#i love coach m all my homies love coach m

[sapphire-to-the-rain]

happy pride to our cishet dance coach who played HOT TO GO! as our warmup song and then was appalled (jokingly) when our other lesbian coach had never heard of chappell roan

[gripefroot]

Jim Hopper romancing the waitress at his favourite diner; Jim Hopper and a cozy, romantic Christmas setting; Jim Hopper finally following his true dreams and opening a food truck; Jim Hopper doing anything. ANYTHING.

(Anything? Deeply considered an 1800s!Whaler AU, so thank you for that.)

It was difficult to pick out the worst part of her evening. 

Her soaking-wet apron and skirt from a spilled milkshake; docked tips for a burned cheeseburger that she hadn’t even cooked; only delivered; or her ex-fiancé that had shown up at the back door of the diner. He’d hollered for her for hours, apparently, until a cook hollered at her to get rid of him or he’d call the police. After spending twenty minutes physically shoving that menace away from the door, the manager had chewed her out for taking too long of a break. An extra ten minutes to sob in the bathroom had been necessary after that, mopping her tears with her stained apron until her cheeks were sticky from sugar. Then she’d straightened her hair and the jaunty hat of the diner uniform and gone back to work. 

Wear that cap like a crown, Grandpa had coached her long ago. He’d thought, as she had, that a year or two of working at the diner between beauty pageants would earn her enough to splurge on the prettiest gowns. And then he’d died and she’d stopped competing and it had been a good ten years since she walked through the diner door bright-eyed and full of dreams. 

Only three hours until closing. She could do anything for three hours. 

Why was it so packed? It was a Monday night, usually one of the slower shifts, but after seeing elbow-to-elbow customers at the bar and shrieks from families in the booths, she nearly started to cry again. 

You’re a princess, don’t forget that, bunny. Whatever you wear, make it your gown and crown.

Gown and crown. A dirty uniform and an itchy hat. 

A deep, trembling breath rattled her lungs. Pad and pencil in her pocket, and she marched to a table of new customers. 

Two hours left. 

Ninety minutes left. 

One hour left. 

Not that she had much to look forward to at home. Home had lost its hominess after Grandpa died. Now it was four walls and a roof, paid for and inherited, with blankets crocheted by a grandmother she hadn’t met and a photograph of her long-dead mother covering the only unfaded section of wallpaper in the kitchen. It was the ghosts she hadn’t known or hadn’t had the chance to love that haunted her the most. 

Time slowed. 

Fifty-five minutes left.

Fifty minutes. 

Forty-five.

Nearing closing time didn’t slow down the work. There were still tables to be bussed; dirty dishes to be stacked and cups to be dumped and more spills and stains waiting to make her dress and apron more worthy of a rag pile. She straightened napkin holders and salt and pepper shakers and shook ketchup bottles. 

With a heave, she got a towering stack of dishes to the sink behind the counter. All of her customers had left; the ones remaining were Janie’s. They’d argue, after everyone had gone, whose job was worse: convincing lingering customers to get, or accidentally plunging one’s hand into lukewarm steak sauce. 

She yanked on the faucet for a stream of water, plunging her hand in to wash off said steak sauce bit by bit. 

“Have a nice night!” Janie, at least, would get tips. Tips that rattled right into her apron pocket as she whisked away more dishes to add to the tower. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’ll split with you.” 

She smiled, and said nothing. 

“Speaking of,” Janie went on, emptying a few glasses of ice and watered-down Coke into the sink. “That fellow over there has been looking at you like you’re on the menu.” 

“Yeah, right. I bet it’s my skirt that did him in.” Ruefully she showed Janie her stained apron. Janie’s eyes went wide. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? I have an extra apron in the back…”

“It got my skirt, too.”

“A clean apron would have covered it!” 

And then she would have had to wash and iron a second apron to return Janie’s to her. More work, more work, more work. 

“Well,” Janie said. “At least tell him whether you’re on the menu or not, then he can leave.” 

The he in question sat near the middle of the counter, a pie crust left on his plate. Her eyes went from his dishes to his elbows on the counter (rude) to massive paws of hands covering the lower half of his face. Up and up: he was watching her, just as Janie had warned. Good heavens. 

She dried her hands on the damp towel hanging by the sink, put on her well-practiced false smile, and approached him. These things were best dealt with swiftly and confidently. 

“I’ll take that for you,” she chirped, taking away his plate. 

He lowered his hands, exposing the remainder of his face. He needed a shave and a trim, but not bad looking, overall. And he looked familiar. The glint of the suddenly-visible badge on his chest confirmed it—the police officer from a few towns over. Unusual for him to come this way, but not unheard of. “Thank you,” he said. 

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” 

“Uh…yeah.” The man smiled. Not, not a smile: a grin. There was a difference, when you’d worked in a diner this long. This was a bonafide, ear-to-ear grin like a teenage boy that had just successfully hotwired his first Mustang. “I was wondering…what’s a guy gotta do to get you to go on a date with him?” 

Brazen, wasn’t he? Her smile was frozen in place. It was a thin line between chasing away customers and not opening oneself for business. She took a few steps back to the sink, running the plate beneath the faucet. 

