I Know We Joke About Cis Artists Having The Weirdest Sense Of Anatomy, But Also Even When The Anatomy

i know we joke about cis artists having the weirdest sense of anatomy, but also even when the anatomy is fine, no one seems to want to draw women doing normal things

In the 10yrs since you last discussed Bayonetta, have your opinions changed on bayo since everything between 2014 to now (tl;dr the "Bayonetta is good, actually" opinion best typified by Maddy Myers and Leigh Alexander seemingly won the "feminist bayonetta wars" circa 2017 or so, then Bayo 3 came out last year, ended it all on a very comphet note and a lot of the "bayonetta is feminist actually" ended up feeling betrayed while the haters took a very smug "told you so" tone to the whole thing)

Wow. Okay. Uh. So.

1. Do you somehow not realize that it's fucking weird to track someone down on a different social media platform and grill them about opinions they had TEN YEARS AGO?

2. You don't get to give me homework, I don't owe you shit.

3. Internet weirdos like you are exactly why I shut down my blog. Get a better hobby.

Snippet from my queer polyamorous romance novel, Community Witch - an unapologetically trope-y, cozy, and relationship-driven romance story about the healing from trauma, found family, and joyful queer relationships. (Looking to publish next year.)

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Aspen glanced around the space but couldn’t identify anything strange. Neither were they able to sense any obvious malevolence. “Does anything here look out of place to you?”

Rav looked around, then shook his head. “Not here. But mostly it stays back in the studio.” He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door behind the register. “Which is back here.”

Aspen, who had hung out with a lot of artists in university, had expected chaos and mess. They were surprised to instead see a studio that was so immaculate and neatly organized that it barely looked as if it were in use. Even more surprising was Rav’s sudden inarticulate cry of anguish as he strode over to a painting in progress on an easel. “I wasn’t done with that!” he yelled in frustration at the ceiling.

“I take it something was moved?” Aspen asked mildly from the doorway.

“It put my paints away! And the brushes I was using!” Rav gestured in frustration at the large unit of pull-out drawers. “I left out the colors I was using so I’d be able to match them!”

“And… the ghost put them away?”

Rav held up a finger, clearly mistaking their confusion for skepticism. “I know this sounds crazy, but look.” He opened one of the drawers and started tossing tubes of paint on the floor.

Not more than a second later, the tubes lifted themselves off the floor and floated back into the drawer, which then slammed shut. Aspen blinked in shock. “Well there’s something I’ve never seen before. You have a poltergeist that cleans!”

Me: Hey internet, how long should I wait before following up with an agent about their request for a full manuscript? The Internet: minimum 3 months Me:

Snippet from my queer polyamorous romance novel, Community Witch - an unapologetically trope-y, cozy, and relationship-driven romance story about the healing from trauma, found family, and joyful queer relationships. (Looking to publish next year.) ---

“My life has turned into a Lifemark movie,” Aspen groaned, flopping dramatically onto their bed. “Thirty year old enby leaves the big city, including their terrible partner and the job they hate, to move to a beautiful small town, has meet cute with beautiful stranger before running into The One That Got Away.”

There was a choking sound on the other end of the line.

“You’re allowed to laugh,” Aspen grumbled. “Even I think it’s ridiculous, and I’m living it.”

Becks didn’t laugh, but Aspen could hear the grin in her voice. “I assume the beautiful stranger is Rav, but who is The One That Got Away?”

“Remember that guy I was hopelessly in love with in high school? The wholesome football player?”

“Maybe?”

“My best friend? The one that was over all the time?”

“Oh my god, that himbo you tutored, then pined for the rest of high school? The one you wanted to smash from orbit?”

“Not a himbo,” Aspen bristled, unable to argue with the rest of Becks’ description. “Anyway. She’s Nat now. I ran into her at the gym just now when I was dropping off cards around town. And we’re going to catch up when she’s done with work.”

This time, Becks did laugh – gleeful peals that made Aspen smile despite themself.