#Substack creator support

[mehmetyildizmelbourne-blog]

The Audio Version of Substack Mastery Is Available for Subscribers!

You Can Listen Now from My Substack Newsletter This post includes links to educational audio recordings of the Substack Mastery book chapter by chapter for those who prefer listening to it and want to take their newsletter to the next level. Dear Subscribers, I hope this message finds you well and thriving! These past three months have been full of excitement and hard work as I wrote, edited,…

[sparklemaia]

It's true! I've got a substack newsletter!

I have two subscription tiers: free, and $5/month. Most posts will be available at the free level, but paid subscribers will also get exclusive bonus content 😮 The paid tier is a great way to support me as I head to cartooning school this fall to pursue my dream of writing & illustrating LGBTQ+ graphic novels. Whichever subscription tier you're at, thank you for being part of my team! Seriously, I'm so glad you're here 💜 I'm pumped to roll this out! [edited to explain the spoon thing: it's my biggest sensory nope! I know it's a weird one but my system came with it installed. touching wooden spoons makes my teeth sockets scream. I use silicone or metal spoons or like, my sleeve around the handle. What's your weirdest sensory nope? tell me in the tags!]

[see-arcane]

I wrote a book!

The Vampyres is the happy horrifying accident born of feverish scribbling in the wake of Dracula season* (*inhaling Dracula Daily and Re: Dracula at the same time May thru November). It features a number of familiar villainous faces from classic supernatural lit, though not everyone is wearing their original name anymore. The story takes place in the 21st century and you can only hold onto those sentimental titles so long in the mayfly mortal world before you start drawing attention.

Not that swapping out pseudonyms has done anything to thwart the new shadow looming over the revenant community…

Free Preview Chapters (If You Want a Sneak Peek)

All on my Substack here!

More info under the cut:

Description

Something is culling the undead.

Whether they imbibe blood, leech life, or traded mortality away to their devil of choice, the revenants of the world are disappearing. The Vampyre, a possessor of many names and collector of many lives, has been fretting over the phenomenon for some time.

A laughable fear, for he is one of those canny cadaverous few who made a deal for perpetual resurrection. The bitten may crumble, but the bargainer can rise from death after death. So he reminds himself. So he worries is no longer the case.

Not when the boyar in the Carpathians was one of the first to vanish. Still, the monster from the mountains may simply be in hiding, just as the rest of the bargainers must be. The Vampyre convinces himself of this for a single night……before the monster called Quinn Morse makes itself known.

Where to Buy

eBook: https://books2read.com/thevampyres

Paperback (Bookshop being a U.S. store search*): https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-vampyres-c-r-kane/21171669?ean=9798218374587

*Available internationally!

To Search by ISBN

eBook ISBN: 9798218374594

Paperback ISBN: 9798218374587

Art Pile

Announcement Post Flyer - Cover Conundrum - Preorder Announcement - Vampyre Valentine

Skull Scratch - Eye in the Sky - Food Chain of the Vampyre - A Long Night In - Red Smile - Prototype Book Cover

BONUS: Fanart Book Cover!

Ko-Fi

If you’d like to donate a buck or commission some art, I have a Ko-Fi here.

My ocular official site

Spotify

Tunes to run for your unlife to.

[darthteeth]

Hello~ I'm Nina Andrej a wannabe digital artist/writer after a lot of health issues I've decided to give this whole online artist thing another go because I can't do regular work 🥹🔫.But this time on kofi instead of p*treon.So if you ever liked my silly art please consider becoming my monthly kofi supporter.I will try to update at least twice a month also I will be dumping my nsfw stuff there because tumblr is well tumblr.

notable work:

the haunting after a fire(my shitty free poetry collection)•I have a piece in the :) beloved zine issue 3•something's not right bookmark design•anakin pain.jpg

links:

commission info•society6•p4ypal•instagram•redbubble

my art tag/my writing tag/my comics tag

under construction:

a webcomic? finally??•substack•my website

[drdemonprince]

This is prompted by your most recent substack about fame, because my point is extremely tangential, I'm putting it here.

It's interesting to have seen the internet go through many stages. From the newsgroups/BBS era, to internet forums, to blogs, to social media, and how the respective environments shaped things.

In the early days, it's very much a group thing, some people became Big Name posters, pseudonymous, but still a group thing. The blog era was more personal, but still something made by someone who's just a person, even if not literally pseudonymous. Also, still text based, a lot of it even often. Social media changed that, with it's focus on follower counts on one hand and to snippets of text (twitter) or images (insta), and even though it's social media-ness is debatable, video (insta, youtube). The semi-anonymous nature however, was completely lost by now.

The doing it because you enjoyed it, or whatever, also recedes into the background because this is where monetization really takes off. The deleterious effects of the interaction between monetization and follower counts (notability) need no introduction, but painting with broad strokes, make something appeal as broad as possible deepens the flattening effect a medium like video already has, the visual aspects often being more important than the messages. It also has a much higher barrier to entry. Spinning up your own blog is cheap, text takes only a tiny amount data. Video is not. It's expensive to make (especially if you want slick videos), expensive to serve, so it's predisposed to big, single platforms that can leverage economies of scale.

The natural result is that you have a few people with big audiences, instead of many people with small audiences. If audiences is even the right word for that. If I'm talking about say, some TV show on my blog, and someone responds, it's a fairly equal conversation. More between peers, of sorts, just two people talking about something they share. As opposed to a Youtuber who makes a video about it with 100,000s of viewers. Because there are so many fewer voices, you lose the breadth of conversation too, narrowing to a small range of popular topics, and the distinction between You, and You as Your Brand gets eroded.

It's kinda notable in the autism sphere. Blogs where people talk about their experiences, how they dealt or didn't deal with things, have fallen off. Twitter came and went, and now there's Youtube and insta, where everything gets simplified down to a few slides or a 10 minute video about only the most basic aspects. Which is just... sad. I wouldn't have known that autistic burnout is a Thing many people struggle with if not for a blog post a friend came across and shared one day.

