#i may start posting more of my art here do to insta being shit

[lxvrrbxy]

[ye-it-is-skeet]

About time I made on of these, to share a bit about me and to share my "persona" or "account avatar"✨ I know usually people add their real name, but I prefer to use this pseudonym on the internet My dragon character can shapeshift into other dragons, mostly so I can draw many different dragons, be it from movies or historical notes or other such documented depictions of dragons✨ Right! Those are the Nebularomantic/Nebularsexual flags✨ Qoisexual for the Neurodivergents✨

There are some more notes about some goals I guess: -I want to make more content and general internet stuff (more followers, etc), but mostly I want to make content where I can talk more about my ideas and tips on art "style" and art in general. -I do want to try and start commissions at some point, but again I want to be a bit more known in the art community so I'll work on that. And there's still stuff I'm working out about doing commissions (me want monies).

Now we all know that my Tumblr is for literally random shit and artworks that are posted because I made them, and decided, "Hey this can be posted." (some stuff is planned but still). So is this going to become some artist-preachy account? Nope, allow me to direct you to...✨

Whaaaa?✨✨ ye-it-is-skeet has an Instagram???✨✨✨ Yes, yes, this is where I will be posting more.. I guess the same art on here. Some art may only be posted on Tumblr bc the Instagram is kinda "professional planned posts" and my mom follows me so. Ye. She makes the water-mark. But ye, here is where I will post those art-tip thingies and where I will post fun stuff! Like MHA screenshot redraws in my style, and maybe a "weekly dragon transformation" type thing✨ Don't worry, sillies will still be posted here, and some on Instagram.

I'd like to thank Tumblr for being my social media outreach for.. two years I think..? And am happy to finally be branching out to other social medias to spread my art all over the place✨ I mean you don't HAVE to follow my Instagram, it's not like if I get a certain amount of followers on Insta and Tumblr I'll open commissions it's fine

[artandpunishment]

i so over this breakup. my ex made me feel special and like shit simultaneously. they posted on their insta today about how they're grateful for the people in their life. and my gut twisted reading that because i know. i know how badly they used to want to talk to me. i know how much they enjoyed being with me. when we broke up, i swear to god they said that i was so strong, and that i was hard to describe—like a song, that they are unsure if they'll ever date anyone again, that they had wished that we could go out to get ramen the same way we did when we were together, that they want to be able to come back to my house again.

no.

you don't fucking get that. you well never ever get that back. it has been two fucking months and i still feel horrible. i want to scream all of this in their face, show how painful it is. because they don't get it. they never fucking got it. when i told you i contemplated self harm, you started talking about resolving shit with my family. don't talk to me about them, don't lecture me about that. i wanted you to fucking listen. i never told anyone that and you didn't fucking listen.

you lied to me. you broke up with me after i finally asked if we were together. then, a month passed, i tried to be nice to you, i wanted to get back together despite what you did and how you treated me. and what do i get for that? nothing. good memories that only make me downplay all of the bad, disregarding of my fucking feelings. i tried so hard to make him love me, to see what i invested in, to make them see how much i cared about him. and what am i left with now?

the echos of how hard you cried the night we broke up. I asked, "we are never getting back together?" and the firm no i heard in response is the worst no i have ever been told. you may as well have hit me with how much that fucking stings. don't tell me how strong i am. i was literally too surprised to speak. despite you wanting to break up so badly, there i was, on my bed, asking you what it would be like if we were to be just friends?

oh, wait. back in october when you had an epiphany, a couple weeks before our one year anniversary (post the break up and get back together) that we barely have anything in common, that you know people who would work better with me, and you had the gall to ask that if we broke up, would we still be friends? i told you no, months ago, because i loved you too much. well so much for that. because either way, in fucking february, we still broke up. I had to bring it up. I had to ask, hey, how do you feel about us? i wanted to talk about the resistance to intimacy and whether or not you were really committed to being together. i swear to god a light went off. this had been the sign to them all along, the one they had been waiting for. we changed locations, felt better, and then i realized what that conversation pointed to. i had to fucking ask. you knew, you knew that i cared more than you did, and despite saying that you didn't want to lead me on,

saying that you just wanted us to "agree to let the romance (that they didn't really feel) go." oh my fucking god. fuck you so much.

there is so much to unpack here. i know it is toxic as helllll of me to still be hanging on, to still be angry, to post about it on my tumblr that is linked to my art insta, that they could see if they chose to peruse the blog. and i know it is also very toxic for me to want them to see it. but holy shit. i want them to know. i want them to know how shitty they made me felt and tell me they are sorry. while i don't like that they said they were unsure if they'd ever date someone again, i hope that if they were to continue acting this way, i hope they never start another half-assed situationship, fling, relationship, because that way, no one will hurt at their hands, in this way, ever again. because this fucking sucks.

and i know that i have been active on my insta's, i still have them on my close friends, but all i post are memes and selfies. not "i'm so grateful for everyone even though i'm a little tired." ok. great. i'm tired too. i just got hired for a wonderful job, and am working on some really cool shit, but it is so hard for me to love and embrace that, love and embrace myself, and to even focus on any of that, because i have been sick to my stomach with knowing all that i do.

i want them to know that their sister still replies to my stories, complementing my art. your mom and brother still follow me on insta. your grandma started following my art account.

i had to unfollow their band, a bandmate and their partner, and my ex from my art account, because i couldn't stomach seeing them again. i never liked that bandmate anyway. but i don't want to see shit about the band. i don't want to see how grateful you are on the feed that is supposed to be inspiring.

fuck you. <3

[lawtistic]

pinned

remaking my pinned post because SOMEONE decided to start a massive argument on it thank you jesse

hi, i’m liam or L, you can use these interchangeably or use one i don’t mind

i’m an aroace gay transmasc who’s brain farms mental illness like it’s playing minecraft

with that being said, please use tone indicators around me, thank you !! (i have autism pls)

i was hyperfixated on death note and thats still mainly what my blog is about and i will post about it

im slightly more inactive now but im trying, im just mentally ill and forget tumblr exists :,)

im CURRENTLY hyperfixated on warrior cats and resident evil and im open to talking about those as well

my favorite characters are mello, bb, L, and light because theyre either hot or i like bullying them (death note wise)

my favorite characters from my current hyperfixation are whitestorm and claire redfield (but leon is the subject of my conversations WAY more often and what can i say, hes hot and he gives me gender envy lmao)

yes, im the one person who drew light in a bikini (and a wedding dress. and a crop top)

i have a shitton of tier lists i did that i will link here the minute i feel like doing that, that minute is not right now

i do art (that i never post), i write fanfiction (that i never post) i write video scripts (that i never post), i cant do math (i do post about that)

youre mostly gonna see me reblogging stuff or spouting shit at a noise decibel loud enough to rupture an eardrum

im in a number of fandoms including genshin impact (distancing myself, i havent played in like 3 weeks and have been avoiding media like crazy), animal crossing, obey me, tears of themis, and some more stuff i dont have the mental capability to paperclip right now

im wiccan !! as of me writing this imbolc is coming up like... tomorrow so i may or may not post about that but i try not to because i know not everyone likes it

here’s my links !!

https://archiveofourown.org/users/pngfanfic ao3 (that i dont have anything posted on)

https://liamthepng.carrd.co/ my carrd, it looks bad on mobile so i recommend looking at it on desktop

https://en.pronouns.page/@lace_png my pronouns page, so you know how to refer to me

i dont feel like linking my socials right this second but my insta is verylawtistic and my discord is lawtistic#7355

i dont recommend looking at my tiktok i post cringe on there and i dont post very often but it is... something ill reveal after i clean it up it’s a vile place honestly

very specific rule for anons is that you can say literally anything as long as it doesnt align with my triggers or dni list (found on my carrd). there’s three chances and if theyre all fucked up i’m turning anons off

id be a GIANT hypocrite if i said you cant send me dumb shit and you can absolutely do that i have the humor of a 3 year old just dont piss me off on purpose

i do post and tag appropriately so if you have a certain tag blocked they shouldn’t show up for you :]

[dzpenumbra]

1/12/23

I'm eating Ben & Jerry's Dirt Cake ice cream. It's good. :D

Today was pretty heavily dominated by a difficult focal point. I'm noticing that my isolation and social starvation has sent me to social media again. It always seems to, I really don't have a lot of options socially currently. It may seem odd saying this... on a social media platform... but this site has pretty constantly been mostly one-way communication, people don't really interact on here with my stuff. And that's cool, don't get me wrong, I don't mean that passive aggressively, merely factually. My purpose of doing this journal is not affected even remotely by interaction, the purpose is solely to keep my stream-of-consciousness create flow muscles in shape, to therapeutically work through the day's issues and to counteract my own social anxiety by doing this in a public format. By the time I hit Post, my process is done, so... no big there. Anything else is extra.

After the whole thing last week, I haven't really felt cool with my city's subreddit. And reddit as a whole just... most of the conversations are like 80% people I really don't want anything to do with. Like... super judgmental, superficial, egotistical, hedonistic, antisocial people. Just not the kind of people I want to be hanging out with. And reddit has had by far the most ridiculously heinous ads. So I really want to stray from there. I tried Insta today, but that is seriously 1 ad every 5 posts you look at. It's fucking stupid. The ads are more palatable but like... it just puts a bad taste in my mouth. Like I'm sorry, I'm not in the mood to buy something right now, I just fucking woke up and I just want to watch some skate clips and art stuff.

I did yoga, which was good but... again... I hit the road block of not being able to get into a pose and then I was just super behind for a bit. Frustrating. But I got past it and it was good. After that... was the big bad moment.

