in my shame file….(side note: the night ended really well, fortunately, and has remained a very sweet memory)

Those are what “bad dates” look like.  There is no sexual assault or emotional manipulation in those stories.  There was no fear for my safety, no violation, no feeling of absolute filth or the kind of humiliation that makes you completely question yourself and turn to ice, drawing up traumas from the past or activating mental illness.  As soon as those qualities enter the picture, one is no longer on a “bad date”.  It becomes a different entity; a bastard child of rape culture.

My “bad date” with this “nice guy” celebrity still haunts me to this day.  He had met me a year or so prior during a big performance I was in, and pursued me to varying degrees over time.  I was completely star-struck.  I had been a fan of this guy’s music since forever, and couldn’t believe that he was paying so much attention to me.   My friends made fun of me because he was a bit older, or at least had aged poorly from years of heavy drug use, but that didn’t matter me. He was sober now, and so devoted to his art, and so smart and funny, and sooooo nice.  After months of more intense flirtation and a solid makeout session after one of his shows, he became insistent on spending more time with me, wanting to treat me like someone he was actually seeing, rather than a casual long-distance flirtation. He begged me to come stay with him in New York for a couple weeks, telling me about all the places he would take me, the fancy dinners, and so on.  I agreed to make it happen, but shortly after saying yes, he began getting a little cold.  Energetically, I knew something was off.  I backed off of the plans, confused, and made up an excuse that I would have to check with my work to see how much time I could take off.  Ultimately I gave in and decided to go down for two nights.  That weekend ended with me going hungry and thirsty, abandoned in a hotel room, fucked twice and then completely snubbed. I felt awful.  I felt used, manipulated and lied to.  I felt cheap, pathetic and outrageously humiliated.  I hated how his coldness made me shut down, and that I felt unsafe being myself. I hated what an idiot I sounded like around him, because my brain was so dissociated from confusion and fear around not understanding the extreme shift that was occurring with him.  I hated how ugly I felt, and how stupid.  I hated that I was treated like a nameless sex worker, and STILL didn’t get paid.  At 1 or 2am on the last night, I sent a frantic text to one of my sister-wives who supported me in an incredible way, offering to buy me a different room so I could sleep before getting back on the road to Boston.  Talking to her gave me the strength to leave there and tell him to fuck off forever.  I wrote him an email while his “sober” ass was drugged up and unconscious on pills next to me, and hit send as soon as I left the hotel, because I had no desire to look at his face or hear his excuses in person.  I told him how horrible his behavior was, to which I didn’t receive any kind of response for hours.  No, the first thing I saw from him was a video on Instagram of him in the back of a cab, just staring into a camera with tears in his eyes so all of his followers could see what a sweet, sensitive man he was in that tender moment of pain.

BARF.

He finally made contact, with his first text saying “well that fucking sucked.”  I tried asking him why he did what he did, to just give me some hint or clue or anything that would help me stop feeling so awful and insane. The last text I remember receiving was, “I said I’m sorry.  I don’t owe you any explanations.”

Outside of work, I spent the next couple days in bed, mourning the experience.  There weren’t enough showers.  I exhausted my tears.  I felt such a depression that I stopped feeling anything at all.  This man continued to follow my friends online, liking their sexy pictures and making fun and flirty comments, as if there were zero consequences to his actions.  Not a drop of guilt or self-awareness.  A few months later, a song of his came on, and like women are conditioned to do, I questioned if the badness of the interaction was all my fault; that my being a desperate loser made him rightfully neglect and mistreat me; that my sensitivity and awkwardness caused me to lose a lover and friend.

SO I SENT HIM AN APOLOGY TEXT AND TOLD HIM I MISSED HIM.

He responded simply that he was glad to hear that.  And we never spoke again.

I dare you to ask me why I didn’t just leave.

I dare you to call that a “bad date”.

I dare you to bring up my age, my fragility, my anxiety or history of depression.

I dare you to ask me why I don’t just say his name, or why I haven’t spoken up sooner (one reason: he already has one autobiography out in which he shares graphic and personal details about the women he’s hooked up with, often through the lens of him being some kind of savior, unless he’s looking for sympathy because he was on drugs. On our “really bad date”, he informed me that he has a deal with a publisher and was in the middle of writing his second autobiography.  I would like to not end up in that book for the rest of time.  If I’m already in that book, I would like it if nobody bought it, so I’m not about to call attention to him. Please thank you amen).

I dare you to tell me that I put myself in that situation.

I dare you to tell me this whole thing is fake because I tried to resume contact.

I dare you to tell me to toughen up and just get over it, that I should be grateful that I don’t live in a part of the world where acid could be thrown in my face.

I dare you to tell me that I asked for it.

I dare you to tell me that it wasn’t technically rape, and that this is just how men are and it’s not his fault.

I dare you to bring up my entire history of sexual assault and dysfunctional relationships, and make an argument that I’m either lying, that I’m a magnet for this, or that I’m just attention seeking.

I dare you to tell me what a fan you are, and that he’s such a nice guy.

Just try me.

These days, I feel mostly healed from this interaction.  I’ll occasionally have a dream about it, or snarl a bit if his name or music come up. Sometimes I try to change the story in an attempt to reclaim any power from the situation, bragging to folks who aren’t close to me that I had the chance to bone a rockstar.  It’s super rare that I feel angry about this anymore. To be honest, my anger about it only flairs up when I hear other women getting trashed for having the courage to come forward about rape culture.  Which, these days, is more and more frequent.  But I think 90% of that anger is that of a collective rage for having to ask/answer these questions, doubt our worth and authenticity in the face of those who hurt us, and lay ourselves out to be slaughtered in the name of “justice”.  5% of it is still being angry at him.  The last 5% is being mad at myself for not acknowledging the red flags for what a loser he is.

While I do believe that there are people who do nice things in the world, I’m all set with “nice guys”.  Or just, “nice people” in general.  More and more, I find that many people who identify as “nice” or are described as “nice”, are simply performing niceness.  I, as with most women on the planet, have had more than my fair share of “nice guys” getting angry with me for not giving them my pussy in exchange for all of the “nice” things they’ve done for me (most of which I never asked for, I just say “oh wow, that’s nice, okay” when it’s presented).  There are countless “nice guys” out there who were my dear friends, who have miserably rejected and abandoned me now that they know I’m not going to fuck or date them. If you ask them, they’ll probably tell you a version where I was so mean or ungrateful, whatever. Find Jesus and call me in the morning.

I’ve had “nice” friends of all genders who use “niceness” like some sort of currency, that when they’re being absolute douchebags, they like to avoid personal responsibility and remind you about how you can’t be upset with them because they’ve done so many “nice” things.  Or they use “niceness” as a way to create co-dependency.  There are a lot of “nice” people in power—cops, celebrities, clergy members, girl scout leaders, teachers, family members, etc. who have done some really nasty things.  A lot of classist racists give to charity.  This is not to say that the rest of us are infallible, no no.  I by no means will try to make you think I’m any kind of angel. But there’s something manipulative and deceptive about the performance of “niceness”.  These people in power who would “never hurt a fly!” have raped, stolen, been abusive, lied, exploited, and hell—even been serial killers!

DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY “NICE GUYS” WHO ARE ACTIVE IN CHURCH AND ARE COMMUNITY LEADERS AND HAVE BEAUTIFUL FAMILIES ARE ALSO MURDERERS??????

SO I DON’T EVEN WITH ME.

Sorry, I don’t mean to contribute to mass hysteria.  No, I truly don’t believe that the average nice person is a murderer.  My point is, “nice” is not an argument toward someone’s innocence.  Nice can be a defense mechanism, like animals who pretend they’re dead so they won’t get eaten.  Underneath that is a world of emotions, thoughts, fears, motivations, experiences, and so on.  I know very, very few people who can be defined with niceness being their authentic, primary trait.  I know infinite humans who are awesome, who are incredibly kind and loving, and do very nice things.  But they also get angry.  They also tell people the truth and say no, which can be met with a lot of resistance and backlash.  They also have moments of being bitchy, and owning that bitchiness.  They can be sad, really really sad.  They can be jealous, cold, selfish, and really a vast array of things, BECAUSE THEY ARE WHOLE HUMAN BEINGS AND THAT IS REAL.

When a person tries to push their niceness on me, or insist that I see them as nice, or others argue with me “but they’re so nice” as a largely defining quality, I am immediately suspicious.  I don’t care if you’re nice.  I care about whether or not you’re mature, and if you have boundaries and empathy.  I care about your actions matching your words, and if what you do behind closed doors matches who you are on Facebook (I mean like, it’s none of my business how much you pick your nose or how many days you go without bathing, but don’t let me find out that your yogi feminist-posting ass abuses women).  I care about whether or not you have genuine love in your heart, and pure intentions. I care about your ability to be kind, and your honesty about when you’re not.  I care about whether or not you have integrity, and if you’re willing to be authentic.  I’m not interested in Nice People.  I’m interested in good people.  Just like self-deprecation is an easy go-to in comedy, how being “pretty” and “cute” are the easiest approaches to burlesque, and how using auto tuning can turn anyone’s voice to gold, the performance of “niceness” is the easiest and most classic manipulation tactic in the book.  I’m not asking you not to be nice.  I’m asking you to be real.  And if being nice in this moment for you is real, then I accept.  But if your “niceness” pushes past my wellbeing, then you are not nice, and your actions are null and void.  Please understand this point.