There was a comment from someone, a while ago, about how they used to have ASMR videos on, until they were able to get out into nature, and their desire for those videos completely disappeared. We're all very deprived. Of social contact, foremost. The pandemic poured gasoline on an already smoldering fire I feel. Latching onto someone 'famous' in a surrogate of social contact & context, like that person with their ASMR videos, feels like an understandable (though not good) outcome of that, which brings with it very regrettable excesses.

I think this is all pretty much a correct analysis, thank you! Though I would qualify that we have shifted away from the period of the Youtube mega content creator a social media ecosystem of intimate-seeming connections with smaller influencers, these days. Think of your Twitch streamers with a dedicated base of like 50-200 viewers per stream (and a Discord and a Patreon that supports them), the fitness Instagrams that sell meal plans online, the tarot witches and activist influencers offering one on one sessions, etc. Those communities can be more niche, but they still offer the illusion of a connection -- and if anything, that illusion is more strong because the creator is a "micro" famous person, and can take time to interact closely with fans here and there. We might already be heading out of that period of social media, though, especially with the disintegration of Twitter and the slow death of Meta's apps, too. I don't know what comes next but I hope we are due for a reappraisal of all of this, and the norms surrounding it.

[shriekingpyre]

support “CRYING LIKE CASSANDRA” by buying me a coffee and i'll write you a surprise poem!

“this shrieking pyre is rooted in fear, familial wounds, fever dreams, and fits of wild rage. it is a place for those aching to find jurisdiction. everything connects until it doesn’t. our bodies are nothing more than fuel for ichor and flame, move accordingly.”

i've been pretty stagnant with my writing lately so i thought this would be a great way to push myself and to connect with those who like my work.

send me a message/ask either on here or substack with proof that you sent me a donation and i'll write your surprise poem! i will only be taking the first 13 donations!

[ adding tags to help spread @hangsawoman @geryone @hangsawoman ]

[professorfoglio]

Substack Update

Yesterday I asked creators for their opinions on Substack, and I heard opinions, indeed I did. It appears that while the A.I. thing is a concern, it is waaaayyy overshadowed by the fact that they enable, support, and help fund natzis. Fuck those guys, and fuck Substack.

[helenaheissner]

Love During Robot Fighting Time: Chapter 14

Hello, lovelies! Hope y'all are doing well :)

Don't forget you can read three chapters ahead on this story, twenty chapters ahead on "A Dream of Summer Rain", and two chapters ahead on "Magical Girl Exorcist Squad", by becoming a paid subscriber on my Substack or my Patreon!

***

Zeke

12 months earlier

I squatted in the Pits, putting the finishing touches on our minibot, Gurren, in preparation for our fight with Team Bottle Rocket in twenty minutes. I was so zoned in on getting all the screws extra tight that I almost missed my phone blaring out a Kendrick Lamar song. I groaned when I saw the caller ID. “Hi, Mom,” I said, attempting to keep the stress and frustration out of my voice. It was better to get whatever ‘conversation’ this was out of the way now- if I tried to put it off and ignore her, she’d just be even more cantankerous about it when we actually got around to it. 

“Hellllo, Ezeekielll,” she slurred, her words blending together at the borders of the syllables. Oh, good. “How are you this evening?”

“Uh, a little busy to be honest, Mom,” I said. 

“Busy? Busy with what? It’s not like you have a job.”

I breathed in a sharp sigh through my nose. “I do have a job, Mom. It’s just seasonal.”

“Those obnoxious shows you go on don’t count as a-”

“Mom, was there a specific reason you called?” I asked, focusing on keeping the screws tight. “Like I said, I’m a little busy.”

“Too busy to talk to your dear ol’ mum,” she said, her accent starting to slip out. She’d been training herself not to have one ever since she’d moved to the States back when she was a teenager, but sometimes it still flared up. Usually when she’d indulged in one too many Screwdrivers. “That’s a problem, you know- you’ll never get a girlfriend if you hate your own mother.”

“I don’t hate you, Mom,” I said monotone. 

“Love the exact phrasing there, Ezekiel. Very gentlemanly.”

The screwdriver, my screwdriver, a literal one, slipped out of my hands. And as I reached down for it, I noticed my breathing- sharp, fast, all inhale and holding my breath, only exhaling when I absolutely needed to. “Thank you, Mother, I try.”

“Don’t you get sarcastic with me, young man- that’s hardly a trait that will do you any favors with the ladies either.”

I reached for the screwdriver on the ground, but my hand trembled when I tried to grip it. It slipped out of my grasp and hit the floor once again. “Look, Mom, my match starts in a few minutes, I really need to finish these repairs on Dai Guren-”

“Oh God, I forgot you gave that stupid thing a name. How asinine.”

Cold, soggy shame dripped off of me, and I let myself inhale and exhale through my mouth. 

And of course she kept going: “And that’s another thing- why is it just you doing this? Don’t you have teammates for this nonsense? They don’t appreciate you. If they did, they wouldn’t force you to do all the work-”

“They don’t force me to do all the work, Mom!” I snapped. “And I’m doing these repairs because I’m good at them. They had to go handle other stuff for the match. It’s not actually that complicated, but you refuse to understand!”

A few moments of deafening silence poured out from the other end of the line. “This is clearly not going to be a productive conversation. I think I’m done with you for the evening. I’ll call you back when you’re in a more reasonable headspace.”

“Mom-”

She ended the call before I could get another word out. 

It wasn’t quiet in the pits- people were using saws to carve up metal, flames were welding parts together, drills were digging into machinery. All the high-pitched screeches coalesced into a singular plaintive wail. 

