#so sorry this took so long! I was finishing illustrating and writing my graphic novel and it took way more time than I was expecting

[frigateclan]

//Prologue - 3//

[pensurfing]

An Unapologetic Break

((First, Happy New Year lmao))

Its been brought up a few times within the community about ‘taking breaks’ and messing with the algorithm(s) that no one wants to take a break. It’s actually somewhat dishearting to hear that artists would rather run themselves down into the ground to keep playing tag with an ‘algorithm’ that loves them one month but hates them another. So I’m here to just say: “Take the damn break and stop making yourself stressy.” 

I have (but of course) two people in my life now and I keep them in my life because of (friendship yes, that is about 78% of it...) the fact that they make great writing points for when I want to make posts like these. 

Friend A: 

I’d even consider my bestie, and I don’t throw that word around to just anyone. Genuinely I adore her and she worries me. Always trying to catch up with algorithms and as well as put content up as quickly and as many as possible. To where seeing content from this person isn’t enjoyable and satisfying. It’s machine-like. Whenever I am not myself, I don’t draw. Because I can’t draw; my first thought when trying to draw is how to create content that has visual satisfaction that makes it worth the wait when I do make work. This is something where every time I am not myself, she stresses that I need to make work: It’ll make me feel better, low-key feed the algorithm so that way I don’t lose “followers”. But because I allow myself to identify as more than just “artist” and all its stereotypes, I enjoy my breaks and come back with more filling pieces and content to share with others. Whereas, because not only has she made artist her identity, she’s made it be a big chunk of her income as well.

Takeaway:

You can’t just identify as “artist” my friends. Whether that be writing, essayist, sculptor, editor, filmmaker, etc. It’s ok to be more! The only time that is allowed is when your mother is talking to “her little friends” and she explains it this way because this is her telling her ‘normal’ group what you do. 

Imagine being at a networking convention where they ask “So tell me about yourself,” and all you can say is “I’m an artist”. You will get looks. Everyone in that room is buddy, it’s our work. I asked, “tell me about YOURSELF.” Not your role, but if you love books; love traveling to see new environments; a burger joint hunter extraordinaire; self-proclaimed film critic; hobbyist musician; podcast fanatic; something. We all understand that drawing is what you love, but it isn’t 100% your identity and it’s ok if the only other thing you enjoy is music. Take a couple days off and listen to non-stop music then. It’s very exhausting to see artists not allow themselves to take a step back, and just enjoy themselves. The capitalist environment has caused us to not allow ourselves simple self-indulging hobbies. And I mean REAL hobbies. It sucks, but we as people need to understand that real hobbies are very mundane in today's society. It’s ok to not make money off a hobby, guys.

If I had the gall, I would tell said friend to take a week off of just drawing and remember a time where she wasn’t just “mom and artist”. What else besides what I can see on a profile is “you”? But I’ll save that convo for another day.

Friend B:

Annoys me to no end a good 48% of the time. (Yes, I pretty much have it calculated.) Not the best person to be around when it comes to certain topics, I keep them around mainly to keep my rhetoric sharp about my viewpoints and to always see and try to understand someone else's viewpoints. Because her’s aren’t as dangerous and are a lot of “agree to disagree”, I keep this one around. I visited them for the first time in a while and we had a pretty good time playing some tabletop games and roleplaying with others in a group. This time of year is “apply to go to this convention and wait on the invoice”. (I am so damn broke y’all. Help ya girl) I mentioned the invoices I had coming in and asked if they had applied to table at the convention I dragged her into last year. (In short: I talked my friends into being in artist alley last year and it didn’t go as well for them and it made me feel guilty. I thought they would have a similar spirit to me and just say “I’ll try again next year” but only one friend has somewhat kept that grind. The other I’m mentioning now, not so much.) 

So I ask her about if she applied and was going to try again since I know when last we talked she had MANY prints leftover and I got the very simple firm ‘No,”. It took me off balance but to somewhat quote what she told me:

“That convention actually broke me; I haven’t drawn since. I took a long break and I’ve just been enjoying content myself instead of just cranking out some. Maybe I’ll get back to it soon, but I’ve taken a pretty long break.” 