I am very tired of being fed “truths” based on superficial assessments.  None of you truly know Aziz Ansari.  None of you truly know this celebrity I had a negative experience with. Enjoying a person’s product or public persona is not the same as knowing them.  Destroying a vulnerable person who is suffering at the hands of the strangers you call heroes is unacceptable.  Do not create more wounds and more victims because you can’t hold the hard moral dilemma of enjoying the work or benefits of knowing a person who does bad things.  That is your own cross to bear, not theirs.  They already have enough to deal with.

Next time you say “oh but he’s really a nice guy”, you’d best be able to back that up with extensive, concrete evidence.

Next time you catch yourself huffing and crying, justifying your actions with, “hey, I’m a really nice guy”, check yo’self, because you’re probably about to wreck yo’self.

So what am I really aiming for here, in yet another rambling blog?  My hope and prayer is, whether it’s rape culture, deceptive behavior, or our society trivializing stories that make them question themselves and feel uncomfortable/inconvenienced, that I’ll be able to see a day when this bullshit doesn’t rule our lives.  We need to stop waiting for it to magically appear for us, too.  Each woman who comes out and speaks her truth is doing her part. Each person who is directly acknowledging bad behavior and holding their friends and family accountable is doing their part.  Don’t wait for change to fall in your lap.  Examine the role you play in all of this, and adjust yourself accordingly. You can drag along behind, crying and trying to stop this boat by kicking the waves, or you can jump on board and help us sail collectively to shore.  Either way, this baby is moving forward.  You decide how you want that experience to go for you.

Link here for an amazing article by Lindy West, dismantling the argument that boys and men don’t know any better, and the toxic nuances of rape culture:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/01/17/opinion/aziz-ansari-metoo-sex.html

[baby-blossoms]

The Tree

Evan Hansen x Reader

Warnings: Reader is not specifically a boy or girl. Alana x Zoe is canon in this. Unedited and written nonstop from 9:00 pm to 3:00 am and I think that should be a warning in itself, Evan’s suicide attempt mentioned, some light cursing, nothing else I think, but tell me if you find anything that should be in the warning section

Character Count: 23,868

Summary: Evan Hansen Soulmate AU where you can feel the physical pain your soulmate feels, and you have a small tattoo on your wrist of what your soulmate is currently most passionate about. You just moved into town and its basically your first day of senior year and you meet Evan, your soulmate, yay! It also has a really flufftastic cheesy ending so don’t read it if you’re not into that, my friend.

   A little tree... A little oak tree to be specific. You’ve had a little oak tree on your wrist for the past eight years. Before an oak tree it was a music note, before that it was ice cream, and even before that it was many little kid things, like trucks and airplanes and dinosaurs. But apparently your soulmate was dead set on trees. Your mom had long since explained to you why a damn ice cream cone was on your wrist for months, and apparently it was what your soulmate was most passionate about, she also explained why you’d have sudden waves of pain, and why you sat sobbing in the middle of a park, clutching your arm a few months ago. Soulmates feel each others pain, nothing else, just pain, because the universe was a cruel and strange place.

 You often sat and wondered what your soulmate had on his wrist, you were passionate about a lot of things, so maybe it just rapidly changed every couple of days. You wondered how they felt about that, maybe they thought you were too indecisive, or maybe they thought it was funny… You had kept a journal of everything your soulmate was most passionate about since you could remember, you wondered if they did the same. You wondered about them a lot, you could probably write a list of all the things you wondered about them through the years alongside their passions.

 “Y/N!”

You were abruptly pulled out of your thoughts by your mom quickly shoving the last box from the U-Haul into your arms, casting you an annoyed glace.

  “Yeah, sorry mom.” You mumbled, trudging to your room upstairs, and dropping the box unceremoniously on the hardwood floor.

  Flopping down onto your unmade bed, you groaned, holding your head in your hands as you peered at all the boxes you had to unpack. Moving to Pennsylvania (A/N: oh gosh I have no idea where DEH takes place so I just picked the first state with beautiful trees that came to mind) was stupid, starting a new school was stupid, life was just stupid right now. The only bright side to this dumb move is that your dad got a raise along with it.  

 Grumbling to yourself, you took the nearest scissors, opening the first box of many to unpack. After about five unpacked boxes you looked at your large handwriting on the side of each box, every single one was labeled “Y/N’s stuff” which was not helpful in the slightest if you were trying to find something specific. You sighed heavily, annoyed at your past self. You angrily took a bite of the slice of pizza your mom had delivered to you around the middle of unpacking box number four. She had then delivered the delightful news that she was taking you to register for your new school the next day at seven in the damn morning. You weren’t elated to say the least. After days of driving across the freaking US, you weren’t keen on going right back to school and you had hoped she’d maybe give you a few days to adjust. You should’ve known, that was nothing like your mother.

  Heavily sighing to yourself you set up your bathroom so you could take a shower before you had to sleep. Unfortunately, setting up said bathroom proved to be a hell of a lot harder than you had thought it would be. Finding the shower curtain was an adventure, but finding your suitcase under the pile of random things you had created by unpacking proved to be an intense workout session. Sweat was nearly dripping off your face when you finally struggled the heavy suitcase out from under a major pile of art supplies and an old karaoke machine that you had yet to assemble and couldn’t fathom why you still had.

   Finally taking a proper shower in your new house was a paradise compared to the low pressure odd smelling showers you had seen throughout the trip. The Kansas hotel was probably the worst, and you shuddered just thinking of it. After your shower you looked around your room, frowning at how bare and bland the walls were. You hung about every single one of your paintings on the walls, grinning to yourself at the intense barrage of colors anyone would get when entering your room.

 The next morning you threw on a dark green baggy sweatshirt that you practically drowned in, it was old and worn out, and the small tree printed on the front was slowly fading away. You had bought the sweatshirt because it was soft and the tree reminded you of your soulmate, which never failed to make you smile. Plus, it was one of the only things you owned that wasn’t paint splattered, seeing as you were passionate about painting, once you got into one of your paintings you didn’t really care about the mess, resulting in endless angry sighs from your mother as she tried to scrub the already dried paint away. Quickly you shoved on a pair of jeans, which of course were covered in multiple shades of green paint, because even if your clothes were messy, worn, and covered in paint, you still liked to match.

    Soon you were off to your new school, and you couldn’t find an ounce of enthusiasm about it. Trudging into the office, you caught a glimpse of a group of kids staring at you intently, your eyebrows furrowed as you blushed and quickly turned away, trying to keep up with your mom.

  After a short and very boring meeting, you finally tuned in when the counselor said,

  “Well it’s her first day with us, and our first class is advisory,” she checked the clock, “and it’s just going to end, so I can go ahead and give her a schedule right now and send her with a buddy so she can see all her classes today if you want!” you were seconds away from protesting when your mom quickly said,

“Oh, Y/N would love that, wouldn’t you, sweetie? I’ll pick you up after school at 3:05, I love you honey!”

she was practically pulling out of the school parking lot by the time you had processed everything she said.

“Um,” you glanced at the counselor, who was smiling sweetly at you, “well, thank you...”

  You cringed, not knowing what to say. She simply nodded, printing out your schedule and calling in a “reliable” student. A girl you assumed was also a senior practically floated into the room a few minutes later, she smiled at you kindly, thrusting her hand out for you to shake. You noticed she had what looked to be an ‘A+’ for a soulmate marking. Grinning, you knew instinctively that she was definitely not your soulmate.

“Hi, I’m Alana, and welcome to your new wonderful High School! I’ll be sort of ghosting around you today to make sure you get to all your classes on schedule and don’t get lost!”

Her beaming smile was almost blinding, and you shot back a crooked grin, introduced yourself in return.

 Alana practically dragged you down the hallway to your first class of the day. She sucked in a bit of air through her teeth,

  “Unfortunately for you, Y/N, you’ll be sharing this class with Jared Kleinman, and Connor Murphy.” A small smile tugged at her cheeks when she said softly, “On the bright side you’ll be sharing it with Zoe Murphy,” you watched her eyes flicker to her wrist for a short moment. “Connor is her brother, and I’m in this class too, so you won’t have to worry about a place to sit!”

You both paused outside of the classroom as you analyzed her face for a moment,

 “You were staring at me earlier weren’t you?”