“Ask, probably.” Not a no, not a giggle and battered lashes. Thin line. 

The man watched her a moment more. “You busy?” 

Startled, she dropped the plate in the sink. And left it there. “Am I busy?” She took another plate from the stack, scraping soggy fries into the trash bin beneath the sink. He said nothing, and she didn’t, either. Anything bound to come out of her mouth at that point would be unkind. So she took another plate, and another, and another, casting him a pointed look that missed the mark completely. 

“Yeah!” he said. “It’s a valid question!” 

Speak for yourself, was her bitter, unspoken response. Rinsing off the dishes meant droplets sticking to her bare arms, usually tainted with sticky sauce that would have her running to the bath first thing when she got home. No matter how tired she was, she was never so tired that she would crawl into bed dirty. 

“Yes,” she said at last, refreshing her smile to meet the man’s gaze square and sure. “I am busy.” 

His lips stuck out, in a purse or in thought. She didn’t know, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. A glance at the clock: ten minutes until closing. 

“I see,” the man said. “I’m sorry for bothering you.” 

That was new. She stopped, staring as he got out his wallet to tug out a few bills. He only looked at her once more, with an apologetic smile, before tossing money onto the counter and climbing off the stool. 

“Have a good night,” he said. 

Well! How about that! 

Shaking her head, she went back to the dishes. The rinsed stack grew, the trash bin filled, and her arms got wetter and wetter. The bell above the door chimed for a final time, Janie locking the door and pulling down the blinds. 

The tub was empty. With a sigh she turned off the faucet, fingers soft from the water, and started stacking the dishes back inside. 

“I’ll be back for the rest,” she said to Janie, who was closing the blinds behind the booths. Hoisting the tub up, she went to the door to the kitchen and went through elbow-first, the stink of fry oil making her tongue feel gross. 

“Sorry about that burger,” said the man at the griddle. Faithfully he dragged his spatula over the burned bits, scraping them into a trash can. 

“It’s okay, Paul,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

But Paul got a full paycheck without tips. She didn’t. It wasn’t worth pointing that out. 

Louis and Mike chatted by the refrigerator. Around the corner to where Mary would be washing the dishes, and—

She stopped in her tracks. 

The police officer man was elbow-deep in suds, Marry sitting on an upturned bucket as she fanned herself with an outdated menu. 

“Just put them in,” Mary said. “He won’t mind.” 

The man turned. He smiled for a split second before turning back. 

She stared at Mary. Maryjust shrugged. The dishes were getting heavy. 

“Don’t ask me,” Mary said. “He volunteered.”

But why?

Feet still planted where she stood, she could do no more than gawk as the man turned on his heel and took the tub of dishes from her. “No need to make a ceremony of it,” he said. This time he didn’t grin, but he smiled. It was a much more comforting expression. She surrendered the dishes weakly, hands falling to her sides. 

Well, it wasn’t any of her business, anyway. Customers sometimes stuck around to help with one chore or another, out of boredom or kindness or a million other things. This man’s angle—for he surely had one—could be any one of them. And it had nothing to do with her. 

“I was just telling Jim here about that crazy fellow of yours making a racket earlier,” Mary said cheerily. A break made her chatty. “He said next time he’ll remove the fellow for you.” 

“We get the deputy from Pint Nevre, when we need one,” she said. 

“I’m out here regularly, anyway,” the man said over his shoulder. “No skin off my teeth.” 

Unsure of why he was helping, or wanting to help again, or why he’d stayed or why she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his thick shoulders moving with his scrubbing each plate to put on the drying rack—she wrung her apron in her hands. Dry, but stiff, and it would make her hands smell like chocolate. 

The man looked back again. He was smiling again. “Just ask for Jim,” he said. “Jim Hopper.”

[muggycuphead]

weird flex but ok i guess pt.8

7

War… Hold up, do we really need a warning for this one? Dunno, but however, watch out for slightly disturbing and kinda…disgusting imagery, trypophobic patterns, as well as ‘necrotic’ designs I made while having funky fever bc o h m y g o d do I get a little crazier every new quarantine day (and at this point it’s coming to be an usual thing for me, big sad). However, most are made no other than for the sole sake of satire, so y’know, no need to get your underwear in a twist

Friday Night Funkin’ BoyFriend’s Hood – Missing Sketchdumps (VII-IX) [written: 02-08-2022]

Oh no forgot to write down about these ones

Oh well, gotta do it now here I guess (I’ll be as condensed as I can…unlike above)

PD: I don’t have any ‘digitalized’ versions of these either (I feel kinda silly for making the other ones, but oh well), so we gonna stick with the trad sketches

EDIT 26/10/2023: Updated the drawings with rescanned, more clean versions

Friday Night Funkin’ BoyFriend’s Hood – AU fanconcept sketches [VII]

1.-Rocky Bal-BF

Funny wrestling man

Not gonna lie, he looks kinda cute in that outfit I made for him

2.-Rocky Bal-BF but his balls dieded

>All males left the server

This be a case of Herodias’(? Law

You die, you get blueballed

You get through the first round, you get your jimmies turned into scrambled eggs

Goodbye

My penis

In

A

Nutshell

3.-Egypcian staff

Haha funny snake stick go zzzzz

4.-Egypcian…mic?