My initial reaction, of course, was pretty predictable; wide eye, I repeated words she said but more dramatically, and just respected that she needed the break. But then afterward (like ten minutes because thankfully my brain can work fast sometimes) I thought more on it: That took some real balls. Seriously. To allow yourself MONTHS (this convention was in JULY last year) of a break, enjoyment, and finding yourself to allow yourself to make content later was pretty impressive. It really does take a leap of faith to step away from income and something you enjoy to get back to knowing yourself and what you enjoy (or finding yourself and finding things you enjoy). She wrote a post about saying sorry and promising to her audience base about returning; I didn’t read it because I know when she does return it’ll be quality content.

She’s a DnD brainwasher, video game consumer, graphic novel enthusiast, feminist, and as well as an illustrator & animator. THAT I can say about her without her just identifying as one. 

Takeaway:

I’m not saying take a 6-month vacation unless you want to: That’s still in my mind wild lol. But if you need a month or months off trust your mind, body, and endurance that you need the break. My break is usually the time between after my birthday (November 15th) and New Years'. After (usually) doing a long Inktober month and finishing out the last ideas I have, I like to intake content I’ve seen all year round. I read, listen to music, explore my city a bit more, hang out with friends. My art usually reflects what is going on in my life and if I don’t have a life what can I draw besides “posing people” and maybe a background? That kind of content is empty in my opinion and I hope to never be my art.

Please please please, do not try and put yourself in a burnout situation because all you will do in the end is stress yourself out and pave the way for hating what you love doing. It’s not a fun ride at all. Take time to yourself for yourself and maybe catch up with what you have missed outside your studio/room. 

[[TRD: People are once again following some WILD trend that burnout culture is healthy and I am here to say stop it. They also must worship Instagram and or Facebook algorithm gods because they swear that constantly feeding it will make them viral afterward. It may happen, but is it rare. Please find time to yourself and the things you enjoy because when you are happy and enjoying yourself it reflects in your art and when you don’t well...]]

[sampagnereads]

I was supposed to write this review about three weeks ago, but I took a lil break from reviewing due to how exhausted I've been, so I'm really sorry this is coming so late! Okay, so, first of all. I hesitated to read this for a long time; way too long, in fact. Thing was, I had seen the illustration style, and I wasn't sure I'd like it for the length of an entire graphic novel. And that's not to say that the illustrations aren't gorgeous, because they totally are! The problem is that this is coloured in shades of blue, and I tend to prefer multi-colour illustrations when I'm reading comics or graphic novels. Still, I was at the library one day and saw it there, and went "Why not?" and I'm oh so glad I did, because I thoroughly enjoyed this book. This takes place after the events of The Lunar Chronicles, and though it's been a while since I read that series, I was never confused whilst reading Wires and Nerve. And I'm easily confused, so that's a pretty big deal. I thought this was a really nice continuation of the previous series, and since we were following my favourite character from the previous books in this universe, I really, really enjoyed this. The pacing felt just right, and so did the main plotline. In fact, I liked the story so much that I didn't even mind that the characters didn't look like I had pictured them. Like, seriously. The story was so action-packed, without making you feel like you were out of breath once you finished it, and I'm having difficulty finding negative things to say about it. Still, it's a four stars because whilst I didn't see anything wrong with this graphic novel, I don't feel like I enjoyed it quite enough for it to get a higher rating. Still, a four stars is a really good rating, and I think it represents how much I enjoyed this book quite well. All in all, if you've read The Lunar Chronicles, I highly recommend picking Wires and Nerve up. It's a highly enjoyable graphic novel, and I think that, if you liked the original series, there's a very high chance you'll enjoy this too.

[lickstynine]

Misadventures of Kit: Chapter Thirteen

written with @ocsickficsideblog

Kit had expected being back at Alistair’s to be more pleasant. While it was certainly an improvement to not be prodded by medical staff at all hours, he still felt more like a patient than a guest. Alistair was forcing him to eat six small meals a day (the doctor said that would be easier than three big ones), hovering and fussing outside the door whenever he used the bathroom, and making sure he kept up with the daily journaling his shrink had tasked him with.

As much as he loved his cousin, Kit was getting properly fed up with Alistair, and he had even less patience for all the shit his cousin was making him do. He was sitting on the couch glaring at his lunch when his phone buzzed, and Kit gladly set the fork aside to check it. He couldn’t help being a little excited when he saw it was from Siofra.

What are you doing this weekend?