I fell for clickbait. I saw a video on my recommended feed that was blaming The Berrics for fucking this dude over. It was over an hour long of this dude just sitting in front of a camera with a super expensive mic and just talking. Let me preface this by saying I actually got an early start to the day and was planning to get groceries. I clicked the video. This guy was... ... sad? I guess? I don't know how to really put it. Like... he was trying to impress his dad or something? But... in a "I'm a self-help guru" and "I'm a professional businessman" kinda way. And I looked through his videos, he had like 67K subs but his last few videos were getting like double digit views. Like the highest view count video he had was like 20K, and he had over 60K subs? I mean... yeah. I shit you not he was wearing both a hat and a hoodie with the words "Doubt Me" on them, and had his hashtag "#doubtme" (please for the love of god do not give this guy the analytic affirmation of searching that, no matter how morbid the curiosity may be) on screen the whole time. It was his "mantra". <facepalm> How could I say no to that? I doubted him. I mean, he was asking so nicely!

I start to write my "reaction" in the comments section. I could go on for a long time rehashing the details of that, but to put it succinctly, he did some... really sketchy and possibly illegal shit... and was putting this video out there as like... shifting the blame onto the Berrics. Trying to specifically out the founder, Steve Berra. Like personally naming him, and using his logo and his fucking face as the thumbnail for the video. Like... talk about defamation lawsuit, man. The dude just got control of his business back from sketchy stockholders like 3 fucking days ago after 5 years, and he has this eyebrow-waxing motherfucker shitting on his name like that. And, from as far as I could tell, it was primarily because he was having trouble being assertive and saying "no" to someone who was very blatantly trying to use The Berrics brand and image as a way to self-promote, trying to piggyback off their fame. Ugh, I'm getting upset again.

So here's the problem. I finally wrapped up the video and my whole like... in-depth 2+ page response. I was squirming in my chair like a toddler I had to piss so bad. I looked at the clock, it was past 5PM. I have no idea when I sat down and opened that, I'd ballpark around 1:30 or 2. I felt like I fucking time-traveled. And it wasn't even worth it. For real. I deleted the fucking comment. It wasn't going to make a difference, it was like a 2 page comment, who is going to read that? And what difference will it make? It's like... a reaction video in itself. I just deleted it and booked it up to the shower, praying I could get to the grocery store in time because I had my therapy appointment today.

I did not have enough time. I started shopping on Instacart, because a storm is coming, so I needed food. I got the order in the cart and... my mom calls. Half an hour before my meeting. I pick up and start unloading, which just spirals into catastrophizing. It got dark real quick. From "I lost time" to "I'm a fuck up" to "I have no friends" to "its not safe to meet new people". In like not even 10 minutes. Ugh. Luckily I went to therapy and got tons of that cleared up, and got a huge dose of like... "hey dude, by the way, that's not your fault. You suffered because of that, and you didn't even enjoy it. You were baited, and you didn't enjoy it, so don't beat yourself up over that. It's in the past." It helped a ton, and we went over different executive functioning tools to help with getting stuff done and daily structuring too. It was super helpful, I felt a ton better.

Then I called my mom back and apologized for my depressive episode, which is weird because... again... I shouldn't really apologize for something I can't really help because it hits me the hardest... but I apologized for how it affected her, because it must've been jarring. I felt like it was the right thing to do. And it was a nice moment.

The rest of the night was cooking potatoes, taking down timestamps on the Ancestors vids so I can maybe put together a little short narrative video from that. And... ice cream. Yep. That was my entire day. But, good news, got my groceries. I said fuck it and got the Instacart and I got lucky because the person made good substitutions when I was in my session. Now I'm just gonna prep for an early night. I'm really emotionally drained from it all. I don't fucking care anymore (at least not at the moment) if people out there think my problems are stupid or other people have it worse. The chain reactions in my head, the spirals that happen, the emotional burden of it all... it's rough. And if people are just going to scoff and compete and talk shit, I really hope they just keep fucking scrolling.

If it's one thing I need to take from today, it's that I need to stop giving my emotional bandwidth and energy to people who would never offer that much to me in return. I wrestle back and forth on where that fits on an ethical scale, as far as like... being a "good person"... but on a survival scale? I just can't do it. It doesn't make me a bad person to walk away from people who don't take my debilitating struggles seriously, it makes me... a self-respecting person.

[northropi]

Tumblr Now

://INITIATE_GREETING Alright so Tumblr. The Tumblr. That one. The one that bad people thought was the antichrist itself in 2015. In my and others' effort to have actual plan Bs in case of Twitter doing what we think Twitter is going to do we're coming here despite the memes of keeping us out.

I suppose that I should open by saying that I have a pet peeve for superhero and urban fantasy shows to such an extent that they are the bad guys in my self-insert lore.

Now that I have torpedoed my attempts to gain a following on this site I should say that I actually remember liking it here. Getting all the formatting stuff right is going to be a little adventure on my part but hey I did some coding stuff in Uni (I did not finish Uni). The only real reason I never made an account here is because, well, exactly the time I would have made an account happened to align with, you know, that time where a lot of the people I would have been following were banned for posting lewd stuff. I understand they have reigned that back and allow it if it's properly tagged- which it should be- but I'm gonna have to comb the fine print there before I push it.

I will confess that at this point my knowledge of the state of this site is vague to the extent that I'm mostly here to follow people who went here before other places, especially considering I seem to be the sole VTweeter that is not on Insta or Tiktok. In fact, as most of my output is art, I may end up frequenting art sites more often. In fact, I was met with decent traction on my backup acct immediately.

On DeviantArt.

Like a week before they did their shit.

Yeah it's probs Newgrounds now even if I'm not quite doing numbers there yet. But I'm likely to crosspost everywhere when possible. This may end up partially replacing my current Wix blog if I can get it to display info in the encyclopedic format I want for the sake of loreposting.

There'll be a better intro later- this is me getting my bearings and asking for help with that from friends. Tumblr is my most likely outright replacement for Twitter once I learn due to it having a similar capacity for being able to scream into the void and have your friends say "lol" beneath it, even if at a glance Newgrounds is my more likely portfolio site and Wix is gonna be where a lot of long-form posts end up. Will twitter collapse? Well one of my friends, who is a mushroom, she is cool, thinks not- that the businesses that rely on Twitter will be waiting like vultures to pick it up if Elon steps down. This makes sense- the brands all find value in Twitter because it's popular. It's a feedback loop they exploit for outreach.

But Elon does not make sense.

Why did he launch a car into space? It was because it was an easy way to get haha funny internet points. Why did he buy Twitter? And why might he, I believe to be in the cards, destroy Twitter, out of spite, at his own loss?

It's not like I'm sitting here weeping, the follower grind I had to where I'm at aside. Like I'm at 282 last I checked, that's pretty nice, and I hope my regulars are checking my new sites. I don't think Twitter was some sacred grounds as a lot of strawmen are painted. It was just convenient and cool people are there. Were there. Half expecting it to be gone when I tab back over just out of sheer jinxing lol. I really should have done all this earlier. Got pretty complacent with the idea that the situation had stabilized. Alas, Society.

I am, as with all sites I am spreading my high-aspect-ratio membranous wings into, eager to check this out and meet new people. I just hope I don't have to start from zero.

[copias-thrall]

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his  casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

[ectonurites]

a very very genuine question: so its bad to repost art but no one says anything when people repost things from the source material/creator's sketches.....why?like sure everyone who likes it may recognize the style but there are plenty of fan artists i recognize immediately, new or old art, with or without. to me it just feels the same, like either dont repost art or people should be able to repost stuff, i dont see how they can work at the same time. and this isnt me saying people should be allowed to repost and all that bc i do understand the theory of why reposting hurts artists, just that the logic doesnt seem to fit once it extends to famous artists/creators. just bc its official and easily recognizable makes it okay? how does that work? again, there are plenty of fanartists who are easily recognizable and lose no money when people repost their work (bc they posted it for free) and from my own observation, it seems it just, somehow, makes them want to do art less (from what i have read from artists themselves). why do we not consider that when it comes to official creators? wouldnt they also feasibly be less motivated seeing their hard work plastered across the internet for free when thats the sole way they make their income? and its not a system where its solely sticking it to the man bc it hurts the artists income, as well. but if it makes them happy to see people enjoying and sharing their work with others, drawing interest, why isnt it the same with fan artists? people often repost art, not out of malice or intent to claim credit, but bc they enjoy it + want to share it, esp on social media where sharing isnt a feature (instagram, for example) again im not trying to justify reposting, just confused about the contradiction

First of all instagram does have a form of sharing posts- stories. Which yes they are temporary by default, but you can use the highlight feature to collect your favorite things you’ve shared from people right there on your own profile AND it links back to the original post and can permanently be on your profile as long as you keep it there. You can even label them and everything! But then moving on to answering more of your actual questions

To start: this is a very complicated thing. And I feel everyone trying to answer it might have slightly varied opinions. 

I personally see a pretty clear distinction between ‘Officially published/released’ works (like comic book [as like you’ve probably seen I frequently post comic panels] or other materials that may have been released in creator guides, official video game art, promotional art for things, etc etc) as opposed to like, personal work and fanart. Because with official works:

There’s usually a source to buy it and you should if you’re referencing it a ton (while I don’t own every comic I’ve ever read I do have a lot and if I did read something first through illegal means [because some comics are just straight up hard to find due to age/being out of print] and enjoyed it I try to seek out a physical copy after if possible)

There is a level of far wider recognition (I know you personally might find fanartists’ styles recognizable but like, things that are in mainstream media.. have just such a higher profile. it’s not really comparable) 

If you’re not supporting the official release you’re harming the big company that published it far more than the individual artist (like, the individual artist probably also wouldn’t appreciate it, because it can effect them for sure as well, but they’re not gonna be taking the brunt of the damage unless it was entirely self-published work, which I’d definitely categorize differently from what I’m mainly talking about here.)  

Often fanartists/professional artists who aren’t that well known, in addition to wanting to just create work for the sake of it, also want to build their own platform, to have an audience that they interact with. Or like, if they’re offering commissions, a bigger platform puts you in a position where people will actually see the art and want to commission you. When you say reposts of smaller artists’ fanart doesn’t ‘loose them money’ because they didn’t charge to post it, you’re missing the fact that it makes them loose out on proper linked-back-to-them exposure. Especially like, when a repost account on insta or something says ‘ah yes credit to [username] on tumblr’ the vast majority of people who see it aren’t going to then open up a whole different website and look for the artist. Some people might! but if there’s anything i’ve learned from working professionally in arts marketing it’s that people want things that are convenient and directly in front of them. Someone who wants to see more works because they liked one is significantly more likely to click on the username of someone who posted it rather than opening up a browser or a different app and searching a separate name put in the caption. 