A tear fell off my chin and shattered on the ground. I tore off my work gloves and wiped my eyes, hoping nobody would see me. I wasn’t much of a crier. No reason to ruin that reputation now, when I had other things to focus on. The bot was ready for the fight, and that was what I had to focus on, not the hollow pit in my chest rapidly filling with anger and resentment and freaking exhaustion-

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

My fingers parted across my visage. I hadn’t even realized my face was buried in my hands. I looked through the gaps to find Calloway there, standing across the narrow middle walkway that ran down the white room. He was standing there in jeans and a black hoodie drawn up over his head, but he pulled it back and shaked out his shaggy brown hair. His eyes always looked… Harsh, angry, aggressive. But not now, not at this moment. Now they looked… Softer. Concerned. And… Genuine, in their concern. I’d gotten pretty good at spotting the difference between genuine concern and artificial; having parents like mine forces you to learn as fast as possible. But right now, here, he… 

“I… Just a difficult phone call with my mom,” I said, pulling my hands away from my face entirely, directing my gaze at the floor. 

Calloway stepped forward and gave me a hug. I flinched- the guy really had no sense of personal space, but honestly… I needed it, then, so I hugged him back. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

I mumbled, “I guess I just…”

“What?” Calloway asked.

“It’s nothing, it’s…”

“What?” Calloway said, pulling out of the hug and looking me directly in the face, furrowing his brow. 

“I’m… Just surprised that you care,” I said. 

He gulped and took a step backward, along with a slight bite to his lower lip that ended as soon as it began. “I, uh… Yeah, yeah that’s fair.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“No, you did,” he said, turning his head so he didn’t have to look me in the eyes anymore. “It’s fine. Really, it is. I just… I really must come off like I’m a lot, all the time, huh?”

“I… What do you want me to say here, dude?” I said, taking a step towards him. 

He took another step back. “Just the truth. Just… How you really feel.”

I drew in another deep breath. “Yes. You… You do.”

He gulped again. “That… That explains a buncha stuff. I kinda figured people knew I… But I guess they wouldn’t. Fair enough.”

“Look, Calloway-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a playful wave of his hand, plastering a bogus smile onto his face. “Just means I sell the heel routine well. That’s not a bad thing. And this isn’t really about me- I was asking you what’s wrong. Um… Do you… Do you wanna talk about it?”

My phone alarm hollered inside my pants’ pocket. Ten minutes till the fight. They’d be starting the introductory monologues soon. “I dunno if I have time right now, but… I appreciate it. I really, sincerely do. Maybe… Maybe next time?”

“Next time I catch you crying, tough guy?” he said, the smile edging just a little closer to genuine. 

I forced out a little chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so. For now… Can I just get another hug?”

He nodded rapidly. “Of course.”

Then he went in for it and wrapped his arms around my back. And it felt… Good. Supportive. Strong, but not aggressive.

Maybe there was more to Keith Calloway than I thought.

***

NOW

I sprayed some breath spray into my mouth while I paced up and down the hallway of my apartment, my hands wringing together as I tried to keep my mind clear and focused. 

I liked Kate. That much was hard to deny. She was bright and funny and passionate, just radiated warmth and empathy, and I felt like I could let my guard down around her in a way I couldn’t around other people. Including Faith.

But I liked Faith. I had for a while now. She was chill and focused and creative, a freaking dancing ray of light that always brightened up my day, who I desperately wanted to protect and take care of. 

And they were both incredibly pretty. 

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit what is wrong with me? Just like my jackass of a father, can’t keep it in my pants, can’t be happy with what I have, like a real man is supposed to. 

But that didn’t matter. I was going on a date with Katie tonight. I was moving on from Faith, because that was the right thing to do, because she didn’t like me back, because she didn’t swing that way and just wasn’t physically attracted to me. And Kate… She made it really easy to want to move on, and she seemed to really want to be with me, for some unfathomable reason. Holding her in my arms made me feel like the strongest person in the world; the way she’d just slid up to me and put herself there like it was the most natural fit possible… It felt really good. I felt really good around her. 

My phone buzzed, and I saw from the caller ID that it was my mom. 

My finger loomed over the ‘accept call’ button for a solid minute before the phone simply stopped ringing altogether. Then it immediately started ringing again, because my mom was physically incapable of taking no for an answer. 

A spark of anger caught in my chest, burning my insides and sending proverbial smoke out of my ears. Goddammit, I was twenty-three years old, financially self-sufficient, and living in my own place. She did NOT get to keep pulling this crap. She hadn’t reached out to me in months and now, when I had something legitimately important to do, she decided it was the perfect time to interrupt. Couldn’t even be bothered to text first, asking if now was a good time. 

I thought about a year ago, and the mess I’d become when my mom called before that match, and Kate, back before I’d known she was Kate, before she’d known she was Kate, before she and I could even call ourselves friends, let alone whatever we were now, had held me and comforted me. Didn’t have to be asked, just offered and did her best to make good on that offer. That was when it had started to dawn on me that underneath it all, she really was a kind person with a big heart. 

It was also when it really started to dawn on me that my mom was an absolute bitch. Maybe she wasn’t as unbearable as my dad, but it would be a truly Herculean feat to be anywhere near as unpleasant as that selfish asshole. 

I hit ‘ignore.’ 

I breathed out, slowly and carefully, leaning against the wall. I was emphatically not going to cry right now, because I didn’t want Kate to feel like she had to take care of me tonight. I wanted to take care of her, to show her that yes, she really was the cute, sweet, wonderful girl she was trying to be. 

The tumblers of our lock shifted as the front door opened. Faith stepped through, a sad smile on her face. “Heyo,” she said. “Your hot date is downstairs waiting for you. Show her a good time tonight, yeah?”

“Of course,” I nodded, double checking my pockets to make sure I had my phone and wallet. Good to go. “You gonna be okay by yourself tonight?”

She gave an errant wave of her hand and said, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I can get caught up on my soaps.”

“You watch soap operas?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, old ones from the 1960s, mostly,” she said. “They’re really funny when you’re stoned.”

“Fair enough,” I said. I gave her a quick hug, which she happily accepted. “Don’t wait up for me!”

“Will do!” she said as I made my way out the door. 