I don’t think I’m doing anything. He texted back. Why?

I have a gig at a local pub. You should come. Bring your idiot cousin if you want, but don’t let him embarrass us.

Kit snickered quietly at his phone. Will do. Where is it?

Siofra sent him the location, and Kit scribbled it into his notebook.

I’ll be there.

Great! See you then.

“What’re you giggling at?” Alistair asked. “Eat your food.”

“Siofra invited me to a show this weekend.” Kit replied, huffing in annoyance as he picked his fork back up. He poked at the chicken thigh on his plate, not very interested in it.

“What, to see her band? I don’t think I want you going out alone.”

Kit huffed in annoyance. “First of all, it’s in a pub, not a back alley. Second of all, she said you could come.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want me there?” Alistair said, slightly icily.

The older boy flinched. “Why would I not?”

“You act like you can’t stand me recently, scowling and huffing whenever I walk into the room,” Alistair spat, pacing agitatedly like a tiger. Kit’s flinch hurt him - most of him wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around him and hold him - but his recent behaviour was starting to remind Alistair of his own parents. They’d always sighed and rolled their eyes when he came into the room, shoving him away when he was still young and hopeful enough to go for a cuddle - “Go away, Alistair. You’re not wanted here.”

Kit cringed, withering into the corner of the couch. “It’s not like that! It’s not you! I just hate being babied and hovered over. It’s not that it’s you doing it…” he hid his face in his hands, feeling ashamed for being such a grumpy ass.

Alistair hovered anxiously, so close to running to him - but that doubt stung at the back of his mind, sharp as venom. “You promise? It’s not me who’s annoying you? You don’t wish someone else was looking after you?”

“No! Who else would? You’re all I have, Al. I just… I feel pathetic that I need so much caretaking…” Kit sighed.

Alistair ran to him, hugging him tight. “You don’t need that much. I just need to make sure you eat. I don’t have to wipe your arse or wash you or entertain you. You’re pretty low-maintenance.”

Kit managed a weak laugh at that. “Now you're making me sound like a pet. Will you put me on a leash when we go out?”

“Save that for Siofra, you kinky shit.”

Kit went red, though he laughed. “I barely know her!”

“Well, she’s inviting you out! Where are we going then?”

“Um, it's a pub. Not one I've been to before. Do you recognize the address?” Kit showed Alistair his phone.  

“I know the town, can’t be too hard to find it from there,” Alistair said.

“I’ll have Taddy take us.” Kit decided. He hadn’t seen his chauffeur in ages - he needed to apologize, anyway.

“Jules has been keeping him updated about you,” Alistair said gently, seeing the guilt on Kit’s face.

Kit looked surprised. “He has?”

“Oh yeah. He likes Taddy. He even called him last time we argued.” Alistair rolled his eyes. “That was fucking awkward.”

Now Kit was smiling again, snickering and grinning. “Did he really?”

“Yep,” Alistair groaned. “He was crying too. I bet Taddy thought I was a real prick.”

“Taddy knows you.” Kit reminded him. “He likely just thought you were an idiot.”

“It wasn’t a serious fight, anyway. We don’t really have those. We just have stupid ones about getting pancakes stuck to the ceiling and Jules always untying my boot laces even though I left them tied for a reason and he doesn’t need to obsessively untie them,” Alistair ranted.

“Wait, hold on.” Kit ignored his cousin’s complaining. “You got pancakes stuck to the ceiling?”

“Okay, it was an accident! I just tossed it too enthusiastically.”

Kit nearly snorted laughing. “How do you get that overenthusiastic?”

“I just wanted it to go up high, like you see chefs do on TV,” Alistair grumbled. “And the bloody thing just went slap on the ceiling and stuck there, and I had to scrape it off and it’s left this big greasy mark on the paint.”

Kit had to steady his plate so he wouldn’t kick it off his lap cackling. “Good lord….”

Alistair rolled his eyes. “I’m sure the fucking ceilings are low…”

“Why are you even allowed in the kitchen?” Kit shook his head, continuing to chuckle as he cut off a tiny bite of chicken. He paused. “You didn’t make this, did you?”

“No. Last time I made Jules chicken he got food poisoning super bad.” He sighed, flopping back on the sofa. “I felt terrible. Why am I so useless at everything, Kit?”