Then honestly, I do feel weird about reposts of professional artists’ more personal works unless the artist has stated they’re fine with people reposting with credit. It should be about the comfort level of the artist. I think a lot of professional artists who aren’t in a position where they’re as worried about building a platform, because they already have one and might have professional connections/opportunities already lined up, might not really care about reposts especially on a website they don’t use. (Like tumblr. I’m coming at this mostly from a comics artist perspective here, but most professional artists I see are waaaay more active on twitter and instagram than tumblr) If it’s a website they don’t use, it’s not taking away from the platform they had been building there for themselves. And also, some artists really just don’t give a shit, which is their choice they can make with their work! But that’s not a universal thing. One artist being fine with their personal art being reposted =/= all artists being fine with it. 

In my own experience as a fanartist, when I see my art reposted without credit, especially when it’s art I’ve also already posted on the same platform... it’s definitely disheartening. Even worse is when the repost gets even more attention than my original post. (something that has happened to me multiple times!) Like, it can get so upsetting!  Because it lets me know that someone else was using my art to build their platform and I got exactly zero benefit out of it. Then when it’s reposted with credit it’s a little less annoying, but I still don’t... get much out of it. Especially if it’s an instagram repost and they credit my tumblr not my account on there, since insta captions don’t actually do links unless it’s to other insta accounts. Also with insta for example, I have a 'business’ account set up so I can look at and track popularity of my posts and see how they’re doing as something to keep in mind when considering posting times, etc etc. When other people repost my art there I have no control over it. That sucks a lot! Also, when I quite literally ask people not to repost my art (it is IN! MY! DESCRIPTION!) and they still do, it’s just straight up disrespectful. I asked for a boundary to be respected with my work and people have just completely ignored it. That doesn’t feel good at all.

But, conversely, I’m gonna talk about my more professional irl work for a sec. I’m a graphic designer, so I do things like posters, logos, etc, When I design a poster for a client that is meant to be advertising something, even if it’s got my own original illustration or something as part of it, I know my name isn’t necessarily going to be attached to it the same way as it is with my personal work. I get a credit line somewhere, but that’s in a fine print probably not even on the poster itself at all, but that’s like, part of what I signed up for. I already get paid separately, I am giving permission for my work to be out of my own hands in that way. Professional work for a client is often setup in some way similar to this. I don’t get mad when I walk down the street and see a poster I made up somewhere without it directly ‘linking’/referencing back to me (aside from maybe my signature if it had an illustration), in fact I go ‘OMG ITS THERE ugh wait i see one pixel is off oh noooooo” and then move on with my day. It’s just an entirely different situation because that kind of work has a different arrangement from the start, where you know it’s going to be put in a different type of circulation.

So yeah, my word isn’t god here, but I definitely see official releases as having a different set of permissions based on the fact that they are published in an entirely different situation. And I think reposts of personal art aren’t cool if the artist isn’t okay with them, no matter how big a platform they have. Other people probably approach this with a slightly different perspective, but that’s mine!

[lesbianbernardsumner]

I guess its over now, but it couldn’t have been that bad right?! After all, I’m still here, and you all helped me through it!!

alright this is gonna be messy and im not gonna autocorrect/proofread it but heres the essay on why i loved 2020.... While 2020 was, pretty objectively, one of the worst years for modern humanity. The obvious virus and all its, various strands of natural disasters, impending war threat, gender reveal parties, you get the gist. But i would love to just... look back and see how it treated me. See how it ran :). January/Febuary/March - the months are bunched up cause the least amount of stuff happened in them, but thats not to say that the stuff wasnt... good!!!! After all I met my first online friend (that im still friends with of course) @smilez4milez..! I cannot believe you withstood me for so long tbh........... youve been here the whole time!!!! thats obviously an achievemnt!!! Our circumstances for our meeting do not matter... trust me. April - Got my gender transed and i then id’d as demigirl!! and also had a birthday, i turned a whole year..... i believe this was also the time i... started using discord??? yeah, that sounds right :0) May/June - OOOH WEE DISK HOARD AAAAAAAAA. Ahem, Miles got me into Chuck E. Cheese and the Rock-Afire Explosion, i hold those special interests dear and close to my heart. Around the time i also made friends with @teamgay0tix (<3). Miles decided that he was gonna make an animatronic discord server. Titled the Robot Zone, Miles employed Sarah, Me, and another friendo named Teddy as the moderators. Not long after i met... so so many cool and epic people... uh off the top of my head @worthape, @bahrlee, @boredwiththislifetime, @retrowormz, @knave-woods, @verae. Not all of those were met in May/June but yknow gotta save time >:) and im sure im missing someone gdvhbuydhbdyh. WE UH RP’D AS CEC/RAE CHARACTERS!!!!! THAT WAS FUN :)!!!!!!! I DONT HAVE MUCH ELSE TO SAY AS MAY AND JUNE WERE SIMILAR MOTNHS IN TERMS OF FUN. SYHBDREYS. Oh and my laptop broke! So I was on my iPad for about 3 months!! Also my gender got transed AGAIN!!! I then-ID’d as genderfluid :o). July - HI CASPER @arcadecarpetz!!! THIS WAS THE MONTH WE FIRST MET!!! WE DO NOT TALK ABOUT THAT INTERACTION </3. So I got into the beatles late June/early July!! looks at my url lookat how that turned out huh...  Other things that happened during this month include... meeting @lovecore-ashe!!!!! I joined a certain discord server for a certain emoji blog we both happened to follow and... July was great i dunno why im being all stingy with the details etvfertyghdb August - Oh boy!! I discovered some cool epic things about myself (Emp knows.)!! got much better in the art department too!! I believe I also made friemnds with @hmmdotjpg here! They’re cool! Otherwise not much actually happened. Oh and @verae I FUCKING LOVE YOU/p September - HA! Here is when I got my shiny new laptop :), and with it i also got into Clone High!! Started to also get into Yellow Submarine, a movie which, I enjoy :). And a certain yellow submarine insta post got me and @arcadecarpetz to meet again!!! Now we’re on much better terms!! heh-. This month I left the Robot Zone, no matter how much it hurt, I simply didn’t want to be there anymore. I had got way too into animatronics and I was... very... very... burnt out. The final days of this month were good, I rewatched Yellow Submarine after a 10-Year Hiatus. It was good! :) October - SPOOK!!! HA!!! -COUGH- So you know how The Beatles like broke up in 1970... yeah i got into one of the bands made after them.... Wings good. I made a few more drawings for arcadecasper that im especially proud of, uh... OH YEAH AND I MADE A KETCHUP PRIDE FLAG FOR EMPRESS!!!!!!!! It is also now my most popular post! Cool!/gen .Two of my friends approached me and said they got into the beatles because of me that was pretty swagchamp. November - All of my memories from this month are MUSH. i literally dont remember what happened <3... oh wait yeah we got hte evil man out of office... that was preddy epic... OH RIGHT DESTIEL- December - My favorite season!! The end of the year was pretty swell. It was like everything good that happened to me was settling, getting cozier, just... being better. Like gently stirring the salt in a soup bowl... okay thats a weird analogy- I got into lemon demon too! And uh very glad i did. cause now i can say that cabinet man wishes you a karkalicious 2009 and i can actually understand it./j And all the lessons from all my friends I (probably indirectly) learnt this year... Like @smilez4milez!! You taught me to always be proud and glad!!! @teamgay0tix you taught me that affection always overpowers hatred. @boredwiththislifetime, no matter what your friend is doing, as long as its not hurting anyone, support them!!! @bahrlee, become a vampire/j. @hmmdotjpg, changing for yourself is more important than becoming someone you arent in front of other people. @worthape i dunno... i... bugs???? Im just glad you were here too :). @retrowormz you kinda just made me funnier!!! @knave-woods bro i literally idolize you tsygvfbsyh. @lovecore-ashe, drink ketchup and dont give a shit about what everyone else thinks/hj!! @verae, !!!!!!!!!!!!!! I DUNNO WHAT TO SAY YOURE LITERALLY JUST MY BEST FRIEND GSYHVFTEYWSH and of course, last but most certainly not least, Casper @arcadecarpetz WHERE DO I START ON HOW EPIC AND SWAG AND POGGERS YOU ARE AND HOW GREAT YOU HELPED MAKE THESE LAST FEW MONTHS... HHM- Well, maybe ill just leave it at “You pretty much taught me how to not be a jerk” okay!!! Man i got really sappy here wgvrtedgyshb I’m not sure if any of that is comprehensible!!! Its 2pm and i still havent actually started the day, but i wanted to write all of this down before it left my head. I know im missing probably important stuff but yknow... i have brainworms :O/j You are all... so cool... i just wanted to get that out...

[ms-demeanor]

I appreciate your positivity posts a lot, but there are a couple things that make me instinctively angry when i see them One, it really frustrates me that i cannot be good at everything. I know it may sound kinda stupid, but i feel jealous when i see people learning skills i know I'll never master cause they arent a priority over other skills im already working on Two, when im angry/frustrated and i see positivity, it only makes me angrier None of this is your fault, just needed to vent a little

(This post requires a table of contents)

Frustration that you can’t be good at everything - A

Frustration with positivity - B

Do I contradict myself? Kinda but not really - C

Ah-ha, but I have fooled us all - D

A

That doesn’t sound stupid at all, it actually sounds exactly like the insta-rage that I get from being bad at something or from hearing “anybody can do X.”

I know that sounds contradictory, considering that I’ve been saying “anybody can learn artistic skills with practice,” but I’ll explain in a sec.