Custom mic designs FTW

5.-Hypnotized!Mummy BF

Free will? Not happening lololol

6.-BF’s bike

Yes please

Did this with references I had in my PC, but most the work was homemade so shush

7.-Rocky Bal-BF icongrid

He’s in a lot of pain right there, but can you really blame him?

No one told him that rocky bitch was gonna go torpedo mode with her fist…on his crotch :/

8.- Hypnotized!Mummy BF’s icon

You’re chicken now

9.- Helmet Pico

I was gonna say this is the part I didn’t want to reach…but time managed to kill off the shame I used to feel over this

Compared to what other people had done to Pico in the fandom, this is just vanilla

His design does look kinda different from this though (talking about the idea, I don’t have a sketch yet)

Still, if V’s somehow seeing this- I’m sorry

10.- The helmet, now

Watch it with those ginger peaks, fella

The zombeeps are already having it tough to keep some of his sanity with the blackout shit going on, you bring in your flame looking ass haircut in here, and you’ll lead us to real pain out there

11.- Helmet Pico

Stfu

Friday Night Funkin’ BoyFriend’s Hood – AU fanconcept sketches [VIII]

1.- BoneOilers Leader

Originally written to be a bad guy – now he’s just as confused as most of the human homies over what’s just happening in the hood

Proud of his design though, he be lookin’ badass

2.-Rockonna’s Coach

I love this fucker, he’s like the bastardization of an elf; plus, he’s pretty chill

3.- Terresa

She looks like a medical Carol Roll wot-

God bless her soul tho, she’s a sweetheart

I ship her platonically with BF, don’t ask why

4.- BF Roadkill icon

Drive with caution, kids, especially if you go on bikes

5.- Terresa icon

Scratch’d faez

6.- Freakystein Idle

Zombeeps go wee-woo, freaky bois go beep-bup-bap

7.- Heart

Probably BF’s, he got the undead sickie soooo…y’know

8.- BF’s phone

Wonder where those cheeky bastards took that photo at

Tip: comfy place where you go zZZZz

9.- Whisky

GF got stolen by who knows, time to go drown the sadness in a cup of alcohol

Friday Night Funkin’ BoyFriend’s Hood – AU fanconcept sketches [IX]

1.- Generator BF

Man, this didn’t age that well considering BF is supposed to not have any sensical fears…besides lighting

…Unless the feeling of getting electrocuted and posteriorly turned into a human energy tower could be somehow associated with it, then maybe

…Wait, BF’sH BF isn’t directly the main FNF canon BF…

Nevermind

2.- Crowbar BF

The way he posin there is like “Yo, when we droppin’ for the next robbery?”

3.- Sick BF

The zombie sickness’ finally kicking in, say your prayers

…or maybe not, who cares

4.- Roadkill BF

RIP

…nah

5.- Sick BF 2

Fuck, it finally got into his bloodstream

6.- Loose GF

Yeah, this was a thing in the main concept

Basically GirlFriend’s outbreak from her captors, the fact she looks like her mother was a sneaky bonus

Sadly it won’t stick fancanonically, so RIP

7.- Loose GF’s icon

Crazy bitch

8.- BF about to snap

Next line: b R  A I N S

Nah just kidding

He just gonna growl-beep for the rest of the song

9.- Differences between Demon and Zombie glitters

Self-explanatory

10.- BF’s crowbar

Wait are the black tones the blo- oh no wait they’re the metal part

My bad

11.- PICO NO

Pico no

Please, no

He had one repair shop lost before by a madman’s fire, he doesn’t wish to go through that again, thank you

12.- Diagonal mechanic arrow holder revamped + Invert and Auto/Action arrow

Invert arrows do be looking disgusting af

Great

13.- Note+Action and Pico!Auto Arrow revamped + Zombie keyholder

Bloodbone and Stitches

…???

The zombie keys are also disgusting

And the effect when they’re pressed doesn’t make them any better

To put it in a single word:

**CHWICK**

14.- Health bar against a zombie

Lineal health bars? Nah, we do the flicky here, baby

9

[takeachvnce]

hello -- is this thing on? howdy !! here is my little self-indulgent, confident, bundle of trouble, chance duvall. below you can find his intro and a tldr if you’re lazy like me, and some wanted connections are at the VERY bottom. so without further adieu, let’s do the damn thing ( hello to all the bachelor fans *: ) 

chance duvall was born in crownsville, georgia in a stable, middle-class home. he shared his childhood with a younger sister who mirrored his enthusiasm for life and petulance for rules. chance’s childhood was uneventful; although, others may call it pristine. he excelled in basketball; for as much money his father invested in the best gear and coaching, the young man invested his time into basketball. talented he was, unconditionally passionate he was not. 

in school, he coasted. his efforts were aimed toward the young woman who would later become his wife. chance found himself engulfed in all that was her. presence, smell, voice, attention, it captivated him from the age of fifteen and into his mid-twenties. 

the young man attended georgetown university due to an incredible sat score ( one of which he paid someone else to take ) , extracurricular activities that showcased his love for his community, and skill on the basketball court. here is where he found his love for broadcast journalism, and planned out the rest of his life.

propose to his girlfriend at the ripe age of 22

apply for local news stations

climb the ladder to become a news anchor

have a wedding before 25

lose his virginity on his honeymoon

buy a home in d.c.

never return to crownsville

most went according to plan, apart from never returning to crownsville. at 36, chance found himself taking a leave of absence from his job for a scandal that the station is terrified of coming out. he’s fallen out of love with his wife and in love with a life of luxury, women, and the unpredictable. his drinking is becoming excessive as his ability to hide these issues grow in conjunction. he’s straying far from the man his family would be proud of -- but he’s not sure he gives a damn.