Her smile turned slightly bashful as she said,

“Yeah, sorry about that, Evan pointed out your hoodie so we all looked at the same time, that must’ve been weird for you.”

You laughed lightly as you shook your head,

“No, that’s okay, it was just surprising.”

   Alana nodded, opening the door to the classroom quietly. What you thought was going to be a nice and quiet entrance was abruptly ruined when Alana bounded into the room, dragging you along while calling out to the teacher,

 “Sorry we were late, Mr. Destler! This is a Y/N, she’s new to the school, and transferred here from California!” the teacher glowered at her for a moment for interrupting his class, then nodded his head at you in greeting, and continued his lesson. Your face must’ve been bright red as Alana lead you to her group, a girl with a kind smile, light brown hair, and a floral dress caught your attention first. Mainly because said girl beamed at Alana as soon as she saw her.

    Alana took the empty seat beside her, and to her left sat a scowling boy with longer dark hair, he glanced toward you with indifference for a moment before going back to mindlessly doodling in his notebook. You sighed softly as you sat down at the opposite side of the table, next to a paler boy with glasses and a wide grin.

“I’m the insanely cool Jared Kleinman.”

You quirked an eyebrow before muttering,

“What a title. I’m Y/N.”

His grin faltered for a moment at your less that enthusiastic greeting, but he smiled again as he asked,

“Yeah I heard when Alana dragged you in. So it’s just Y/N? No last name?”

  You sighed quietly as you whispered your full name, quickly pulling out your sketchbook as Jared took it upon himself to introduce the rest of the group.

“Well Hot Topic over there is Connor Murphy, and part two of the lovebird extravaganza is Zoe Murphy, his sister. You’ve obviously met Alana, so you should know by now they’re soulmates.”

 You chuckled softly as you glanced up to see them whispering and smiling to each other.

“I guess they’re lucky they met so young.”

   You said absentmindedly as you pulled out your colored pencils. Deciding to add to your nature page, you started a sketch of a cherry blossom tree, the page already crowded with them.

 “So, you like trees? I have a friend you might get along with.”

Jared said, his voice betraying his boredom with the subject. You chewed your lip thoughtfully for a moment before quickly whispering,

 “I like to paint, draw, and look at nature. I don’t love interacting with it too much.” Shrugging, you continued, “My soulmate likes oak trees, so I guess I do too by default.”

You held out your wrist for Jared to see, then flipped through your sketchbook.

“Well, we can get that right off the table then, we’re definitely not soulmates.”

You snorted a soft laugh as you started a new sketch of a cat.

  “So what’s your soulmate into then, Jared?”

  You glanced up to find him grinning ever so softly as he showed you his wrist proudly. A small video game controller was printed onto it. You glanced at the boy across from you, Connor as he scoffed, glowering at you and Jared.

“Can people survive ten minutes without droning on about their soulmates? We get it, everyone has one, you’re not special.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you shot back,

“Oh sorry, we were just trying to have some conversation, what would you like to talk about, Edgelord? How about you feeling high and mighty because you’re not into soulmates, when really; you’re not special.”

 Your eyes narrowed as he avoided eye contact. Finally, he sighed in defeat and held out his wrist for you to see a small bunny printed on it. You couldn’t help but smile at Connor as a small laugh escaped your lips.

 “Now, that’s adorable.”

  You could see Connor visibly biting back a smile as he lowered his wrist and continued to sketch. The rest of the period was filled with Mr. Destler’s lessons on vocal chords, and Alana and Zoe’s giggles and side remarks.

   You furrowed your eyebrows as you peered at your schedule when the bell rang, your next period was art 4, but the class after that had you confused.

 “Alana, I think there’s a mistake, I never signed up for Gardening.”

Alana nodded in sympathy,

 “Yeah, you probably requested a class that’s too full, like pottery or oil painting, they put you into the least full elective as a default. Hey, on the bright side I’m pretty sure there’s only one other kid in that class with you.” She frowned thoughtfully for a moment, “On the down side he loves that class the most because he’s surrounded by nature and no one is there to bother him… Evan has really bad anxiety, so just… I don’t know, don’t think he’s weird or anything, he’ll eventually warm up to you and it’ll be easier for him to talk to you.”

You nodded for a moment before asking,

“Is the gardening teacher there too, or?”

Alana laughed,

 “You’ll soon see how small our school is, Y/N. The Gardening teacher, she teaches Girls Soccer and got stuck teaching that class. She hates it and usually finds an excuse to get out of there. Poor Evan is too scared to say anything, so you’ll most likely be alone with him every other day during third.”

     You laughed along with her as you walked to your next class along side Connor, who apparently also really loves art. During your art period with him and Alana you learned that Connor was also very talented with copic markers and digital art. You couldn’t help but be slightly jealous, as you had tried digital art for months on end to no avail. Normal pencil sketches or acrylic paints were more your line of expertise. Connor promised to teach you little tricks and tips with digital art if you promised to do the same with acrylic paints. You practically threw yourself across the table to hug him and quickly agreed.

 After art Alana led you outside to a beautiful greenhouse filled with thriving plants, all different types of flowers surrounded you as you walked around in awe.

You spun around abruptly as you heard a quiet voice,

  “Alana? What are you doing in the greenhouse, I mean, not that I mind, I just thought you have AP Physics right now with Zoe…”

You peeked your head around a rather large Hibiscus bush, and waved shyly to who you assumed was Evan. His eyes grew wide and his cheeks reddened as he hesitantly waved back.

  “Evan, this is Y/N! She transferred here from California and is in this class with you. Cool, right?”

Alana grinned at you, and Evan replied a few seconds later,

“Oh, yeah… that- that is really, um, cool.”

You turned to keep analyzing the flowers, holding back laughter at his less than honest response. You smiled at his attempt at being polite nonetheless.

 “Okay I know this is a really bad time to legitimately turn into a ghost, but I have a test in physics right now and I really can’t afford to miss it. I’ll come back at the end of the period, but meanwhile you two get to know each other! Have fun and do some, um…” she paused for a moment before weakly cheering out, “do some gardening!”

 You smiled at her as she bolted out of the greenhouse, trying to make it to physics before the bell rang. A tree sapling caught your attention, two bags of mulch lay beside it, and it desperately needed replanting. Without thinking, you strolled over to it and read the label, it was a Scarlet Oak Tree. You smiled softly to yourself,

 “Scarlet Oak, my second favorite.”

You jumped slightly when you heard Evan behind you, closer than you thought, asking,

 “You have a favorite tree?”

Your face flushed as you turned to look at him, getting up, you brushing yourself off and grinned at him.

“Yeah, I really love Cherry Blossom trees.” You rubbed the back of your neck as Evan quickly responded,

 “Oh, that probably sounded like I thought you were weird or something- which I don’t! I have a favorite tree too, it was just pleasantly surprising to find someone else who, um… you know... also has a favorite tree…”

He trailed off, his eyes darting away from yours as he played with the hem of his shirt. You seemed only notice his cast right then, and was pushed back into the memory of sitting in the middle of the park crying over your arm.

  “Your arm.”

You stated dumbly. Evan jumped ever so slightly, like he didn’t expect you to talk to him again, he raised his casted arm, nodding.

“Um, yeah, its broken.” He blinked hard, his face tinting red, “That’s probably why you pointed it out though, cause you can see that it’s broken.”

You nodded slightly,

   “Sorry, it just…” you shook your head, “Never mind.”

You didn’t want to just outright say, hey are you my soulmate? Cause that’s weird, right? I mean hundreds of people must break their arm every day.

“Oh, did your soulmate break their arm?” Evan’s eyes widened, apparently he didn’t realize he had said it out loud until it was too late, “oh, sorry forget that- wow that was weird, I shouldn’t have brought it up because that’s such an awkward thing to bring up! Soulmates, I mean, obviously not breaking arms.”

  You smiled softly at him, picking up the sapling as you started to walk toward the doors.

“That’s okay Evan,” you assured, “I don’t know my soulmate, so I don’t really know. I just felt a lot of pain in my arm a few months ago.”

Evan nodded as he followed you,

  “Oh okay, that’s cool… I mean not the arm breaking pain part or the not knowing your soulmate- I guess its not really cool actually.”

You laughed, glancing back at him as you set down the sapling in what you deemed to be the perfect place to plant it.

 “I guess not. So how did you, you know, break your arm?”

His eyes darted down to his arm, then to the ground.

 “I was climbing a tree this summer, and I kind of… fell.”

You tilted your head, an eyebrow raised.

“How do you kind of fall?”

You asked, and poor Evan’s cheeks grew even more red, his eyebrows furrowed as he replied.

“Oh, well I stepped on a branch that I thought could hold my weight but, well, it couldn’t.”

You grinned slightly at that, finishing up planting the sapling.

 “Well, I’m sorry you fell out of a tree, Evan, it doesn’t sound fun. I know if it hurt as much as my wrist did when my soulmate broke their arm, then it not only doesn’t sound fun, but it is indeed not fun.”