Okay so I’m learning guitar right? Like, with all the hand-pain and dyspraxia and all I’m still giving it a go and it’s taking forever and it’s really frustrating.

It’s more frustrating because I realized I had to do it alone - if I’m practicing around people or a person is sitting next to me while I’m trying to learn a skill or get the fretting of a particular chord down or (especially this one) trying to memorize a sequence of notes and movements it’s. It’s extremely not pretty. It’s apparently very upsetting for the people who are around me when that happens.

I get furious with myself and I get frustrated because goddamnit fucking children can do this thing and I’m an adult and it’s a simple fucking sequence of five movements and I’m just getting it wrong because I’m a useless idiot.

It takes about four minutes with a guitar teacher or jamming with a friend for me to devolve into “attempt sequence > fuck sequence up > apologize > try again but now while more mad at myself > fuck it up worse > apologize > forget beginning of sequence > try really hard not to start calling myself a fucking idiot in front of a friend who really shouldn’t have to handle this.”

And when I do that it feels terrible. It feels bad, feels like my skills have regressed, makes me want to put the instrument down and not pick it up again.

The thing is, I do this with every skill that I’m learning. You should see me when I’m trying to learn a new version of some kind of software. It’s terrible. I’m at my absolute worst and lowest when I’m trying to find the new place Adobe has hidden a menu or what the new command is to format something in Word.

But here’s the deal: I know what this is when I’m doing it. This is emotional dysregulation.

Basically finding out that I have ADHD changed my life and got me to really start examining a lot of my reactions to things and the behavior patterns I’ve lived with for most of my life.

I experience an impulse to be furious when people are more skilled than I am, I AM furious when I feel like my skills aren’t where I think they should be. But neither of those things are actually good for helping me learn to do the thing and I’d much rather learn to do the thing than be angry about not being good enough at it.

I spend a fair amount of time in therapy. I have worked on recognizing when I have the impulse to do something that is going to be unhelpful or reactive and attempting to approach that impulse with other options.

That’s not easy! And it doesn’t come naturally! My first response to a lot of things is still anger or frustration or despair.

But since I *know* that’s my first impulse and I’ve learned enough about my own behavior to understand that my first impulse is frequently the wrong course of action (grounded in panic or whatever) I’ve been working on accepting that my first reaction is typically negative and moving on more quickly to other, more helpful reactions.

(this has been really fantastic for increasing my feelings of agency and control over my own life; acting on your panic response all the time isn’t good for your long term stability)

You know you can’t be good at everything, you know that it takes a long time to acquire skills. That doesn’t make it any less frustrating that you don’t have the skills that you want to have. So it’s understandable that your first reaction to the skills positivity posts would be negative, and it’s understandable if you want to sit in that negativity for a little bit.

It’s also understandable to mourn the skills that you could have had. “If I hadn’t stopped practicing guitar in my teens I could be so much better now.” “If I hadn’t had to get a job with such a long commute I could be drawing daily and I’d be so much farther along.” “If I hadn’t been discouraged by my parents I’d have had so much more practice with music.” “If I hadn’t gotten injured I’d be such a good dancer right now.”

There’s a perfect you that lives in your head and they’ve had all the opportunities you missed and got to keep practicing when you couldn’t and have all the money you don’t and sleep you keep missing. I get wanting to be that person. I get wanting what they want.

But the you in your head isn’t real and it’s sad if you’re ignoring how wonderful the real you is because you’re not perfect in the same ways.

So if you can, I’d recommend trying to see if there’s a positive response you can practice remembering when you get frustrated about your skills.

(for me it’s honestly just saying “the next best time to plant a tree is today” and remembering that I’ve got a long time to learn to do all the things I want to do. It’s not a race, and if I can’t get to something now I can try later.)

You’re great. You’re great and you’re trying hard and if you wouldn’t yell at your friend for not learning a skill or being good at something you shouldn’t yell at yourself either.

B

So when I was like, 17, I wrote a bit of poetry that went like this:

I’m a casual cynicwho prays for optimistsbut it’s hard for me to be onewhen I’m talking with my fists.

I am a very, very negative, pessimistic person. Optimism and positivity irritate the hell out of me.

The frustrating thing about positivity is that it largely feels like criticism. It feels like “if you can’t do X, Y, or Z it’s because you choose not to.”

And I sure as fuck can’t blame people for being negative. I’m negative and the world is shitty and everything is difficult and expensive. I really, really don’t think that people are choosing not to do what they want to do.

So when you hear “you can do it!” it’s a very natural response to go “yeah, easy for you to say, you don’t have a million things preventing you from doing it.”

Part of this is that your brain is a filthy liar and it thinks that skills are easy to acquire. Your brain is going “if anyone can do it and I haven’t it’s because I’m lazy and I suck.”

I would like you to remind your brain that it is a filthy liar.

(I would also like to remind people that negativity that exists to the point that generic positivity posts upset you or make you angry is a symptom of depression)

But the other thing is that you probably DO have a million legitimate things that are keeping you from Doing The Thing and when you’re seeing someone else say “Do the thing!” you’re just seeing the shiny thing, not their million things that were in the way too.

Doing shit is HARD. It’s exhausting. It involves opportunity cost. If I want to make fanart I have do dedicate time to that that gets taken away from somewhere else and you know what sometimes it’s just better for me and more in line with my desires to re-read a 100k slow-burn than it is to make a drawing of the characters.

But it’s also really important to recognize which kinds of positivity actually contain criticism.

My initial statement in the Gru comic was “Talent is bullshit, nurture your skills with practice & make the content you want to see in the world.” This was in reaction to a simply-drawn comic that expressed that you need talent to make fanart and not everybody has talent.

A lot of people have seen that as criticism.

I am. Really, really not attempting to criticize people with these posts.

But also, yeah, being told “woah, hey, just calm down” when you’re already pissed isn’t going to make anyone’s afternoon any better. And there’s not much I can do about that (and I know you don’t want me to, you said you were just venting).

C

“You hate positivity and yet you make positivity posts, interesting.”

So the brand of positivity posts I hate are the “If I can do it anyone can!” posts and here’s why:

Not everyone can be on a Roller Derby team.

Breaking my back and having to quit roller derby made me reassess a lot of my attitudes about the world.

If you point to a specific activity and say “if I can do this anyone can do this” you are wrong. There are a lot of people who aren’t going to be able to do a thing. If you say “If I can lose the babyweight within three weeks of giving birth anyone can” there are a lot of people who can’t do that thing and there is a kind of implicit criticism there. “If I can get over my scoliosis and lift weights anyone can,” is kind of saying that the people with scoliosis who can’t lift weights just aren’t making an effort.

“If I can do this anyone can” is wrong. It ignores the fact that people are all in unique circumstances and have different limitations. No, not anyone can. Not everyone can be on a Roller Derby team.

But what I’m saying in my posts isn’t “anyone can draw” it is “if you practice a skill you will improve at it, so if you want to improve at drawing you need to practice.”

And I’ve been very clear in admitting that not everyone can do this, due to time constraints and low energy and physical limitations.

The one deviation I’ve made from that is to come pretty close to saying “anyone can do art” and again, I consider that a bit different because “art” is a very broad category and I do believe that pretty much anyone can create things that I would consider art, even if that art isn’t traditional visual media. And again, any of those kinds of art would also improve with practice.

D

The joke was on all of us all along, by the way. While I’m being pretty positive about the idea of practice and the fact that it will improve people’s performance at all skill levels there’s a secret:

That Gru post isn’t so much positive about practice as it is *incredibly* negative about the concept of talent.

Talent IS bullshit. There is a variable range of innate abilities that people can have that may jump-start a particular skill but proficiency in that skill is always going to be down to practice, not talent.

Talent was made up as a cover to explain the “brilliance” of people who had armies of laborers supporting them. I bet I’d be able to invent a lot of shit if I didn’t have to do laundry or worry about whether I was going to be able to afford both food and rent next month. Talent is a myth that pairs nicely with great man theory in that it is crap and I want people to understand that sucking at things for a long time is a part of not sucking at things eventually and also that you’re going to get a lot more done working with a group of motivated people than you are if you wait for one “talented genius” to change the world.

[blackmuzak8484]

nortey dowuona’s best of 2020

to be completely honest, I decided to do this entirely for TSJ. otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered at all. Best end lists are for music nerds and billboard chart nerds and industry vultures, and i happen to be subscribed, in the discord and in the comments of the youtube vids of these folk. so, i decided to pick 10 out of random from the big best of 2020 i was compiling for the whole of the year, which I was gonna post to this Tumblr at the end of the damn year, but I guess I can just post the link to the playlist in the bottom of this post. Here, i’m gonna write about 10 songs I personally love, and pick out a few artists i specifically loved:

artist of the year.

RAP Ferreira put out his best album and best verses in a year everybody either stagnated, fell off or got rendered irrelevant by the world at large. He was ebullient, hilarious, thoughtful and even surprisingly honest. I enjoyed the fact that now he’s begun to create a real platform for many talented folx, and I hope he continues to do that in the margins and make even more beautiful music in the years to come.

rookie of the year.

Enny by a mile. Everybody else who debuted this year got hamstrung by the pandemic but she created 3 great songs, each thoughtful, insightful and a joy. Apparently she just started publicly releasing music to a large audience, and I hope she gets better and better, and even gets bigger than J-

most pleasant surprise.

Vic Mensa’s V Tape. An artist who I though had no more moves left completely turned around his whole career with a fantastic performance at Lollapalooza, a fantastic fleet of features and tis gorgeously produced EP which had some of his most brilliant songs on it. I love it all, Vic Mensah is well and truly back. Welcome back bro. (ALSO, DROP THE DRILL TRACK.)

GREAT THING A GHANAIAN ARTIST DID.

Strongman Burner, Amarae, Okunta Kinte, Vic Mensah in general.

cool things my friends and classmates did.