TLDR; he married his high school sweetheart. now he’s cheating on her and he lost his job as a news anchor because of a scandal -- i’ll mention later in writing -- and he’s coping with alcohol as his life crumbles around him. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS

wife: chance used to be big on keeping his word, and that is largely why he wouldn’t divorce his life. his mother didn’t raise him to give up on anything -- especially someone you dedicated your life to. this could be more complex/angsty. maybe she can’t have kids. maybe she was abused and never wanted to be intimate with him / didn’t understand the importance of intimacy but wants to share her heart. maybe she’s an evil bitch idk. 

sister: no one knows him like this girl, which is why he doesn’t talk to her much and didn’t tell her about his return to crownsville. they were close until he was about 30 -- when he started fooling around with other women and participating in his ~scandal~. it is mostly chance’s fault for their fall out, and he’s just ashamed of himself and doesn’t want her to see him for what he is, but he’ll be damned if he admits anything to his sister. 

childhood friend he ditched (f): maybe she was also close to his wife and told him he shouldn’t be with her because she saw it not working out and they didn’t talk post-graduation. perhaps she has her own struggles that chance wasn’t there for. you tell me!

childhood friend he ditched (m): i love a story about the guy who gets out and leaves his homies~ ya know? maybe this guy is a friend who feels like chance upgraded his life, as they were two boys from crownsville who planned on escaping this country life together. resentment for two? even better if the childhood friend is in a happy relationship or has a job he loves.

new best friend (f/m): troubleee, bad influence, something along these lines. perhaps these are people chance feels an obligation to keep up with financially, people who look down on his childhood friends. 

“apprentice”: chance has an ego and thinks he is the greatest news anchor -- or was on the path to be. he would love to mentor a journalist and would be a hard teacher, but caring deep down. perhaps this person could have ulterior motives and want to leak the story on what really made chance lose his job. 

other woman: this can be the woman he first cheated on his wife with outside of crownsville, or the woman he currently is cheating with. someone he claims to love, but leads on with shiny gifts and unfulfilled promises. probably younger than him.

[nothingsximpossible]

July 2024/July 2028

When Julia M. B. and I met for the first time in France, we talked a quality convo for a long time, walking by the eiffel tower aaaannnddd.. she gave me her number and was clearly flirting with me,finding anyways she can to touch me. I guess going to UCLA for medicine & somehow running into & becoming friends with her best friend later last year was the big thing that got us to connect. Mutual friend-Giulia S. She is such a homie. Julia is actually lgbt which made me feel surprised but also excited giving me a sort of butterfly in my tummy. She said I gave her butterflies too Maybe she’s jst lgbt for me? She said she likes me because I’m simply me & that made me feel special and the fact she said that had me telling her the same. She’s different from I expected. She actually is a great girl that I connect with on a spritual level & she feels the same way about me. I’m genuinely different from her world.. someone that actually caters to charity. Someone more than a professional surfer/ olympic athlete. Someone more than some money-hungry influecing instagram surfer or model or whatever . She likes the fact that I’m pursuing medicine & even tho she didnt finish dentistry, she really admires my ambition in everything I’ve done,do, and wanna do. The fact she travels and I’m busy is never an issue because we understand and consistently keep up with each other even though its not everyday. When she hugs me and I hug her.. we both feel real safe and trusted. When I kiss her and she kisses me, its warm and electric at the same time. I cant believe Jack treated her like that. What an asshole and shit way to break up..how could you cheat on her? Again,it makes me feel special that Julia trusted me with that vulnerability. She said this further made her intrust me with her soul & every being. Regardless of what happens between me and Julia.. we will always be each others soul mates. The first girl I marry will be perfect for me and we will always make things work even when it gets tough. Tbh I see myself with Jen as a wife & hey, thats why I invited her to Paris. She loved me before all of this ‘well-known me’. She knows me as me. I’m not a famous athlete/musician/ med student to her. I’m Hayley Jo. That naive girl that accidentally drew a penis when explaining the urinary system (LOL). Jen really is a great and interesting girl as she said she was. Greatest & most caring nurse ever! So proud of her for getting that job at CHLA like she said she would! I still remember meeting her for the first time in Orange County that one day before she had to move to Ventura. We coudnt stop taking to each other. We both smiled so much & we both just felt so comfortable in each others presence. I mean sure.. it was last minute but we made it work:)

Im so happy I decided to pursue surfing professionally. It led me to the fuckin olympics. Its such a surreal and insane experience. It led me to Julia! Like holy shit! Insane! Six years ago, I was sitting at Philz Coffee shop in La Jolla with Christina and her coworkers. Promoting the Octi app, barely makin money but grateful I’m makin somethin.Buying her coworkers food & havin them give back to me free coffee & fries from The Melt! Emailing back a coach from craigslist & trustin that he would take me to the next level as a professional/olympic surfer and now.. olympic gold medalist! The fuck?! Quitting Nekter & takin the risk of pursuin all of this at once! So much has happened over the last 6 years and Im so happy I stayed positive and made it to where I am today. I just feel so fuckin grateful and will continue to be grateful for everything that has and will happen. Dropped all the negativity. I’m ready 2028 LA Olympics!

