#i just keep like compulsively trying to sketch and its so bad

[skitskatdacat63]

I had caffeine earlier today that made me feel very jittery and on edge, so I was like ah yeah nah I won't bring a rb w me to the theater, I don't need anymore. Recovered from it, whatever. But then compulsively drank one while eating and I feel so out of my skin rn 😭😭😭 why did I do this to myself, I feel so aggravated

[stars-tonight]

Hey. After stalking around for a bit, I've settled with the fact that your matchups are quite impressive and very fun to read, so here I go (please, do take your time there is no rush)

I would like to request a long romantic matchup with a character of any gender.

I'm cis fem and go by she/her pronouns :)

My mind really went blank on this one. Imo as long as a connection is there they become your ideal type. But if i had to; an ideal partner is someone who I ultimately get along with, but overall someone who I can be direct with and not too sensitive. I.e. someone who can take criticism (which I also expect) as I am a blunt person. Someone who pushes me to try harder or do better and themselves is a person who keeps trying (whether its in a encouraging way or a competitive/challenging way). Definitely wouldnt mind someone who partakes in shit-talking activities (its how true connections are born: mutual hatred). As a private and closed off introvert I'm not frequently approached and have been told I look intimidating to people who dont know me, so preferably someone who isnt put off by that, but otherwise no prefrence on the introvert/extrovert spectrum.

As for myself I would say I am reserved and picky who I associate with, in a sense that I will not push myself to make connections that just dont work out. I'd prefer to have few people that I actually like and get along great with, than to force myself to be out with people I frankly dont care much about and dont get along with. This traverses to other areas of my life; if I dont deem something worthy of trying hard for, I wont pay it too much detail. However for things I do care about, I put a great deal of effort and detail into. Stubbornly so. It takes me a while to open up and feel comfortable with new faces, but once I do all hell breaks loose and there is no telling how straight up goofy things will get. I'm pretty grounded and prefer to always try to be prepared for anything (I'm quite a passive person and not one to take charge, but I hate not knowing things and being kept in the dark), so I always end up being the mom of the group and keeping them in check (i have a compulsive need to put others before me). I'd say most of the time I'm pretty chill, but I am stern with my friends when needed. Im not one to voice my opinions (and I have a lot of them) but I'm also not very subtle about disliking something, and overall am more of a listener.

My main hobbies are making food, sketching and listening to music. It is unreal how every situation I can grab I got my earphones in and jamming already. I loooove movies (horror esp) and a usual hangout is making food with my friends and watching movies and making our stupid own commentary. I'm def up for experimenting with different flavours and cuisines, and have a giant sweet tooth so any chance I get I'm cooking smth up (haha get it); its honestly relaxing to just go on autopilot and make the food.

My main love languages would be quality time and acts of service (giving), and words of affirmation and physical touch, whether its only in private or public (receiving).

Hmmm as for other things, I LOVE scaring the shit out of anyone I can. And I mean a classic waiting out and jumping them prank. Overall I'm pretty quiet, and since I'm quite on the short and tiny side I'm basically a ghost and people dont really notice me. I'm talking waiting out in the dark and showing up in the background until they figure it out. Always puts a smile on my face. I've seen others put their zodiac here so if it means anything to you I'm a taurus sun, aqua moon and scorpio rising(?).

Another fave pass time is having heated debates about the dumbest things. And I will be in the right. I'm quite the dont ask dont tell kind of person, and I tend to keep things to myself (the good and the bad) and I always try to do things by myself (phsyical stuff and resolving my own problems). If it will help put things into perspective a little bit I'm def one for the alternative style, I wear my hair short and shaggy (rn its dyed red) and am switching between masc and fem styles (clothes and beauty trends are not gendered and I will die on this hill). And to finish things off a fun fact about me: my favorite animated movie of all time is Coraline and I was like 9 when I watched it. For a period of time afyer watching it I would draw the little door on any free wall of the house (alongside button eyes and for some reason an egg in a frying pan).

Again thank you so much and enjoy your day

-🗝 anon

headcanons

🥛 sakusa's pretty blunt himself

🥛 i don't imagine he gets offended easily

🥛 so he can take criticism and will give criticism

🥛 his pride is lowkey his downfall

🥛 when he finds a weakness in his play, for example, he works overtime to make up for it

🥛 he sets really high standards for himself and throws his whole soul into everything he does

🥛 his determination and work ethic serves as inspiration to those around him -- including you

🥛 he does make fun of his teammates (*cough cough atsumu*) quite a lot though

🥛 would not be opposed to making fun of you

🥛 especially about your height

🥛 a relationship between the two of you would probably often be filled with comfortable silence

🥛 he'd probably ask you for your favorite songs

🥛 then he'd put on a pair of headphones while in public and walk around listening to them

🥛 this way he also gets to avoid people -- win-win situation

🥛 i don't imagine he'd watch a lot of movies but if you ever watched a horror movie together he'd just be there like 🤨🗿

🥛 like some characters will act cool while they're actually terrified

🥛 i doubt sakusa is actually terrified

🥛 doesn't understand the appeal of horror movies but will willingly watch them with you

🥛 when you try to scare him, the most you'll get is probably a little jump and an annoyed "oi"

🥛 going back to the point about making fun of your height, he'll turn this little prank against you so fast

🥛 "the only reason this little prank of yours scares people is because you're so short they can't see you"

🥛 i'm also drawing a blank on sakusa's receiving love language

🥛 i feel like he'd appreciate anything you do for him

🥛 it's probably something like acts of service

🥛 especially if it's something to do with cleaning

🥛 it just shows that you respect his dislike of germs

🥛 sakusa's giving love language is DEFINITELY physical touch

🥛 like he recoils whenever someone gets near

🥛 and even when he touches you, it's probably just a light touch

🥛 linked pinkies or a quick ruffle of your hair

🥛 but it's enough to show you he loves you

🥛 because he doesn't touch anyone he doesn't care strongly about

🥛 i headcanon his hands are cold (so hopefully you're okay with that lol)

🥛 doesn't say "i love you" often but when he does it's simple and genuine

runner up for you was ushijima wakatoshi!

A/N: there you go 🗝️anon, i hope you liked it and it lived up to your expectations!

[tendermiasma]

i’m not even into overwatch anymore but i just wanted to say I ADORE your art style and hope to develop my own into a similar semi-realism leaning...have you made a post about your art journey? I’m assuming I just need to buckle down and do anatomy studies but any tips are very welcome!! Ty for your time <3

Oh man thank you! I’ve never made a comprehensive post about how I got to *gestures* whatever this point in my art this is, and I definitely sat here wondering what “art journey” means for me since I always feel like I’m stumbling around so I’ll answer as completely as I can. But a great way to develop a realism-minded eye is to draw from photos and life. Everyone in the world has said it over and over but it really gets it done, it’s not any more complicated than that. It’s how I started when I was little and it’s not something I planned, but the Legolas posters were right there so how could I not? Your own non-realism “stylistic” touch will bubble up whether you want it to or not and that’s a beautiful thing. It’s not something you need to look for because it happens on its own, whether it’s you seeing something another artist is doing that you like and assimilating it into your work, or it’s your own unique way that you absorb information from the world and use it to solve problems in the drawing in front of you. Some new artists also still have the idea that using references is cheating-- I’m not blaming them, sometimes this weird thing is circulated by more established people as well-- but this is a very small minority. Please use references. I’d be lost without them. The Castlevania team has a giant collection of references for faces of every character from every angle, props, etc. and I always have a second screen up with 10 different sheets of whoever I’m drawing. Feeding yourself info is essential to getting better. Look at how other artists handle something you’re having a problem with too. If they’re doing a similar pose or something, study their drawing and ask yourself what specifically, extremely technically about that drawing is convincing-- what marks are where, and what is the quality or direction of the strokes? Try it out on your own drawing. If you’re stuck, become aware of if you’re holding on too tightly to what you think something should look like. I have to remind myself this as well. Really try to let go of the idea you have in your head about how something works and simply try instead to draw what you see, even if it feels weird. The results are often pleasantly surprising. 

I have a funny relationship with studies. You seem to be looking at them like a chore and I feel the same way. It’s impossible for me to sit down and just draw something over and over, disconnected from emotion or a larger narrative. I think a wonderful way to “study” is to incorporate those studies into a project that you wanted to do anyway. I’ve used my minicomics to get better at background painting or specific figure poses that I needed for the story but wasn’t sure how to do. I’m a very “oops I need it now better learn TODAY” kind of artist, if that suits you better than buckling down and doing anatomy studies for hours. Both are great ways to improve, but you have options for how to get there. 

In terms of how much time I spend drawing.. well lol it’s a lot. I almost typed “but I don’t do it every day” but yes, my jobs have made sure that I do (I tend to separate personal drawing and job drawing). But the truth is, to get better, a lot of very focused drawing time is important; how much of it is up to you and your schedule. You can sit down for 6 hours and doodle or you can sit down for 3 with an extremely critical eye. It’s about the volume of time as well as focus and I don’t have a clear answer for it, but I can point to one specific year in my life where I made artistic progress like I’ve never seen from myself since. I drew a comic with regular updates during that time and, looking back, the art was not good. But the point was, I was drawing for 7 hours a day after work, at least 5 days a week, and actively looking to draw things that I hadn’t done before or knew that I wasn’t good at, and the result was that every single update was almost like it was drawn by a different person-- readers noticed and commented on the progress as well. It was very much an art bootcamp and I wouldn’t have the skills I do at this point if I hadn’t done it. It’s important that you’re loving what you do if you do it for yourself! That’s how you get through big projects and continue to be excited with where you are. Love is one of the most important motivators and discipline-keepers in art, in my experience. Draw what sets your brain on fire and attack it wholeheartedly even if it’s really weird or niche, not what you think you should be drawing, and you’ll improve a million times faster.

Art journey in terms of what I’ve done with my life (if this is what you meant from the beginning I’M SORRY I’m just trying everything you might have meant) uhhh I haven’t been to art school. I have no idea what my relationship with art would be like now if I’d had any formal training and I don’t really dwell on it. I could either be a testament to being able to get by without it or an example of someone who has no idea what she’s doing at all and lacks many basic foundational art skills. I have an architecture degree. I love architecture, I love the language of space we build for ourselves, and I’m truly, deeply glad for that eye-opening and often grueling experience, but I think my current field is a much better fit. Before animation I worked as a graphic designer mainly drawing storyboards for commercials and internal-industry stuff-- lots and lots of quick colored sketches (one of our main clients was a big glass company and my god I never thought I’d draw so much glass in my life). I was able to do that job due to the skills I developed through personal work. Maybe I’d be a hundred times more powerful if I went to art school! Maybe I’d be completely burned out and bitter and not drawing anymore at all! I just don’t know. I have friends who have had both experiences. Whether you choose art school or not it’s best to keep tabs on if the art you’re currently making brings you joy. Joy and struggle aren’t mutually exclusive. Oftentimes I’m drawing something I care deeply about but it’s VERY FUCKING HARD and I’m frustrated but it’s worth it.

I also do everything while being very scared of the thing. I have a lot of deep-seated anxiety that I’m constantly trying to root out and my brain compulsively twists things around into why I can’t do something, why people secretly know I’m below-par and are just too nice to tell me, how I’m “tricking” people into thinking I’m better than I am, etc. It’s so bad that my first thought when I was initially offered the art test for my current job was to say no; not because I didn’t want it so badly it hurt, but because I thought I’d be too much of a disappointment.  After completing the test I spent an hour figuring out the most gracious way to apologize for not being enough. It’s common, but not something to accept and we’re all working on it. I just thought it was important to mention because art is also a mental journey and forces you to do all this navel-gazey shit in order to advance, and feeling like you are Not Enough is rife in the creative community. The work feels entangled with my value as a person because art is a massive part of my life. Something I’m learning is that I don’t have to be confident or sure of myself all the time. This ensures that the process is usually painful and frightening. Often there’s no way to make it less painful or frightening, and I just have to hold my breath and do it. An oddly comforting thing to me the past couple years is to remind myself that the scary thing I’m about to do won’t be the scariest thing I’ll ever do. I implies both that this isn’t the pinnacle of my progress and also that I will inevitably get over it. If you continue with art you’re going to run into things like this and I guess if it was me it would’ve been helpful to know I’m not alone in it.

I hope that maybe answered some of your questions, maybe? If you have some specific questions feel free and I’ll try my best. Hope you have a good day/night!

[isosymmetry]

The Image (as compulsion art)

Written May 25th, 2022. Partially edited for clarity, still referential writing. Some information is outdated or incorrect.

So yeah, compulsion art… I've never been open about OC-like stuff I have since forever but it only ever really took a future epiphany for me to solve the question: Why did I make so much stuff in 2020? While I spent a long time trying to find out what motivated me through that time to produce as much as I've never done before, I thought it was just an unattainable inspiration that came from some unknown divine source, but not really.

The truth was more down to earth and negative: it was a compulsion caused by extreme stress. A lot of things happened that year, and it was difficult to cope. While half of my work was positive and from a place where I felt free to experiment and explore as an artist, at some point (around the time I started college) my art also became either destructive, or a consequence of a negative environment. That's how I formed some drawing habits, specifically about Stanley.

It's not a bad thing to draw to cool off from a rough day with a sketch, but what happened to me was a feedback loop that grew as my presence grew in general. It's not bad to get praise, but for me it fed the rumination. Note that I'm speaking from pre-incident. While the cycle of rumination could have ran on its own until I get tired, outside perception motivated me to dive deeper into that to the point of exhaustion, regardless. This is around January 2021. Numerous personal issues have shown themselves, and I was also exhausted from finishing my last semester. The exhaustion crept deep into my psyche, where slowly I notice that I am not producing as much as I did in 20. I paid it no mind, as I needed the rest.

I'm going to skim over the escalation that happened last year and instead focus on how this manifested from interest to something that was pretty much obsession. Also... this isn't the only compulsion I have. This one just makes sense to bring up right now.

The reason I'm aware of this is because of where I am now. I'm still susceptible to all that rumination, only that it actually appears as it is: a maladaptive strategy. It's only more obvious because the feelings are negative, but it was the same pattern from before: an image, and the compulsion to make that image, usually caused by an external force or trigger. While I've had a pretty good tolerance threshold for the past few days, exhaustion and other physical limits can still cause the same discomfort. Why is it just him? Does it apply to Irene? In the end, you can't justify why a compulsion is a compulsion. He was repetitively drawn to the point where the image was everywhere, which had no end in sight. Two years later, it's still pretty much there. I just don't have the time to do it.

While I can't justify why I did all this, I can say that it wasn't done out of trying to fix the character or to make him perfect. It was simply a pattern that needed to occur. It was simply something that had to keep existing, and over time, so many angles, faces, emotions of this same image have been produced by me. There was never an end goal of being recognized or anything. That's also why I was unfazed about "losing" credit or credibility.