Evan smiled shyly,

“No, it really wasn’t fun.”

You wiped the dirt off your hands, holding one out for Evan to shake. He stared at it for a moment before processing what you wanted. He let out a soft ‘Oh!’ then wiping his hand nervously on his khakis. He shook your hand gently and smiled at you.

   “It’s nice to formally meet you, Evan! I’m Y/N Y/L/N, and I love painting and autumn.”

You glanced down at his wrist out of instinct and did a double take when you saw a small print of one of the favorite paintings you’ve ever made, half-finished on his wrist. You recoiled, your eyes probably as wide as saucers, you didn’t know you were going to meet your soulmate today. You thought you would meet him in your twenties or early thirties like most everyone else. You weren’t prepared and didn’t know how to react to meeting him now. Your stomach twisted into a knot as he gazed wide eyed at you,

 “Did- did I do something?”

You quickly shook your head,

 “No, you’re... you’re totally fine, Evan.”

 When you heard the bell ring in the distance, it jolted you into motion, and you briskly walked away.

  “Y/N?”

He called weakly after you, but you were already halfway through the doors, practically sprinting down the hallway. You frantically searched for Alana, or Jared, just anyone you knew.

 “Hey, Y/N, what’s the rush?” Jared called from behind you. “You look like you just saw Freddy Krueger walk out of your daydream.”

Jared smirked at you as you practically smacked into him.

  “Oh my god, thank god I found you Jared, I just had- I… just take me to my next class, please.”

You sighed in defeat, not knowing how to feel or what to say as Jared looked over your schedule.

“Oh okay, cool, you have next period with me! What did you lose Alana in your sonic dash?”

  You shook your head,

“It’s a long story, believe me.”

It wasn’t a long story, really. Evan was your soulmate and you found out last period, and you were so scared that you practically ran away from him before he could know any better. It was that easy to say, but you were too ashamed of your reaction to admit the truth. Now what were you to do? You lost Alana, and Evan, your soulmate, probably thinks you’re a psychopath... Did you mention the part where your soulmate probably thinks you’re a psychopath?

  Arriving at your next class, you breathed a sigh of relief. Environmental Science, now that should be a breeze. You nearly screamed when Alana abruptly grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, frowning in a mom friend type of manner.

“You couldn’t wait for me? Evan was practically having an anxiety attack trying to figure out what he did wrong. I told you to go easy on him, didn’t I? Gosh, it’s a good thing I printed out a second copy of your schedule just in case something like this happened.”

She sighed, briefly waving the copy of your own schedule at you before continuing.

“Anyway, let’s go in, you’ll sit with Jared and Evan this period, I assume?”

Your heart must have stopped beating.

“Evan?”

You felt all color drain from your face, and Alana arched an eyebrow,

  “Seriously, Y/N, what happened last period? You’re acting like he threatened to burn down your house or something.”

You shook your head, gluing your eyes to the floor as you stumbled into class after Alana. The period was long and painful, mostly consisting of you and Evan catching each other staring and cringing, both your faces beet red, while Jared and Alana both witnessed this. They looked to each every so often, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

 When lunch finally came around, you decided to go see how the sapling was doing instead of sitting with your new friends. You didn’t want to explain why you couldn’t stand to make eye contact with Evan for more than two seconds without shrinking into yourself.

  “Y/N?”

This time you did scream in surprise when you were abruptly turned around by Alana. You were met with Zoe, Jared, Connor, and Alana all staring at you, Evan lingered n the back, looking at anything but you.

“We want to know what’s going on. You were totally fine with us until you met Evan and now you won’t talk to any of us.”

You glanced around, trying to calculate the fastest escape route.

“Don’t even try it, I have much longer legs than you.”

Connor grumbled, noticing your darting eyes.

 “Well, I…”

You cringed, your face bright red as you ranted out.

“Evan and I are soulmates, and I didn’t expect to meet him for at least five more years so I wasn’t ready today. I kind of panicked, and now I’m scared he thinks I’m a freak, so I kind of just avoided you all because with you comes Evan and…”

You blinked a few times, looking at all their shocked faces.

“W-We’re soulmates?”

Evans eyes were wide, tears making his eyes glisten as he stared at you, taking in every feature of the person he was destined to be with.

“Your wrist print is one of my paintings.”

You laughed, almost in disbelief as you both held out your wrists for the other to see.

 “Holy shit.”

Connor mumbled.

 “Fucking called it.”

Jared said smugly.

“Come on, lets give them some privacy.”

Alana beamed at Zoe, probably thinking about how they met only last year. As soon as they were gone, you tackled Evan in a hug. He fell to the ground with a thump, and slowly hugged you back.

 “I’m sorry… I just didn’t know how to react, I didn’t know you were going to be so beautiful and I felt so many emotions that I haven’t before. I didn’t know what to do so I just...”

Evan cut you off as he whispered in awe,

“Can… can I kiss you?”

His face was red and blotchy, tears still sparkling in his eyes when you finally broke too, bursting into tears and nodding, kissing him softly. You pulled away from the kiss a short while later, holding each other as you finally whispered,

“I was so excited to meet you, I kept a journal of every single passion that appeared on my wrist.”

Evan replied by practically sobbing. You slowly wiped away his tears, and kissed his cheek, helping him calm down.

“What’s wrong, Evan?”

He finally managed to respond after a few minutes.

“I lied.”

You shook your head in confusion,

  “About what?”

“I didn’t fall out of the tree, Y/N. I climbed to the top of the highest tree I could find and let go.” He paused, watching your reaction, “I never thought I would be good enough, I didn’t think I deserved a soulmate, I was so scared you wouldn’t like me, I never thought you would care so much.”

This time it was your turn to cry again as you hugged him tighter than you’d ever held anyone in your life. You promised him you would never stop caring, and that you would never stop loving him, he didn’t need to change for you.

 “I love you Evan Hansen, because you are you, and for me that will always be enough.”

--

@courfeyracs-swordcane

(A/N: oops thats a cheesy ending sorry its 3 am and i want to sleep at least i didnt kill him off lol)

[daleisgreat]

20 Years of Dreamcast: Thinking of Dreamcast’s Legacy for 20 Years!

Where were you for quadruple nine, AKA September 9, 1999? That was the marketing friendly launch date of the Sega Dreamcast in North America, which will make it 20 years old. Such a landmark anniversary inspired me to craft another gaming reflection piece here looking back on my memories with the Dreamcast over the years. If you missed my similar anniversary articles earlier this year for the Genesis and GameBoy please click here to get caught up.

The first thing that comes to mind all these years later of the Dreamcast is that it ended up the first system that released when I had a job and could afford it entirely on my own. I got my first part-time high school job mere days after turning 16 about a half year earlier in 1999 and was fine picking up the occasional new game for our family’s N64 during that timeframe. However, around August of 1999 the first issue of Official Dreamcast Magazine (ODM) hit newsstands and it really popped compared to other gaming magazines. It was the first oversized gaming magazine that I can recall and they crammed in tons of news, special editorial features, previews and reviews in every issue and not a millimeter of page-space seemed wasted. It also had a bright colorful art scheme consistent throughout most issues compared to its competitors and in hindsight it was the ideal color scheme due to the unorthodox lineup of eye-popping bright games like Jet Grind Radio, Space Channel 5, Sonic Adventure and Samba de Amigo to name a few. I will give props to YouTube channel Classic Gaming Quarterly for doing a excellent page-by-page revisiting of that awesome first issue several months ago which was the catalyst for me re-reading the first four issues earlier this year. Those issues hold up splendidly and if you run across scans of any I highly recommend giving them a look-see as they perfectly encapsulate everything that made the Dreamcast as fondly remembered as it is today. That special preview issue of the Dreamcast sold me on the system with its hype of being the first 128-bit system on the market and how Sega would change gaming with its new GD-ROM disc format, interactive VMU memory card and by introducing online play with its built-in 56k modem the following year. It also had thorough previews for nearly the whole launch lineup. If you recall my Genesis write-up, I was not much of a Sonic fan and that issue only had reviews for Sonic Adventure and House of the Dead 2. I had good memories of the first HotD light gun arcade game and that review got me amped up for the sequel. By the time I was done perusing that issue of ODM a few times over I was hell-bent on getting a Dreamcast and a copy of HotD2 at launch. 9-9-99 As the Dreamcast launch approached I was legitimately unaware of being able to pre-order games or it was officially a available service yet at our local Software Etc. in the mall. I inquired there frequently when they were opening on launch day it turned they were opening early that day an hour or two before I was supposed to be at school. I convinced my dad to give me a lift there and arrived there an hour early to secure getting a system. There was only one person ahead of us and I presumed getting a system at Software Etc. in 1999 would be comparable to lining up at any other department store and getting a new product on a first people at the front of the line basis. That turned out to be the case for Dreamcast (though I do remember them instituting pre-orders the next year for the heavily anticipated PS2 launch) and I was thrilled walking out of there as planned with a Dreamcast and HotD2!