I headed down the stairs and out front, where Kate’s pickup truck sat in the thin driveway that led into the parking garage below my building. I did a double-take when I saw her, leaning against the front of her truck. She wore a red dress that covered her chest wholesale, but beneath, what looked like boobs protruded from the dress in question. Falsies, presumably- Faith must have loaned her old ones out. Still, it couldn’t be denied that they looked real good on Kate, bringing the whole look together. Her dress had a slit going up the side, showing off her long, smooth legs well up her thick thighs. Bright red lipstick was painted across her mouth, and my whole body was screaming at me to cup her face in my hands and shove my tongue down her throat. So, of course, in my infinite intelligence and articulation, all I managed to choke out was, “Whoa.”

She smiled the kind of smile you want to protect with every fiber of your being. “Like what you see?” Her voice was high and breathy, each syllable enunciated slowly and carefully. She’d only been out for a few days and she’d already come so far. It was astonishing. It was… She was… 

“Absolutely beautiful,” I said, unable to blink. 

Her jaw dropped, and she stared at me.

Then a car pulled up behind her and honked at us- I recognized one of my neighbors behind the wheel, an older, heavyset woman named Nina. 

“C’mon, let’s get going,” Kate said. She gestured me into the truck and then we pulled out of the driveway. “So, where are we going?” she asked. 

“Uh, Indian place on Lincoln Boulevard. It’s over by my old college,” I said, trying not to stare at her too much and venture into the dubious territory of ‘creepy weirdo.’

“Sounds good, I love Indian food,” she smiled again. 

Kiss her, you idiot, my brain hollered. Wait, no, she’s driving. Bad idea. But kiss her before the end of the night! “How’d the appointment go?”

“Fantastic! I’ll be able to start hormones hopefully by the end of the week!”

“That’s fantastic!” I said. “How’d the other one go?”

She spat out a petulant sigh. “Less good. My sponsor is…”

“Is?”

“Let’s be charitable and go with ‘pragmatic,’” she said, her voice dropping low. She grunted with frustration and her eyes peeled wide as she heard her own words. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” I said, trying my best to sound reassuring. “I don’t mind if you use your… Other voice.” I managed to stop myself from saying ‘boy voice’ or ‘normal voice.’ Thank God.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “It’s… It’s not that I don’t want you to hear it, it’s that I don’t like hearing it.”

“That’s fair,” I said. 

“But yeah, if I want to keep Gaines as my sponsor, I may or may not have to lean into this whole trans thing as part of my ‘brand.’ Ugh, I hate that word. Gag me.”

“Is that a request?” I smirked. 

She blushed redder than the Red Comet. “What if it is?”

“Then I’d be happy to accommodate.” What the hell, when did I get this bold?! It must have been my dick talking for me. Made sense- I’d spent… Several years not listening to it. How long had it been since I’d last had sex, anyway? Two years? Three? 

Getting ahead of yourself, Underhill. “Do you think you’re gonna stick with Gaines?” I asked. 

“Don’t see what choice I have,” she replied as she turned onto Lincoln and started driving west. “I don’t exactly have the capital to self-fund. How do you and Faith raise money, anyway?”

“Uh, a couple ways. Grant from our old college, a loan from Faith’s parents, and the money she and I raise doing temporary engineering jobs during the off-season. Usually like…, four, five months full time work with one of the aerospace companies in the city, then we spend the rest of the year working on the fun stuff.”

“I should probably look into something like that,” Kate said. “I don’t dislike working for my parents, but I’m never gonna make the kind of money I need to keep going in the ‘bot battle circuit working twenty hours a week at an indie retail outlet.”

“I have some contacts at a few places that I can send your way,” I offered. “Might be able to help you get a foot in the door, do some interviews.”

“That… Would be amazing,” she beamed. “You’d really do that for me?”

“‘Course I would,” I said. I want you to keep smiling that smile. “I just… Want you to be happy.”

“Thanks,” she said. “For… Everything.”

“No problem, Katie,” I said. 

She giggled. God, her laugh was adorable. So, I said that out loud. 

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“You have a cute laugh,” I said simply.

“It’s not cute… I’m not…”

“If you’re about to say you’re not cute, just know that there’s nothing cuter than a cute girl insisting she’s not cute.”

“... Dammit. You’re right.”

 “Gotcha,” I said, snapping my fingers. 

We carried on like that until we got to the restaurant, where, to my astonishment, we were seated immediately. I ordered a lamb vindaloo with a side of garlic naan, and she ordered butter chicken with onion naan. We split an order of vegetable samosas as well, and we were seated by the window looking out into the street. A pair of candles sat between us on our glass table, casting a bit of glow in the darkened dining area. 

“So, you went to that school over there, then?” Kate asked. “LMU?”

“Yeah, all four years.”

“How’d you wind up there?” she asked. 

“Uh, well, I applied to UCLA and didn’t get in,” I said with a self-deprecating laugh. “Which is true of, uh, most of the school, actually.”

“They couldn’t get into UCLA?” Kate chuckled. 

“Or USC. Or Harvey Mudd. Or Cal Poly.”

“Ahhh, gotcha. You said you grew up around here, right?”

“For a given value,” I said. “I was raised in Riverside.”

“Inland Empire, I see,” she said. “That place as horrifying as David Lynch makes it look?”

I chuckled. “Only when it’s on fire.”

“So, like, all Summer?”

“Pfft, basically.” 

“It’s funny, you know, we grew up in the same neck of the woods but never met till we started doing what we do,” Kate said, resting her chin on her hands while her elbows were propped up on the table. “I know that Venice and Riverside aren’t actually that close together-”

“Especially with the traffic in this town making it a longer trek,” I said. 

“Still,” she said. “It’s cool, knowing that someone like you was relatively close this whole time.” 

Her eyes… 

“Zeke?” she asked. “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?”

“You went quiet and started staring at me,” she said, raising her head, putting her hands flat on the table, concern exuding from her frown. “Did I lay it on too thick?”

I shook my head. “Not at all.” I reached for her hand. “Honestly, I’m worried about doing the same, so why don’t we just be ourselves tonight, and see how that works for us?”

“I’d like that,” she smiled again. That smile… 

The server, a middle-aged Indian man with pot-belly and an impressive beard, brought our samosas and a few different sauces over and set them between us. And with him came, very unexpectedly, some familiar faces. 