With regards to him turning into an icon of consumption, yes, some of it had shown up in my rumination. However, my perspective is completely different from the critique of capitalism the new stuff is pulling off, the concept of making a thing better over and over and over. Mine was simply powered by mostly by an illness and virtually just one month of pay for me. My story is still oddly personal. I'm not the person who can afford to do nerd capitalism and buy collector's items and other commodities. I am still behind the scenes and beneath the outer greater narrative of most of it. Sure, maybe we can talk about distribution of global workers, but that's another discussion for another time that doesn't faze me and is mostly irrelevant.

Conclusion: No, I still have no idea how to rid of this, especially since the wound is still open. My only hope is focusing on how I react to bullshit right now. Nevertheless, I probably won't let it consume me more than it already did. No, Irene is a more complicated case, and I made him. He's not an image forced into my mind.

Tangent: how do you balance your interest in a way that doesn't harm you? While you can't prevent being [psychologically] obsessed about an intrusive thought, usually I just do mindfulness over my actions. If I let it be, it's also just me STILL trying to process that entire shebang. If an obsession disrupts your everyday routine/life, has been present for a long amount of time (think above a few weeks), and tends to be your distraction from a stressful environment, PLEASE step back and try to see if you need mental help... Or, just some people to help check on your well-being.

End of text

Late note: I don't want people just thinking that the image is just a compulsion. It's more complicated than that. It just started that way.

[better-inwriting]

Art and Hot Pockets

In honor of International Women's Day (Though its well after midnight when I'm posting this), I thought I would write something that features a strong, beautiful woman. So, enjoy some modern Jackrine.

**********************************************

The rain is coming down fast on a dreary day in September. Outside, the streets of New York are nothing if not full of life despite the depressing mood. The temperature is lower than normal with wind coming in from all directions. As she stands alone in her small, quaint apartment she wonders if it's even worth it-

“Earth to Katherine!” Jack's voice cuts through Katherine's internal monologue.

With an annoyed huff, she turns away from her laptop to stare at him, annoyance clear in her eyes. His holding a hot pocket in one hand and his sketchbook in the other. He's also drenched, meaning he probably ran all the way to her apartment in the rain.

“Did you walk here?” She asks.

He smiles sheepishly, “Maybe.”

“You're an idiot,” She says, rolling her eyes playfully. “What do you have there?”

“A Philly cheesesteak hot pocket,” Jack says, setting his sketchbook aside and approaching her with the other quarter of his lunch. “Try it. I'm not a fan.”

She takes a small bite out of the hot pocket. “It's not bad.”

He hands her the rest of it. “But the superior hot pocket is the pepperoni pizza.”

Katherine vigorously shakes her and struggles to swallow the large bite she gad the taken. “Ham and cheese!” She exclaims still with food in her mouth.

He makes a face before brushing off the comment and reaching for the dishtowel on the kitchen counter to dry his hair. Katherine figures it's a step up from him just shaking like a dog, so she lets it go and makes a mental note to get out a new dish towel when he's not paying attention.

“So did you run all the way here in the rain just to talk about the hot pocket or-”

“No, no, no,” Jack answers in a rush. He lazily tosses the dish towel aside and grabs his sketchbook. He sits down on the couch and motions for her to join. She closes her laptop and sits next to him, watching him flip through many filled pages of drawings.

Finally he finds what he was looking for. He hands her the notebook to an open page where he had sketched a big double gate with a padlock surrounded by overgrown foliage. A worn down brick walkway leads up to the gates and a young girl in a dress with her hair in pigtails sits in front of the gate facing it. Next to her is a small backpack and a kitten licking at it's paws. Katherine recognizes the image instantly.

“This is from my book,” She says almost in a whisper as she examines the drawing. “This is the entrance to the adandoned mansion. This is amazing, Jack. This is exactly how I pictured it.”

“So you like it?” He asks hopefully.

“I love it!” She practically shouts. “How did you know all these details?”

He hesitates. “Don't get mad. The other day when I was here and you took a call to deal with yet another of Specs’ emotional ordeals, I read a little bit of what was on your computer.”

She opens her mouth to start an argument. Jack had a tendency to peek at her things, be it her computer, her phone, her mail. He seems to have a compulsive need to be invasive and they've fought over it a million times. The fact that he would look at it, create it, and then tell her about it is a little astonishing.

“Look, I'm sorry,” He says before she can argue. “I know you hate when I look at your things and rightfully so. I shouldn't do that, I know. But I also know you've been doubting yourself about this book and I didn't want you to give up another project that you're passionate about because you think no one else will appreciate it. Well, I do. I think the book is great. Everything you've written that I could read in the time you were on the phone was amazing, Kath. You're so talented. I thought that if I could just show you how much I believe in you, you wouldn't give up.”

Jack kneels down on the couch in front of her and takes both of her hands. He looks genuinely sorry. “I'm sorry I looked at your things without asking.”

After a second she nods. “Okay. I'll let it go.”

“Thank you,” He says and kissing the back of her hand. “You amaze me, Katherine. You can create life and worlds with just some words and punctuation marks and that is… that is so amazing. You are the most intelligent, beautiful, talented woman I know and I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Jack,” She says. “Thank you. This drawing is fantastic.”

He shrugs. “You made it, I just drew it.”

“That doesn't make sense.”

“No, it doesn't, but I know what I'm trying to say,” Jack says, standing back up and stretching. He leans down to kiss Katherine briefly. “Do you have any pizza hot pockets? Because I'm still really hungry.”

“Yeah probably,” Katherine says, resettling herself as her desk chair and opening the document of her novel. It's been an uphill battle of internal judgement and an inferiority complex, but Jack's support never ceases to help. His support is one of the things that keeps her going.

“Just the damn ham and cheese!” Jack shouts from the kitchen. “Oh well, that'll work, I guess.”

Ten minutes later, Jack is situated on the couch with his sketchbook and his large array of materials. They lapse into comfortable silence, both working on separate projects requiring total focus. Then after a few hours, they catch each other up on what they've done. Katherine finds herself writing more that day than she has in a while and Jack sketches up more and more scenes from her work in progress.

Katherine finds it to be so much easier to work when there's someone in her corner. And after eating three hot pockets because Jack can eat nothing else.

[journalofthememes]

Star Wars EU/Legends Quote Starters - Skywalker Family Edition

( 186 quotes in total, extending below the readmore ) 

❝ I don't like that you can win an argument without using verbs. ❞  ❝ The future is to be lived, not prearranged. ❞  ❝ Did you just make me stand on my head for two hours because I was annoying you? ❞  ❝ Thank you for reducing our task to its basic components. Come on. ❞  ❝ Are you content? You've been alone for so long... ❞  ❝ Your emotions betray you. ❞  ❝ Would you please stop saying things like that? ❞  ❝ I'm always prepared to entertain the suggestion that I’m wrong. The universe is nothing if not humbling. ❞  ❝ That’s not what I was going to say, but it’s probably true. ❞  ❝ You don't plan to infiltrate an Imperial battle station and save a princess, do you? ❞  ❝ No. I'm your father. That's my job. ❞  ❝ Not everything here is dead. You're alive. I'm alive. ❞  ❝ Trust me or kill me, ___. In the end, it'll come out the same. I will not harm you. ❞  ❝ My name is ____, and I want you to take my hand. ❞  ❝ None of the stories people tell about me can change who I really am. ❞  ❝ If it's not too much of a cliché, take me to your leader. If it is too much of a cliché, take me anyway. ❞    ❝ Smells good. Just like we used to make back home. ❞  ❝ No, it was the food — definitely the food. ❞  ❝ What's a duck? ❞  ❝ I've not done anything like this before. ❞  ❝ That ‘rock’ also happens to be the location of one of ____'s strongholds. ❞ ❝ We built junk racers more sophisticated than this out of spare parts when I was ten. ❞     ❝ I have to say, this sounds like the worst idea in a thousand generations of bad ideas. ❞  ❝ I laid a trap. That's quite a bit different than inviting them. ❞ ❝ The deepest cut I ever gave him was in refusing to join him. I think the next deepest cut was when I forgave him. ❞  ❝ You've probably heard this before, but it's a trap. ❞  ❝ I'll be careful. ❞  ❝ Now go, and stop worrying, or I swear I'll come back as a ghost and bug you while you're on a date. ❞  ❝ There are times when the end justifies the means. But when you build an argument based on a whole series of such times, you may find that you've constructed an entire philosophy of evil. ❞  ❝ Bionic hand, I love you! ❞  ❝ We all need a dream. ❞  ❝ I have a few... associates accompanying me. ❞ ❝ And there's something else. I sensed a disturbance in the Force. ❞ ❝ Is there something you want to tell me? ❞  ❝ You really don't want to see me angry, and I think you're smart enough to know that. ❞    ❝ If you want to try me, go ahead and make that threat. ❞  ❝ Well, the truth is in there somewhere… ❞  ❝ Can you do two hundred push-ups? ❞  ❝ Hey, there are worse family traditions. ❞  ❝ That's — I mean, thanks, but I barely know anything. ❞  ❝ Could anything be worse than what we already know? ❞

❝ You think the dark side is scary, you say that to her. ❞  ❝ I activated my lightsaber first. That's not what Jedi do. ❞    ❝ We protect and defend those who can't defend themselves. ❞    ❝ I failed my first test on the whole light side–dark side thing pretty miserably. ❞  ❝ I don't have a title—I'm not a Senator, I'm not a general any longer, I'm not an ambassador. He used my name like an insult.   ❞  ❝ You know what I like about coming to worlds so backrocket that no one watches the news broadcasts? No one ever says, “Hey, you look taller on the 'Net.” ❞ ❝ I won't be the first to die to keep you from winning. ❞  ❝ Your feelings betray you. ❞  ❝ You can't just walk up to a woman and say 'Hello, I've heard about your large bank account, let's get married.' ❞ ❝ No thanks, I don't want to look like a grumpy, thickheaded, craggy-faced old man. ❞  ❝ Yes, of course... ___, roll your eyes for me, would you? I'm out of practice. ❞  ❝ That works for you? I hope you don't expect me to believe that. ❞   ❝ Your lack of faith hurts me. ❞  ❝ When you become a father, you'll discover how much fun that is. ❞  ❝ Sometimes a Jedi must deal with the disappointment of having to tell the truth. ❞  ❝ I'll trust you to improve the story. ❞  ❝ Watch your language. ❞  ❝ Do you really want to take me on right now? I don't recommend it. ❞  ❝ Every generation has its challenges to face, its own battles to win. Why should yours be any different? Running away from your responsibilities won't solve anything. ❞  ❝ So you see, there never was any real danger. All flash—no crash. Everybody happy? ❞  ❝ I'll have my lightsaber... and you can have your blasters... What else could you ask for? ❞  ❝ Sometimes, what we succeed in doing is not exactly what we intended to do. Focus on what you accomplished, rather than on what you merely hoped to do. ❞  ❝ You may begin his training immediately. ❞  ❝ The Force calls each of us differently. ❞  ❝ Be careful who you smile at around here. I'm not ready to be a grandfather. Or even a father-in-law. ❞  ❝ You think you might be happier dispensing caf or sketching caricatures? ❞  ❝ I think you've just been adopted. ❞  ❝ There was a sense to you, when we met, that would not let me fear you. ❞  ❝ Countless others have learned that not fearing ___ can be trouble. ❞  ❝ The Force brought us together, and kept bringing us together until neither of us could deny our destiny to be together forever. ❞  ❝ If you do not take your hands off her, I will take your hands off you. ❞  ❝ That bad? Keep the drinks coming, please. ❞  ❝ I mean regardless. ❞  ❝ I feel... fear and anger. Aggression. Danger. ❞  ❝ The Jedi were the guardians of peace. The servants of the Old Republic, not its masters. ❞  ❝ I was just thinking about how I'm going to have to train them some day. ❞  ❝ Behold, the favorite weapon of Jedi before the invention of the lightsaber - the sledgehammer.❞   ❝ Aghh! What are you doing? ❞  ❝ You are like tempered steel, purposeful and razor-keen. ❞  ❝ Always you shall be in the front rank, a burning brand to your enemies, a brilliant fire to your friends. ❞     ❝ Take comfort in the fact that, though you stand tall and alone, others take shelter in the shadow that you cast. ❞ ❝ I am so glad I found you and didn't kill you. ❞  ❝ Really? And I always thought the reason you left was to join the Rebellion and save the galaxy.❞  ❝ Have you tried cash? Money. A travel case full of credit notes. You know. A bribe. Or make it sound nice. Call it a consulting fee. ❞  ❝ It is, as some admiral once said, a trap. ❞  ❝ Time for you to do one of the six or eight things you do best. ❞  ❝ Well, what happens if you need a diplomat who can also practice philosophy, fight with a lightsaber, and levitate small objects? ❞  ❝ Who else are they going to call but us? ❞  ❝ It's always nice to meet new people and make new enemies. ❞  ❝ If I wanted to tell you, I would, wouldn't I? ❞  ❝ You've got me. I hate that shirt. In fact, I think you're a crummy dresser, period. ❞  ❝ Darling. I love you, you are my life and my light - but If you ever do this to me again I will vape you where you stand. ❞  ❝ He could have called you 'Master'. Like I do sometimes. ❞  ❝ I always play fair. Exactly as fair as my opponents. ❞  ❝ Where did you learn that smile? Have you been practicing in front of a holo of Han Solo? ❞  ❝ It's not about the legacy you leave, it's about the life you live. ❞  ❝ I don't want to discourage your curiosity, but I have to remind you, if something goes wrong, this is an exceptionally embarrassing way to die. ❞  ❝ Stupid, stupid. A big fat diversion—the oldest trick on the list, and I fell for it like some dumb farm kid. ❞  ❝ You can't hear a whisper if you're constantly shouting. ❞  ❝ I've been letting you do the talking, and all it's gotten us so far is an enforced vacation. ❞  ❝ Negotiating is the art of getting what you want. It's not the art of making the other side feel better. ❞  ❝ If they were our partners, we wouldn't need to negotiate. ❞  ❝ Okay, so maybe my best friend's a lizard. ❞  ❝ The wrath of the Empire truly knows no boundaries. ❞  ❝ We can't keep meeting like this, ___. ❞  ❝ When I first met ___, I was under a compulsion to kill him. Generally not a good sign for a lasting relationship. ❞  ❝ He accepted me, as no one else had done before. ❞  ❝ The coming battle may prove their intent. ❞  ❝ I secretly hope he will betray us. ❞    ❝ You mean if we get out of here alive? ❞  ❝ During my training I have witnessed few who dared defy the Empire. ❞  ❝ The desire to be out there saving the galaxy is in your blood so thick I can hear it screaming from here. ❞  ❝ Trust me, my capacity for mayhem is undiminished. ❞  ❝ Service to evil is still evil. ❞  ❝ What you're saying is that doing something wrong isn't really wrong if your motives are good. That's nonsense. ❞  ❝ Sure, why not? I didn't have anything else planned for after lunch. ❞  ❝ Look after my apprentice, won't you? ❞  ❝ I get the proverbial bad feeling about this. ❞  ❝ Don't you people have a conscience? ❞  ❝ Betray me? As in they stab me in the back, or do they just give me a swift kick in the butt? ❞  ❝ Do you wax your beard? It just seems very shiny. ❞  ❝ Your eyes can deceive you, be mindful of your feelings, girls are fun but dangerous, and ____ has extra cards up his sleeve. ❞  ❝ Sorry about my last message. I’ve been assured that whining is a family trait and that I should be over it by the time I'm thirty, but that's not much comfort. ❞  ❝ It’s our job to keep the Force in balance and to help people stay in balance with the Force, to detect wrongs and make them right, and to serve as models for very attractive lines of boots. ❞  ❝ Oh. That's sad. I was looking forward to being called Sparky. ❞  ❝ ___, what's ‘kriffing’? ❞  ❝ I don't think I've ever seen so many brown robes together in one place. It's like a showroom for the world's dullest textile factory. ❞  ❝ You have the manners of a bantha with digestion problems. If you had children, I hope they were raised by piranha-beetles so they'd be nicer than you. ❞  ❝ You know us, practicing the fine family tradition of rescuing people from the dark side. ❞  ❝ I like my body intact, thank you very much. ❞  ❝ You know, it gives me hope that you screwed up so badly and so consistently as a kid. ❞  ❝ How do you feel? Better than you look, I hope. ❞  ❝ Have a peaceful... whatever. ❞  ❝ This, from the man who's worn a bowl-cut hairstyle almost all his adult life. ❞  ❝ If you start to feel evil, tell me as soon as possible. Don't wait and cut my hand off first. ❞  ❝ When the rocks fall, we get out of the way. ❞  ❝ Sorry. I just got tired of hearing the same old phrases, the same old way, year after year. ❞  ❝ Use the same cliché phrases too long and people stop hearing their message, you know? ❞  ❝ Don't feel bad. Civilized politics are even worse. ❞  ❝ What if we're completely wrong? ❞  ❝ A Jedi without a lightsaber is a lot less dashing to the girls. ❞  ❝ Coincidence, or misinterpretation. People hear what they want to hear. Keep it vague enough, and a prophecy or prediction'll fit pretty much anything. ❞  ❝ I've… got a strange feeling... As if… as if I've been here before! ❞  ❝ Is mind reading a new Force power you picked up and forgot to tell me about? ❞  ❝ Don't get killed, ___. ❞  ❝ That's... hardly ever a good thing. ❞  ❝ Oh, but this is nothing like Dagobah, where mold rotted everything, duraplast included, and did it stink. Even my lightsaber blade stank. Food stank. Yoda stank. Distilled water stank, I'm not sure how. ❞  ❝ Great. Should I open the top hatch and hurl rocks at it? ❞  ❝ In the future, I suggest that we only ever fight guys who set up their lairs in posh hotel suites. ❞  ❝ I know, I know... ‘Back in the old days’. Back during the Empire. Back when starships were made of wood. Back when there were no holodramas, just puppet shows. Back when a hypercomm system was a long string stretched between two planets with a durasteel caf cup at either end... ❞  ❝ Let us not devolve into insults. ❞  ❝ You're about to meet a whole bunch of people who not long ago were your sworn enemies and say, “Hi there, I used to be a ___ but I’m not anymore.” I’d be nervous too. ❞  ❝ ___ is no assassin! They’re my best friend. ❞  ❝ Not everything that comes through the freight system is a stock item. ❞  ❝ I apologized, but they didn't accept it. They just used it as an excuse to keep being rude. ❞  ❝ Is politics always like that? Why don't you both say what you mean? ❞  ❝ If they're both afraid of the same thing, why are they on opposite sides? ❞    ❝ Doing the right thing isn't something special. It's the minimum. It's where we start each morning, not where we try to end up one day in the future. ❞    ❝ I have no time for you now. I must first liberate the planet. ❞  ❝ So you're behind this, you poisonous traitor. ❞  ❝ Politics is an ancient and noble calling. Without politicians our societies would descend into anarchy and chaos. ❞  ❝ I'm not claiming the system is perfect. Obviously there's room for improvement. ❞  ❝ Oh yes, what a useful recommendation for my candidacy. “Likes to drive dangerous machines very fast.” ❞  ❝ If I am ever elected Supreme Chancellor of the Senate, I will decree that all Jedi must demonstrate an emotion at least once a year. ❞  ❝ Rumor has it you were hurt defending the spynet facility. ❞  ❝ Of course he did. I believe that's his job description, isn't it? ❞  ❝ ‘Force’ me out of the Order? Was that a pun? ❞  ❝ And you, what does your heart tell you you're meant for? ❞  ❝ Ours is a path of service. We serve justice. ❞  ❝ There is no justifying... my actions. Yet I was saved from darkness. You must believe me. ❞  ❝ The comm system isn't being jammed in the planetary atmosphere. It's being jammed from space. ❞  ❝ I hereby authorize you to be nervous, too. ❞  ❝ Are you thinking that's our way in? ❞  ❝ We have a lot in common, ___. Perhaps we'll meet again. ❞  ❝ I can ask ____. They'll tell me what I want to know. ❞  ❝ I could fly this thing in my sleep. ❞