[theparaminds]

  It is almost unimaginable how many musicians have been given a listen due to their album artwork. Being the first impression itself, the artwork obviously holds the same weight as the music in many cases. Back in the days of record stores, there was no 10-second preview; the artwork was all there was between the consumer and the artist. Though, it is now a digital age in which attention is the most valuable commodity, in which standing out is just as difficult as ever. Some believe that the artistry of an album has been lost and in a sense it is arguable that the lack of physicality within the medium has hindered the appreciation of the art form. But many on the other side of the scale believe that is completely wrong in every sense, many being the graphic designers themselves; one of which is pushing to retain the art form he built his base on. 

  Max Cohen is a Waterloo, Ontario born and raised creative director and designer who has established himself a major player in the hip hop scene; creating artwork for some of the hottest acts currently, which include: Killy, Pierre Bourne, Murda Beatz, Smokepurpp and of course many more. Max understands the importance of branding as well as the visuals themselves, hoping to share it with those unaware of its essentialness. Parmaind sat down and spoke to Max about his work and visions, the rap industry as well as his views on the future of music marketing. 

 Paramind: First question as always, how’s your day going?

Max: Good man, it was ok; school was school. I’m living bro, living good.

PM: So, why don’t you tell everyone who Max is?

 M: Oh god, my name is Max Cohen; I am a student, I am an artist, I make album covers and work on branding for a bunch of different artists and labels, just an overall creative.

PM: So of all those projects you’ve done, what are the three you’re most proud of?

 M: Oh, Killamonjaro for Killy, Bloody Hands…this is tough… oh the Fiji and Yachty one for sure. 

PM: It is seen in those projects that you work tightly in the hip hop community, but do you think that’s where you’re happy staying? Or would you want to expand and if so, where?

M: I mean I love all genres of music so I’ll do anyone I listen to and primarily listen to the people I work with. It’s nice to have that personal connection with the artists. But in general with rap its probably where I’ll stay, it’s what’s popular and what I enjoy the most; it’s the black renaissance coming into play and that will be prevalent as time goes on. Also I work more on an industry level than a Soundcloud one now as well. I’ve worked with Universal, Interscope, real label shit. It’s my niche and I’m enjoying it and once I continue to expand my range of talents it’ll just get better and I plan to stay prevalent and influential in the industry.

PM: So do you plan to move towards shooting concerts, live visuals, etc. as arguably album artwork is static as an art form?

M: Yeah it can be sometimes, but photography is so saturated right now that it’s hard to stand out at all because thousands of them exist, so there’s no real point. People have asked me to shoot or do video work and my friend who goes by the name Sogross basically just taught me to diversify my skillset and so if an artist wants me to go on tour for a couple months and do all the visuals and creatives I can do that.

PM: But you’re still doing album art, it is still your main focus; and there is now the question of why it’s relevant. Akon recently tweeted making fun of even caring about album artwork anymore...

M: Akon’s on bullshit man

PM: [Laughs] so then why is it relevant then in your mind?

M: It’s the most important thing towards marketing and building your brand and fan base. Off the top, cover art is an art form so it needs to be maintained. But that whole idea of branding is important, it’s like saying ‘why do we need advertisements for companies?’ It makes no sense. That is literally the equivalant. Its part of the marketing, and of course, its part of the vision.

PM: But what about album covers with no art? Like Yeezus?

M: Still art. Still branding. That’s totally art and expression and what the artist wanted to display. It was curated by Joe Perez , dude is so smart. But it’s a message against the music industry.

PM: Kanye called it the coffin or death of album covers, does he have a point?

 M: Kanye is a visionary but he’s also dramatic and sometimes stupid so take everything he says with a grain of salt.

PM: While on the topic of album covers, can you tell me some that have influenced you in some way?

M: Anything Bryan Rivera does, he does Post Malone’s stuff, I don’t have specific influence from one piece or it else my art wouldn’t be my own. So maybe not specific covers but more portfolios.

PM: Can you give any secrets or hints at album covers or work you have coming soon?

M: Geez, lot of Toronto work. I don’t like talking on my moves before I make them. No reason to flex a piece before it’s done. I can speak on the fact I’ll keep working with Murda Beatz if all goes good.

 PM: Nice, on top of working with musicians you’ve also worked with some other graphic designers like your friend Jeff and I know you’ve been shouted out in Justin Wilson’s interview with Untitled, so can you speak on your connections or your future in terms of collaboration?