Justine Darcenne’s #4TheBaeless. Valencia Rae’s Siren thyhomebodies’s Coming of Age. (Phil, a producer in the group, made his own studio!) Brad built his own computer. petit abri put a track on APT9 Record’s compiliation album Volume II. khaalid anderson’s transitions. (khaalid will also be performing at Beats & Brunch on January 23, 2021 at 11 am.) Yannick Paul’s Bear Fruit. The Big Climax’s This Is Ya Boy kxng jetson’s Waves (ft. Kokko Williams & Mike Mezzl) Nicole Gonzalez performed in The Composer’s Melody. Victoria Marie released a bunch of beaufiful covers on her Insta, @toriiii_marie @ph0ssy_jaw works as a counselor online. Pay her at her PayPal. Johnny Aperano Yoba was on People AND Vogue. Dalitso is a wonderful pianist at his church back home in Zambia. Kobina is a fantastic drummer at his church. Kayla graduated with a BS in Music Technology and Industry! Damian been cookin on his insta. Travis graduated! (Look out for Clan of Dragons.) Rorghino Flores made a documentary! Francis (and Animax FYB) put out Mmofra on AmaLexPrime! (play it with yo kids.) A Hype has been dropping crazy all year, roll by his SoundCloud and check out Persistence Of Memory. Reina H been doing great covers on her Insta, @challenges_inlife. Hannah placed music on C. B. S.

best albums of the year (that nobody’s written about).

Maya Huyana -1991 DaWeirdo - Broke and Ugly $ilkMoney - Attack of the Future Shocked, Flesh Covered, Meatbags of the 85 VI Seconds - Because Why Not/Never Knows Best Erik Cain - Heart & Soul Vol. 2 Dimitri & the Scarecrow - Messenger is Sender (from 2015, finally got released onto streaming this year, still pretty great and another great Zimbabwean rapper for us to all fawn over, just like billy woods) Flowking Stone - Gifted 1 The Hoodies - Incommunicado Jayy Grams - Every Gram Counts Domo Genesis/Mike and Keys - Just in Case1/2 Madwiz - God’s Gold Teeth Maez301 - Hasaan Daara J Family - Yaamatele Dai Burger - Dessert EP TeePhlow - Road To Phlowducation II Tef Poe/Blvck Spade - Preacher in the Trap Terrell Hines - Portal One: The Mixtape redveil - niagara Nyukyung - Trap Harmonix AdrianXpression - Sucka Deante Hitchcock - Better (Deluxe) maassai & jWords - ve.loc.i.ty tobe nwigwe - cincoriginals everything Kelsey Lu did this year.

strangest things happening in music in general.

vic mensah actually making a great record. goldlink going through a narcissistic collapse and winding up making the best music of his career. redveil blowing up off Fantano calling him wack. pharoahe monch finally making a rock pivot and it actually works. meet me@the garden coming 10 years too late for my 14 year old self. RAP Ferreira being in the NYTimes, selling a vinyl record for $72, creating an actual nostrum grocers in a video game so we can listen to his next record. The entirety of the playboi carti phenomenom. The entirety of the lil uzi vert phenomenom. The entirety of Chance’s instagram EP being far more money worthy then the entirety of the Big Day and yet being released on Insta and not immediately monetized. Deante Hitchcock releasing a great album and being completely forgotten armand hammer releasing their underground kings wayyy too early. my ass continually not actually looking into amapiano despite always loving it when I review it. several good songs needing to be tacked on to a prior youtube vid as an ad for me to find them instead of actually listening to the artists. santan dave still releasing good verses after he made his illmatic. (expect his new album to suck.) slowthai becoming cake. (we let that go way too far.) Guapdad and BfB Packman being wonderful. Finding out BfB PAckman is a better rapper than Sada Baby. John Boyega putting on Ego Ella May. Having to admit Young Dolph was good all this time and i missed out like a fool.

best tv performance.

Chance The Rapper’s “A Chi-Town Christmas.” IDK’s “Change The Channel.” Sa-Roc’s Tiny Desk Concert. Chika in general. Robert Glapser’s “This Changes Everything (ft. Denzel Curry).” SZA at the Roots Picnic. Sampa The Great at the Roots Picnic. RAP Ferreira in general. Umi’s “Introspection Live Show.” Alexa Esperanza’s cover of “Is It A Crime.” Bad Bunny in general. the jwords, nappy nina and MIKE performances at Satellite Syndicate

most embarrassing piece of music i love with all my heart

Logic’s No Pressure. In all sense of the words I should not love this album like I love my siblings but I do. It is beautiful.

best 10 songs of this year objectively

1 - RAP Ferriera - An Idea Is A Work Of Art (ft. Mike Ladd) [prod. by Kenny Segal, mr. carmack and Mike Parvizi]

I know, I know. In all honesty Doldrums should be here. Then Noz put it on his best list and I had to be all ChiTown Go-Getter and pick the next better thing: this. And in all honesty, it has the best lyric RAP spits on the album: “we build better answers.” But it’s not just that, it’s RAP’s most animated performance, the most dexterous piece on the whole album and the most gorgeous beat, a loping bassline sliding behind the flatfooted drum, allowing Mike Ladd, his musical father, to gently drift through, saying, “what if royalty depised us?” and knowing the only gold is soul and giving it to all of us, all us maggots and vultures and locusts and weevils, to hold to the light so we can finally see. On the quest to get open and free, we continue.

2 - Chika - U Should [prod. by Lido]

I heard this the night it dropped and shot 2 insta videos playacting as it played. But apart from that, it’s a intimate, beautiful song about getting to know a new lady love, so tenderly sung it might melt and disappear if not held gently, with a sweeping guitar lick and purring trumpets sliding all over the place, Chika softly holding each frayed piece together into a considered, gorgeous piece - wait, she’s talking her shit.

3 - Issa Gold - Boys Don’t Cry [prod. by Kingjet & Sherwyn and Matt Zara]

The only reason this isn’t number one is because it dropped on Christmas Eve. But otherwise, it’s a openheart letter to us all. “it’s a lonely path being different,” Issa says, swimming in the melted ice caps as he once danced happily on the edges of melting glaciers that failed to drown him, looking at the world that keeps hurting his heart, yet he still opens his eyes and smiles, and dances. The heavy drums are so bouncy the whole song suddenly flies, formerly a hidden murmur becoming a bright sunlit flight across the sky so we can all see. I can’t wait to see Tempus, if it’s anything as good as this was.

4 - Deante Hitchcock - Growing Up/Mother God [prod. by Brandon Phillips-Taylor]

In all honesty, “Growing Up” is really not the best song on Better. It’s a sweet, happy song with a smooth, crackling bassline with soft, ghostly synths, but still kinda ok. It’s the song added at the end, “Mother God”, that has warm, sizzling piano chords and gorgeous singing in the back. It’s one of the few time I’ve ever heard a man pay homage to the woman in his life and to the God above while being entirely sincere and not faking the funk. The way he praises his mom, his lady, remembering the women in his family taking care of him and him foolishly neglecting Breonna due to his overburdened mind feels full of details, remembrances, explanations and praises. Plus, it actually makes sense that God, if she exists (she does) is a woman since -

5 - Yana Perrault - whiskey and weed [prod. by slate]

Apparently, Yana Perrault is verified now. Excellent. {YES YES MY GOD YESS}, It means more folks know about how great this song, and Yana herself is. If I had any sense, I would’ve written up 12:21 as the best song of 2018, but such is life. Anyway, we have this smooth, bass heavy slinker with shimmering percussion and lumbering drums about hooking up with a former flame who’s “sober” yet keeps on calling Yana to break their sobriety, “know we ain’t talked in a while but you still know my address,” she wryly mentions. As the beat sprints away under a warm cocoon of accapella echoes, it mirrors a relationship so tenuous it might disappear into the wind. Yet still strong enough to have whiskey on call.

6 - Marlon Craft - Culture Sick Freestyle [prod. by Cormill]

Apparently this was supposed to be a shot at Flex. And since Flex is a woman beater and a lame, good for him. Shouldn’t have even gone on Flex to be honest, but then again neither should Jay Critch or Tyler or Black Thought and besides, I watch those freestyles too. And on the freestyle, Marlon frankly put things in perspective. “You don’t want us to better, you just want to be cool still.” This describes all of rap media to be real. And tellingly, it only has 310,000 views. Methinks nobody really wants real. But I do. Thank u Marlon, you continue to be the best white rapper alive. (Nowhere near the best rapper tho, and if Token hadn’t fell off -)

7 - Miah - Cascades [prod. by Cedes]

I’m sideeyeing the boy Miah cuz I had to search up his Audiomack to find the producer’s name (it’s Cedes, and they have a really great avalanche of Drake Type Beats is you like that kind of thing). Were you trying to trick folk into thinking you produced it yourself? You don’t need to do that shit. Especially since you’re writing stuff like “back in high school all my peers were tryin to hit the league / until the league too far from reach so they tap dancing over beats.” When you can frankly break down life that clearly, don’t be trying to hide producer’s names unless you actually learn to produce too. Plaster your name all over that shit.

8 - Justine Darcenne - Off Days [prod. by Mikhail Miller] / Enny - Peng Black Girls (ft. Amia Brave [prod. by Paya]

Justine is indeed my classmate, but that’s not why this song is here. it’s here because it’s a nice little guitar driven song with a spellbinding bridge that’s the best thing I’ve heard her do yet. And I’mma keep it short cuz I already wrote this up at the Singles Jukebox.

Enny released this soft, cushiony record with washed out synths over bulky drums and floated FLOATED over them without even trying to run in the tar, saying frankly, “He said to me, 'they put guns in the streets, that’s what they wanted for me.’ And I said, ‘G, someone can fix you a plate but no one can force you to eat.’” After all, why not try to live for something greater than what the world has expected you to be. And Amia sings, “We’re gon be alright, ok?” with the joy and excitement of someone realizing the words coming alive on their tongue. One of the best songs of this miserable year, and it’s kinda funny watching Jorja accidentally Drake out Amia and even Enny (and by funny I mean irritating.)