Bonus: Darth Vader Quotes

❝ It is pointless to concern yourself with your friends now. The Force has ordained this moment.❞   ❝ I am a disturbance in the Force. ❞  ❝ The Emperor is not here. I speak for the Empire. ❞  ❝ You may keep your title — for another two minutes. ❞ ❝ I am your reward; you don't find me handsome? ❞   ❝ Tell the navigator if we arrive one minute after his estimate, he needn't worry about the return trip. ❞  ❝ Only you have the skill, the determination, and the training to enable you to follow a path so cold, and twisted, and dangerous, and pointless. ❞  ❝ The old system is dead. You would be wise to subscribe to the new one. ❞  ❝ I hope, for your sake, this is important. ❞ 

[theshipden]

Pining Over A Pinetree

Bill Cipher never kissed someone. Even though Alphas, Betas, and other Omegas threw themselves at him, he wasn't interested. Even when rumors of his 'skill' in mating and scenting and kissing passed around the school, he never denied or admitted to any of it. Bill Cipher was an Omega, an unclaimed, uninterested Omega.

He didn't want anyone to have any of his firsts- First Kiss, First time, First scenting, First mating, First marking, First anything. He didn't want a mate, he didn't want an Alpha. The idea was unsettling, unsatisfying. Someone commanding you, protecting you like a toddler, constantly around you and needing you. He didn't want that nor did he care for it. He was perfectly happy with being alone. It's not that Bill couldn't get a mate, quite the opposite. Bill was smart and cunning, top of all classes with perfect attendance, popular and well liked, attractive and suave, mysterious and playful, he was what every Alpha was looking for. He was what some labeled the perfect omega. But he didn't care for all the attention and thirsty, hormonal fleshsacks called potential Alphas. It was made very clear that Bill wasn't one to be the submissive omega, no, he nearly killed the first Alpha that forcefully came on to him. And very quickly everyone came to respect him. No one ever caught his eye or appeased to his interests or intellect.

That is, until a pair of twins from California came into class that day. Dipper was settled beside his desk, Mabel not too far away from her brother. Mabel was the first to show interest in him, and she was adorable but just not what he wanted. He didn't want her like that. Bill continued to accept her offers to hang out and go places, befriending Pacifica along with her twin sibling. He noticed how differently the Alpha smelled, how intoxicating the smell was. It was a mixture of Pinetrees, forest, Rosemary with a hint of dominant musk. Bill wanted to inhale it deeply, get covered in that scent, smell it forever. But smells were just smells. And Bill quickly dismissed any further thought about it. Then came the brunette's sense of love for knowledge, the lengthy jokes that only he understood and laughed at, the obsessive compulsive behavior that made him focused and determined, the soft yet nerdy appearance and love for science. Dipper wasn't the most muscular alpha Bill's ever seen, wasn't as dominant, wasn't interested in sex or anything all the others seemed to be, he wasn't the most confident nor outgoing. He was timid and hesitant, reserved, smart, adorable and very handsome. Mabel soon grew attached to Pacifica, the bond between them very clear, and Bill was left to grow closer to the male twin.

Bill's never wanted closeness, never wanted to spend his time talking or listening to one single person unless it was himself. He didn't want to put someone else's needs over his own, never wanted to please anyone but himself, and he never ever wanted to fall in love. Grow attached. He didn't want that. Didn't need that.

And yet, whenever the twin brushed past him or bumped into him a little- whatever touch landed on him- made his skin tingle and his heart warm in the most disgustingly pleasant way. Bill didn't want to be jealous over anyone, not possessive either, he found the traits annoying but the very thought of Dipper getting attracted to someone besides himself made something burn inside him. The blonde turned to steal a glance at the Alpha beside him, lazily sketching some atomic particle that he memorized thousands of times by now. His gaze returned to the paper, oh he despised the way his cheeks would heat slightly at peering at that stupid alpha.

"Hey, Bill?"

"Hm?" Said omega broke out of his thoughts, pencil pausing in its shading as he casually looked into those mocha eyes. He kept himself composed but the need to seal the other's lips became increasingly hard, especially when that cute sparkle in those eyes lit them up and stole his breath away.

He never wanted to kiss anyone before.

"Wanna be partners for the project?" Dipper flashed him a bright smile, one that wasn't shown much due to the boy's timid behavior, he liked to think it was solely meant for just him. Well- him and the twin's family, of course. He didn't like the way his heart skipped a beat.

He never cared for anyone like this.

"Oh, yeah sure, Pinetree." Bill returned to his drawing. He could feel the alpha's breath tickle his neck as he peered to see what the omega was up to and he fought himself, he would not bare his neck, he would not expose it. He would not submit. Would not obey anyone. Not fall into line because of this alpha and his stupid scent. Oh how annoying it was that his inner omega howled for Dipper to claim him, how it wanted Dipper for his alpha.

His alpha. That sounded nic- no! No! What was he even thinking? Apparently the twin had been talking about the direction of the project. He only knew because the bell cut the brunette off mid-sentence, quickly the omega shoved his things into his bag and started to walk out the door. He made it into the hallway alone before Dipper was suddenly by his side again panting.

"Hey! Didn't you hear me saying wait up? God, you're fast." Bill didn't like how he wanted to apologize and make it up to the alpha. He didn't like how the praise at his speed made him want to purr.

"Bill? Are you alright?" That voice, laced with concern and worry, stirred more mixed emotions from him. It was meant for him. Directed for him. No one else but him.

"Okay, stop for a second. You've been spacing out all day and scowling. What's wrong?" Dipper stepped in front of him, making him stop. Bill's fists balled at his sides, oh what? Did Dipper think he was gonna let himself be forced into listening to him like the omega he was? Well he was wrong!

Roughly, Bill shoved past him. His inner omega whined and cried in protest, wanting to nuzzle into the alpha and be loved, it wanted all the affection he'd never gotten before. But he ignored it. His anger suddenly making his blood boil and his heart fluttered when he got a whiff of that scent, it peeved him even more. There was a gentle but firm touch to his shoulder, the twin once again trying to keep up with him.

"Seriously, what's up? What's making you so angry?" Came the exasperated response, the care and want to help clear in the brunette's voice. Once again, his breathing faltered at the soft touch and he was leaning his weight into it-

Hell. No.

Hissing, Bill covered the red on his face with expressing his anger, the leaning in framed by him turning sharply on his heel. "Maybe if you would just drop it and leave me alone, I wouldn't nearly be as mad!" He didn't mean the outburst, the hurt on the alpha's face made him regret it. Bill never regretted anything he said, never cared how it impacted other's too heavily. His temper was being steadily lost.

"I'm, I'm sorry Bill, I didn't mean to-"

"Oh! Oh! You didn't mean to? Well, you surely don't mean to do a lot of things! But here we are!" He knew it was unfair to do this, to take his frustrations and fear out on Dipper, but he couldn't help it. He felt bad but he couldn't stop. "God- why can't you just, just! F-Fuck, I-" The omega growled and blinked his eyes clear, forcing the tears away. He wouldn't do this, he never cried over someone, never got so emotional over someone. Never did any of this before, it was all new. Horrifying and powerful and new.

Dipper's face scrunched when he saw the omega shake and spotted the tears that threatened to fall, he felt horrible, he wanted to help and comfort. His throat was dry. Maybe it was getting closer to Bill's heat and that's why he was acting so weird lately. But before he could muster up the courage the blonde was bolting away from him, the crowd and hoard of students swallowing him up.

Bill wasn't in the next class, or the next, or the one after, and he wasn't hiding out in the library or band room. He wasn't in school and that was worrisome, Dipper explained what happened to his sibling. He didn't know what to do or say, he didn't know how to help. He texted Bill, called him countless times and even asked around but no one heard from him and even Mabel's attempts to reach him was proving invalid. Both were extremely concerned. And the way Bill seemed to hold something back, restrain himself didn't go unnoticed by the twin. Ever since that omega expressed interest in him Dipper had never been able to look at anyone else, not that he really wanted to anyway, even if all Bill was looking for was friendship. He heard the rumors, doubted most of them, but if any were true then he wasn't even on the same status that Bill was. He had no experience, all he could be was awkward.

"Anything yet?" Dipper turned to his sister who was staring at her phone screen, after a minute or two passed she groaned.

"No. He isn't answering." Mabel slumped into her chair. The omega was a private guy, really. No one really knew very personal things about him, no one but the gang of his friends that followed him around like a God. Even then, they didn't answer anyone's questions and only ran people off but they seemed to approve of the twins. "Hey, maybe we should stop by his place? Bring some comfort food as a peace offering, have a sleepover, kiss and make-up." She half joked attempting to lighten the mood.

"No offense Mabel, but I doubt he's in that kinda mood." He frowned, chewing on his lower lip as he thought. Actually the food part didn't sound too terribly bad, if there was one thing Dipper knew it was that Bill never turned down food, the guy never got full! And Bill did skip lunch once and took him with on an "Adventure of a Lifetime." He smiled fondly at the memory, Dipper knew exactly what to get the omega! "Mabel I just got the best idea, but I'll have to call you later, love you bye!"

The omega wrapped the sheets around himself tighter, God he was so embarrassed. And still a little upset. He cried over literally nothing and overreacted and probably just ruined whatever it was he and that stupidly attractive twin had. Bill felt his heart pang and his shame rise when he received the text messages and calls, instead shutting his phone off completely rather then answering. His house was big and empty, the blonde lost his family fairly young and never looked back. He yearned for that gentle touch, the soothing scent of pines and musk, the warmth of the alpha. Bill grew tired of being so angry for so long and his anxiety and crying left him utterly drained. He was exhausted emotionally and all he wanted to do was sleep, which wasn't hard for once. When he woke up next it was to soft knocking at his door, he mumbled something too soft and jumbled for anyone to make out or hear in protest. The knocking returned firmer and louder, making him grunt as he stood up, all the warmth trapped inside his blanket leaving. Making him cold, hungry, tired, and irked.