“Zeke?” Olivia asked. She was flanked by her new teammates, Tom, a medium-height black man in his late twenties with a shaved head and massive hands, and Winston, a white boy with a wild mane of brown hair who looked like he was still in college. And standing next to them were Team Forest Fire and Team Sparky-Sparky-Boom. Forest Fire was three guys all in their thirties, each of them shredded and rocking full beards. Their captain, Lance Masterson, was a behemoth of a white man with a shaved head and some burn marks on his arms and neck; his teammates were Jake George, a tall black man with long dreads and nose ring, and Evan Hernandez, a shorter Mexican-American man built like a powerlifter. Team Spark-Sparky-Boom, meanwhile, was two people, a husband and wife team called David and Eileen Portman. David was comfortably in his early forties, hair more salt than pepper, clean shaven and thin as a rail; Eileen looked like she was in her late thirties, and was shorter and thicker, with long brown hair beginning to spark with silver. 

A low-pitched groan escaped my throat, and I was surprised at how loud it was, only to look over and see that Kate was making roughly the same mouth-noise. 

“H-h-hey,” I eventually choked out. “How y’all doing?”

“Not bad,” Masterson said. 

“Not bad at all!” Hernandez said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Kate.

She blushed, then looked down at her food. 

“So, this must be Kate,” Olivia said. 

“Um, how do you know about-”

“Faith told me.”

“Faith told you what?” I said, my eyes narrow. 

“Oh, just that you’d finally found a girl for you… Wait a sec. Wait wait wait a second. Calloway? Is that you under all that makeup?”

My eyes bulged with panic, and I saw Kate’s lips trembling and her hands wringing together. Oh, this was bad- she wasn’t ready to come out to everyone at work yet, she’d said as much to me in the car ride. She’d been planning to come out in two weeks when she had her next fight, with the same kind of surprise announcement that Faith had been afforded. 

And now… Now she was having to come out to her work rivals by accident. For the third time in two weeks.

Goddammit.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice dropping low. Then, in her higher, breathier voice, she said, “Yes. It’s me. My preferred name is Kate, pronouns are she/her.”

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Oh, so you’re a trans too?” Mrs. Portman said. 

I died inside a little bit. 

“I, uh, yeah. I’m a trans woman,” Kate said.

“Wow, two of you in the tournament this year, huh? What are the odds?” Mrs. Portman said. “And this isn’t a publicity stunt?”  

“Dear, hush, that’s rude,” Mr. Portman said, playfully swatting his wife on the arm, blissfully unaware of the psychic damage he and his wife had just inflicted on Kate. 

“No,” Kate said, eyes dropping low, fingers drumming nervously on the table. Oooohhhh dear. “I’m just… I’m a woman.”

“Hey, listen, it’s nice to see you all, but Kate and I were just trying to have a nice, quiet dinner,” I said. “Alone. As in just the two of us-”

“That’s fine, broseph,” Masterson said, “We can all take that big table outside, leave you two to your date.”

“I’d appreciate that a lot,” I nodded, putting a metric ton of emphasis behind each syllable. 

“As would I,” Kate said. Practically squeaked. Must… Protect… At all costs. 

“No problem, brosephine,” Masterson said. “You look great, bee-tea-dubs.”

They all cleared out and headed for the massive rectangular longtable outside… Except Olivia, who remained standing exactly where she was in front of us with her brow creased and her hands on her hips and her jaw slack. 

“Uh, Olivia, you coming with?” Tom asked while standing in the doorway, with an ‘aw shit here we go again’ expression on his face.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Olivia said. 

Tom sighed and let the door close as he stepped outside. You tried, Tom. You tried. 

“Can, uh, I help you with something?” I said, trying not to get too distressed by Kate’s thousand-yard stare. Given that she’d only a few days prior called out and challenged Olivia in front of a screaming crowd while on camera and then immediately proceeded to have a massive panic attack… I didn’t like what this was almost certainly doing to her brain. 

“I just… When Faith said you’d found someone, this wasn’t what I expected,” Olivia said. “Does she… She knows who Kate really is, right?”

“Yeah, she does,” I said, creasing my own brow, “Why do you ask?”

“I just… I really just… Calloway? Seriously?! Calloway?!” Olivia said. “Of all freaking people, you choose Calloway over Faith?!”

“I’m sitting right here, you know,” Kate said. 

“R-right. Sorry, I… You look nice,” Olivia said. 

“Thanks,” Kate said. “Just, uh, quick question: why do you care?”

“Because I care about Faith,” Olivia said. 

“Right, sure you do,” Kate said. “You care so much about the girl you brutally dumped in the most vulnerable moment of her life. Right. Definitely. Absolutely.”

“Also, why would Faith care?” I said, attempting to navigate the conversation away from Kate’s (admittedly accurate) criticism of Olivia. “She and Kate have patched things up- they’re friends now.”

“Really?” Olivia said. 

“Yes, really,” Kate said. “She and I hung out literally all day today. She helped me pick out this dress, helped me with my voice. She and I are fine. And she’s fine with this.”

“Oh, honey,” Olivia said. “You don’t… Really believe that. Do you?”

Kate blinked, and her eyes went low again. 

“What does that mean?” I asked. 

“It means-”

“Don’t,” Kate said, slamming her hand against the table. 

Olivia took a step back. “Right. Sorry. It’s… Look, Zeke, I know you and I were never super close, but I gotta ask- is Faith really completely on board with all this?”

“Yes! Why wouldn’t she be?” Did someone slip me a crazy-pill? What the hell was going on?!

“I just… Can’t believe you would choose Ke… Kate over Faith,” Olivia said. 

“It’s not a choice,” I said, grabbing Kate’s hand and squeezing it tightly, a fire lighting inside my head. “I like Kate. She’s a beautiful woman, inside and out.”

“Phrasing,” Kate said in a thirsty whisper, eyebrows raised. 

“Babe, not now,” I said. 

“Babe?” she said with a bright smile.

“Babe? Wow,” Olivia said. “This is… A lot to accept, tbh.”