9 - Tobi Lou - okay (ft. Dreezy) [prod. by Matteo Woods & Dilip]

Fun fact: Dilip did some great songs with Otxhello, a producer who recorded and mixed 2 records on my first album. That again is not why this song is here. The warm, swinging synths and heavy, bouncy drums are why this is here. Oh, and Tobi’s goofy, silly lyrics and his surprisingly effective Missy Elliott tribute are great too. But obviously, the verse that vaulted this into top 10 was Dreezy, which opens with such a openhearted line, “i can’t help it, it’s too hard to say I’m sorry.” And every line is harder than the last, until she closes with “and I ain’t talkin frontals but we got the city sown up.” Absolutely amazing.

10 - Strongman Burner - Pilolo (ft. KelvynBoy) [prod. by Nixie]

The sweet, gooey synths are poured over the soft, zipping and smooth drums as the wiry bass whirls between Kelvyn’s soft, thin crooning as Stoneman tap dances over the drums, both desperate and defiant, trying to salvage a sinking relationship that he knows is already gathering coral and snappers. It’s the best afropop song of the year and yet it still has a Nigerian on it (well, I put 4 Nigerians on here, next year I’m rectifying that.) And they even did a song together last year , not as good as this. At all. (still pretty good tho.)

best 10 songs i love (but not enough to write full paragraphs for, I already put 10 in and this is already 5 goddamn pages)

11 - Logic - Heard ‘Em Say

best song on the project that isn’t Dadbod but at least it isn’t tempting fate.

12 - Deqn Sue - Creep

I already love this for having a gorgeous bridge, and is cute af. Yes Sue, you can creep.

13 - Quelle Chris & Chris Keys - Sudden Death/ka - i love {moms, mimi, kev}

QUELLE CHIS CAN SANG SANG./ka can heart heart write.

14 - IDK - Square Up (ft. Juicy J)

I don’t know why this is here either but this slaps regardless.

15 - Nappy Nina - Modestly (ft. Maassai)

Maassai is creating some of the best raps out here. so is Nappy Nina.

16 - Kehlani - Lexii’s Outro (ft. Lexii Ajaii)

Let’s celebrate our great rappers when they’re alive (and this includes me. Pls Chika, don’t win Best New Artist.)

17 - Samad Savage - Goodnight

What Travis Scott should’ve tried to be instead of what he is now. Samad still dope af regardless.

18 - Bad Bunny - Si Veo Tu Mama

The way Bad Bunny actually hits that last note makes me feel so excited and alive.

19 - Fat Tony - Back In The Saddle

I fucked up. But I’m getting back in the saddle, back in the saddle next year. NO NIGERIANS ALL NIGERIENS. #ENDSARS tho.

20 - Lady A - the truth is loud

Why am I the only one who has this on a best list? I have 34 bot followers. Vibe, step it up.

best of 2020 music right here folxs.

worst music things of the year:

The Pop Smoke album. Just in all areas. (Better win that Grammy tho.) Travis Scott in general. (So loud and empty and boring.) Big Sean’s Detroit 2. (why does this exist? Just put out Deep Reverence and Detroit Night Cypher and leave everything on the cutting room floor fo the next album.) Remembering all the great rappers who are dead or incarcerated. No Kendrick album (just leaks. Not good enough.) J. Cole and Noname beefing and Noname getting strung up by twitter. Jay Rock pushing being anti-vaccinations. The realization that Normani might never drop a single record ever again. Tory Lanez in general. Joyner Lucas making actually good songs and falling off almost immediately. Cardi B in general. Anything positive being said about steven Universe songs. Luzamity shipping (until it’s canon please stop! Willuz is RIGHT THERE!)

[nocturnical]

I’m crossing my fingers that this is coherent. An attempt was made at sleep but I started getting a migraine midday and consumed a prodigious amount of caffeine to stave it off & here I am, still on a fucked up sleep schedule.

Waking up is going to blow extra hard tomorrow because it’s 3 and not even a little tired & I’m going to have headache hangover & when I get done w work shit I’m going to have cooking & cleaning to do because it’s Friday. 

Honestly, I only cook food-ass-food on Fridays when my brother & D come over, the rest of the week I mostly eat bagged salad & canned vegetables & maybe some crackers & humus because I’m so lazy & there is already enough to do otherwise.

Oh and a lot of candy, I eat a.lot.of.candy.

Anyway, beyond tomorrow I’ve been thinking a lot about wtf to do with my social media accts. & my website (I’m in the process of moving servers & I’m so overwhelmed) & just myself in general.

What follows is a rant/ramble. I’m posting here because I have the fewest active followers on Tumblr & it’s my void to shout into. But if anyone reads this & has thoughts I’m interested.

I’ve noticed the following things on Instagram (where I post most of my various creative things):

My poetry gets very little interaction. LIKE SO LITTLE. & honestly, it’s baffling because yeah, I’m a shitty poet & that’s okay (I’m really not trying to be negative here, I have a different approach to poetry that maybe I’ll write about someday), but there’s an editor on the other end of those pieces saying, yeah this is okay (I only post published work) — & still nothing.

My uke videos get slightly more interaction than my poetry which is a big L-O-fuckin’-L because I inevitably listen back & cringe at myself but also, I feel like there’s definitely growth there. & I don’t care if people think I suck, so showing the slow growth in real time is honest to the process of learning the craft & honest to my creative process (I often post pieces of original work in various forms of revision). I’m interested in those things & so interested in continuing to put up uke clips even though I get massive anxiety when I consider doing it.

Visual art tends to get slightly more interaction than the uke vids. & my art game has gone up a notch because I can spend hours tinkering with something on my tablet vs. tearing the tooth out of watercolor paper after a few fuck ups. 

But the most interacted w posts are inevitably selfies which kind of feels shitty because I don’t care about them... & I’ve been posting lazy selfies w no makeup for good reasons and bad. The good reason is that idgaf what anyone thinks anymore. The bad reason is that I got butthurt over a few convos where it felt like people were dismissing me for being “pretty.” Sirs, I spent most of high school being shoved into lockers and walls & being called a lesbian (which is not an insult but also I’m unfortunately not) & then I just started blending in with the wallpaper at some point which was actually a relief. My point in that being, I get irked when people act like I got or am getting some pass on my looks, that has never been the case. & its a bad reaction & I should be more thoughtful about it but — I’m a WIP & I still get pissy about it.

But I have the following hangups:

I rarely use hashtags because I’m a scaredy cat. I want interaction & to find people to talk about art with to an extent but I’m also scared of people because I’m a dipshit & a marshmallow & it can be a bad combination.

I also kind of hate Twitter & prefer Insta for sharing content because retweets. I mean I guess I should hate Tumblr for the same reason but this is pretty much just my two close writing buddies & a few poetry community folks that may still be active.

I go through cycles where I don’t want to post on one platform or another because I have Twitter or Insta “crushes” (LOL for lack of a better term, god its such a dingus thing). Like people who followed me that I admire in some way & I’m afraid of looking like a doofus in front of. Luckily, most of the time these are non-interactive folks that followed back to be nice, but there’s at least one person that interacts on a couple platforms & I’ve deleted some of my more off the wall shit because of it. Maybe this is a good thing tho.

Then there’s just my leftist politics that I can’t help harping on. I have a few local folks that follow me & I worry. Like not my close friends who already know me to be a degenerate bread book type but people from local writers orgs. I always wonder if I’m going to push the envelope too far & get blacklisted from local writing stuff. It wouldn’t be the end of the world & I wouldn’t regret it, but also...

& then I look at the advice I’ve been given by pros... To have separate accounts for personal & art & then I realize I have at least 3-4 distinct artistic mediums I’m actively working in. & also if I had a personal account it would be like all pictures of pretty trees & awkward selfies & who wants to follow that? But also that’s the only content anyone interacts w now, so? I don’t fucking know.

& now I’m looking at moving my blog & condensing stuff down & like what is even worth moving? What do I want to do going forward? I’m so busy & I love everything too much to give up any of it.

I also need to get organized & try to get something going at a decent pace soon or else I’m probably picking up another retail job.

But like what? How? Wha?

[lunarl0ser]

My Tumblr Experience

So I used to be on Tumblr a lot but with the recent what 2 or 3 years? I've been well not on here for a couple of reasons.

First being the loss if interaction. Few of you may know this but this account was originally an rp account. It was dedicated to roleplaying a character made by Mx. Bones? If they still go by that they did go through a few names. That character was Michael, and it was pretty fun tbh. Being lapdmicheal was my first time being part of a community and interacting with fellow fans of Mx. Bones. Then I started to lose a lot of attention, cause people were there for Michael not me. Which is fair, it's an rp account and if people loss interest whatever. So just switched this account to what it is now, aka whatever I wanted it to be. The loss of interaction still bothered me but I was still enjoyin it. Just doing what I wanted instead of roleplaying and being shit at it.

But the switch did mean less attention, and my account did take a hit follower wise. Meaning less people to view my art. Only way my art ever gained any attention was if it was fan art. Other people's ocs or a dumb fnaf drawing that has the most notes of any post from my account. Ocs of mine which I drew a majority of the time got like 6 to 12 notes per drawing which I was very embarrassed by. I felt like a bad artist because my original shit got no love. That was always a lingering pain that always made me wanna quit.

Then there was my break up. Now the year I made lapd Micheal I also started dating my first boyfriend. He was super supportive of me and I was to him. I was in love, endeared by every giggle he made and every romantice gesture he'd make. It was true bliss, and while we were dating we did have some rough spots I was still madly in love with him. Our relationship last for about 2 years then he broke up with me. Now he was the reason I was really staying active on tumblr. It was his main source of media and he posted all his art here so I wanted to support him. With our relationship ending I just didn't want to be on here anymore.

Now that interest has shifted, I don't purely stay off here to avoid my ex. But my first year off here admittedly was. I felt miserable seeing him happy without me, and I missed calling him my boyfriend. To out into perspective how much I had it for him, I thought I was gonna marry him for the longest time.