Another harsh round of knocking came and he yelled his upcoming arrival. Bill snorted at how little patience he had left, looking over his outfit of choice. When he left school he had taken to more comfortable clothes- there was nothing more comfortable then going shirtless with pajama pants and shielding oneself away from the world in blankets and pillows. The asshole that interrupted his nap was going to really get it. Walking out of his rather large bedroom and crossing the household the omega unlocked the door and swung it open. One hand was rested on the doorknob while the other was stationed on his hip, before he could even begin his rant the smell of his favorite food hit him making him really look at who was standing in his doorway. Dipper.

Dipper Pines. The alpha of his dreams was standing there, nervous as all hell, for him. With his favorite comfort food in tow and looking increasingly adorable the longer the red creeped into his complexion. Bill didn't miss the way the other's eyes looked him over, suddenly he was self-conscious. Okay sure, maybe he did have one or two or well- more then that amount of inky black and golden tattoos climbing up and down his arms and back, some even ghosting over his chest and abdomen. Shit, shit. What was he suppose to say or do? He never really- how was- Oh God. Could this day be any worse!? As if sensing Bill was about to bolt for it again or yell more, the brunette spoke up, presenting the food in a friendly gesture.

"B-Before you get mad! I just wanted to apologize for pushing you about it, I-I know I shouldn't have and I should've left it alone. It's personal and I crossed a line. I get that, really! But I just wanted to say that I was sorry for offending you and I don't expect you to tell me anything -because you don't have to!!- but I uh, wanted to offer my support." The blonde seemed taken aback. Dipper thought he was gorgeous, hair messy and wild, body toned and bare, sweet flowery and vanilla scent filling his nose, baggy pants barely clinging onto his hips. He forced down his need and want to do something, anything to the beautiful omega in front of him but he knew better. He would never do something like that to Bill. There was a long pause, the blonde finally snapping out of his stupor.

"No, no, you're fine Pinetree. I just- God that was such a dick move of me. You didn't deserve that, I was just stressed about something. Sorry, it's my bad." Bill glanced away suddenly a little more aware of how his insides were melting from the sear sincerity of the gesture, the kindness he didn't deserve or ever want until just now. He-...he needed it. And well, he was too tired and sluggish to really try and force himself into some withdrawal. If this alpha made him happy and went so far for him, then fuck it. He didn't want it before but he wanted it now. And if he passed the chance up by being a complete idiot, he'd really hate himself. So he stepped to the side. "You can come in if you want and just do whatever."

Dipper let a breath go he didn't even know he was holding, nodding and walking into the house. Honestly, he's never been inside Bill's house before, only ever parking in the driveway or glancing at it every now and then when he passed by. It was big and spacious, the interior just as exquisite as the exterior, the golden, darker colored, and similar hues all fit together perfectly and even complimented the owner. The omega closed the door behind them both, guiding them to the kitchen where he sat on a chair by the breakfast bar, the alpha instinctively taking the closest seat next to him. The twin pushed the bag and milkshake towards his friend and watched amused and Bill started digging into it. How could he make eating look so cute?

"We can watch some movies or something in the living room, you can take your pick of which one." The omega suggested while munching on his meal, pointing in the direction and the alpha once again nodded, stalking off to find something interesting. It shouldn't have been a surprise that Bill had a collection of what seemed to be every genre, he picked something he thought they could laugh at together- a romantic movie. They've done it before to irritate and mock Mabel, why not do it now? It seemed like the perfect thing to improve the omega's mood. He always smiled so big and laughed so hard back at the shack. Huh. Bill spent a lot more time at the shack then he did with them here, he wondered why, maybe he got lonely? With a house as big and as empty as this, he could understand if that was the reason. The brunette set up the movie and called for his friend, to which Bill walked in and sat down on the couch, tossing his feet over the armrest and crossing his arms over his chest. The twin joined him, sitting somewhat close to the omega as they both eyed the TV, watching as the movie's beginning was displayed on screen. Dipper was soon entranced by the scenes and characters, dialogue hooking him and soon the world around him faded out. Bill wished he could've been as distracted by the film, Dipper was too eye catching for him to properly focus. Jaw slack, brown eyes swimming bright with different emotions, hair curly and soft. He scooted closer and it went unnoticed. So he did it again. And lightly pressed himself against the alpha, again, it went unnoticed. Making Bill relax and silently purr at the excuse to be close to the male, he was warm and his scent was incredibly calming, a small bit of heaven to the previously stressed omega.

An arm slipped around his waist, a normal action done by Alphas to Omegas, often Mabel had done so to him and Dipper had too. Arguably, some of his beta and alpha friends had also done it too, it wasn't something uncommon. It was to bring comfort, help soothe, a sign of trust and appeasement, friendship or fondness. It wasn't something that should be taken into deep consideration.

It wasn't something that should've made his heart race or his cheeks to dust pink, his inner omega shouldn't purr in delight and howl in want from it. Bill shouldn't be affected by the touch at all. He should've been able to brush it off like usual.

But he couldn't.

The only reason Dipper had noticed how close they were was when his chin had come to rest atop fluffy blonde hair on instinct, a small sniff and he could smell the pleasantly sweet scent. He had a second's panic before the aroma of happiness coming from the boy beside him made his anxieties simmer down, the alpha had to admit, snuggling next to Bill was therapeutic and possibly one of his favorite things. By default, his inner alpha taking control of his body drunk on omega pheromones, raised his hand to tangle in those soft locks. His fingers gently carded through the other's hair, with great care unknotting any knots that he stumbled across, rubbing and massaging the scalp with featherlight strokes. Bill lightly mewled, eyelid drooping shut as his body relaxed into the alpha's arm. Oh how he loved this. Dipper was no longer focused on the film but on the beautiful blonde at his side, he would've never guessed how easy it was to melt the usually fierce omega. He'd never seen it done before, but here Bill was, leaning into his touch and sighing fully content with each and every minute passing by. The brunette found himself yearning to lean down and claim those plump lips as his own, to make moments like these a routine, to test out other things on the strong omega. But Bill never accepted any Alpha, he stood no chance. He was just a friend. Though, he would take what he could get and if this is what Bill wanted and allowed, then Dipper would be just fine with it and if not he'd manage. This was about Bill after all, not his own animalistic desires. Turning his attention back to the movie, he began to point out its flaws or plot holes, earning lazy chuckles or smoothly taunting side comments from Bill.

In the middle of the film is when the girl hungrily pressed her lips against her alpha's, body being pressed against the wall as moans and grunts were forced out of both partners, hair being tugged and bodies explored. Teeth nibbling lips and skin, love being confessed and spilled, it was purely romantic. The blonde found himself envious. He wanted Dipper's lips to smother his own, he wanted Dipper's hands sliding up his body in the same way, wanted his hair tugged, Bill wanted the alpha on top of him, his body pressing perfectly against his own, grunts and curses and love pouring out from each other's mouths. Bill was extremely jealousy of two fictional people, of actors, he found himself ridiculous. But the fire that sparked inside him only grew the longer the scene continued, and he growled. The sound rumbled from his chest and made the gentle hand in his hair pause before resuming, a polite hum sounding from above with the sweetest, most sincere voice Bill's ever heard.

"Are you okay?"

He would've hated how by just playing with his hair the alpha could calm him, that with his warmth and scent his anger would be melted away. But instead the omega decided to relish in it, bath in the comfort and secret pleasure it brought him before he found himself acting upon it, wanting just a bit more. Bill sat up quickly, making the twin purse his lips in question before strong thighs were straddling him and nimble hands were being placed on his shoulders, pressing him lightly back against the couch cushions. It was fluid and fast, but not rough like he expected, the actions were just as kind and soft. Leaving room and space for him to throw the omega off if he truly wanted to. At first, Dipper had been worried he overstepped a boundary and Bill was really going to let him have it but he realized his mistake and soon found that Bill was gazing at him. Searching for any signs of discomfort, for anything akin to anger or hatred or any other negative emotion, he was searching for permission. In all the time he's known the omega he learned soon that Bill hated to be stereotyped for his genes, despised bending over backwards for alphas, basically hated any and everyone who regarded him in that manner or thought they were above him because they were betas or alphas. Bill was more courageous and spontaneous then any omega ever born, most failed to believe he was really an omega, he loved control and power and was quite manipulative. So it was a bit of a puzzle as to why Dipper was suddenly straddled by the blonde, his animal side loving it and ready to take more more more- but he could never force Bill to do anything he didn't want. He cherished Bill more then that, thought of him better. Which is why he found himself asking, concerned for his friend.

"Bill, what're you doing, is this- Do you, are you sure you want to be doing this?"

Instead of an answer he received only a stare, the twin could tell there were conflicting thoughts battering around behind those feminine lashes, golden captivating irises shining as a single thought seemed to win favor and before he could think soft lips were pressing against his. It was light and ghosting, allowing for him to pull away or push the omega off if he saw fit, but he didn't. In fact, the brunette pressed back against those lips with vigor, hand flying to the other's head to assure that this was wanted. Immediately that same fierceness the omega was known for showed, teeth biting at the alpha's lip and hands desperately pulling their bodies closer, tongue darting out to swipe at the twin's lips trying to gain entrance. Of course he was met with access, Dipper could feel the omega's tongue slide into his mouth in time to tangle with his own, a heavy snarl erupting from the alpha's throat and his hands gripped at the other's hips ensuing in a dance for a victor. Naturally Dipper let Bill win, freeing a hand to glide up the omega's back to lightly pull at fluffy blonde hair, he could taste the omega on him and pick up on the intoxicating scent. Dipper made an effort to control himself before things got too wild, tugging the blonde a small ways away as he panted to collect his breath, the satisfied purr from the omega at both the action and the sight made him shiver and fight to not just resume their heated kiss. "Bill, what was all that?"

Said boy only rolled his eye, diving in to reignite their previous activity but was stubbornly met with a hand against his chest, pushing him back. Huffing with an annoyed expression, Bill leaned forwards to press kisses against the jawline of the twin, fingers dancing along the edges of his shirt before ghosting against pale skin. His words were broken apart with his kisses, making the twin's strength and resolve weaken at the distraction which enabled Bill to move his lips lower. "I like you, okay, and you obviously like me too or else you wouldn't be doing this. Now shut it." Then those kisses turned to a tongue sliding up his neck, a pleasant shiver running up his spine and making him have goosebumps.

"B-Bill wait, what happened today? At sc-school then?" The twin had to bite his lower lip to keep from giving into his inner alphas desires, he didn't want Bill to regret this because of some hormones or urges, but with the way the omega's hips were slotting against his was making it difficult.

"Just got worked up is all," The blonde grumbled against heated flesh. "Don't worry about it." And the nibbling resumed full force. In a last ditch effort to save them both from his inner desires, Dipper grabbed Bill by the hips and flipped their positions, laying the omega down on his back with the alpha between his legs. The twin's weight was pressing the blonde's arms where they were between them, momentarily stuck while the brunette sighed looking down at the dissatisfied features of the blonde. Moving forward he pressed a quick kiss to his cheek sweetly.

"You can't get mad, ghost me and Mabs, and then try and feel me up. We should talk about this, set boundaries, and you need to tell me what's up! Not spring this on me all of a sudden." Dipper cooed, resting his forehead against Bill's almost motherly. This time, the alpha saw the way his cheeks turned rosy, it made him smile.

"That was my first kiss," was all the blonde said on the matter. Too stubborn and too prideful to admit he was so troubled by his own feelings for the twin, the film became background noise, long forgotten as they just rested in one another's company. Then it was Dipper's turn to blush bright red.

"W-wha- why give it to me?"

"Because," the omega trailed off. Pouting, eyes brows furrowing as he looked anywhere but those glistening, understanding brown eyes. He was pinned by the alpha, he was letting himself be pinned, he was letting Dipper have control over him. Gathering up his courage and hiding his sudden nerves, Bill stared right into those eyes with his single one. "I want you to be my alpha."

Dipper was shocked to say the least, frozen in his place as he looked down at the blonde in complete surprise. He was ecstatic and overwhelmed but he wasn't sure how to express which emotion, he didn't want to scare Bill or possibly over react and embarrass himself. Taking his weight off from the boy and freeing his arms, he smiled softly. "Okay," Dipper murmured moving in to press another smooch to the corners of the omega's lips. "I'll be your Alpha, I'm your's."

Bill couldn't help the way his heart raced at the words, the blood rushing to his face as he seemed at a loss for what to do next. Before he could even think or respond, the twin was trailing sweet, kindhearted smooches all over his face. Starting from the forehead, then the brigde of his nose to the tip, fanning over his cheeks and down to his throat. The blonde felt the kisses turn to suckles as they neared his pulse point, a stripe was being licked up his neck, scenting him with so much care and adoration that he was positive his heart would burst and he'd melt right through the cushions.

"P-Pinetree," The omega whined. Hands gripping on to the loose navy blue hoodie the twin never left home without, the alpha hummed and nuzzled into the crook of his omega's neck taking a deep whiff and purring at the mixture of scents on him. This time around it was Bill who insinuated the affectionate gesture, rubbing his hands up and down his alpha's arms and over the shoulders, easing whatever tension was hiding there before gliding his fingers into the mop of curly brown hair he grew so fond of. "Stay here for the night. With, with me."

And Dipper happily agreed, chest rumbling with delighted purrs. Pride filled his chest when he would walk into school tomorrow with his omega and just everyone would know who Bill belonged to and who he was loyal to. Bill was his, and he'd make sure to never let his omega get that stressed or close to tears ever again.

[mst3kproject]

507: I Accuse my Parents

This is apparently tied with Hercules Unchained for Joel's favourite episode.  It begins with a surprisingly depressing short in which the narrator is downright proud of the exploitative and ecologically destructive nature of the vegetable industry.  Then we cheer up with the heartwarming tale of Jimmy, a young man who blunders obliviously into crime because his parents never hugged him – just one of the many excuses that only work for rich white kids!

Jimmy Wilson is a bright, popular student who likes to tell lies about his home life, and when you consider that his parents are drunks who hate each other, it's hard to blame him.  Things seem to be looking up when he gets a job at a shoe store and begins a whirlwind romance with a singer named Kitty Reed, but this only leads him further into trouble.  He gets mixed up in the criminal dealings of mobster Charles Blake, eventually having to flee from the law and ending up on trial for manslaughter.  At the trial he blames his parents' neglect for his behaviour, and the judge accepts it and suspends his sentence because he's a Good Kid With a Lot of Promise. In the world we live in, that will apparently get you forgiven for all kinds of things.

The final shot in the film is a card telling us that this movie will be sent overseas to entertain the troops in Europe.  What?  Why? This is a movie about how important it is to be involved in your child's life.  Why would you show that to soldiers who've been away from their wives and children for months and don't know when they'll be going home?  Way to guilt trip the guys who are trying to fight a war for you.