“And why, exactly, do you get a say?” I said. 

“I-”

“That was a rhetorical question,” I said. “You don’t. At all.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll back off,” Olivia said, holding up her hands, palms flat. “I just… Can’t help but think you’re making a mistake. You and Faith would be cute together, that’s all I’m saying.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I growled. 

“You would be,” Kate whispered. 

“What?” I said. Seriously, WHAT?!

“Backing away now,” Olivia said. “I’m sorry for saying anything- you’re right, it’s really none of my business. But, uh, Calloway? I still remember what you said last Friday. I’ll see you in the battle box.”

And with that, she walked away. My head spun with confusion and anger at the implications of what she said, the insinuations, the freaking hubris. And on top of it all, Kate looked ready to cry again. 

Our waiter finally came over with our food on a tray and set it down, but looked at us with a worried expression. “Would you two like this to go, by any chance?”

“Yes, please,” Kate and I said simultaneously. 

We waited till the food was put in takeaway boxes, and we made a hasty departure. I was pretty sure I heard Mrs. Portman shouting something at us as we walked out the front door, but I wasn’t sure what. “Where should we take all this?” Kate asked. 

“I have one idea, if you’re up for it,” I said, with a grin I hoped would be the first step to salvaging this evening. 

We headed for Dockweiler Beach, only a few miles from the restaurant, basically deserted in the waning hours of the evening before it was closed to the public. Waves lapped against the sand in a steady, drawling rhythm, and the rich, relaxing scent of seawater filled the air. We sat on a blanket Kate kept in her truck, eating our food while watching the tide crashing into the shore and the setting sun casting an orange-gold glow over everything. Kate had tied her hair back while we ate, but loose strands kept blowing about from the seabreeze and colliding with her face.

I reached over and brushed a strand back, and she smiled at me. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m, uh, sorry about what happened.”

“Don’t be, it isn’t your fault,” she said. “Honestly, you handled it really well. Way better than I would have in your position.”

“And what position is that?”

“The guy’s. You’re… You’re a really good guy, Zeke Underhill,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. 

I laughed in spite of myself. “That’s nice of you to say. I… I’m not really used to hearing it,” I admitted, slumping my shoulders. 

“I find that hard to believe. You’re such a gentleman.”

“I… The thing is,” I started. Oh boy, I was about to admit this to her. This was big. I rarely talked about this. Not even with Faith. “... My parents… Are not the types to give out praise often, and a lot of it had to do with them thinking I wasn’t living up to their expectations of what a man was supposed to be. My Mom… Well, she’s English, she’s got all these old-fashioned, old-world ideas about men and women. She sent me to my room when I cried at a movie once when I was seven. My dad wasn’t much better- kind of a rough and tumble man’s man type. When I didn’t make my high school’s basketball team in ninth grade, he reamed me out for half an hour straight. Never mind the fact that I was short and fat back then. Which they both reminded me of constantly.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry,” Kate said, putting down her food and placing her hand on my shoulder. I gave it a squeeze. She continued, “My parents have always been so chill and supportive. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to… To grow up with that instead of what I had.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Honestly, I’m mostly over it at this point. I moved out for college when I was eighteen and never looked back. The only thing that really still gets to me is how hypocritical they were about everything. My dad… He’s a total pig, cheats on my mom constantly, and Mom just drinks to forget it every time the proof is thrown in her face. They’re both so full of shit, but I still… I still have this fear sometimes, that they’re right, that I’m not good enough, that there’s something I’m doing wrong, that…”

“That?”

“... That I’ll be a cheater like my dad, constantly balancing multiple girls, stringing along someone I’m supposed to be committed to. I think… I think that’s what bugged me about what Olivia was insinuating, like I was somehow being disloyal to Faith. Which is ridiculous, because… I… And she doesn’t even… And I’m not-”

“Not what?” Kate said, wrapping her arms around me. 

“I’m not with her. I probably won’t ever be with her,” I said.

“... You really like her, don’t you?”

“... I’m not sure you want me to answer that question, Katie.”

“You already have,” she said. “It’s kinda obvious.”

“I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Kate said, nuzzling my shoulder. “You’re allowed to like more than one person at the same time. And you’ve liked her for a while, I’m not surprised I’m…”

“You’re what?”

“... Second prize.”

 “You’re not,” I said, turning around and putting my hands on her cheeks. “Listen to me, Kate Calloway. I recognize we’ve only just started really getting to know each other, but in that time, you’ve shown yourself to be… Amazing. Caring. Funny and thoughtful. Beautiful. I… I don’t know if I deserve you, but I’d like… To keep seeing you like this. To get to know you better, and to hold your hand while you go on this journey.”

Tears streamed out her eyes, and she bit her lower lip before saying, “Would you… Would you still say that if Faith liked you back?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed. “Faith is gay.”

“...”

I blinked. “Faith is gay, right?”

“I…,” Kate stammered, pulling out of my hands. “I’ve said too much.”

I blinked one long, sustained blink as the gears turned in my head. Faith… Wasn’t gay? And she… It… This made it seem like… 

Like she… 

No. 

Just, just… No.

There was a beautiful girl who I liked in front of me, and I wasn’t gonna let her slip away. “You’re fine. And even if she did, it wouldn’t matter.”

“You… You really mean that?”

“She’s not here with me right now, on this beach, sharing this meal, this evening,” I said. “Life moves forward, not back. If Faith really liked me, she should have said something. You, though, you said something. You made the first move, and… God, I’ve had to do that myself so many times, only for it to fall apart. Do you have any idea how good it makes me feel, that you like me enough to be the one to push things forward? How special that makes me feel? Because it’s amazing… You make me feel… Amazing, Kate.”

She looked at me with those big blue eyes, shining in the multicolored light of dusk as the sun set over the horizon, her red lips spread wide, hope and astonishment and joy radiating out of every inch of her. She gulped, and then she grabbed my lapel and said, “I’m gonna push things forward again now. Is that okay?” 