Kit rolled his eyes. “You’re not useless at everything. You’ve been taking care of me well, save for the cooking aspect.”

“At least you tell me if it’s gross. Jules eats it all and then throws up all night. It makes me feel like I’m a toddler and he’s pretending to eat my plasticine food. Making all those yum-yum baby noises you do,” Alistair said, sighing.

“That’s not your fault. Julie is too soft for his own good.”

“I know. I told him that. I’ve stopped him watching the news because he gets depressed and cries all evening.”

“Sounds about right.” Kit chuckled and shook his head, just now cutting a second bite of chicken. He wasn’t just not hungry, he was trying to avoid the task to follow: journaling.

“You take a long time to eat, Kit,” Alistair sighed.

“It’s hard. This is my third meal of the day, and I didn’t even want the first.” Kit huffed.

“You need to eat. You need to live. I need you to live,” Alistair said, his voice quieter. He’d been wetting the bed again since Kit tried to commit suicide, much to his horror - and Kit couldn’t help noticing, of course. It didn’t matter how many times Alistair was told that it was a very common problem with abused children, he still burned with humiliation if anyone touched on it.

Kit slunk down in his seat, stabbing his chicken more purposefully as he cut another bite. “Sorry…” he mumbled, staring at his plate to avoid eye contact.

Alistair wrapped his arms around Kit’s neck. “Sorry. Don’t force yourself to do it fast. I just want to get this right.”

“Then maybe loosen your grip. I can’t eat if I’m being choked.” Kit was clearly just teasing - Alistair had (gradually) gotten better at not death-hugging him.

Alistair rolled his eyes. “Shut up, or I’ll make you dinner tonight. It’d be tough to eat that.”

“I’ll be sure to aim at you when I vomit.” Kit grinned. He did his best to eat the rest of his lunch in a timely manner, though he was clearly struggling to finish the last quarter of the chicken. He was cutting it into smaller and smaller pieces, and taking longer to chew each bite and pick up the next one.

“Does cutting it up small like that actually help?”

Kit sighed. “Not really.”

“You should just stuff it all in. Get it over with. Like when Violet dared me to eat that worm when we were kids.”

Kit wasn't sure whether to laugh or retch. “Talking about eating worms isn't making me want to finish my meal.”

“Sorry.” Alistair grinned. “Chicken doesn’t taste that bad. From what I remember.”

“It isn't bad at all.” Kit said, “I'm just not hungry.”

“Your body is though, or whatever that nutritionist said. Imagine your job being telling underweight people to eat. Must be depressing.”

Now Kit just felt guilty, staring awkwardly down at his plate as he chewed the last bite of chicken. “Yeah, must be.”

“Oh, don’t pull that face. I was just thinking out loud.” He poked Kit’s cheek. “Smile.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know,” Alistair sighed. “I just want you to be happy.”

“If you want me to be happy, don't make me write in my stupid journal again.” Kit grumbled.

“But your psych said you need to. I thought you liked writing to Auntie,” Alistair said.

“I like writing when I'm in the mood. Not because some shrink says I need to.”

“Look, I’ll do it with you,” Alistair suggested.

Kit looked up at him. “You will?”

“Yeah, of course. It that makes it easier.”

“I think it will, yeah.” Kit nodded gratefully. “Gather up my writing things, and I'll put away my plate.”

“I haven’t spoken to Auntie in ages. We’ve got to catch up,” Alistair said, messing with one of Kit’s posh fountain pens.

Kit knew his cousin was trying to be funny, so he forced a smile. “Please be careful with that pen. I doubt Julie wants ink all over the carpets.”

“There’s ink all over me,” Alistair said, peering at the black marks on his fingers. “I’m using my art pens instead.”

“You’re only getting ink on you because you’re handling the pen wrong. But yes, use your own pen. Please.” Kit mumbled. He was twirling his pen in his fingers, anxious to actually start.

“This is weird,” Alistair mumbled. “We can acknowledge it’s weird.”

“You’re weird.” Kit huffed.

“You’re weird. Okay, I’m just going to start by saying hi…”

Kit nodded, picking up his own pen and starting to write. It wasn't hard to start, but once he did, he always got a little too into it. He hunched over the page, scribbling away like his life depended on it.

Alistair took a more light hearted approach, scribbling small doodles every so often to illustrate his news, sometimes swaying into a graphic novel format before starting to write again. Kit sat up as his page grew full, looking over at his cousin.