One thing you'll notice about this movie, even if only by reading a plot summary, is that it goes to great lengths to make sure Jimmy never actually does anything wrong on purpose.  He considers stealing from his boss at the shoe store when he's sent to the bank, but doesn't.  He plans to rob Al's diner, but Al talks him out of it. All the crimes he committed for Blake he did in blissful ignorance, believing he was merely a delivery boy.  He doesn't even realize he's not supposed to be dating Kitty, since he has no idea that she and Blake are in a committed relationship.  The writers seem to fear that if Jimmy were to knowingly commit a crime we would immediately lose all sympathy for him.  Rather than take that risk, they keep him in the dark about what's going on, and as Joel and the Bots repeatedly observe, he therefore comes across as rather dim.  This has the opposite of the intended effect, making it harder to sympathize with Jimmy as we feel he really ought to know better.

Something kind of similar is done with Kitty.  She works for Blake at the Paradise Nightclub, which he appears to own, but all we ever see her do for him is sing.  If she's involved in any of his criminal activities, we are not privy to it.  She is presented as somebody who is fully aware of the world she's fallen into and wanting out of it, and Jimmy, the innocent, good-hearted shoe salesman, may just be her ticket to a more wholesome life... yet she, too, avoids knowingly doing anything wrong outside of her illicit affair.  The writers probably did this so that we would feel she 'deserves' upper-class Jimmy, but again that's not quite the effect they achieve.  Instead, Kitty Reed ends up seeming a whole lot more interesting than her blandly nice beau, and I found myself thinking she could do way better!  I actually kind of want to see a movie about how she got where she is.

So that's I Accuse my Parents, a movie in which the main characters are criminals who never commit crimes.  It reminds me of The Sinister Urge with its PG pornography, even though the moral of the story is much more like The Violent Years.  As in The Violent Years, the movie is also rather contrived.  The situations we're seeing never feel natural – they're always things the film has set up on purpose to teach us a lesson.  Naive and responsible Jimmy just doesn't feel like the product of a broken home.  Sunny Kitty doesn't come across as a mobster's moll, except in the scene where she breaks Jimmy's heart, and then we know she's putting it on.  Al offering a job to the kid with a gun is absurd.  Jimmy's fall into crime happens as a series of coincidences.  These aren't real people living out real events, they're actors in a morality play, and we are never quite able to forget that.

Yet despite all that, for some weird reason I Accuse my Parents is actually a pretty engaging movie.  Even the Brains seem to have gotten into it, judging by the host sketches.  When the movie was boring we tended to get things like Monster A-Go-Go's random games of keepaway or Viking Women and the Sea Serpent's celebration of waffles, but almost all the sketches of I Accuse my Parents are based on the movie itself. How does such a silly, artificial film draw us in like that?

I think a lot of it has to do with the pacing.  Every scene in I Accuse my Parents actually does something, establishing character or moving the plot along.  Bits that could have been tedious, like Jimmy's deliveries or his time on the lam, are glossed over with montages.  The closest the film comes to wasting time is with Kitty's three songs, but even these serve a purpose.  They're not very memorable but they're not bad, either, and each is chosen to speak to both Kitty's and Jimmy's emotions in the moment they're performed.  By keeping both of them in sync with the lyrics, the movie helps build the bond between the two characters and makes us want to root for their relationship.

The entire purpose of I Accuse my Parents is, of course, the moral.  Unlike many of the movies featuring old-looking 'teenagers' that appeared on MST3K, I Accuse my Parents is not targeted at a teenage audience.  Instead, it's looking to say something to that audience's parents, reminding them that their children need them. The Violent Years tried to do the same thing, but failed.  I Accuse my Parents is a bit more successful, because of another thing it does right: it explores exactly how Jimmy's relationship with his parents works, and gives us specific examples of things they could have done differently.

In The Violent Years, Paula Parkins' parents are chronically absent, but what we do see of them suggests that they love her and are trying their best.  In I Accuse my Parents, the mother and father seem to have no interest in Jimmy whatsoever.  Paula is able to have reasonably warm conversations with both parents.  They don't know she's in trouble, but that's because she deliberately lies to them.  Jimmy, on the other hand, would be happy to tell his parents what's going on in his life, both the good and the bad, but he can't get a word in edgewise.  Paula's parents probably tried to help her when they found out about her life of crime.  Jimmy's parents don't even let him tell them he needs help.

Although the characters of Mr. and Mrs. Wilson are exaggerated in order to make the movie's point, there are moments in their relationship with Jimmy that feel uncomfortably familiar.  I think we can all remember a time when we tried to share something with a busy parent and were brushed aside.  We can also all remember lying awake in bed reliving an embarrassing moment over and over, thinking of all the million ways we could have prevented it if we'd seen it coming – which we feel we really should have.  These moments ring true, and that gives the entire movie a big boost.

The end of the movie suggests that Jimmy's parents have realized the error of their ways and will be more attentive to him in the future... but we are only told this, and so it doesn't make the impression that the earlier events did.  I would have kind of liked to see them find the note he left them, and realize that something's been going on, or maybe have them apologize to him at the end of the courtroom scene.  As it stands, his forgiveness of them for their neglect – and theirs of him for calling them out in front of the court – seems to come far too easy.

The other thing that seems to be missing from the movie is any sign of the resentment Jimmy displays in the courtroom scene, when he declares his parents should never have had a child.  I think this is supposed to be manifested in his compulsive lying about his home life, but that never actually seems bitter.  It's more of a fantasy world he has created for himself, and comes across as wistful rather than angry.  If Jimmy were in the habit of telling people that his mother never showed up at the PTA because she was chronically ill, or that his father wasn't around because he ran off with the nanny, that would seem resentful.  Writing an essay about how everthing at home is wonderful just makes it seem like Jimmy is unable to cope with reality.

I give a lot of left-handed compliments on this blog, and it feels really wishy-washy to say that I Accuse my Parents is pretty good for a bad movie.  I can't think of a better way to put it, though – like The Magic Sword or The Black Scorpion, it's not by any means a good movie and yet I quite enjoyed it. I probably won't watch it again, at least not without Joel and the bots at the bottom, but that's more because it's just not the sort of movie I watch than because it's particularly awful.  The music was fun and things moved along fast enough to keep me interested.  I even lost my place in my knitting a couple of times.  MST3K movies come a lot worse than this.

[tinymixtapes]