Software Etc. did not get any VMUs however and thankfully my dad checked out other stores on his lunch breaks and was able to procure me one from KB Toys. Only other problem was there were no light gun peripherals available for the Dreamcast at launch. Sega did not release their own model in America due to the controversial Columbine shootings earlier in the year, and third party models were still two-to-three months out from being available. I could play HotD2 with a controller, but I refused to accept that as an option and for the first few weeks after the Dreamcast launch I was content on playing the included demo disc and checking out games like Sonic Adventure, Hydro Thunder, Soul Calibur and Power Stone over at a friend’s place. Finally after a few weeks of that I was fed up of waiting for the light gun to hit and I took a chance and picked up Sega’s NFL 2K since I was always into football games and still sticking with older pigskin games on the N64 and playing a ton of Madden NFL ’99 in near weekly sessions on another friend’s PSone. I was instantly blown away by NFL 2K’s revolutionary leap in graphics and gameplay at that point. It had bar-raising production quality with TV-caliber replays, camera angles and insanely impressive announcer commentary which made it feel like the first football game to come off as an actual telecast. I can still pinpoint my mom walking in on me playing and doing a double take and asking if NFL 2K was real or not. NFL 2K got a ton of play in single player and in local multiplayer against friends over the next year.

Sega released five star sports games within the first year of release with hits seen above like NFL 2K, NBA 2K, Virtua Tennis and Virtua Striker For the rest of 1999 I checked out every demo included with each issue of ODM and it lead to me checking out Sega’s other sports offerings and playing a ton of NBA 2K and even a fair amount of NHL 2K. Worms Armageddon ended up being a surprise hit with friends and I loved going nuts with its Banana Bombs and Holy Hand Grenades. For Christmas of 1999 I got NBA 2K and Toy Commander. I eventually came across a light gun too and played through HotD2 several times through with a friend. Toy Commander was another lost gem on the Dreamcast I spent hours with devouring its single player missions and the local vs. multiplayer deathmatch was also fun for its time. I loved using the pressure-sensitive triggers on the Dreamcast controller to shoot free throws in NBA 2K, and speaking of the controller I am surprised there seems to be a lot of widespread disdain for peripheral. Sure, it was a little bulky, but nothing compared to the original Xbox ‘Duke’ controller or the unique ergonomics of the N64 controller. I loved the thumb-stick and directional pad, and the rest of the button layout was nearly identical to a SNES controller. If I should be nitpicking about some of the Dreamcast’s features it would be about the side effects of the painfully low battery life of the VMU. For those unfamiliar, it was Sega’s innovative memory card that also had a mini black and white LCD screen that would display gameplay tips, stats and other options and also could be unplugged from the controller to play bonus mini-games included with supported games. Unfortunately the VMU had an infamously low battery life and within a few weeks the included watch batteries would drain and would result in a notoriously loud beep from the VMU when powering on the system to indicate it was time to replace them. Additionally, the Dreamcast also had a painfully loud hard drive whenever loading game data. After awhile however I got use to the grinding hard drives and perpetual beeps and passed it off as Dreamcast’s catchy marketing slogan ‘It’s Thinking.’ As the years passed and new owners complained about those noises it sort of became a hazing-esque right of passage to them first experiencing the platform. 2000

While I was putting together an outline for this piece I was surprised to find out how much of a bummer a first half of 2000 I had with the Dreamcast. Aside from still getting lots of long-term fun with the aforementioned sports titles, almost every new game I picked up was a letdown. I never played a Resident Evil game before, but friends and classmates loved it and I saw a ton of buzz for the upcoming exclusive Dreamcast title in the series, Code Veronica, in ODM so I got it for my birthday shortly after its release. I popped it in and was completely unprepared for its tank controls the early Resident Evil games were known for and I completely stumbled around like a buffoon and could not get past the first zombie. After several attempts I pleaded with my mom to take it back to the store and exchange it for something else. After that I tried renting games more often and was disappointed with World Series Baseball 2K1 and Sonic Shuffle. The former had excellent past entries on the Genesis and Saturn, but the first Dreamcast baseball game released without the ability to control the fielders and it felt like half the game was missing. I knew Sonic Suffle was developed by Hudson Soft who also made the first couple Mario Party games I played a ton of and was excited for the Dreamcast rendition of the party game, but was stunned it was plagued with countless loading times for every turn and mini-game that soured the experience. The last big disappointment of 2000 for the Dreamcast was WWF Royal Rumble. At the time it was going to be the first exclusive Dreamcast wrestling game and I was nonetheless psyched for it. I disregarded EGM’s low review scores for them not ‘getting’ the game and presumed I would have a fabulous time with it. I came to find out later on it was a port of an arcade game I did not see available anywhere which is why it surprised me with its low amount of wrestlers on the roster and modes of play available when stacked next to other titles. After plowing through all the single player content in an afternoon I was overwrought about how the game turned out. I did wind up getting some decent value out of Royal Rumble down the line with friends in multiplayer Rumble matches, but out of the gates as the sole Dreamcast exclusive wrestling game it felt like a Kirkpatrick-esque punch in the stomach.

After those four disappointments 2000 wound up getting redeemed for the Dreamcast with a flurry of much better titles. I enjoyed playing Soul Calibur over at my friend’s, but was not head over heels for it like many others. A fighting game I did feel that way for however I took a random chance on in the summer of 2000 with Marvel vs. Capcom 2. I instantly loved its unforgettable music, chaotic three-on-three tag battles and the accessible hyper combos that did not require master precision to pull off. The game was a regular in my rotation with friends and for a couple months we held routine tournaments in my first apartment with my roommate and neighbors. It lead me to playing a ton of another Capcom fighter that same summer in Power Stone 2, which was vastly improved over the original and felt like a 3D version of Smash Bros. with simultaneous four player battles and constantly evolving stages. Demolition Racer: No Exit was a surprise hit I put way more time than I should have into it. I love demolition-derby racer games, and No Exit had a ton of tracks, demolition derby events, thrashin’ metal soundtrack and many unlocks that kept me coming back to work my way through its extensive career mode for a good three-to-four years after release. It ended up as my surprise favorite driving game on the system which is absurd compared to other first-party driving hits that did not land on my radar until many years later like Daytona USA 2001, Sega Rally 2 and Metropolis Street Racer. The awesome port of the arcade hits Crazy Taxi and 18 Wheeler had faithful home Dreamcast ports, but I played a ton of both in the arcades and got my fill of them at home with a rental. I think it is safe to say I am not alone in Crazy Taxi turning me onto Offspring and being one of the few games to make product-placement seem cool with driving like a lunatic to escort passengers to get their KFC and Pizza Hut fix. I was so bummed out to see the later 360/PS3 re-release take out the product placement and replace the Offspring’s tall licensing price soundtrack with licensing fee-friendly indie bands.

The other surprise hit of 2000 was Virtua Tennis. I tried it on ODM’s demo disc and it wound up being surprisingly fun and easy to pick up and play. Jim Courier I now associate as being the man who dethroned Jimmy Connors in his last gasp at coming close to winning a major in the early 90s and being the only American character to play as in Sega’s game. The demo wound up being hit and created buzz online about it and a quick fervor spread about it being the cannot miss Dreamcast game of the summer. Virtua Tennis was impossible to find in stores so that caused me to create an account at ebgames.com and how Virtua Tennis was the first game I ordered online. After those two games saved the year for Dreamcast, the next installments of NFL 2K and NBA 2K released which I instantly purchased and played endless hours of with friends. The 2K1 versions of both games added franchise modes and online play finally debuting for the system. I played about several rounds of both sports games online and tried to master typing out ‘good play’ on the keyboard peripheral. The games played decently, but I could not help but notice semi-constant lag over the 56k modem so after several games I stuck with my routine local multiplayer with friends.

What was being advertised as the do not miss hit for the 2000 holiday season was Sega’s much anticipated open world adventure, Shenmue. ODM and websites put a ton of hype for Shenmue leading up to its release and how Sega was putting a huge budget into it and how it was the first part of a mammoth saga, but I was not initially feeling it and that style of game seemed a bit outside my wheelhouse at the time. Shortly after its release however, I saw a used copy marked down surprisingly low at a local rental store and decided to chance it. I was shocked by its quality of graphics and cinema cutscenes for the time and before I knew it I found myself getting immersed in the open-world and having the freedom to talk and interact with nearly any major or minor NPC and their own so-bad-its-good English voiceovers. I understand Shenmue is not for everybody and its unique controls resulted in a polarizing reception for the game, but I burned through that game within a couple of weeks and loved every minute of it. I revisited it last year when Sega released HD ports on the Xbox One and PS4 last year, and after getting used to the controls I instantly got wrapped up in it again.