M: The community is very tight knit. You have very industry based designers who only fuck with people in their circle and no one else. But that’s some drama LA shit. But in terms of the community, I’m in a lower tier but it’s so tight knit. I’m in group chats of about 40 different designers and creatives in the industry and everyone’s friends. The piece I recently did with Jeff for bloody hands was me just not being able to do the edits because I went out one night so I sent it to him and he got it done no problem.

 PM: So what would be the dream for you then? What is the end goal or place you’d be happy ending up at?

 M: I mean, I’m not going to university for graphic design; I’m going for creative industries, which is more the business behind everything I’m into. But if I could make graphic design my career I’d be the dream. Vision wise, I will realistically work with Ovo in the next 6-8 months and they’re the biggest Canadian entity and I already have work that’s been viewed millions of times by millions of people, which is unreal. I’m so happy where I am and I just enjoy being in the scene and reaping the benefits of working in music. I want to have a presence and make great work...

In the end, it comes down to the art not the clout.

PM: True, you’ve worked with some big artists such as Pierre Bourne and Killy as well as SmokePurpp. But you have to wonder who those out of reach people are for you that you desperately want to work with.

M: Migos. No doubt. Coach K and Quality Control are tight knit on what they do. But if I can work with them It’d be crazy. And anyone large and I respect. Even like on a lower scale, like Yellow days. That’d be lit. But I try not to be driven by who I’m working with and rather be driven by the quality of the art and how much money I’m making. [laughs]

PM: [laughs] Do you lose your artistic integrity in the pursuit of money or social media numbers?

M: When you work in a service industry, like I do, its not necessary sacrificing artistic integrity and instead doing what the customer wants and doing it the best I can. I will sometimes make a piece I don’t love but that my client will love because that’s what they wanted. So yeah that could be seen as losing integrity. It’s a hobby and I love it but it’s also a job, this is my part time job. Sometimes if someone does something I can’t support I’ll have to turn it down but that’s it

PM: So in those cases is it about them as a person or just not enjoying their music or vision?

M: That’s hard because so many rappers are fucking scumbags. There are so many bad people popular in rap right now, its difficult to find that line lately… actually lets stop that topic [laughs]

PM: [laughs] Yeah best to move on for now… going back to album art and design, how do you feel you’re making yourself stand out and why do you matter?

M: My shit’s hot man, my art’s sick and I can make anything anyone wants. Perfect example is Killamanjaro... Wait hold on let me pull out these texts…

[Max pulls out his phone and finds a conversation with Killy]

M: He gave me the vision of “crazy dystopian dark world art cover, needs to be crazy and memorable” and It was my job to make something sick and something worthwhile. And that’s what I want to keep having is the ability to see something in my head and then execute it to the highest degree, because that’s what makes me worthwhile and unique.

PM: For sure, thanks so much for your time man, anyone you want to shout out?

M: Shout out Liam, shout out Luke, shout out Tuti; Tuti’s my Brazilian homie who I’ve known for like 3 years and has been on this design shit forever. Also; Jeff, Dj, Trap, Zero, Jermane cause he’s putting me on right now, my parents, my sister, oh and my dog.

Paramind would like to thank Max for his time, as well as speaking his mind and giving us insight into his art and future.

Follow Max online:

Twitter: @Mxxchn

Instagram: @Mxxchn

Words and photos by Guy Mizrahi 

[kingjaffejoffer]

Snoop Dogg: I can't believe it's been 21 years since we actually got to hear Tupac, not the one clip on YouTube, not the hologram, Tupac Amaru Shakur the human being. Twenty-one years ago, Tupac Shakur was taken from all of us. He was only twenty-five years old, too. Dare me to say that he was gone too soon. When I sat down to gather my thoughts about my late and great, my homie and my brother there's one thought that kept coming back: Tupac was actually really good. While many remember him now as some kind of thugged out superhero, Tupac really was only good and he represented through his music like no one before. It's the fact that he never shied away from it. He wore it like a badge of honor. With an unapologetic voice, Pac embraced those contradictions that proved we ain't just a character out of someone else's story book. To be human is to be many things at once. Strong and bold. Hard headed and intellectual. Courageous and afraid. Loving and vengeful. Revolutionary and – oh, yeah I'm getting fucked up.

So, while we may be here to celebrate one of music's most prolific and outspoken artists as he's rightfully enshrined as one of the greatest musicians to ever do it, I'm here to make sure that Pac is remembered the way he would have wanted to be: a strong black man who stood up. Not somebody who acted like a rapper, but as a human. That's what made Tupac an amazing actor on the big screen in movies like, "Above the Rim" and "Juice." That's what made him so engaged with everything he ever did. Both before and after his death. That's what made Tupac the greatest rapper of all time.

But to me, Tupac was first and foremost a homeboy. We shared a whole lot in common. The way our journey started together. We were both born in '71. He released his first single track from his scorcher first album "2pacalypse Now" in late 1991. Not even a year later I would make my debut alongside Dr. Dre on the song, "G Thang." I finally got a chance to meet Pac in 1993 at a rap party in L.A. And on that night, Pac passed me my first blunt. That's right, Tupac is the one that got Snoop Dogg smoking weed. I was a zig-zag man before that shit. We became very good friends quickly thereafter.