Feature: 2017: Favorite Labels

When I was a shithead high school kid playing in my first punk rock band, I’m pretty positive that my cohorts and I dedicated much more time to hanging out in a Denny’s booth sketching logos and fine-tuning our astoundingly under-researched shortlists of the record labels that would ideally release our first earthshaking longplayer than we ever dedicated to, ya know, “writing” and “practicing” songs. But strangely, I don’t think this sort of thing happened because we were “lazy.” I think it’s because, a lot of times, the brand name counts even more than the music does. And I guess we all kinda understood that, even back then. Sure, we may all walk around our lives most of the time pretending like our choices and justifications are all pure and internally driven… but — as the introductory statements to three solid years’ worth of these Favorite Labels lists all ably point out — that shit is a straight-up hallucination. What we all really need at the end of the day is to feel assured that we’re part of a bigger story. We want those choices backed up by some weird, impossibly infallible guarantee. On a grand scale, this whole project represents nothing less than the most utterly serious of metaphysical business: nothing and no one stands on their own. Individuals are forgotten. Lines have endpoints. Organisms wither and die. We see this. We know this. We hate this. Brands, on the other hand, endure. Those glorious abstractions known as “classifications,” “families,” “institutions,” and so on can’t be killed. In other words, we’re not just talking comfort here; we’re talking Immortality. But even on the level of our day-to-day exploitation and/or enjoyment of culture, it holds true. For example, even now, as I try to reconstitute the narrative, some of my favorite records of 2017 didn’t just “come out.” They “came out as editions on Sean McCann’s Recital program.” As a writer, I found it downright difficult to parse and explain the evolution of certain monikers without using Hospital Productions as a scaffolding or to discuss this-or-that artist without shouting-out Posh Isolation. And I’ve got to fess up to the fact that, as a fan, I attended several shows and bought several records based on their Don Giovanni tag alone. Is any of this compulsive brand-association particularly justified or fair? Objectively, no, I guess not. But that’s exactly the point: categorizing frail, transient little things into grand structures that transcend the worth of each of those little peons when tallied individually not only provides a nice distraction, but it also helps cocoon us — however temporarily and delusionally — in a cozy and structured-yet-flexible hammock rather than leaving us all sailing naked through the silent, freezing, soulless, limitless, and immeasurable depths of deep space at a million miles an hour. So, um, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll just go head and keep clinging like grim death to all the delusional institutions I can get my mammalian hands on. In fact, here’s 14 or so that you might find handy too. Take ’em or leave ’em. –Dan Smart --- Noumenal Loom [$EGA & THE RAINBOW STREETS · TOIRET STATUS · PASCALE PROJECT] Since 2013, Noumenal Loom, run by Garrett Crosby, a.k.a. Holly Waxwing, out of Birmingham, Alabama, has been pogoing around the globe to gather together all sounds exciting and excitable. So far, the label has pepped us way up with seminal releases by aggregative electronic wizards Foodman, Giant Claw, and Seth Graham, while concurrently winding down with gentle albums from the lovably chill likes of Tuluum Shimmering and Angel Dust Dealers. Their 2017 roster opened with an addictively danceable cassette from DJ Voilà, and whether the label has been exploring techno, funk, smooth jazz, or muzak, it’s been an idea of bodily movement that has unified all of this year’s tapes and albums. We’ve window-shopped with Haha Mart and loosened into a swaying groove with Jasper Lee and Earthly. Bouncy releases from Pascale Project and $3.33 scrubbed the dance floor clean, and, to round out the year, the label just dropped two back-to-back bath bombs by $ega & The Rainbow Streets, a new project from Kenji Yamamoto, and some mind-boggling impishness from Toiret Status. Amidst all kinds of paralyzing madness outside, spaces and sounds that invite such movement feel distinctly joyful and freeing. –Cookcook --- Hands in the Dark [BYRON WESTBROOK · BRIAN CASE · MATT JENCIK] Even French label Hands In the Dark’s name dallies with the corporeal, alluding to a sense beyond the visible, a prickle or a tickle when the lights are off. Label founder Morgan Cuinet has compiled a walloping roster of experimental artists whose work mines the occult affect of sub-bass, the pilomotor reflex to binaural wizardry, and the pineal proprioception to the encounter between ambie(/a)nce and the human ear. It’s hardly a surprise, then, that the artists represented — among them Matt Jencik, Brian Case, and Byron Westbrook — positively bodied the electronic music scene in 2017. Even from the pirouetting opening seconds of Westbrook’s “Dance and Free Fall,” the opening track off Body Consonance, tendrils of sound coagulate and consummate with the ear, consonate with the flesh, palpitate along with the temple’s pulse. Mastered by Helmut Erler and TMT favorite Rashad Becker at Berlin’s Dubplates & Mastering, these delicately fashioned transmissions massage and clench, stimulating the viscera and churning the gut. Hands in the Dark has quietly built a catalog of ambient music with gumption, a dance music for the synapses and for the goosebumps. The future is now: forget your antidepressants and anhedonia. With hands and feet and neck and back — in the dark or in the light — we’re getting sensual. –Benjamin Eckman Bieser --- Nyege Nyege Tapes [RIDDLORE · OTIM ALPHA · MAKAVELI] Luck’s acute attribute is having enough faith in letting go of the good and/or bad; a bird shits your in hair: half-think you won the lottery, but you keep thinking, a bird shit in my hair. Communication will forever be sharpened through adverse arts. Nyege Nyege Tapes bugged on 2017 with some excellent cultural deep-dive for listeners to gnash. What hit first was the jux-flow of “Ukuti” by Disco Vumbi. Immediately after, Riddlore’s Afromutations banged so hard, listeners lost direction of “Why?” and pursed immediate: “What timeline does Nyege Nyege Tapes abide by?” The third release defined another unique MC’s entry, Gulu City Anthems by Otim Alpha, baring a certain soul that comes more with the certainty of songwriting than production. Mysterians’s Joyride on Judgment Day was a gem that power-washed nodes on a level of intellect we won’t find until all the pieces of blasted-ambience have fit. But most importantly, Sounds of Sisso vibes on such a level of reappropriative, cultural instinct, one forgets to even find the magnitude of hype, purely grappling at the textures of rhythm. Nyege Nyege Tapes defines the stripped-down airfare to where prestige and lister-expansion take the next step. –C Monster --- Recital Program [ROGER ENO · DICK HIGGINS · MARY MAZZACANE] Whatever happened to the classics? Did we just get over them? Or rather, did they get over us? Is it still possible to remain just a little bit old-fashioned in a world that’s progressing at an exponential rate, when what happened even yesterday is archaic, forgotten, meaningless? For one, maybe study up on Sean McCann’s Recital Program, which spent yet another year shattering the glass walls between “high” and “low” art, proving again that everything is fascinating if we just look a little closer. Between exploring the lost lineage of the Mazzacane/Connors family, exposing the ever-tumbling wordplay of Dick Higgins, and issuing regal, flowing piano works from the likes of Michael Vincent Waller and Roger Eno, Recital kept its cool amidst a musical landscape that continues to self-implode. In reclaiming the opulent world of the classical for the underground of today, McCann’s label creates its own sort of beautiful order out of chaos, a theater in which the mundane and the ornate can freely converse and even trade places for a while if they so choose, unshackled from the class boundaries that so often keep the two camps railing against one another. Whatever happened to the classics? They’re living among us now. –Sam Goldner --- Music from Memory [BENE FONTELES · DUB OVEN · GAUSSIAN CURVE] “Music from Memory” is a misnomer and double entendre both. The records released by the Amsterdam label can’t be from memory in its most common meaning, simply because they have almost never been heard by “the masses” before. The music does, however, come from what could be called a place of memory. It has the ability to instill nostalgia for mysteries, to create attachments to unlived experiences. What started with the phenomenal Vito Ricci full-length in 2015 and was constituted with the Dip In The Pool reissue in 2016 has, this year, become a stalwart of archival transcendence. Although it’s often titled a “reissue label,” every 2017 release out of Music from Memory feels incredibly new. Psychedelic Brazilian music comps feel dime-a-dozen these days, but 2017’s Outro Tempo pillars over them all. The clunky disco of Dutch DJ Richenel feels a step ahead of contemporary house nostalgics. What the label provides is a sort of one-way mirror, looking at a past that was dreaming of its future. The attention to detail and arduous curation that goes into every record from Music from Memory highlights not where we went wrong, but what was done right. –E. Fosl --- The Worst [MINOGAME · X.NTE · ANCIENT ORIGIN] The Worst couldn’t be more misnamed. Since January, the Tennessean netlabel has birthed a baker’s dozen of the squelchiest/geekiest/sugar-sludgiest breakcore the bowels of SoundCloud have to offer. Spearheaded by visual-artist-cum-producer Minogame, the imprint functions as the post-internet era’s answer to the Smithsonian Folkways, cataloguing cyberpunk transmissions from the web’s uncharted territories: aside from surface-level nods to Warp’s cheeky humor and penchant for cluttered drum-breaks, much of the label’s output represents the hyper-individualism within a late-capitalist state that has driven us deep into our own curated aesthetics for solace. The aforementioned Minogame’s a tribe of one, signified by their Lascaux-like scribblings and math-rock source material. The prolific Ancient Origin is also a culture unto itself, one informed as much by Animal Crossing’s pastoral tradition as it is by mid-aughts crunk mixtapes. Visit The Worst’s Bandcamp, click a record cover, and assimilate: this is an expansive charting a miniature world. –Jude Noel --- Profound Lore [BELL WITCH · SANNHET · FULL OF HELL] I’ll be real: last year, I hadn’t heard of Profound Lore Records. Sure, I knew a ton of their past releases, like those of Krallice, Altar of Plagues, and Nadja, but I wasn’t fully conscious of the brilliant and gnarled web that tied them all together. The fateful moment that changed all that was the December release of Ash Borer’s superb The Irrepassable Gate, which was one of the most truly badass black metal records I’d heard in years. I became obsessed, and I started paying attention to Profound Lore (run by the great Chris Bruni). Enter 2017. I came into this year ready to chomp on anything Profound Lore released, and what a fucking year they’ve had. Pallbearer’s Heartless was a thrilling, prog-tinged doom journey that was as compelling as anything the band has done. Full Of Hell’s Trumpeting Ecstasy was an impeccably produced and excellently paced grindcore album, one of the year’s best in the genre. And then there was Loss’ magical doom odyssey Horizonless, whose grizzly howls brought an appropriate sense of melancholic yearning for listeners in 2017. And let’s not forget Sannhet’s aggressive and relentless So Numb, a refreshingly powerful exercise in instrumental metal. But, in my opinion, Profound Lore’s crowning achievement for the year was Bell Witch’s Mirror Reaper, a breathtaking, bass-laden drive through the great beyond via glacial doom metal. The label capped the year off with this month’s epically unsettling 7xLP Rainbow Mirror by Prurient, a release that delivered a whole new set of mysteries and moods for us to relish as we slide gracefully into 2018. I raise my glass to you now, Profound Lore, as I have many times in my life, whether knowingly or unknowingly. You have brought a significant amount of beautiful music into the world this year. Thank you. –Adam Rothbarth --- End of the Alphabet [AKE · OMIT · MARHAUS AND MEEK] I have often wondered the existential meaning behind Noel Meek’s End of the Alphabet label. I can conjure many shortsighted missives about the location of New Zealand, the idea of the letters X, Y, and Z being largely ignored and underused, or perhaps the notion that those same letters are quite weird and therefore loosely lumped together. So I’ll stick to a combination of all three, which is why EotA is such an ear-opening experience. Whether it’s via Meek’s own releases and collaborations, or those spotlighting both his New Zealand and its surrounding — and equally ignored — regional sounds. Considering how stuck Western culture seems to be, I’d rather delve into the XYZs of our globe than the ABCs. –Jspicer --- MOTOR Collective [KLEIN & LACK · SABERTOOTH · R. GAMBLE] Tucked away in the fogs of the Pacific Northwest, this year the gang at MOTOR Collective did not “break through” so much as further refine their version of dance music — moody, spacious, and deep, yet grounded enough that you can actually move to it. MOTOR releases (as well as their excellent parties and podcasts) feel less like music for the club as we know it and more like the jump-off point for some head-trip gathering in the forest; the sense of a group yearning for this vision carries across records as varied as R Gamble’s Realistic Spaces and Heidi Sabertooth’s The Hear Of Now (both highlights for the year). That you can still hear the tape hiss on many digital versions of MOTOR tracks (as opposed to the hyperreal, LOL-perfect rendering of so much modern electronic music) speaks to what the label is going for. Like mighty ponderosa left in the rain, it’s imperfect and gently warped, still sturdy, and full of personality. –Dylan Pasture --- PERMALNK [DETENTE · LEO HOFFSAES & LOTO RETINA · BENOIT B] The Parisian label PERMALNK has been offering what it calls an “empathetic image of the world” since 2014, but it wasn’t until this year, with three strong releases, that it brought that image into clearer focus. The empathy of DETENTE’s Basic Dwell is reserved for the world’s smoldering and static-charged bits, where its energy is locked up, and from whence it manifests in stuttering impact and action-movie fidelity, accompanied by the grungy tremolo of guitar. Léo Hoffsaes and Loto Retina collaborated on Early Contact, the intimate story of a woman’s day out with her son and husband as her second child squirms in her belly, with uterine gurgling joining airy string melodies in a duet of nervous anticipation that spreads, as if contagiously, from narrator to listener. Far from both the incidental onslaught of Basic Dwell and the human intimacy of Early Contact, Benoit B’s Ethereal Drops addressed itself to the world as if to a fantastic, New Age-adjacent vision of nature. Its tracks, like the standouts “Sparkling Stream” and “Diamonds Rain,” combined a high, animalistic chirp with pads colored in shades of balearic and trance, constructing an image that, like artist Tavi Lee’s album cover, carries about it a worldly air, even in its bold color palette and surreal bending of the edges of its “natural” forms about one another. In 2017, PERMALNK has accomplished something rare in releasing three albums with little in common aside from an adherence to the label’s noble mission statement and, more importantly, an uncanny coherence as individual works of art. –Will Neibergall --- Posh Isolation [CROATIAN ARMOR · DAMIEN DUBROVNIK · KYO] In some secret file on Loke Rahbek’s hard drive, one can find my full frontal nudes along with a genetalia garden of many other bodies, desecrated and devalued, for they all were exchanged, vulnerability for vulnerability, with a cassette tape of Croatian Amor’s 2014 album The Wild Palms. In the commodification of the world, all things are abstractly identified with an exchange value, where even vulnerability has a value, for the body is as expendable as every other image. Yet, here we give one’s inability to give as a gift — one’s vulnerability. The self-interest of commodity economy is abdicated in preference of a gift exchange. Here, Rahbek creates an artificial space to find other people. Posh Isolation’s forays beyond noise and industrial to lyrical ambient and minimal techno belie industrial music’s foundation in the incommunicable dissonance of the world of industrial capitalism, where seeking to be heard above the din is a project worthy of art. By fetishizing the empty object in the artificial space of performance, this bubblegum industrial forges impossible connections that, though artificial, become pleasurable and therefore real. Through pain directed inward, as if pierced by a great many arrows, we confirm that one’s self is irreducible to the abstract identification of the commodity, as Saint Sebastian his beauty. The ultimate need to make contact snaps one out of artificiality. In 2017, the cold has become a little bit warmer and a sort of sincerity is resuscitated. –Evan Coral --- Don Giovanni [SCREAMING FEMALES · AGUA VIVA · LEE BAINS III & THE GLORY FIRES] What’s opera, doc? Opera is text by tune splitting story, Italian for “work.” Opera is Don Giovanni, some Austrian seraph’s diminishing sevenths flicking humans into shouting until the sound shakes our hearts. Hearts and mouths shout, so listen: Joe Steinhardt and Zach Gajewski played in a bad band at Boston College, made their own 7-inch, and voila: opera via Don Giovanni. It’s music label as New Brunswick new alternative, nixing commercial interruption so artist and audience are fleet free as a Mozart minuet to trade roles and help each other. “Anyone can do anything and not just that, everyone can do everything. No one’s fucking special,” Steinhardt reminds us. In an ashen historical moment, those words are totem for remembering the good work of “nobody lives unless everybody lives.” Don Giovanni is Aye Nako’s rim shot disrupt-punk and the geography-atomizing Lee Bains III & The Glory Fires. It’s Irreversible Entanglements, unmetered jazz outfit as union collective and A Piece of Water, the Buenos Aires tidal pool dream of Agua Viva, a body’s buoyancy over oppression. It’s La Neve’s American Sounds, a non-binary bodying the electric song as new national anthem sans strict script and the breaking “Glass House,” Screaming Female’s yowl of a collective body’s mission to re-member shards of 2017’s ill-reality into something better for every body. The music label model is the original resisting force, the libretto punk show, a two-fold work of labor output and piece created. Don Giovanni refuses repenting like the title character and screams high C’s into hell, a Looney Tunes promise that everything is movable except good work. Don Giovanni is the good work, opera for us by us. No one’s fucking special. Everyone’s fucking special. –Frank Falisi --- Piratón [MINICOMPONENTE · UPGRAYEDD JESSICA · AMAZONDOTCOM] OK, you caught me; Piratón Records isn’t as prolific as some of these other labels. As far as I can tell, it currently only exists as a Bandcamp page, and since its founding in 2015 by Mexico City musician and music journalist Carlos Huerta (a.k.a. Josué Josué), there are only four releases, all available for free streaming with a “name your price” option for download. One of them, Ruido’s 2015 FUN LP, is a totally bonkers instrumental hip-hop/chip-tune/synth punk thing. Two of them are compilations in a series called No hay más fruta que las nuestra, which means, “There is no fruit other than ours,” a play on a quote by Mexican social realist painter David Siqueiros: “No hay mas ruta que la nuestra” (“There is no other route but ours”). This year’s No hay más fruta que la nuestra 2 is why I’m writing this blurb. Like its 2016 predecessor, it features all kinds of music by female artists from Latin America and Spain. TMT favorite (Upgrayedd) Smurphy is on it, along with 11 other incredible ladies whose work spans pop, punk, rap, techno, and folk. It’s basically all I’ve listened to this year (besides, like, DAMN. and A Crow Looked At Me, so you know it’s good but ultimately responsible for way fewer tears). Snarkiness aside, I hope that somebody finds this at least half as empowering as I did this year. Life fairs a little better when your music’s this good. –Jazz Scott --- Hospital Productions [LUSSURIA · RAINFOREST SPIRITUAL ENSLAVEMENT · NINOS DU BRASIL] 2017 was the 20th year in the business for Dominic Fernow’s Hospital Productions. The label celebrated with tastefully grim releases that fit nicely under the three categories of Fernow’s own projects, Vatican Shadow, Prurient, and Rainforest Spiritual Enslavement. Like Demdike Stare’s DDS and Oneohtrix Point Never’s Software imprints, Hospital Productions never strays far from Fernow’s infernal circle of influence. The label eschews the convenience of modern platforms, preferring physical record stores and distributors like Boomkat and Bleep to platforms like Bandcamp and SoundCloud. Aesthetically, the labels seems to occupy a razor-thin void that exists between the chic, palatable throb of ambient techno — the sort of jilted, swooning sound that intellectual architecture students in horn-rimmed glasses and ket-heads in crop tops can bond over — and the always unpalatable, unpredictable underground noise scene. The latter is the spawning pool of Hospital Productions, a realm of cut-and-paste cassette art and “noise tables,” which basically kept the National Audio Company in business until avant-garde electronica and Urban Outfitters found tapes to be a fashionable medium again. It’s a dangerous game Fernow plays: with every high-bias, 180g limited-edition release at the luxury price point, he runs the risk of playing to the “market,” whether ironically or for personal gain. Industry politics aside, the music is of scrupulous quality and gluttonous proportions. Hospital Productions is committed to releases of staggering, atmospheric scale: the monolithic physical LPs and cassette boxes are like dense artifacts, adding to the imprint’s quasi-archaeological mystique. Rainforest Spiritual Enslavement put out a few large cuts, coming over two hours on a reissue of Green Graves. The project also put out an eight-cassette compilation titled Water Witches, one of many such bricks of tape that the label would drop. Another eight-hour box set of 8xCS was released for Dust Belt’s brooding, dark ambient on Ecocannibalism, and then of course there was the 6xLP release of Prurient’s massive Rainbow Mirror, which was co-released with Profound Lore. The club side of Hospital Productions is equally grim: Ninos du Brasil released their second full-length, Vida Eterna, a bludgeoning set of trance-inducing Latin rhythms, as well as another 12-inch. Natural Assembly put out The Fantasy of Love, a mix of post punk and deep house. Shifted drew a converging plane between metal grooves (the rhythmic kind) that sound like they’ve been rubbed out of literal metal grooves and outsider techno beats on Appropriation Stories. As much as I hate the “outsider” term, there’s still not much of a vocabulary for the sort of undanceable, fringes-of-the-club-basement beats that Hospital represents so well. –Ross Devlin http://j.mp/2iT0sDJ

[ficdirectory]

Blink (An AU Fosters family fic) Chapter 55

CHAPTER 55

 Pearl has tried to psych herself up all day, but going to the post office simply is not happening.

She’s started to get ready half a dozen times.  Sometimes, she’s gotten as far as starting the car, but just sitting in the driver’s seat made flashbacks grip her hard.  (Jared in the seat next to her.  Telling her to drive.  Now.)  Any pressure at all makes Pearl remember that pressure.  That night.  

 It’s beyond imagining why at sixteen, Pearl could endure what she had, but at 31, she can’t run a simple errand.

 It would be okay if this could wait.  But without pressure, Pearl also lacked motivation.  It’s crunch time now, because she knows she has to go.  It’s for work.  Someone paid for their cute little Lhasa Apso to have a sweater and the last thing Pearl wants is for an adorable little dog to freeze because she’s incompetent and can’t make a post office run.

 She just can’t make herself do it.  The more the pressure, the less motivated she is.  Instead, she curls up on the couch with Gracie.  She knows she needs to touch base with somebody, but Char has an actual in-person support group thing (mortifying) and it’s Pav’s husband’s birthday.

 And that leaves Jesus.  Who hasn’t really been in the touching base place for her.  Which is fine.  It’s just that, if left to her own devices, Pearl would hole up here, and never leave.

 It’s happened before.  It was her life before she got Gracie.

 As if she knows what’s on Pearl’s mind, Gracie licks her face.  

 “I know we can try again tomorrow, but I don’t want to go into town at all,” Pearl whines.  There’s nobody here but her and Gracie.  Nobody to judge her totally childlike moment of just being done with everything.

 Gracie cocks her head.  

 “I don’t know why.  Do I need a reason?” Pearl asks, pulling a blanket up around her.

 --

 Friday afternoon, Jesus walks into therapy with Dr. H. carrying his new backpack from Mama. He still has his scarf on.  And his new bracelet.  And Jesus really wants to be able to talk about some of this stuff.  Why it’s significant.  Why it helps him feel safe.

 His phone chimes with a text from Pearl:

 It’s official.  I am officially a failure at going to the post office.  Gracie told me I should go, but I couldn’t get out the door.  Now I have to go tomorrow or this stupid dog sweater will be late.  Not how I want to spend my Saturday.

 Quickly, Jesus sends a string of emojis back her way.  A heart.  A dog.  A present.  And a message that says:

 Call when you go.  I can be your backup.