Dreamcast had a ton of quality fighters in its brief lifespan. Some of my favorites pictured above are Soul Calibur, Marvel vs. Capcom 2, Power Stone 2 and Heavy Metal: GeoMatrix. There are several other quality fighters on the system too not pictured above such as the original MvC and Power Stone, Virtua Fighter 3TB, Street Fighter III: Third Strike, Dead or Alive 2, Street Fighter Alpha 3 and Capcom vs. SNK. This console was heaven for fighting game fans! 1-31-2001 2001 kicked off strong for the Dreamcast with ports of PC FPS hits of Unreal Tournament and Quake III both launching around the same time with online play. ODM and websites hyped up 2001 for being a big year for Dreamcast games supporting online play. I tried out those pair of FPS games at a friend���s and had a blast with them and was looking forward to the rest of 2001 for the Dreamcast even though at the time the PS2 was out for a few months and had a lot of people’s attention. Unexpectedly, towards the end of January crazy rumors started popping up about the PS2 slaughtering Dreamcast in 2000 holiday sales so bad that Sega would be discontinuing support for the system early. I immediately dismissed the rumors as ludicrous as it seemed whacked for a publisher to stop supporting a system under a year and a half after release. Sure enough however on January 31, 2001 news broke with Sega stating they would only support the Dreamcast with games for the rest of 2001 and would transition into a third party publisher role in 2002 going forward.

I was devastated with the news as a huge Dreamcast fan and continued to be bummed throughout 2001 as many anticipated Dreamcast games like Half-Life, Rez, Castlevania Resurrection, Headhunter and Tribes got cancelled and/or switched over to becoming a PS2, Xbox and GCN release. Sega and a few loyal third parties like Capcom released a steady stream of games throughout 2001 and I did get a lot of enjoyment from some of them like the addicting arcade-driving sequel Crazy Taxi 2, a decent but forgettable arcade FPS title Outrigger and a few more light gun games like the excellent HotD2 follow-up from the same developers but in a secret agent setting called Confidential Mission, the peculiar Japanese horror themed light gun shooter Death Crimson OX and the delightful surprise remaster of the original Virtua Cop tucked inside Sega Smash Pack to tide me through 2001 for Dreamcast. Sega said they would be porting their next wave of sports games to other systems a few months after their initial Dreamcast release in 2001 so I held off on them that year. I was saving my last surge of Dreamcast fandom for what the gaming press was heralding as the swan song for the Dreamcast in Shenmue II. About a couple month before its American release however Sega stunned its fans by announcing they were cancelling the American version and making it an exclusive to the Xbox a year later with touched up graphics and adding in English voiceovers that were not originally going to make their return. The Shenmue fanboy in me was furious, but I found relief in ebgames.com capitalizing on the situation by offering the European version of Shenmue II that did not get cancelled for sale along with a boot-disc to get it to play on American systems. I spent the first several weeks of 2002 gleefully playing nothing but Shenmue II. I convinced myself it blew the original away due to jumping through extra hoops to acquire the sequel. The follow-up is a noticeably larger and longer experience and contains some noticeable gameplay improvements; upon currently replaying it on the previously mentioned HD bundle on Xbox One/PS4 I am going to have to go back to siding with the original being superior due to its more immersive setting and my love for driving forklifts. I hope to finish replaying the sequel in time for what is one of my most anticipated games ever in the long awaited third Shenmue game currently slated to be released this November a whopping 17 years after the original release of the second Dreamcast game.

Speaking of imports, Shenmue II was the first game I ever imported, and the second game was another Dreamcast game in FirePro Wrestling D. I heard so much acclaim for the FirePro games in Japan about them being the ultimate 2D wrestling games. After tracking down a guide online I relentlessly jotted down detailed English translations of all the menus and discovered a game save that translated all the wrestler’s names and attires into their English counterparts. I wound up playing a ton of that classic entry in the series on the Dreamcast. I am constantly nagging myself to open up my copy of the latest entry, FirePro Wrestling World that recently hit PS4 last year. I regret not importing more Dreamcast titles in the later years because games kept regularly coming out for Sega’s last system in Japan for several more years. Eventually most of them made their way to America on other systems in the following years, but for those that took advantage they got a one-to-three year head start on gems like Ikaruga, Rez, Rent-a-Hero and Capcom vs. SNK 2. Post-2002 I also regret not making time to sink my teeth into the then-exclusive RPGs on Dreamcast. My former podcast co-host Chris picked most of them up so I was able to check them out at his place and play some of them on demo discs. Skies of Arcadia intrigued me with its sky pirates setting and I eventually picked up the GCN re-release. Ditto with the pair of Evolution RPGs that later were bundled together on the GCN. Grandia II I recall having a kind of more involved battle system that popped out to me and if I owned a Switch I would likely be acquiring the HD up-ports of the first two games that just released on there. I did enjoy demos of action RPGs Silver and Record of Lodoss War and finally tracked down both games last year and played about an hour of both way after the fact. The one I did put a lot of time into later on was Phantasy Star Online on the original Xbox. I loved being able to play that game in four player split-screen and I had a few friends over for several marathon sessions of its addicting action-RPG combat into the wee hours of the night.

The Dreamcast unofficially lived on for the next couple years well into the PS2/Xbox/GCN era with some of its key games that got cancelled and sequels getting re-released on those systems. Sega released their 2K sports line for a few years on all three systems before selling sports developer Visual Concepts and the 2K branding to Take-Two in 2005. The heavy duty competition from 2K Sports titles only helped fuel EA Sports to step up their efforts for better sports titles from both companies for the past 20 years. The Xbox got some heavy hitters in the form of Panzer Dragoon Orta, Shenmue II, Crazy Taxi 3, Marvel vs. Capcom 2 and Gun Valkyrie. The PS2 landed Rez, Headhunter, Half-Life, Tribes, Grandia II and Resident Evil: Code Veronica. The GameCube received the four player port of Phantasy Star Online well before the Xbox version and later an exclusive third chapter in addition to Evolution Worlds, Skies of Arcadia Legends, Ikaruga, Chaos Field and enhanced deluxe versions of both Sonic Adventure titles. Aside from Dreamcast living on with those games on the next wave of systems I still busted out my Dreamcast regularly for the next several years. It was my favorite way to play Marvel vs. Capcom 2 for many years and as mentioned above I kept revisiting titles like FirePro Wrestling D and Demolition Racer for quite a few years too. The homebrew/indie scene was alive and well for the Dreamcast and is still going to this day. Goat Store had a couple high-profile indie releases with Feet of Fury and Irides that I both acquired. The former is the only dance-pad game I know of for the system and while I do not own a dance-pad I did put some time into it with its support for the Dreamcast keyboard. Irides: Master of Blocks is a fun Lumines-inspired puzzler on the system. Since it is the 20th anniversary of the platform, I took a chance a few months ago and Kickstarted an upcoming driving game set to hit at the end of this year that peaked my interest in the form of Arcade Racing Legends. Here is hoping to its success! The End? When I think back to my own personal favorite moments and experiences with the Dreamcast there are a few things I will chalk up to its legacy. I consider it to be the first system to prove that online gaming was viable on consoles and paved the way for it to really take off a couple years later on the PS2 and Xbox. I will also remember it for its local multiplayer games being a big hit with my friends and I for its wide array of fighting and sports games for two players as well as many games taking advantage of the four controllers with quite a few party games and driving games especially supporting four players locally. I consider it the last hurrah for the arcade ports, as the late 90s were the final successfully years of arcades in America and Sega, Capcom, Midway and Konami took advantage of Dreamcast’s Naomi-based hardware making it developer-friendly to convert their arcade titles to the system. A majority of the games I listed above are arcade conversions.

These last two are big ones for me personally. First is how Sega stepped up big time with their blockbuster first party sports games on the Dreamcast and gave the impression of how they scared away competition from EA Sports releasing their games on the Dreamcast. Finally, I will remember the Dreamcast where Sega took chances with a plethora of new, unorthodox IP. It seemed every few months a new original Sega IP hit the system from successes and cult-hits like Jet Grind Radio, Samba de Amigo, Space Channel 5, Crazy Taxi, Skies of Arcadia and of course Shenmue to fascinating curiosities such as Floigan Bros., Alien Front Online and the bizzaro-Leonard Nimoy-narrated journey that is Seaman. Combine everything from these last two paragraphs and that is why I feel it is safe to say why I and likely many others revere the Dreamcast as much as we did for the years it was active in its all too short lifespan. I have rambled, ranted and raved for over 4,000 words now and want to thank you dear readers for sticking with me to the very end of this trip down memory lane. I apologize for the length of this piece, but I had to get it all out of my system. If somehow you want more Dreamcast love and want to keep this Dreamcast nostalgia train rolling I will link you to two prior pieces I did on the system. The first is a special 10th anniversary flashback on the Dreamcast where I breakdown 15 forgotten facts about the Dreamcast. I touched on a few of them here, but there are several more obscure factoids you can discover by clicking here. The other is my former co-hosts and I doing a special Dreamcast retrospective podcast on my old podcast you can listen to by clicking here. My Other Gaming Flashbacks GameBoy 30th Anniversary Genesis 30th Anniversary

BONUS OVERTIME: Random Dreamcast quick bits I neglected to include above!