“Are you drawing?”

“Yeah?” Alistair said. “Why not? I’m illustrating. I’m still telling the story.”

“Just curious.” Kit shrugged, “I've never felt compelled to illustrate a letter before.”

“I illustrate all mine. If we ever need to correspond by letter, I’ll illustrate.”

“It'd be strange to write with you…” Kit mused.

“It would?”

“Well, first there'd be the challenge of deciphering your handwriting.” Kit grinned.

Alistair nudged him, grinning back. “You sound like my teachers!”

“And then there's making sense of your spelling.”

“I spell things phonetically, just sound it out.” Alistair said.

“Are you seven?” Kit teased, going back to his own letter.

“Mentally. What’re you writing about then?”

“Just what's happened lately.” Kit shrugged. “you can see when I'm done if you like.”

“Okay, thanks. You can see mine too.”

Kit nodded, pausing and tapping his pen on his chin as he pondered. Alistair didn’t ever stop to think, scribbling stuff as it entered his head, adding lots of drawings, mostly quick comical sketches or little caricatures. Kit went back to his page after a moment, jotting down a few more sentences.

“Okay... I think I'm done.”

“Me too,” Alistair mumbled, chewing on his pen lid. “This is actually quite good… I see why they make you do it.”

Kit nodded, offering Alistair his letter to trade. Alistair handed Kit his own considerably messier letter, holding it carefully, not wanting to stain it with his inky fingers.

My Dearest Mother,

I've been doing better lately. I think keeping Al around has helped. I get so low when I'm lonely, but I can bother him to talk at any hour.

I still feel bad about how it ended with Elle, but I've met up with the girl from the pub and I really like her. She's Irish, like you. She has the loveliest hair, it's almost a rose gold colour, shiny and wavy and all the way to the small of her back. She plays violin and sings in a band with her brothers - she invited me to their next show.

I’m still staying at Al’s to avoid Father. The Christmas party is coming, I don't know what I'll do. I can’t not go, but last year was already sour, with Violet mad at me, and now…

I suppose I'll deal with that as it comes. Maybe I can invite Siofra (the girl I'm seeing). She's so brave and strong, I think I'd feel safer with her there. Yes. I think I'll invite her. Wish me luck.

All of my Love, Kit

Kit moved closer to the lamp, struggling to read without a proper light.

Dear Auntie, That sounds so weird and formal, doesn’t it? What a silly way to start a letter, we wouldn’t be talking like that in real life. Anyway, I don’t really know how to begin. Hi. It’s Alistair after all this time, though I promise I didn’t stop thinking of you.

Lots of stuff happened over the years. Lots of dumb family stuff, you know what they’re like.

Here there was a drawing of Reggie as a grizzly bear and Howard as a doting Lefou following him around.

Grandfather didn’t give Mother any inheritance, which was pretty funny, but she wouldn’t let me see Kit for a long time. But we met up again when I was nineteen (and was completely astounded by the change in him, he looks like a pretty tattooed you).

He’d drawn a picture of Kit looking all bright and glossy next to a scruffy looking Alistair with a tiny bird nesting in his tangled hair.

There’s been lots of messy parts. I really really wanted you there for lots of it, because you always had a way of making things better. I seem to have a knack for making stuff worse - but at least Kit is talking to me now. I don’t mind when he wakes me up at night, it’s progress.

He’d drawn a softer picture of himself and Kit cuddled up together, sharing a blanket.

I send my love to wherever you are. Not heaven, I know you didn’t believe in it. I like to think you hover over Kit like a guardian angel. Maybe you’ll see me then, and my fiancé. He’d have loved you.

I think I’ll write more of these letters with Kit. It’s almost like talking to you. Just know that I love you and miss you too, and I remember everything you told me to remember (see, I was listening!). And I’ve still got Sally.

Love, Alistair.

He’d drawn a little picture of Sally in the corner, looking beaten up and bedraggled.

Kit hadn't expected to be so stricken by a letter. He thought it might have been the illustrations - the little drawings all seemed to have so much love put into them, especially the ones of him. He couldn't bring himself to set it down, pressing it to his chest despite the perilous inkinesss of the page. He sniffled, trying to contain himself, but when he dared peek at the letter again, he started crying properly.