 After that, he turns the volume down on his phone and gets to work.  

 First, he gets grounded, and then he updates Dr. H. about the last twenty-four hours. He tells her about relapsing, and getting hard feedback on his essay and how that triggered him.  How they talked it out and Mama explained why she did what she did and how it was different.  That it led to some great conversations, especially with Mama, where Jesus was able to open up.

 “I’ve been able to share stuff with her I haven’t really told anybody in my family yet.  Like about my disappearing and how it has different levels and all that.  She asked what she could do to help and I told her some stuff.  Today - this morning - she noticed I was having trouble, and she came and helped me before it got bad.”

 “How did that make you feel?” Dr. H. asks.

 “Not invisible,” Jesus says.

 “I see.  And what emotion were you feeling when your mother noticed you were having trouble?”

 “I felt...hopeful…” Jesus ventures.

 “Why were you feeling hopeful?”

 “Because she was following through.  Because she didn’t just tell me she would do something to help she actually followed through.  Not in the way she thought I needed...but the way I actually needed.”

 “I understand.  You deserve to feel hopeful, Jesus.  It sounds like you and your mother have made some great steps in a short period of time.”

 He nods.  Then they pause to breathe and refocus.  Dr. H. asks if he wants to share about the things he brought to the office.

 “Well...speaking of following through in the way I needed…  Remember earlier this week when Mama threw the food in my backpack away?  And she didn’t ask me?”

 “I do.”

 “And we talked about what I’d need if there was ever a next time and I said I’d need her to give me another backpack with food in it before she took the other one.  So,” he holds out the bag.  Swallows back the lump in his throat.

 “I’d like you to breathe and see if you can finish your thought, Jesus.  I can see you’re feeling emotional.  That’s okay in here.  Your feelings are safe.  You won’t be mocked or hurt in any way.”

 Jesus drags in a shaky breath.  Looks at Dr. H. even though she’s all blurry.  “Mama gave this to me…” he confesses softly.

 “What feeling does that bring up?” she checks.

 “Overwhelm…” Jesus hedges.

 “It’s okay to be overwhelmed, Jesus.  That’s perfectly reasonable. Is it safe to assume there’s food in this backpack, as well?”

 “Yes…” he breathes.  “I need to do a sidenote.  But it’s still on topic.  You know how when I was at the cabin a lot of stuff came up about Isaac?”

 Dr. H. nods, listening.

 “Well, I realized, talking to Pearl one day that I was hoarding all the food in that backpack kinda like...for him…” Jesus ventures.  “Like, I couldn’t save him, but I could save the food.  And our main connection was really me bringing him food.  We talked about it.  Once I stole cupcakes from The House when he said it was his birthday.  The Hostess ones.  And so there was two, and I helped him eat one.  But he wouldn’t take the second one.  He said it was for me.  Because we found out our birthdays were a week apart…”

 “So, is it fair to say that food is something very powerful that you two shared?”

 “Yes.  Can I show you what’s in the bag?” Jesus asks.  He doesn’t wait for an answer.  Just carefully assembles everything on the low table between them.  The food from Mama.  The box of cupcakes from Pearl.  The letter from Mama.  The letter he wrote for Isaac.  And the picture.

 “I see Hostess cupcakes.  That’s significant.  From your mother?” Dr. H. asks.

 “No, Pearl sent those when she realized what happened with the other bag.”

 “How did that resonate?  Did you find it difficult to receive them?”

 “No, actually.  It’s like...she paid attention to what I was saying.  And sent me something that she knew mattered to me.”

 “You found it validating.”

 “Right.”

 “And when your mother got rid of the food in the other backpack?  I can see why that felt like a very big loss.”

 “Yeah,” Jesus sighs.

 After a pause, she asks.  “Would you say you hoarding at the cabin was just about Isaac and your grief over him...or was it also about you, Jesus?”

 “Oh, it was for sure about me, too.”

 “How so?”

 “Because it was a new place,” he starts deliberately.  He knows how easily he could get carried away in the fear of these memories.  “I was away from home.  I hadn’t been away from home since I got back.  So being away, of course, meant that I didn’t know if I’d be able to eat.  Or how long I’d have access to food that was there.  And...I kept misinterpreting, I think?”

 “Tell me about misinterpreting.  What did you misinterpret?”

 “Well, like, one morning, Mama had said something like, ‘Go take a shower and then we can eat breakfast.’  Now, I get that she probably meant if I showered first, by the time I was done, breakfast would be ready.  But I heard...that I wouldn’t get breakfast unless I showered.”

 “That must’ve felt very unsafe.”

 “It did,” Jesus nods.

 “Do you still feel the compulsion to hoard now that you’re home?” Dr. H. asks.

 “I feel the compulsion to do other things…” Jesus mutters, looking away.

 “Feel your feet on the floor? Press down.  Sit up straight.  Head up, please,” she cues.  “Now take a breath.  She waits while Jesus does.  “Do you feel safe right now?”

 “My skin is crawling…” he admits.  Without thinking, Jesus takes the scarf off from around his neck and winds it around his left wrist, which got the worst of it, and still has bandaids.  The only bad thing is now he can’t see his new bracelet from Mama.

 “Let’s give your hands something else to do.  Something to keep them busy.  Would you like to put things back in your backpack?  Draw?”

 “Both,” he blurts.  And Jesus reaches out to put everything back in its place in the backpack.  Then, he accepts the sketch pad from Dr. H.  He doesn’t realize he’s basically curled in the chair until Dr. H. asks if he can put his feet on the floor, please.  (It’s so she has an eyeline to his hands, he knows.)

 So Jesus makes an attempt to organize himself.  Repositioning the sketchpad on his lap, with his feet flat on the floor.  Starts drawing.

 Dr. H. is quiet, not asking Jesus to split his focus, which he needs all of to reroute the seriously intense urges happening right now.  He concentrates on what he’s doing.  And slowly, starts to talk.

 “I drew a really awesome picture of my baby sis today,” Jesus confides, choosing to share this - something that gives him pride - over something that might cause him to slip up (like hoarding.)

 “Would you like to tell me anymore about it?’ Dr. H. asks, and Jesus talks about how Frankie had pretended to be his art teacher and asked him if he wanted to draw what made him happy.

 “She makes me happy, so I drew her.  And she really liked the drawing.  Said it was like a picture you take with your phone.  It was probably one of my best…  Mama even framed it and put it in her room,” Jesus muses letting his mind get consumed by pencil strokes against an empty page, not by giving in and letting the unhealthy part of him have another win.

 “We have about five minutes left,” Dr. H. says calmly.  “How are you feeling?”

 “Better.  It’s gone for now.  The weird sensations,” Jesus realizes.

 “I think you handled that beautifully, Jesus.” Dr. H. says.

 “How?” he wonders.

 “You alerted me to how you were feeling.  You picked another activity to focus on and you talked about something positive while you did it.  I’m very proud of you.”

 Jesus can feel his ears get hot.  “Thanks,” he mutters, keeping eye contact, because it’s what they do in here.  “Um…  Here…” he says, laying the sketchpad on the table, facing the doc.

 “You’re extremely talented, Jesus,” Dr. H. tells him, looking honest-to-God intrigued.

 “I wanna say before I have to leave...it’s not the hoarding that’s an issue for me anymore.  It’s...managing this…” he admits, nodding at his wrist, still wrapped in the scarf from Pearl.  Dr. H. listens, in case he has more to say.  Turns out, he does.  “I have a question.  Are you disappointed?  I mean, that I relapsed yesterday?”

 “No.  I’m not disappointed that you relapsed yesterday, Jesus.  Relapse is expected.  It’s a part of recovery.  And by your own account, it sounds like you’re beginning to trust those around you to help keep you safe.  And that’s an impressive thing, indeed.  Over the weekend?  Keep it up.”

 “That’s it?”

 “That’s it.  Practice coping in a way that prioritizes your mental health and your safety.  Practice alerting your safe people when you feel overwhelmed.  Perhaps, tell your mother, when she comes to pick you up, about needing to keep your hands busy when you’re feeling triggered to harm yourself.  Choose something you enjoy that takes a lot of your concentration.  I highly recommend sketching or drawing.  This is impressive, Jesus,” Dr. H. emphasizes, still studying the picture he drew.  “What inspired this?  Can I ask?”

 “It’s something that helped me cope,” he shares.

 “May I hang it up?  It’s possible, seeing it might help someone else cope…”

 “Yeah.  That would be awesome,” he nods.

 Jesus gives his drawing one last glance before he leaves the office.  Snapping a pic to send to Pearl before he goes:

 Because on the page, Jesus has drawn a tree.

[quarkoftheimagination]

do all the oc questions ;) (prompt thing coming sometime soon idk)

You suck This is for Clark 1. What is your OC’s favorite color? Cobalt blue or radioactive green 2. Does your OC collect anything? What do they collect? little tidbits from computers or other electronic bits. 3. What kind of things is your OC allergic to? Shellfish, shrimp in particular 4. What kind of clothing does your OC wear? Formal to business casual pretty much all the time. lots of sweaters too. 5. What is your OC’s first memory? First memory? Probably his dad taking him outside for the first time. It was to the zoo when he was 5 or so.  6. What’s your OC’s favorite animal? Least favorite? Clark likes owls and other birds, he just thinks their cool. Least favorite would be a snake.  7. What element would your OC be? Ummmm. He already can manipulate electricity maybe air then 8. What is your OC’s theme song? Um… I say I’d Rather Drown and You’re Gonna Go far Kid 9. Do you have a faceclaim / voiceclaim for your OC? NOOOOOO 10. What deadly sin would best represent your OC? Pride. just just pride 11. What are your OC’s hobbies? Reading, electric tinkering, political blogging 12. How patient is your OC? How hot-headed are they? Not very patient with stupidity, repetitiveness, or lack of patience from other people, ok with most other stuff. Can’t stand his mom and will yell. 13. What is your OC’s gender / sexuality / race / species / he him/ gay/ alien 14. What foods does your OC like to eat? What are their least favorite foods? He doesn’t like spicy foods, and he’s allergic to shellfish but anything else is good. 15. If your OC could have any pet, what would they choose? Why? A cat. they kinda take care of themselves and he can have them on his lap. 16. What does your OC smell like? Burnt circuits and expensive shampoo 17. How do they make a living? What kind of job do they want / not want? What is their dream job? What do they think of their current job? He loves his job as a computer engineer, can’t really imagine what else to do with his life. 18. What are your OC’s greatest fears? Weaknesses? Strengths? Fears he’s not good enough. Strength is his brainpower, including quick thinking. Weakness is his pride and his curiosity often gets the better of him. Very bad at letting go of things. Doesn’t really think people change as much as they say 19. What kind of music do they listen to? Do they have a favorite song? All song types are interesting, sadly likes indie or alternative bands. 20. If they came from their world to ours (if not already in our’s) how would they react? What would they do? He would catalog everything and be quite an annoyance to everyone. 21. What personal problems/issues do they have? Pet peeves? Stupidity, has trust issues. Bugged by people referring to him as ‘prince’ 22. What kind of student were they/would they be in high school? An asshole nerdy kid. 23. What is a random fact about your OC? He’s left handed because of a transporter incident. After words he took apart the transporter to figure out why it had happened. It’s how he got into computer engineering in the first place. 24. What is their outlook on life? What is their philosophy / what do they think in general about living? He thinks some people have too much power. Life is fun with all its knowledge and experiences. Most people are out to save who they care for and that’s it, others don’t care about anyone. Those people can’t be trusted. A person can upset an entire system if it’s failing badly enough. Believes fiercely in equality. 25. What inspired you to create them / how did you create them? Were they originally a fancharacter? What was their personality / design like when you first made them? Originally a fancharacter, pretty much the same. I based him off myself. w h o o p s. His physical design is much different now than before. 26. 26. Who is the most important person in their life? Why? Who is the least important to them (that still has an impact and why?) Kira, his sister is the most important. His mom is probably the least important. She could die in a ditch and he wouldn’t care either way. 27. What kind of childhood did your character have? Stuck in solitude learning about the people he might have to rule over one day. It wasn’t a happy time. 28. What kind of nervous habits do they have? Do they stim? Do they have any kinds of addictions? Chews e v e r y t h i n g. Nails, lips, writing instruments, sleeves. Nothing is safe. Drinks coffee too much. 29. If they could choose their epitaph for their grave, what would they choose? He’d put 'nothing is set in stone’ 30. Do they want to get married? Why or why not? Would they ever want kids? Do they have kids? Why? No, he’s afraid of marriage at this point. Again, his moms fault for having 2 spouses die and the other abusive. No kids either. Kira’s hard enough to raise. 31. What is their most traumatic memory/experience? What is their favorite memory? Traumatic would probably be either learning his dad died or the first time Kira died. Favorite would be the first day he was in public without having to worry about his parents. 32. If they could have one thing in the world, what would it be? The ability to walk. 33. Would they ever kill someone? What would someone have to do to push them to kill someone? If they would kill someone, why?  Yes, it wouldn’t take much either. He won’t go around killing people but sometimes he overestimates what it would take to knock someone out and whoops they’re dead. Mostly self preservation or to make a statement. Again, won’t go on a murder streak. 34. What social groups and activities does your character attend? What role do they like to play? What role do they actually play, usually? Clark likes public speaking at colleges or things like that, and he usually gets dragged to fancy people balls and stuff. Science conventions maybe? He would go to book festivals just to buy a ton of books regardless if he’d ever actually read them. 35. How is your character’s imagination? Daydreaming a lot? Worried most of the time? Living in memories? Pretty down to earth, good sense of thinking into the future. Always half wondering about his next project. A visionary when it comes to technology. 36. What does your character want most? What do they need really badly, compulsively? What are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain? 37. What’s something that your character does, that other people don’t normally do? 38. What would your character do with a million dollars? 39. What is in your characters refrigerator right now? On their bedroom floor? Nightstand? Garbage can? 40. Your character is getting ready for a night out. Where are they going? What do they wear? Who will they be with? 41. What does your character do when they’re angry? Why? 42. Does your character have any scars? Where did they get them from? 43. What was the most offensive thing your character had ever said? 44. How does your character react/ accept criticism? very badly. Very very badly. He takes that shit hard. 45. If your character was given a slice of pineapple pizza and they HAD to eat it (or something bad would happen), how would they react? Do they even LIKE pineapple pizza? Yeah he likes it. He’d probably look at the person with a 'are you ok’ look first though 46. Your character is given a voodoo doll of themself. What do they do with it? Do they see if it actually works? Clark just starts stabbing it to see what happens and is genuinely surprised if it works/doesn’t work. 47. Can your character draw? What do they like to draw? Do they doodle? Clark mostly doodles and sketches technology designs, not good at people. 48. What were their parents like? How has that affected how they are as an adult? His dad actually wasn’t too bad, a little worried for Clark, but other than that nothing else extraordinary. He did support Clark’s weird quirks as a kid. He’s dead now, which lead Clark to believe that good things always come to an end and evil keeps on growing. His mom is a bit flighty and constantly just. Leaves her children. His step dad is    Something else entirely. 49. Does your character like candy? Do they get sugar rushes? What are they like when they get a rush? Clark tries to chew candy instead of other things, so yes. Sugar rushed he’s pretty jitter and talks a lot. 50. If your character was presented with imminent and unavoidable death/fatality, how would they react? Would they try to avoid death anyways? Would they try to make their last days count? He would just kind of be in denial for a while. (I’m immortal right? he isn’t completely immortal) but if set with a timeline he’d try to avoid death STILL because he is afraid of dying deep in his sub-conscious. Clark would try to make an even more of a lasting impression on people because he doesn’t want to be forgotten easily.

phew that was a lot 

EDIT: fixed the last answer because I was called out for my bullshit

[jaegermau]

Essay

Jaeger Ehrenbeck

Prototyping

March 26, 2020

Why Gray Area Matters:

 A Compendium on Ideation Synthesis, and Collaboration

 Ambiguity is often met with dismay or fear. Ambiguity is a sense of uncertainty towards something, or a state at which something is observed in and paradoxically not observable, at least in terms of making a solid conclusion or remark towards what it is that is being observed. To designers however, this uncertainty is the life-force of the imagination, it is the boundless freedom of creativity.