I didn’t answer. I just went for it, pressing her lips against mine, melting into her as we made out on the beach while the sun finished setting. My heart was alight with ecstasy, my lust burning at maximum temperature. I didn’t know for sure if I liked her more than I liked Faith. I just knew that in that moment, there was nobody I’d rather be with, nobody I’d rather be kissing, nobody I’d rather be getting to know.

For just one moment, everything was crystal clear. 

“You really had to ask?” I said as I pressed my forehead against hers, reveling in her aftertaste.

She smiled. Oh, Lord, that smile. “I just had to make sure.”

We carried on like that for a while longer, her hands touching mine, my lips touching hers, our bodies interlocking.

[1introvertedsage]

About me!

(KInd of.. I am an Introvert... don't expect a life story) 😏

•recently updated•

With a connection to the occult from a young age, I am now starting to share my knowledge, services and experiences publicly, in an attempt to help heal this deep divide we are experiencing. The services I offer to the public are currently available on Fiverr. Tumblr is my main sounding board but I also have a few blogs/newsletters and sites I share poetry and write on. My style is eclectic ranging from Spiritual to dark. From everyday experiences to mystical encounters. Thank you for being here! 💠💠💠💠 I Am interested in growing an honest holistic community that can appreciate what everyone has to offer. The Laws I welcome into and that govern my life: •Leading with gentle compassion •A transparent heart •Unequivocal fairness •Building impenetrable bonds •Unequivocal integrity •Non-violence •Universal Unity •Cohesive existence/cohesive living •Unity of all existence •The Beauty Way •Magnanimous Divinity ▪️ 'In Lak’ech Ala K’in ~ I Am You, You Are Me. ▪️ I Am here to change the world as we know it. Join me, if you are too. 🪶🪶🪶🪶 Writing is healing. 💚Spread the Love💚 ▪️Support independent creators▪️ Connect with me on: My Poetic Side: Introverted Sage All Poetry: Introverted Sage Poeticous: Introverted Sage Substack: Introverted Sage Medium: Introverted Sage ▪️◾▪️ Inclined to support a Sage Buy me a coffee! Check out my designs and buy some merch: Intsa Aesthetics

tbc...

[tlbodine]

Scott Cawthon, the creative mind behind FNAF, fell under scrutiny a few years ago when it was revealed he had made some generous campaign donations to Donald Trump and other Republican candidates (as well as at least one Democrat, Tulsi Gabbard). In response to that backlash, he retired from producing new games, handed the reins of the franchise to someone else, and has mostly been outside the public view since then. It’s not a perfect response, but it’s not the obstinate double-down and public vitriol campaign of a certain YA-author-who-shall-not-be-named, either.

Here is Scott’s defense, in his own words. It’s the last I’ll say about it in this piece. I want it to be clear that while I do not support Scott’s politics or his personal beliefs, I do respect his work ethic as a creator. A discussion about whether and how we relate with conservative artists (Nathan Pyle is another in this category) is a talk for a different blog and a different time.

Now with THAT elephant addressed and shoved back into a closet, let’s talk about child-murdering robots, yeah?

Read more on Substack

[mehmetyildizmelbourne-blog]

Substack Dropped a Beautiful Bombshell for Freelance Writers Today

Substack-Funded Gifts No other platform cares so much for writers who pour their hearts and souls to their craft, entirely funding creators for a month got gift subscriptions While some platforms clamp down on creators with censorship, suspensions, and silencing of authentic voices, Substack blazes a different trail — championing freedom of expression and tirelessly empowering creators.  In a…

[definitearticle]

Shared with permission:

What to do:

Choose your class - we have a big fight coming up, and we need everyone.

Artificers: It's time to make sure your 3D printers are working, and you are linked to a good maker group. Access to all healthcare, not just reproductive rights, will be at risk soon, which means we should have a good network for ensuring that people can access 3-D-printed prosthetics and accessibility equipment. https://3d.nih.gov/collections/prosthetics

Barbarians: protests are coming. We don’t even know what for yet, but if last time is any indication, there will be a lot. Check your boots/walking shoes. Make sure your go bag is packed for game day. https://www.law.nyu.edu/centers/race-inequality-law/protest-tips

Bards: I see you already. Posts are up, and videos are rolling. Ensure you’re formulating a good network of people you’re watching and promoting. Guild bards get more done. And the traditional media bards seem not to be getting the support or are being silenced, so let’s make our own. Support and promote Substacks and Patreons for creators and writers who may get silenced on other platforms soon.

Clerics: Open the sanctuary doors. Start placing the bookcase in front of the attic door now so it won’t raise any eyebrows when needed later.

Druids: Document everything. We’re about to lose a lot of our ability to monitor our natural resources, which means that science will have to look at the data you’re collecting in the areas you love to piece together what is happening to our world. Take daily pictures of the forest document, note the temperatures, and notice the movement of animals. Only time tells when things deviate from the norm, which means getting the data. (It's okay to buy a pretty notebook now)

Fighters: Honestly, it's a lot of the same stuff that I just told the Barbarians, except your go bag will have to be a lot more flexible: Bandanas, water bottles. Review the tapes of previous protests and see what was learned. https://www.law.nyu.edu/centers/race-inequality-law/protest-tips

Monks: Watch, be patient, and be prepared to move quickly and reorient an attacker's energy back at them. https://www.aclu.org/

Paladins: Remember you are strong both offensively and defensively and capable of healing and buffing allies, while also dealing significant damage to foes. But your powers are tied to your adherence to your moral code. So, know what that code is now. Know what your boundaries are. Write them out. Align yourself with missions where you can do the most good, not where you stand in your way. Remember that sometimes, you are at your strongest at just being the wall of moral good between evil and those that evil would hurt. You don’t have to look for the fight. Look for the person in pain. The fight has already come to them. https://transequality.org/

Rangers: Warriors of the wilderness. Defend the forests. Don’t let them come after the USFD again. https://www.fs.usda.gov/

Sorcerers: Look into getting an IUD or vasectomy or support a friend in doing so. Plan B lasts 4 years. Pick up some now. Pick up extra. Remember that Plan B’s efficacy diminishes by 14% for every 15 pounds above the recommended weight threshold, as stated by the manufacturer. Talk to a medical health professional now to know your dosage for the future.