Now though, I'm over him and I still stay off here so why is that? Cause tumblr is toxic man. I think most people on here are just toxic. Some people are truly epic, like most of the people I follow at least last time I checked. But like looking back on it there's so much drama on here. Every little thing has to be politically correct or else tumblr will try to cancel you. Like the general tumblr crowd is oversensitive. Like that fuckin Chris Pratt post from way back. The creator of the didn't believe in tanning and complained that they made Chris Pratt tan for the Jurassic World movies. People realized it was stupid but I think that mindset the guy had was caused by the tumblr crowd. I remember so much cancel culture being on this site or drama with Mx. Bones so thought staying off here would be for the better.

The real main reason for me sorta leaving this place was just a loss of interest. It got boring, no one interacted with me and I didn't try to talk to people much either. So just left, with no interest to continue and moved to insta. Kept thinking I'd have something to come back to but whenever I checked on my account there was always just more porn bots following me. That's all though

[uncanny-accuracy]

Time to spill the tea, y'all

For those of you who know what's going on, cool. That's cool. I don't need to explain. For those of you who don't, you'll find out soon enough if you keep reading.

Now let's not get our panties in a bundle. Redrose is an amazing person and fucking GREAT addition to this fandom. But because of one thing she said, that's not even an opinion, it's FACT, y'all decide to go after her.

So let's spill the tea on me. Yes, me. You read right. I'm gonna tell you why, if anything, you should be attacking me. Because Redrose put up with my shit, and she did it marvelously without anyone but the two of us knowing.

This damned Hell-bent world has a decent human being and y'all are really starting to push her over her limits. After all my bullshit, which is proof Redrose is a good-hearted person, maybe y'all can sit back and let me explain what she meant and why this whole post is relevant. It may not seem so at first, but the beginning of this post DOES further my point later on.

For those of you who remember on Redrose's Instagram, she got an anonymous ask on her tellonym awhile back. Essentially, it said something along the lines of, "Uhh don't mean to be rude but there's already an RA Amino so :/ That's kind of a kick in the dick."

Redrose posted a photo on her story of an Amino invite card to the second RA Amino. But guess who's a leader on the first? This bitch!

I thought it rude or whatever. I was stupid and honestly? Dead fucking wrong.

Here's the screenshot:

That's me. Want to know how Redrose handled this? Fucking beautifully. Wanna know what I did? I was a dick. I went on my art account on Instagram and messaged the Amino invite card to her, no explanation. I don't think she ever put it up. And you know what? Good. Because then I continued to kiss her ass after I realized my Instagram name could be tracked to the watermark on the art posted on my Tumblr account.

Redrose couldn't have missed that watermark. But who know what she did? She didn't say a word. She made the connection of uncanny-accuracy to LowReihn. But like a mature, responsible adult, she didn't say shit.

Next up, we have my main Insta account! Who has no connection to any RA related stuff. But Redrose posted on Instagram a picture of John Flanagan's United States tour dates. I saw one of them was close to me so, because I couldn't find any info, I asked her if SHE could take time out of HER day to help me. I don't know if she was busy, but she did hunt down the info and she posted it for me, no complaints.

It's because of her that I'm meeting Flanagan on the 28th. Without her, I would've never known he was so close. She prioritized me. And yeah, sure, my main Insta has no connection to LowReihn, but she still did it.

Redrose is always answering asks, responding to comments, not just posting RA content to entertain but RA content to help others. Wanna learn about the Ranger knives? She's got you. Wanna know tour dates? She's got you. Wanna know more about a meetup or larp group? She's got you.

So let's move onto the Middle Ages stuff. Redrose made a comment that she didn't find Trans Alyss realistic because the stories are set in the Middle Ages. My opinion? She's right. That's not even an opinion. She's right. She's speaking fact. But that's not to say she's going against the LGBTQ+ community, because she's not.

Speaking as a nonbinary pansexual, I'm going to basically repeat what Redrose said. And y'all can't tell me I'm homophobic or transphobic or whatever, because I'm literally a part of the LGBTQ+ community.

Ranger's Apprentice is set in the Middle Ages. Yes, it's fantasy, but it is still set in that time. LBGTQ+ was not openly expressed because it was wrong back then. Honestly? You would've been killed. Alyss being male to female isn't realistic, but I’m not against it. Redrose isn’t either. If RA was set in more modern times, then yeah. It could work well. But the fact remains that it's in the Middle Ages. Alyss would've been killed if she was trans. The same goes for anyone who's found to be gay, lesbian, bisexual (not that they knew what that was), etc.

Sure, characters could be a part of the LGBTQ+ community. Redrose isn't saying they can't be. I'm not staying that either. Will could be pan. Crowley could be gay or ace. Halt could be demi. Who knows? Only Flanagan! But they'll all written as straight because it's the Middle Ages.

Redrose is not against the LGBTQ+ community. And coming from someone who is a part of that community, I don't see why y'all are butthurt. I like headcanoning the characters as a gay or pan or trans or whatever. Both of us are just saying that it’s not really that accurate, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do it or that we’re going to attack you. Because frankly? I’ve draw Halt x Crowley before. Redrose is a fan of Cralt and Will x Gilan, last I checked. I’m sure Crowley x Duncan is one she’s mentioned too.

Redrose has dealt with my shit on multiple occasions and continues to be nice to me whenever I reach out. And if she sees this and knows all my accounts now, then good. Because it isn't gonna change the way she responds to me. She'll continue answering when I ask questions. She'll continue being a decent human being, because she is a decent human being. Just like nothing happened, she'll be mature and honest and marvelously patient. She's a beautiful person inside and out.

Unlike you guys who attacked her. So let's sit back and think.

Who's the real monster here? Because it sure as hell ain’t Redrose.

[doitytoity]

9.11

I think I may have dated last nights post as August but it is for sure sept

Anyway. I’m going to try a lil social experiment. I’m not going to tell my friends about Rudy. I’m going to keep it 100% here. Because there’s some energy in the ether that is very poisonous and I wanna get to the root of it.

So okay. He hit me up in January like RIGHT after izier moved in with me and he was like let’s smoke sometime and I was like damn this timing is horrible cause I just got myself into a sticky ass situation but who knows maybe things will change. He said thanks for being honest and we left it at that. So then yesterday I posted a before photo of me getting ready to go bowling w Adreana and he swiped up on it and was like “damn, smoke one” and like i didn’t know if he was gonna give me shit about a Michael Jackson joke I was making on the post blah blah blah anyway so I engaged in convo and he was like “but smoke one tho, I’ve asked b444” and I was like oop 👀 so I was like fasho when and he said he’s only here on the weekends (which is like great for my schedule) so I gave him my number and told him to hit me up next weekend and he basically immediately texted me. So he’s kinda fitting my criteria rn for the type of pursuit I want. Like I get that it’s been less than 24 hours but still I mean it’s 8 months later and he’s hitting me up AGAIN with like a follow up invite to smoke like that’s cute. That’s the energy I want. So crazy too that my tarot scopes have been like “they’re watching you on social media, they have a crush on you they just don’t know where you stand or like how available you are etc etc” AND LOOK! Here he is. I thought for sure it’d be jojo lol I’m so glad it’s Rudy. Well idk if I’m actually glad yet idk him or his personality but I am attracted to him.

Regardless of how this turns out rn I feel like I’m being blessed for my obedience to my higher self like I blocked that extra number that izier was trying to contact me via, I removed Johnny from watching my shit, I muted his stories and posts, all that. I’m not pursuing not chasing not pushing not nothing like I’m just happily existing and trying to figure my own stuff out and I feel like he’s doing the same thing. Plus he like doesn’t seem like a dirtbag like he seems morally sound as far as how to treat someone. I just hope he’s nice.

I really am trying to mind my business. I feel like the next steps in that are implementing literally any kind of physical movement, and working on more art. I want to work on photo portraits with that lil camera app I have and my ring light. I need to bring my mirror in. I want to work on collages. I want to sew. I had the idea the other day to make a shirt out of my Betty boop sheets and my flame pillow case. I just gotta go get my fabric out of storage. I wish I had more space to craft. I can’t wait for my phone appt I want to get back on antidepressants I think. I need some mental space. I need some motivation. I want a schedule. I want to be able to stick to it and get my silly little tasks done. I want to learn a new language. Probably starting with Spanish. Even tho it’s not necessarily new… I want to do something besides lay in bed and avoid life. Be all up on sosh meed y’know. Like I don’t want to exist in that space as I have been anymore. It’s time for like a rebrand.

I think now, in the midst of mercury retrograde, it is the best time to step away from all that and reevaluate. I think maybe for the rest of the year I’d like to go on a hiatus. I’d like to build the other insta (the honest one) I’d like to build the YouTube (which I will be working on and posting to in October after merc goes direct). Since libra is in my 10th and it’s my mid heaven I’m likely to make a name for myself on a grand scale. This involves fame on the internet. Fame from public speaking and sharing my truth story and journey.

I had a revelation the other day that I’d like to be able to help women escape abusers. I’d like to be able to have resources, shelters, etc. A foundation for women who want to learn to love themselves outside of relationships, and esp relationships that are negative harmful or otherwise unfulfilling. I’d like to support women who need it. Women who want to help themselves and know it’s time.

That starts with me, knowing it is time now to invest in myself in all ways. Physically, mentally, creatively. I can’t do that if I’m looking to others for inspiration, validation, etc. That all needs to come from within. And it’s time.

So I’m vowing to myself. It begins today. I am now entering the timeline in which I become the best version of myself. Independent, creative, focused, determined, healthy, fulfilled.

No more without. Only within.

[resbang-bookclub]

AMA Transcript: bouquet garni

Next up, @skadventuretime, @guacamoletrash and @jamesfalt (Souly on Discord) stopped by to chat about their Resbang, bouquet garni! Here’s some of what went down:

Q: Madi, how did you come up with everyone's characters, like Harvar being a gaming streamer and Tsu and Liz being farmers etc. etc. because I thought those were all really unique and interesting!

madi: Ahaha let's see, I started planning this back last... May? and talking with the beta crew, as one does. And naturally marsh [ @marshofsleep ] , enabler that she is, just put it out there.

madi: And I was just playing a bunch of overwatch at the time and thought he'd be a good gamer nerd, and also I had decided to make this Extra self-indulgent, so I was like “my city now”. I basically poured all of my friend feels into [Harvar] and Anya in particular. The past couple years have been rougher for me, but I've had some really spectacular friends, and I decided Maka and Soul needed them, too.