 The topic that will be discussed in this essay is the process of prototyping and engaging with others, but more specifically, the importance of  equivocacy in the context of collaborating with others and sharing ideas with peers, stakeholders, or whoever else may be included in the prototyping process. Leaving some aspects of an idea undefined is of great importance to designers and stakeholders alike. The degree to which a designer does this can make or break a prototype, so it must always be balanced carefully in accordance to what stage of prototyping the designer is on.

Leaving aspects of a prototype undecided is important for collaboration with others the designer is working on the project with. It is inherent in the very nature of building a prototype that things are left undecided. It is not a polished idea; it is a compromise between the dualistic worlds of imagination and practicality. The collaborative process works and aims towards a common goal, that is the only certainty when it comes to creating, so with that in mind, everything else is left up in the air. 

This is the most primitive stage of the prototyping process, when only the goal is determined and the idea is not yet made. This stage can be extremely frightening to a designer, feelings of doubt and uncertainty arise and prevail. It is only when the first most primitive concept is created that these feelings begin to subside; this is when a prototype is born, albeit in its most basic capacity, the progress from this point grows exponentially. The reason for this is the very uncertainty that causes the fear in the first place. A primitive prototype, while weak in its initial realization, is actually very strong for the sake of ideation, comparatively to a raw brainstorm. This is because once the hatchling idea is first given some basic concrete information it then becomes something phenomenological amongst all the brainstorm’s participants and can be a jumping off point of sorts. Everyone can see this hazy idea through their own set of lenses. When this occurs it can significantly bolster a brainstorm, as everyone has their own envisioning of the idea, and with each person it is filtered through, their mind generates a variation of the same idea or new ideas altogether, thus bringing immense insight into not just the fledgling prototype, but the brainstorm as a whole. It allows what is gained from this to be fuzed with other ideas, creating whole new concepts and allowing this phenomenological envisioning to repeat again and again. 

In my project 2 group I experienced this personally; we had the goal in mind of improving family communication. From there we identified the problems of time-zone management, difficulty with scheduling time to talk, and phobia over not knowing the subject of what a family member was calling about (emergencies etc.). Once we identified the problems we felt very lost in the face of solving these monumental tasks, and we couldn’t quite figure out how to solve all of them in one design. We had very primitive concepts at the beginning, such as a subject line for calls (which is not exactly ground-breaking), a mood tracker, dice with a list of controversial topics to talk about, a bell system of sorts for a simple two-way communication between a small area (think a few rooms away in a house), and an interface that could display availability and aid in scheduling. While not much on their own, these simple ideas once shared added quite a bit of synergy to our brainstorm, within minutes we were already figuring out how they relate and quickly put them together into the singular idea of a digital, smart-whiteboard which sparked even more ideas. All of these ideas began with quite a bit of gray area to allow us to mesh them together. In contrast, if these ideas had started out polished with almost all their aspects planned out it would be difficult (not impossible) to think of how they could mesh together, and maybe even too precious to change for those who had slaved away to perfect them; it would no doubt cause a reluctance to radically change if needed. Maintaining gray area in prototypes and design proposals is maintaining flexibility.

Equivocacy is important for the imagination of the stakeholders. When proposing designs within the prototyping process the stakeholders are not looking for a completed product. They are trying to filter your idea first before they accept it for further development. For this reason a prototype should not be a fully defined project. It is for the same reasoning as why a designer should not define too much too soon: It kills the imagination of the viewer. A prototype is collaborative by nature and stakeholders are as much part of the process as are a designer’s team. From what we learned in our Graphical User Interface course, selecting colors or photos to be used in a mockup is generally bad practice, sometimes when stakeholders see these prototypes they cannot imagine them without these colors or photos and they may write off the design proposal. In Exploring Information Appliances Through Conceptual Design Proposals, It is also argued for a level of equivocacy or “openness” -as Gaver calls it, when it comes to making design proposals, for the sake of the stakeholders, “Presenting ideas as narrative proposals allows their concreteness to be balanced with openness, because many details of their implementation, aesthetics, or functionality do not need to be resolved” (Gaver, 215). Gaver’s reasoning is more directed at the feasibility of the designs he is referring to, but the principle is the same. It’s not always about having everything done and resolved, prototypes should maintain some equivocacy.

It could be argued against having gray area that a lack of concrete elements to a design is a lack of responsibility on behalf of the designer, and that keeping things too ambiguous places more of the onus to imagine the proposal on the stakeholders; this has some truth to it. While gray area in the prototyping phase is a great strength, it is neither black or white in consideration to whether it is good to have or not. Maintaining gray area in design is a nuanced topic and must be judged on a case by case basis. 

The lazy designer expects stakeholders to envision too much, and in contrast, the overzealous, compulsive designer defines too much too early with their design proposal, closing off imagination and opportunities for their prototype. Much like painting or drawing, the designer must strike a balance with how much is defined at any given point. Painting is a good parallel process to this, you start off broad, making sure to keep the full picture in mind before jumping into small trivial details. For the prototyping process it is exactly the same, the designer should start broadly to allow flexibility, and be able to make radical changes. As the idea begins to come more and more into focus, the designer should begin looking at the details of how the prototype will operate more carefully. For example, when designing our project 2 whiteboard prototype, it started out as a makeshift hodgepodge of several ideas, an availability interface, a smart-schedule, a subject line for calls, and a drawing program with real-time updates. At this stage in our design there was enough ambiguity to allow for tons of ideation and iterations of the whiteboard, but if it were to be presented it in its raw state, it would be laughable. Only when we created hi-fidelity Sketch and Adobe XD mockups, did I feel confident with presenting the idea as a proper proposal. Creating the hi-fi mockup in sketch helped me define more features of the idea and helped see what the experience could look like; there was still some gray area, but at this point the whiteboard was something that was appropriate to present, as we ensured that most of the onus to imagine and define features was on our shoulders, and that there was still a smidge of gray area as to not be a full-fledged idea. This would allow a stakeholder to see the idea and still envision it taking a different path should they choose to do so.

Collaboration, ideation synthesis, flexibility, and an openness to radical changes in the face of stakeholders all hang in the balance of how much ambiguity you maintain.  Striking a good balance of defined and undefined aspects in one’s prototype is extremely important for these reasons.

Works cited

Gaver, B. and Martin, H. (2000). Alternatives: exploring information appliances through conceptual design proposals. CHI Letters, [online] Volume 2(Issue 1), pp.209–216. Available at: ResearchGate.net [Accessed 26 Mar. 2020].

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http://headspacepress.com/time-get-fringe-montreal/

Time to get your Fringe on, Montreal!

Ok, it’s that time of year again, and I’m just going to cut to the chase and say this: If you’re a Montrealer and haven’t attended a Fringe performance in the past 27 years or have no plans to attend one in the coming weeks, I’m going to sit here and silently judge you. Mainly because it makes absolutely no sense to me.

The Fringe Festival is quirky, unpredictable, original, imaginative, free-spirited, funny, titillating, ground-breaking, heartbreaking, experimental, hysterical, bizarre, fucking strange, and oh so Montreal. It’s simply a creative crapshoot of the weirdly wonderful and a huge part of the fabric of this city and its summer.

Can you tell I’m a fan? No, seriously… where else can you get over 100 original, thought-provoking shows (most in English, many in French, a few bilingual) that span theatre, dance, poetry, puppetry, magic, sketch, drag, clowning, Shakespeare, burlesque, musical, and more to choose from over a span of two weeks?

Where else can you check out over 50 bands and a bunch of fun events for free? Where else can you enjoy the creative fruits of someone’s labour knowing that artists keep 100 percent of their box office revenues and that tickets are super affordable at $10, allowing you to see more than a few shows at a time without taking out a bank loan?

I’m an unabashed Fringe supporter because I love the arts, I love creativity, I love people who live (often dangerously close to the poverty level) to create, I love all the volunteers and staff at Fringe Montreal, I love the vibe at the Fringe Park (a.k.a. the Beer Tent), I love the quirkiness and tiny impossibilities of most of the haphazard Fringe venues sprinkled around the Plateau like afterthoughts.

I love that some productions in the past were so damn good that years later I still can’t believe I paid less than the price of a movie ticket to witness sheer magic on stage, and that some were so bizarrely bad I still giggle uncontrollably and shake my head when I recall them. Either way, they’re always memorable because art is trying stuff out and taking chances and not everything will work, but you can’t help but admire and support folks brave enough to bare their souls for us so we can laugh and cry and commiserate on our existence. There is nothing more beautiful, more intimate, more life-affirming than artistic creation, and the impractical and audacious act of someone standing on stage sharing a part of who they are for you to witness, consume, and hopefully embrace.

So, with that full-blown declaration of Fringe love out of the way, here are the productions that caught my eye during Monday’s Fringe-For-All and which I plan to see. If you find the descriptions intriguing, simply click on the links and find out where and when to see these shows. Keep in mind that I can’t possibly include them all, so do your own homework and scan the website for additional descriptions, times, and all the other fun events (Scavenger Hunt, Drag Races, Pinball Karaoke, 13th Hour, etc.) surrounding the two-week festival. There’s bound to be something here you’ll fall in love with too.

Cherry Docs

A neo-Nazi skinhead is charged with murder, and legal aid has assigned him a liberal Jewish lawyer. An epic battle that leaves each man marked by the other’s belief, David Gow’s Cherry Docs is a provocative exploration if the inescapable and insidious presence of hatred in our society.

Peter Pansexual

Peter Pansexual lures Wendy and her darling brothers from suburbia to Neverland, a.k.a. Montreal. They discover the magic of snorting fairy dust, crushing the patriarchy and exploring their sexuality. Captain Hooker seeks revenge on the Lost Boiz for flaunting their eternal youth on social media. For young at heart adult audiences.

Illustrated Lady

Do you have a tattoo? Do you want one? Sophie had been collecting them since she was eight years old. Through stories of terrible choices and happy mistakes, she will take you on a journey reflecting on memory, body and ink. She also plans on live tattooing drawings made by audience members on her body each night of her show and half-seriously joked on Monday night that she hopes she doesn’t end up with a bunch of penises on her thighs.

Syl-lo-go-ma-ni-e/a

Syllogomanie (ou accumulation compulsive) : fait d’accumuler de manière excessive des objets et incapacité ou réticence à jeter un grand nombre de possessions. Syllogomania (or compulsive hoarding): pattern of behavior that is characterized by excessive acquisition and an inability or unwillingness to discard large quantities of objects. This quirky and frankly quite adorable bilingual duo had me intrigued. I need to see more.

The Thrill of the Chaise

Spirit of the FRINGE winner Chocolate Moose returns with a license to thrill. Intrigue, love and betrayal are hidden just under the table in this well-upholstered epic of Russian spies and world-class set design. Warning: Contains very convincing sex.

Wolves

This “deconstruction” of Little Red Riding Hood fractures a familiar yarn into a prismatic and lacerating reflection of the monsters that lurk in the big city and within. A darkly comic, predatory tale that explores the conflation of sex and fear in modern culture, the comfort of lava lamps and the dangers of a handy axe.

Comment le cancer de mon grand père m’a fait découvrir le disco

Comment les derniers jours d’un homme atteint du cancer seront-ils salutaires pour son petit fils, accro au pot, aux jeux vidéo et à Tinder ? La vie nous ouvre parfois des avenues par le biais d’évènements totalement imprévisibles. Le cancer peut-il se transformer en Disco ?

Crazy Bitch

Crazy Bitch is a fresh, dark and biting look at how the princess becomes the villain. Half autobiography, half social commentary, 100% comedy, MacDonald uses stand-up, film and storytelling to explore the ubiquitous phenomenon of the crazy bitch in this high-energy one-woman show.

Old, Fat & Fucked! Now What?

How do you grow old and fat when you are a gay man living in a community where being young and slim is the official standard of attraction? Puelo Deir’s latest comedic show tackles this struggle with humour, wit and raunchy personal anecdotes.

The Detective, the Dame, and the Devil

A troubled detective, down to his last dime; a mysterious dame, cool as a cucumber; a maniacal husband, out for revenge. But who to believe in this crazy world of danger, intrigue, wordplay, and the odd anachronism? Welcome to Spadesy’s Private Investigation: no case too small, no laugh too cheap.

La Ronde

Don’t you hate it when you’re sleeping with someone who’s sleeping with someone who’s sleeping with someone who’s sleeping with you? We do too! But we still find it funny to watch! Come see this merry-go-round of sex and confusion at La Ronde.

Precinct: An Improvised Cop Story

Montreal’s Plateau is the toughest borough in the roughest city. Officers John Calgary and Carl Boucher are hitting the street to shake down perps. Guided by Captain Bill Garber, Calgary and Boucher will investigate and solve every single miserable case wrapped in manilla that drops on their desk… in the Precinct.

Things Drugs Taught Me

Nisha (Self-Exile, 2016 Best English Production) and Jeff (The Balding, 2013 Best Comedy nominee) have had wildly contrasting drug experiences. In this two-part storytelling show, they share everything they’ve learned from their substance use and abuse. As best they can remember. “Will leave audiences howling.” – Montreal Gazette

Also, a quick shout out to Cabaret Abnormal, 0 Days Without Crying, Mapping Grief, Docile Bodies, and Periscope. Many more shows online, so go check them out.

The 27th edition of the Montreal Fringe Festival runs until June 18. For information and/or tickets,  you can go online to: www.montrealfringe.ca or call 514-849-FEST. Pick up the schedule available around town, and follow the hashtag #FringeBuzz on Twitter for all the latest show reviews. It’s often the best way to find out what’s most popular with audiences. Happy Fringing and see you at the Beer Tent!