Then, in 1995, I told Suge Knight, I said, "Suge get Pac out of prison and have him come join our team at Death Row Records." He never had a team before. It was always just him. Now, with us it was like he joined the Lakers. Dre was the coach and me and Pac were the stars on the court making history every which side. We were young, rich, and rock stars but we were also young men black men with targets on our back. We were catching cases simultaneously. That's why when we got together we really were two of America's most wanted. He had just gotten out of jail. I had just beat my case. I get a white Rolls Royce with that creamy white interior and Pac, he went out and bought a black one with the same thing.

He put me up on a lot of brand shit like Gucci and Versace and shit I can't even pronounce. I got that penthouse suite on Wilshire, then two weeks later Pac got the one right across the hall from me. Neighbors, you dig? We had no peers besides one another. Just two black boys struggling to become men. I never shared this story before but it really speaks to our journey. I had just beat my case and Suge had taken us to South America to get away from all the drama and me and Pac was parasailing. You heard right. Snoop Dogg and Tupac parasailing together. You got to remember I had just beat my case and Pac had just got out of prison. Does anybody know what parasailing is? Because we damn sure didn't. Me and Pac were sitting on the edge of the boat with all this gear and shit on and all of sudden the boat pulls away and we start floating and slammed up into the water like boom. I don't know what was in there. Sharks, or octopus or whatever, I'm like, man.

It was crazy because not only did we think we're on top of the world at that time we actually were on top of the world. Floating around in style then all of sudden Pac started telling me about some movie idea he had about me being the main star. He was saying some shit. I wasn't paying attention because I was like, 'we're too high.' I mean the shit he was saying to me at that moment was different, though. He saw me as an actor. He saw more potential in me than I saw in myself and it's funny because after he passed away I started getting a lot of movie roles and all this stuff. Pac was looking out for us even after he was gone.

That's the thing with Pac. When he loves, he loves hard. Whether that was him loving black people, him loving his homies, him loving his record label, and of course him loving his beautiful and incredibly strong mother the late Afeni Shakur. Memories of Ms. Shakur are embedded in m mind. Right after I heard Tupac got shot I immediately flew to Vegas. I was so weak I damn near fell over and his mom came over to me and she grabbed me and she held up and she said, "Baby, you to to be strong." I went and sat next to him and I whispered to him telling him I love him and to hold on and he was going to be OK and even in that moment his mom was thinking more about me than herself and showed me how to love strongly. I mean it was amazing that his momma was so strong and loved so hard.

I realized that Pac was taught how to love at a very early age and through his music he shared the love with all of us and that's ultimately why we're here tonight. Pac's apart of history for a reason because he made history. He's hip hop history. He's American history and just like in school the more research you do on history the more information that you have. So do your research. I'm not talking about Pac the rapper, I'm not talking about Tupac the actor, I'm talking about Tupac the human being. So with that said, we'd all like to officially welcome Tupac Shakur to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

You will always be the best. You will live on forever. Legends always do. They can't take this away from you, homie. I love you, Tupac. Welcome to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

[bobbystompy]

Charles Matthews And Everything After

APRIL 2018

Man, I fuckin’ hated the 2004-05 Illinois basketball team.

I was wrong, but you couldn’t tell me that then. Those dudes played selfless, beautiful basketball. They could kill you in many ways, and they spent the bulk of my college freshman year killing me in all the ways. Maybe it wasn’t even the players... maybe it was just the fans. Shit, we were all 18, 19. That’s, like, when college pride is off the charts and half of what you wear is gear.

When that team lost at the very end, it was like a cleansing rain.

Me, before their title game (4/3/05): “There have been a handful of games in my lifetime where I have wanted a team to win more than ANYTHING. This is an opposite situation...only more. I have never wanted a team to lose this bad in my entire life. I want them to lose more than EVERYTHING.”

Me, after (4/4/05): “Ahhhhh. What a time to be alive.”

Hate is such a false god.

Because what I really believe in is karma, and, eight years later, when my beloved Michigan Wolverines punched their card for the finals... I knew I had to get right with my buddy Dom.

Dominic Bruno is one of thee greatest sports fans I will ever know. He roots for both the Cubs and White Sox with no questions asked. I think he thinks it’s odd when people ask him questions. Of his many loves between pro and college athletics, the Illini are his A1, ride or die squad. That 2004-05 (done with the hyphen, if they come up again, it’s gonna be ‘04) was a generational fucking team. Younguns might not understand this now, but for a little bit, Chris Paul vs. Deron Williams was a legit NBA debate. D-Will’s hair also used to look slightly less weird. But still weird.

Ah, man -- there I go again. I can’t help myself.

Anyway. After U of I lost to UNC in their title game, I put up an away message punning the entire Illinois starting lineup with uncreative names (I’m too embarrassed to quote the whole thing, but let’s just say “Pee Brown” was used for Dee Brown). Dom, who I assume was in his feelings a little bit... did not react well.

“I’m going to come riot in your room.”

I know, I know, you might be thinking that’s not that bad. But Dom is a laid back dude; he lives with love. So to push him to that point with flippant trolling of his golden ticket team? Not my finest hour.