Oh man, I wish I would have remembered to touch on a few more gems I dug on the Dreamcast. I forgot about the oddball arena-based fighters that were fun rentals back then like Spawn: In the Demon’s Hand and Heavy Metal: Geomatrix. There was also the crazy keyboard version of HotD2 that hit in 2001 called Typing of the Dead! It was a super fun way to master your home row skills while massacring zombies! Sega released a remaster of it on Steam a couple years ago so give it a look-see! I remember trying to hunt down the low-quantity released broadband adaptor for the Dreamcast in 2002 on eBay but sellers were marking them up in ‘Dreamcast Online Ready’ bundles for absurd amounts. 56k web browsing with the Dreamcast was admittedly a slog, but it worked and was a slick way to upload and download game saves and made me feel I was swindling William Shatner by not falling for his WebTV commercials from that timeframe. Hydro Thunder I played a bit at a friend’s and to this day even though it was a fun on its own merits arcade boat racer the thing I recall most fondly about it was the over-the-top announcer saying the game’s name on the title screen and exclaiming ‘Dam the Torpedoes!’ at specific moments. I wanted to get Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 so much for Dreamcast after hearing all the GOTY-caliber buzz and wanting to experience it with better graphics, but after spending weeks not finding it in stores around town I wound up settling on purchasing the PSone version even though I did not have that platform at the time and brought it over to my neighbor’s place for many throwdown sessions of Trick Attack multiplayer and HORSE. No regrets! There was something about Next Tetris: Online Edition that was off that did not get it to live up to the fun I was having in multiplayer over on the N64’s New Tetris and Tetrisphere. I wanted to like it, much like I did with launch title Trickstyle because of its futuristic extreme sports nature with a bunch of unique tricks and competitions to take in, but its un-intuitive controls left me getting my fix with solely the demo. Brighter days were ahead for Trickstyle’s developer, Criterion Games.

Apparently sim F1/Indy/Cart games were a hit on the Dreamcast for its brief lifespan with multiple entries from Sega and Ubisoft. Even the notorious LJN publishing label got resurrected after being dormant for several years with its retro F1 game, Spirit of Speed 1937. It is a good thing I never came around to them with the many other stellar driving games available. I remember loving the Ready 2 Rumble Boxing demo and thought that franchise would be around for years, but one quick sequel later and an out of nowhere Wii version years later and it has been AWOL ever since. EA’s Facebreaker seemed like a worthy spiritual successor, but that one came and went even faster. Even though EA did not release anything on the Dreamcast I still checked out a few other third party sports games from Acclaim, Midway and Konami and had great times with NFL Blitz 2000 and digging NBA Showtime and its brilliant use of the NBA on NBC theme song. Crap, I forgot to touch on the last pair of Sega’s polygonal arcade brawler ports that were good weekend rentals for their day in Dynamite Cop and Zombie’s Revenge, but I will forever be a Die Hard: Arcade man for life! I tried to give Sonic Adventure an honest shot, but lost interest quickly after being wowed by its opening stage and that damn whale flipping all over the place after Sonic in its 128-bit glory. I will not get into the details here, but if you are up for an ill-fated timing story, then look up the details on the cancellation on what was supposed to be one of the last Dreamcast games originally scheduled to release towards the end of 2001, Propeller Arena. Ok ok, now I am finally done and think I covered every nook and cranny of my Dreamcast experie….awwww shoot I forgot to tell you guys all about Sega Swirl! Wait, where are you going? Come back, come baaaaaack!

[mfmagazine]

Junior Private Detective

Article by Rafael Zipin

Junior Private Detective sounds like the name of some kind of hardy Nickelodeon TV Show. Is it some kind of hip scene/anti scene thing I’m not in on? Oh no, it’s just a phrase that Bo used to say when someone said something obvious. Good work, junior private detective along the same lines as no shit Sherlock. No hipness involved whatsoever. The name does kind of remind me of that old cartoon called Inch High Private Eye, remember that? It was on USA Cartoon Express with Grape Ape, and Foofur, with the cartoon train in the preview. That was cool. Some friends of ours think it's a fallic reference and started calling us Little Dicks, but that's not our intention at all. It's the last thing that Bo and Jason want equated to them. Do you like the touring aspect of getting bigger and getting your name out? Or do you prefer the familiar faces? Of course we love familiar faces, it's always nice to have the support of your buddies in the crowd but we also love touring and getting our name out. If we had the money to cover it we'd be on tour all year. Out of all your songs I like the feel of Horoscope the best, even though I find astrology desperate. Tell me a little more about it. This is one that Emilie wrote a long time ago and brought to practice one day. We just started layering stuff over it and experimenting putting different parts on top of it. It began as this beautiful sort of singer/songwriter/classical tune, and then evolved as we all threw our two cents in. It has a much bigger feel to the production of that song compared to the rest of the album, and that’s something that we tried to move towards on this new album. Were not as concerned with how are we going to do this live if Emilie puts a couple of harmonies on this because the songs typically come across much, much better live, we've been told. You don’t see nearly as many female fronts for indie rock bands. Why do you think that is? And have you found it to be a hurtle, a helper or of no significance? Why are there not as many female fronts? Probably because they're too busy breastfeeding and tidying up the kitchen to rock…just kidding of course. I honestly don't know. I think in the big picture it probably has something to do with the fact that most record sales are generated by pubescent boys. These kids probably just relate better to male singers. I could give a long winded answer about sexism in the music industry, but would be talking out of my ass, because I really don’t have much experience in the industry and don't understand the insanity of it. I do know that it seems like the music suffers a lot once you bring in corporate types to make a decision about what the target audience wants, but luckily we're not at that level in the rock hierarchy and well, that's a different subject entirely. Back to the girl/boy thing. We’ve found it to be a helper. Perhaps it makes people remember or recognize us a little better. We also have a theory that strangers are more apt to offer their floors to us while on tour since we have both girls and guys in the band. That could be total B.S. though, especially since on the last tour we slept in the van the majority of the time. I would like to think that the main significance of the boy/girl aspect is that as individuals we all listen to a lot of different styles of music, which offers a lot of accessibility to people. And that obviously helps. I'm always surprised by the different types of people that like our music. All the teenage girls on Myspace are a surprise. And I wouldn't expect Marci's dad to like us, but he loves the last album When can we expect the new album? And how is it going to be different from what we've heard from you in the past? We had the luxury of spending much more time in the studio on this recording and we feel that it really shows much more layering, much more thought, just a bigger sound in general. There are a lot more dynamics in the songs emotionally and sonically. A particular song might range from pretty and melancholy to heavy and abrasive. We're really proud of it. Plus, Skyler Norwood, who recorded the album, also took on the role of producer. He really has a knack for getting just the right take out of us. This record would sound much different if Skyler hadn’t been involved. Also, it’s important to note that we only knew each other for about 6 months when we recorded the last album. The new stuff sounds more mature and cohesive. I've heard a lot of comparisons between the music scene in Portland and the one in San Francisco; do you think this city took you places you couldn’t have gotten anywhere else? There is this great sense of community in the Portland music scene. 9 out of the 10 bands out there want to help each other out, rather than better you in some way. Also, it seems like the Portland music scene is more open to the kind of music we play. With bands like Quasi and Viva Voce already paving the way for boy/girl bands, that's helped. And there's tons of other bands here playing stuff that's mathy or using a Fender Rhodes, so it's not such a stylistic shock when we play to an audience in town. For example, we played a show in a club that's primarily for punk in the Midwest, and the audience was more confused by us then anything. Afterwards, I had someone say, your stuff is interesting, kind of reminded me of the Doors. Of course, we sound nothing like them, but since the guy was not used to hearing a keyboard in a band, usually just guitar, that's what he noticed about the band. Not the song structure or melody. I don't think we'd have nearly the success if we lived in a town like Austin, where most of the bar bands tend to be blues or country. Basically, the city of Portland is a lot more open to quirky experimental rock bands than a lot of other cities, so it fits us very well. How's living together as a band treating you? It seems like those kinds of situations can hold a lot of inspiration inside of them. We actually don’t live together anymore. Bo and Marci moved out, and Emillie and Jason stayed for a while. Then we had a couple big parties and noise complaints with threats of eviction, and eventually Jason moved out too. But honestly, while there were a few drunken sessions that wouldn't have happened had we lived apart, most of the time at home was spent being domestic, watching Sopranos, playing cards, or sleeping. Practice was still a scheduled event, and we didn't commonly have jam sessions. Most of our songs are very precise and that could be because we don't jam out that often. Usually one person will come in with a structured idea, and we'll build parts on that, but rarely will we all just improvise. We're pretty far from Miles Davis or Phish that way. Although Bo is kind of jazzy and I thought he was a hippy when I first met him. Turns out he's more into Built to Spill and Black Sabbath than The Dead. What mood do you think brings out the best creative aspect of your music do you think? I think generally our material is generally dark and somber. There are some songs with lyrics that are playful about video games or whatever, but like most art, a lot of the songs were inspired by depression and trying to overcome it. Like you sit down and write when you're really sad to vent or whatever. But really, who wants to listen to someone singing about sunshine and lollypops anyway.