Alistair shuffled over and hugged him tight, his head close to Kit’s. “I can come to your party with you if you’re worried. I’ll dress up and behave and everything.”

“Are you sure?” Kit blinked away tears, a puzzled expression crossing his face.

“Yeah, of course. I don’t want you stuck alone with your father and Violet.”

“I was… I was going to invite Siofra…” Kit mumbled, not sounding too confident in the idea anymore.

“Well, you can invite her too. But would your father like her? Well, I know he doesn’t like me either, but would he like her less?”

“I think she’d have the common sense to behave politely. She’s a firecracker, but she’s not an idiot.”

“Yeah, but your father would moan about her being common,” Alistair said, rolling his eyes.

“But you’re common because you got disowned. I’m not sure if that’s worse or not…” Kit mused.

Alistair snorted. “That makes me common? I was common way before that.”

“Then that makes you double common, so you’re definitely worse.” Kit grinned.

Alistair smiled too, hugging Kit. “That letter writing… It’s nice. I see why you’ve been doing it all these years.”

Kit nodded. “The idea of a regular diary always seemed stupid to me. I’m not Anne Frank, it won’t be published. I needed someone to write to so I could focus my thoughts.”

“I’m glad you’re not poor old Anne Frank. And I’m glad you can still stay connected to Auntie like this.”

“Yeah. I… yeah. I just… it hurts… To know I’ll never get a reply.”

Alistair nodded sadly. “Maybe...maybe she knows though. Maybe she really is watching over you.” He sounded unusually hopeful.

Kit looked like he might cry again, but he nodded. “Yeah… maybe.”

[diningpageantry]

23 and 25? -Simon

thank you simon !!!!!! (whoever this mysterious simon is. i trust you. somewhat.)

23. If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be?

oh boy. this is about to get long, so just. warning.

dear anï, this shits gonna be a roller coaster. the ups and downs are RIDICULOUS, but it evens out eventually, and you’re gonna be so fucking strong. i know you’re afraid right now, and you’re about to get tripped. like, multiple times, and tripped as in people keep putting their feet in front of you and you go launching. it’s a fucking whirlwind. you don’t get a diagnosis, i’m so sorry. you lose friends you’ll miss, and maybe next year us will resolve that, but you also lose some toxic people (yes, you finally get rid of him. it took us years, but as i’m writing this right now, i want you to know that you blocked his new number today.). you got so fucking strong, hon. you got that national position you’ve been trying for. you got that ramona flowers hair, then accidentally burnt off the sides, and you laugh. you’re gonna get back into a book you liked, but now you love it, and you got back to tumblr and guess what! you can actually write! and you’re not bad at it! you get into both of your top schools! you’re fucking thriving, hon! there’s still some shit that’s going on, shit that you can probably avoid at the point you’re at, but i don’t blame you. i’ll never blame you for shit you didn’t mean to fall into. other people controlling you is never your fault, and you’re allowed to have feelings. you’re gonna find out so much this year, but we’re gonna end 2018 with a positive outlook, yeah? you’ve worked so hard this year, and guess what? you’re doing okay. you’re making healthy coping decisions. you know when to say no. you’re going to be fine. - end of the year anï

25. Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one

oh boy! damn okay i’mma talk about Summer because i love my darling little Summer. she’s from a sapphic graphic novel i’m lowkey working on (hopefully i’ll be finished by the end of this upcoming summer; i’ve gotten half of the first chapter down and illustrated) so she’s a 17 year old rebel who lives in central New Jersey. she has a rocky family situation and makes some questionable decisions (steals cigarettes and alcohol from her family, starts fights a lot) and she’s a snarky little asshole. she’s a high-femme lesbian and definitely doesn’t look like a troublemaker, but is. she loves her girlfriend Matchstick (whose real name is Olivia, but Summer calls her Matchstick because her hair is bright red and reminds her of a match), and loves Wawa and the scent of the beach and pork roll. she’s a lil chubby and embraces that. she sort of softens up eventually and takes a while to open up, but she keeps her biting edge to her. i absolutely love this little pain in the ass. she’s just a complex character (i could go on abt her) and y’don’t expect her to immmediately latch to Matchstick, but she does and she just like breakin glass and wreckin shit. i love her. here’s like. a small snippit of her & her personality.

feel free to ask me about my year!