Warlocks: Time to find a larger group or cause to team up with. https://www.aclu.org/campaigns-initiatives/project2025

Wizards: Start creating copies of valuable research now. Look at the government-run agencies and their websites before the turnover, before they are altered or shut down again. https://www.weather.gov/

[wonderlandleighleigh]

So Ian McGinty died.

He was a 38 year old comic book artist. And while his family has not come out and said how he died at such a young age, it's been heavily implied to be overwork and not taking care of himself.

And what that means in real life terms is: comic book creators get paid dick. Their time spent working is unregulated since they don't get paid by the hour. They're freelance, so they mostly don't get benefits, and their books, generally, come out one to two times a month, which is so much damn work. On top of that, you need to make it to conventions and run things like big cartel shops or patreon or substack-style services so you can fucking eat.

"Oh but you get to do what you live for a living. You should be grateful for the beans you're paid."

Meanwhile, comics creators so often face poverty, mounting medical debt, and an industry that leaves creators behind so fast that there is a whole-ass charitable organization dedicated to making sure they don't just fucking fall off the face of the earth.

But this industry has been swindling creators out of profits since DC handed Siegle and Schuster a one time check for Superman and then told them to take a fucking hike.

Bill Finger who?

PAY YOUR FUCKING CREATIVES!

Anyways, please consider donating to Hero Initiative.

[thereasonsimbroke]

Warner Bros.' Creative Freedom Vs Disney's Producer Control

In Ep. 597, Millennial Mike and I discuss how Hollywood studios like Warner Brothers and Disney navigate changing dynamics, the evolving director-producer relationship, the impact of visionary filmmakers, cinematic storytelling's future amidst trends like AI-driven filmmaking, and more! Chapters 3:12 The Changing Landscape of Hollywood Studios 18:24 Impact of Directorial Vision 35:55 Nolan's Creative License 37:09 Pushing Boundaries with Batman 37:32 Spectacle and Elevation 39:40 Reimagining Batman's Mythology 49:06 Tim Burton's Dark Influence 51:35 Planning a Saga 55:58 Directorial Vision vs. Studio Interference 59:30 Zack Snyder: An Antidote to Disney 1:01:45 Zack's Five-Movie Arc 1:04:10 Built-in Reset Point 1:08:48 Changing Plans and Geoff Johns' Influence 1:49:50 Expectations and Studio Strategies 2:00:36 The Redesign of Sonic the Hedgehog 2:08:00 The True Value of Art 2:12:37 Looking Forward and Optimism

FOLLOW/SUPPORT MILLENNIAL MIKE: @millennialmike (Mike's Vero) @TheExilesNet (Mike's X) The Ronin Council (YouTube) Millenial's Substack As always, we appreciate your constructive Feedback, Suggestions, and Questions. You can also leave us an audio question on SpeakPipe. Thank you for your continued love and support! Enjoy the show. Daniel Podcast Awards 2019 || Games & Hobbies (Winner) Podcast Awards 2017 - 2018, 2020 - 2022 || Games & Hobbies (Nominated) Official Site FOLLOW US: - X | @ReasonsImBroke and @TRIBPod - Instagram - Threads - Pinterest - Tumblr - Discord Lounge - YouTube Channel SUBSCRIBE: Apple Podcasts / Spotify / Google Podcasts / iHeartRadio / TuneIn / Overcast SPREAD THE WORD: If you're enjoying the show, please head over to iTunes and leave us a rating and a review! Each one helps new Brokettes discover the podcast. Contribute to the Hero Initiative to offer assistance to comic creators facing difficulties. Show your support for the AFSP's efforts by donating to the Autumn Snyder Tribute Fund. CREDITS: Opening/Closing Jingles - Alex Scott Show Logo By - Opanaldiova

The latest episode of The Reasons I'm Broke Podcast!

[drdemonprince]

Just got the email about you moving to substack, apparently I subscribed to yours at some point in the past. Getting an e-mail about you doing pretty much exactly what I expected you were going to when I noticed Mediums nonsense 4 weeks ago was pretty funny. I was going to send an ask about it, if only tumblrs automatic systems hadn't shadowbanned my account in their infinite wisdom. Only just now got around to annoying support until they let me use the social features of the social media website again >:[

Hey welcome back, and yeah, Medium left me with no choice. I actually migrated all my Medium email subscribers over to my Substack, so that may be why you got the message. I've poached my followers back!!! Ehehehe.

My only regret is that I did not do it sooner. When Medium started requiring a login to view anything, my understanding was that users could still see three articles for free per month. But then I kept hearing complaints. I dug down into it and found out that new account creators only get one free read ever, which is completely unacceptable. I had to take it up with Medium's head editor to even find out what had happened.

So, everyone, if you aren't paying for a Medium membership, you can read all my work for free at drdevonprice.substack.com instead.

[seaninsound]

How have you liked supporting the musicians you love?

What’s felt grubby?

What feels fine for “creators” (podcasters, YouTubers, journalism, etc), but doesn’t make sense for music?

I’m working on something about 💰 the financialization of fandom 💰 and curious of your thoughts.

I’ve not kept up Patreon subs for some podcasts as I don’t have time/£ to justify the costs (most music pods are marketing)

I really love a few Substacks but I have email overwhelm and don’t always have time to keep across them so haven’t upgraded to premium

And most musicians use mailing lists as marketing tools, rather than an enriching newsletter (Patti Smith’s feels like an exception to that)

Mostly I support the artists I love through buying merch and gig tickets

Have sometimes felt like my pay what you can Bandcamp purchases have been more like donations than because I want/need to own the files

Perhaps because collecting files klangs with access to the music

Bandcamp Friday will reach its third anniversary in a few weeks time and I’m doing a range of podcast interviews and pieces about what’s next for music and what else is/isn’t currently working

Search for “Drowned in Sound” wherever you get your podcasts and sign up to my new newsletter for more on this http://drownedinsound.substack.com