[cjoat-boost]

During my mental break, I’ve been trying to recover from a traumatic experience that occurred last month…I probably won’t be venting about my life anytime soon. But it is really messed up. Anywho, been resting, practicing mindfulness, my period came on, so I’ve been trying to control my temper, etc. 

But here’s an update, I did some more artwork. I’m going to give you that today. I’m going to recommend a few apps, youtube channels, and show off some artists and musicians, in this post. I’ll also mention some servers for you guys to join. In also munching on some organic cinnamon bears by the Wholesome brand. You can’t beat them. 

Apps I use on my phone!

Here’s some apps I use in my everyday life. Some you have to pay a little more for but it’s definitely worth it.

Triller | https://apps.apple.com/us/app/triller-social-video-platform/id994905763 | Personally I have not tried This. But since a TikTok is getting banned in the US and China, I thought well, might try this out. Despite TikTok’s racism and shadowbanning, I liked making small little clips. No matter how embarrassing it is. So give it a try you never know.

Polarr | https://apps.apple.com/us/app/polarr-photo-editor/id988173374 | Okay. I had to include this app into this list. Y’know? This is my favorite photo editing program. It’s simple, it’s sleek, and it’s so fun to mess around with stuff in your photos. I never knew this great of an app exists a year ago? You can add effects, get rid of some unwanted features, or just do a simple touch up. It’s available on the computer, and tablet and phone.

Telegram | https://apps.apple.com/us/app/telegram-messenger/id686449807 | it’s a messenger app. Yes. I know. But! Hear me out! You can set it up to have this so password protected. It encrypts all of your conversations. You get all kinds of stickers to include in your conversations. Honestly? It’s fun, interactive, and safe from unwanted eyes. 

Notebloc | https://apps.apple.com/us/app/notebloc/id1077023687 | oh my gosh what can you do. It’s a free app. With premium scanning capabilities, at no cost to you. It’s amazing to be honest I believe it’s better than Evernote. Just give it a shot.

YouTube channels I watch!

Here’s a list of YouTube channels I highly recommend for a good laugh, interesting fun, SpeedPaints, gameplay, etc.

Jacksepticeye | premium content. Amazing. Loud voice. Beautiful and happy man. Plays many video games, has a lot of reactions, it’s beautiful honestly. Watch his videos.Neebs Gaming | My favorite series on this channel (and I’m currently listening to) is his Subnautica series. It is absolutely hilarious. It’s great. This guy(s) turned this game and made a video show out of it, it’s so laughable. I love it. 

Adrian Von Ziegler | Beautiful channel, perfect inspiration music. D&D campaign music! And taking Celtic Music back to its roots. Oh my gosh it’s absolutely amazing.

Penny Jacobson | Held by our very own CJOAT social media manager! Show her some support, please she’s trying her best.

Epic Meal Time | These guys are absolutely insane. Don’t know how to cook, but made the best cooking show on YouTube (in my opinion) oh but seriously, if you want diabetes for your eyes? This is perfect for you.

Mark Haynes | BEST DANG PIXELATED ANIMATED SHOW EVER. SUPER MARIO BROS Z! WATCH IT! IT’S BEAUTIFUL HOLY CRAP IT HAD ME HOOKED.

Sprocket Tech | Okay I cant help it, this channel reached 40 subscribers as of this week. 1 active commenter, things are absolutely gravy. If you could show some love to the speedpaints and other playlists made in this channel… it would be amazing. Youtube is special but yknow? We’re trying.

Discord Servers to join!

Here’s a list of servers I’m in, and I watch you to take part in. It’ll be amazing if you showered them in support.

UNDERTALE ROLEPLAY Server | Universal Server Invite | https://discord.gg/PQdJX5n

Creator’s Museum: Do you specialize in any of the creativities of arts, (meaning you Create something no matter how long ago or how bad or good you think it is) | Do you need support from others or a place to network? | Do you want to dump all of your stuff in a Safe and friendly place? | Do you have a fandom or two to share? | And most of all, want something to entertain you while you’re bored | Creator’s Museum is the one server for you! We are a community that advertises and supports our members, we’re honest, sweet, trustworthy, empowering fandoms, being allowed to express ourselves, and just giving each other some attention! Got a server you want to gorge? We’ll partner with you. For the entire month of December every year, as soon as you join, you get a gallery of your own to dump everything you want in. For the rest of the year, you get your gallery if you stay two weeks. We have tourneys, and challenges, and some extra Notification ping friendly action. come in and say hi, dump as you please, and make a friend or two! | https://discord.gg/amWDkyz

My Art Currently As on Pride Month 2020!

  Happy PRIDE

Underwater Tram Battle

Medieval Ref

Glowing Eye (Black Lives Matter)

(ᴇʀᴢᴀʜʟᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ĐɆⱤ₳₦₲ɆĐ#2276‘s Character) Erzahler (my Art Though)

Baby Medieval (Thank RedKammy on Twitter for the F2U Lineart)

Chymrali’s Small Body Compared to Her Large Wingspan

Chymrali Catching Dreisig

Fire Practice

3D Filter Practice

I’m Sorry (Soul Update)

Dawn (Halo’s Character) & Graffonti (My Character) Ship Child

Michael & Grillby’s Ship Child

Rebelle Missing His Special Someone

Black Lives Matter Mask

Rebelle’s Soul (Crap I spelled his name wrong)

Post-Birthday Rebelle (21 years old As of June 30th)

Comet! FtM Space Dazzler

Rebelle Flexing In Space

Nilla da Beana

Mystic Anthromorphic Rabbit

Human Form turned into Medieval

EDIT: Okay! So after my art getting called demonic and a severe psychosis breakdown; PLUS, a motivational religious talk from my biggest supporter, my mother, Kelli Wise. Love you, Meema! I decided to completely disregard what my grandmother and my uncle said about my art, and continue posting what I love to draw. Especially since I’m on Art Fight! Can’t be feeling down and below, since my art needs to and is constantly improving. So below I’m going to show my Art Fight Identification Card for 2020! And the Art Pieces I’ve been doing there and recently as of July!

So far I have over 520 points! Come and attack me! I dare you!

Just Child Me, checking in on you.

After I vented for a bit, my close friends sent comfort, jokes, and love my way. I love those guys.

Just my skeleton form in bitty form.

This is the symbol for my character, Chymrali.

Galaxy Swirl Nightmare

OwO Slime

This was my first art attack. While I am not proud of it, I’m still glad this is what set me off.

Pfffhehehehe a certain couple “broke” when they saw this. They loved him, and they both loved the art.

She liked this one. ^^ This was my second art attack.

This was my third art attack. Even though I didn’t get any into for it, I got the Grace of meeting a Parody of James Bond.

Another D&D character! I love drawing Drows. They’re just so fun to draw and colour without going full on black and white.

This was @Fluffaros two characters! I hope they become canon. They haven’t confessed but i hope they do.

This was an attack on Team Spice’s MissOccult. (She loved it btw.)

This was an exact scene from Doldrum’s campaign.

I was thinking about my pup, Shy, may she Rest In Peace. I created this in her memory.

MissOccult attacked me back with beautiful art!! So I attacked her back in revenge (more like love) with another character she loved.

This is an improvement of some of my previous attacks!

This was just practice drawing honey. Could be better but you know.

this could possibly be my first lineless art piece. I’m surprised it turned out so well.

I loved messing with the blues on this piece. It was very fun to do. Also YAY FIRST SUCCESSFUL BACKGROUND! Probably not first but you know.

Trust me, their character design looked a lot better when Vmii did it. But I’m just glad I could throw in a throwback piece for the background.

Was listening to Clarity as I made this caption. I think it impacted the art. It’s nice to pair with the piece.

BEST PIECE BY FAR! I’m so proud of this.

Certainly not the best but not my worst either. But Grandmother seems to like this one.

Girasol Guerrero Sirena Princesa Gianna

…No comment on this one…it brings back pain.

I’m black in America, fighting for our rights to be here in unity and empathy.

Kitten…Be Safe…

Intermission From Life During my mental break, I’ve been trying to recover from a traumatic experience that occurred last month...I probably won’t be venting about my life anytime soon.