And sure, yes: we were kids, it wasn’t that bad -- but I told you I believe in karma. So when Michigan made it in 2013, I called him. He was unassuming, told me it was cool. I read him what I wrote and what he said in response, and it didn’t shake him. Homie told me he was rooting for Michigan in that doomed game. That’s the kind of class (or weird conference loyalty) he has.

After that, I watched The Timeout. It had been at least a decade since I’d seen the clip.

Sometimes, rappers do this thing where they pull back and talk decades.

Shawn Corey Carter:

N****s wanna bring the 80's back That's okay with me, that's where they made me at

Macklemore:

I grew up during Reaganomics When Ice T was out there on his killing cops shit Or Rodney King was getting beat on And they let off every single officer And Los Angeles went and lost it

I grew up with the ghosts of the Fab Five. The coolest, most star-crossed basketball team to ever do it (or not do it, depending how seriously you take NCAA sanctions). Though their finals loss to UNC -- I mean, like of course -- was a little off-the-radar for my early elementary school self, my sports fandom carried that loss like the baggage it was for everyone who actually earned the scar. For years and years, if you told someone you were a Michigan basketball fan, you got a smug ass “Timeout!!!” from people.

The One Shining Podcast guys use the call as their intro, and it still fucking stings.

But I watched the clip, took it in, and tried to push forward before Michigan took the court against a favored Louisville team.

Then the game started. And then there was Spike.

And then there was Trey and the confetti.

Louisville, of course, would be forced to vacate that title this very year. The parallels have no end.

The Fab Five was there for that L, of course. The four non-Chris Webber guys together in the stands while Chris was up in a box. My fear is he’ll go to the grave with that timeout.

This time around, 2018 has given us a team unlike the ones of the past. I don’t go into this game with (as many) Fab Five haunts as before. Shit, Jalen Rose can’t even make the game (he’s working in New York), so the will-they-won’t-they drama is all but squashed immediately. And though I can’t speak at all on player motivation, you’d have to think redeeming the 2013 loss has to be somewhere in the headspace of at least a few of these players. It’s the same coach, a similar situation (4-seed five years ago, 3-seed now facing a monster 1-seed), and a hungry ass team featuring a pitbull point guard, a Many Faced German center, a sharp shooting sixth man, and a dude whose first name is literally Muhammad-Ali.

And we haven’t even gotten to Charles Matthews.

Charles Matthews is one of those first-and-last name guys. Charles feels too formal. Matthews, too sterile. A year ago, I didn’t know he existed. Now he’s filling GRIII’s shoes like the love interest of a creepy widower who insists she wear the late wife’s clothes. They even both rock the 1.

squint and it’s the same squint and it’s the same

* * *

MARCH 2019

OK, so I got too emotional previewing the Michigan-Villanova title game and actually stopped at that part. It was for the best. The Wolverines got wrecked when a white dude went off -- parallels, parallels, parallels -- and the rest is (Nova) history.

Last night, I watched Charles Matthews play what is 99.99999999999999% going to be his last game for Michigan. God damn, he was just the fucking best. If I had to construct the ideal M player to root for from scratch:

- Cool height, but not too tall, but for sure long... like a Michael Jordan-type 6′6′’ (CHECK)

- Impeccable hairline (CHECK)

- Jersey No. 1 (CHECK)

- Off the charts athleticism (CHECK)

- Dope at defense but doesn’t have to be (CHECK, IS)

- Likes Drake or Jay (YUP)

- Iffy shooter (...CHECK)

- Boring as hell interviews with the occasional unexpected flair (OHHH CHECK)

Yeah, just so sick.

I am sad, so let’s end with a Top 8 Memories Of Charles Matthews.

8) When Gus Johnson excitedly called him “Charlie Matthews” and I thought it might catch on and it definitely did not catch on

7) The Kentucky Transfer: Charles Matthews transferred to Michigan from another school. It got mentioned... a lot. Though it drew the ire of most Michigan fans, I always thought it sounded like a great damn boost.

6) Speaking of... he really could get up

5) Not wanting to get hit with water during locker room celebrations

4) Chi: I watched Michigan play Iowa in the first row of the 100 level at the UC for the 2019 Big Ten Tournament, and they announced Charles Matthews (from Chicago) last, and he got the biggest cheers in the arena/mobbed by his teammates

3) We experienced our successes in different ways

...but the joy never ceased.

2) MS-U MAD BRO?

1) The Minny game winner: Had to... this was his moment.

Oh man, the interview after was so god damn boring, you guys; top notch. Nothing but respect for my nonplussed swingman.

College sports are weird because there is so much brand continuity and tradition yet so much personnel change. It’s hard not to think of the ending of the “Friday Night Lights” movie. Like, you just did the MOST IMPORTANT THING EVER and maybe it didn’t work out or maybe it did but no matter what it’s ON TO THE NEXT THING, LIKE, THE NEXT DAY. Some will go to the league, some will become accountants, but no matter what, the coaches will update the damn depth chart.

I love watching basketball because it makes me feel alive, and players like Charles Matthews make me feel most alive.