Q: The part with the sword and stuff, I just…

madi: OH THAT ahahahaha. Okay yeah that was end of Resbang crunch time and me being extra 'fuck it.'

madi: That was what the team thought about that.

Q: Artist-chans, what programs do you use and how does your arting process go? And how is guac so good at playlisting??

Souly: I use paint tool SAI :0 I might still have some of my progress pics, lemme look.

guac: Lol. I don't think I'm super good at it but I do enjoy music a lot and like to make playlists so maybe that's it!

Souly: Yeah here we go. Mid lining.

I did it a lil differently than I normally do. I normally line everything and then do flats but I was actually super behind bc of life stuff so I just started doing flats per character after their lines were done. This is a sample of what the layers look like:

madi: Man how do u keep track of ur layers? Or is it like, a sixth sense?

Souly: I go off of the little layer previews and hope the layer has what I'm looking for.

madi: LOL that sounds like me.

Souly: I also like... tend to set up layers for characters a specific way so I can normally find those?

guac: BRUH THAT'S SO MANY LAYERS.

Q: Did you have a favorite character to write? 8)

madi: I just love writing Star being balls to the walls ridiculous. The saxophone thing came about because I saw this video and was like oh my god it's Black Star in the flesh: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IMyqasy2Lco . But I also really liked writing Maka being sort of the one with issues, too.

Q: Which character in your fic did you most identify with? And was it purposeful or accidental?

madi: Iiiiiiii'd have to say I identified with [Maka] the most this fic, for once. Usually it's soul, but I ended up pouring a lot of myself into her, and it was both purposeful and accidental how it all worked out.

Q: I’m surprised, because there were a lot of things I noticed about Soul that I know are you-things!

madi: Yeah!!! I definitely can't help that with him, they both got a lot of me.

Q: I know you said this fic was super personal and self-indulgent so was it generally pretty easy to write because of that, or did you have trouble?

madi: Hmmmm yeah I definitely had some trouble. About 20k in, I sort of lost the emotional thread of it, and whined a lot to Bones [ @adulterclavis ] about what I could do to fix it, and it turned out that I just needed to talk to someone about it to find where I wanted to go again, and then it got easier. I still struggled for sure not having a traditional Big Antagonist plotline thing, it was more personal and then Maka's mom… Bones let me cry in her inbox about writing.

Q: What brought about your characterization of Mama Albarn (who i still hate btw >: ((( )?

madi: You are not the only one...

guac: I'm always ready to fight her.

madi: Okay so, basically Mama Albarn came about just from how I used to (and still sometimes do) talk to myself. It's that internalized idea you always have to be perfect, and if you aren't given everything you've been given and have, then you're weak and a fuckup and how dare you not be the best? DEFINITELY a toxic mindset, and Bad. And this fic was sort of exorcising that, a little. This was an external abusive deal, but you can absolutely develop abusive thought patterns towards yourself, and you can also free yourself from them, like Maka was ultimately able to.

Q: Was there a scene in particular you really enjoyed?

madi: I heckin’ loved the butt lamp scene. It honestly kept me going, knowing I'd be able to write that monstrosity. And also drunk Kid, who marsh aptly named Five Drink Amy. AND THEN GUAC skl;dfkld. So there was this, right, and then guac

madi: Which linked to THIS PIC:

madi: And we all could not stop laughing.

Q: What was the hardest part to write?

madi: I got stuck at the end of chapter 3, and I ultimately added another section on to it to make it work, but I think deciding how I wanted to transition from her debauched night out into a Soul POV chapter given what I wanted each person to sort of be faced with was probably the hardest thing for me. This whole deal was largely driven by me groping in the dark at what felt right.

Q: PS I loved the debauched night out. And Patty's drinks.

madi: I loved patty in this!! Bones wanted to marry her, so I know it Worked Out. She was another fun one to write, as were her drinks ahaha.

Q: What was your favorite thing about this Resbang in particular?

madi: Oh jeez, hm. I think my favorite thing was doing a better job fleshing out the side characters in Harv and Anya and Kid and Star. That was something I regret not doing better in my older work, so I'm happy I got to try my hand at giving people other than Soul/Maka some personality.

guac: They became such a cute little chosen family.

Q: Why a food-themed story specifically? What about that appealed to you? (For everyone!)

madi: (Apeeled).

Souly: I fucking love SoMa. [And] the cooking aspect really drew me in... idk why but I've always had a thing for those kinds of things with anime I'm into?

guac: My current relationship started with them teaching me how to cook real food cause I used to eat like a garbage can, so I was like ‘welp this is gonna be hella cute, count me in.’

madi: Omg, I didn't know that, that's ADORABLE.

guac: Shhhhh. I don't talk about my feelings very much. But yeah. I was like ‘a SoMa AU about my life!!!’

Souly: Honestly yeah same, I feel like I also like... connected with Maka about being poor and just buying shit to eat.

madi: Let's see, I had a prompt sitting in my inbox FOREVER that was like 'I’m obsessed with a food blogger who writes about cheap ways to be gourmet in your 20s and I flirt with them over comments but they never post pictures of their face and ALSO there’s a really cute grocery bagger at the store down the street who teases me and always asks to join me for dinner and I definitely want to say yes AU' that I was initially gonna go with, and originally it was a little closer to this deal. My first blush ideas for this sort of had the drama in not knowing who was whom, and the big reveal being the climax, or something like Maka thinking Soul was taken because she thought he was involved with the comment girl and then that whole drama. But then I thought that that sorta thing had been done before, and I wanted this to be less about the drama of the reveal and more about the process of them growing closer, I guess. And I also looooooove cooking and baking, so that definitely bled through.

Q: I thought it was a neat shake up how you didn’t make the reveal the crux of the whole thing.

madi: Ahahaha yeah, I definitely thought about it, but ultimately wanted this to be less 'gasp, it's YOU!' because the reader knows, and if I wanted to make the reader invested, I'd have to keep them apart and do the kinda drama I wasn't feeling for this fic. The insta bit came about because I spend some time looking at food pics before I go to sleep, and that provided a lot of insp for that section. Half of my degree is in nutrition, so I like to see the recipes people come up with, and also roll my eyes at some of the bougie stuff, because insta is definitely a Platform for that, depending on where you end up haha. Also like, I definitely took some things I've experienced flat out and added them in, like Harv shoving Maka electrolyte packets. Last year when I was deep in the sad pit, my diet was terrible, and I knew it, but I wasn't doing much about it. And then one day I was talking to Bones and my leg muscle kept spasming, and she was like dude when was the last time you've gotten minerals and I was like .....oh. So she sent me a link for those packets to hold me over on days I wasn’t getting them from my diet ahaha. Bones is also where some of Kid came from, and bits of Anya.

Q: Where did you get your recipes? I want a cookbook based on this fic p...please.

modi: Okay okay let me find some of the recipes that inspired things:

https://showmetheyummy.com/crockpot-mexican-chicken-recipe/ https://www.instagram.com/p/BfWNxv9HuHg/?hl=en&taken-by=thefeedfeed.

[Bones] was also the steak recipe insp!

madi: The kitchn, thefeedfeed, showmetheyummy, minimalistbaker were all feeds that I was inspired by, and then I just improv’d from there, because I have cooked all or most of the things I described in there. AND IT'S WHERE MAKA'S CUPCAKE GAZING CAME FROM. LOOK AT THE GLORIOUS MOUNTAIN OF ICING https://www.instagram.com/p/BaRGvjGDBpr/?hl=en&taken-by=thescranline

Q: Did you feel like your writing has changed at all during writing this?

madi: Yeah, for sure! I thought that this year I got better at characterizing people, adding some personality to them that was a little more nuanced than I'd done before. I think I absorbed some of Bones's longer sentence style, which I personally tend to like even though I am still getting a handle on it, and I think I got better at describing things in general. Next step is being better with plot and tightening up the language a little more >:) Most of the changes, I think, were sentence style and how I handled dialogue, which is usually harder for me.

Q: Artists: did you learn any new techniques that you plan to practice or improve on any you've been trying to learn?

Souly: Oh yeah, I learned doing flats as I go with lines actually speeds up the process slightly... I practiced a different lighting technique that I never did end up going with but I kinda figured out what I need to do to make it work. It sadly just didn't work with how I set up this pic.

madi: Oooo nice, linework is Intimidating but you made it look easy.

guac: I am just glad to force myself to make stuff. Glad to be here. Thought my drawing of bodies got better (thanks Black Star).

madi: Y'all don't understand the sound I made when I saw guac drew the apron.

Souly: That Blackstar pic is my fave.

Q: WHAT'S NEXT, everybody? ;D

madi: >;) well, I have a secret project that I thought of last year that I am not yet sure will be a Resbang or a chaptered dealio, so I want to pick at that. Then I have a chaptered Star vs the Forces of Evil fic I need to update, and I owe Pip [ @paperypiper ] like two or three Noragami fluff pieces, and SILLY’S BDAY SMUT. Which will proabbly be like a whole year late but whatever I’m sorry, I will try to make it extra spicy.

Souly: I'm signing up for a few zines! I'm currently waiting for them to open apps but I'm looking at an Enstars zine, FMA tarot project, and some YOI zines. I was also recently in the Soul Eater reversal zine that just closed preorders the other day so I'm waiting to be able to post my piece :0

guac: I'm arting for the BNHA big bang and mostly consumed by school. Who knows what will happen next! There's a little pop punk lyrics + anime project I'm working on so maybe I'll show it to the world someday soon. We will see.

madi: OH YEAH I’m writing for that bang too! AND GUAC GOT ME AS AN ARTIST. It's the ultimate resonance.