Back off lady, I've been drinking with skeletons.

my name is tres. I go to VCU.
I write comics, short stories, and screenplays and must be stopped at all cost.
i'm also an editor with vcu comics.

i like coffee, batman, giant monsters, wrestling, and the muppets


You can download a FREE copy of the 101 page comics anthology my friends and I put together HERE

keep scrolling for things I reblog that I think are pretty or made me laugh

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Jul 27

“Do you ever wish you had a second chance to meet someone for the first time?” Unknown (via stevenbong)

(via xx-robin)

My brother killed himself
on the twenty-eighth Thursday of last year
and I missed four days of work
and my mom wanted to know ‘Why’.
My brother
he was always a fan of beauty
but what he did
was not beautiful at all.

And last week I got the news
that one of my good friends from high school
had overdosed
except this time
she’d gone too far
and now she was gone.
And I had a hard time falling asleep at night
and her mother
hugged me tight
and thanked me for coming to the service
but I did not
want to be there at all.
This is not

The girl down the street
would’ve turned 21 last year
and I can scarcely imagine
the wild times she would’ve
But she is buried six feet deep
after falling nearly 300
and she did not leave a note.
This is not

My freshman year of college
and my roommate was beautiful
and how I wanted to be just like her.
But she wore herself down
till she was
almost invisible
and if you blinked
you had to go and find her all over again.
So now her parents are no longer supporting her college tuition
but are paying her hospital bills
watching their daughter crumble.
This is not

So y’all can take your narcissistic
and glamorizing
of self harm and eating disorders and committing suicide
and shove them as far up your ass
as you possibly can.
Starvation is not beautiful.
Killing yourself is not beautiful.
is not beautiful.
This note I am writing
is not beautiful.

But you
you are beautiful
and it’s about damn time you start believing it.

(via runiqu)


(via sweetsouthern88)

(via ausoniusrubrimors)

“You’ve got an awfully kissable mouth.” F. Scott Fitzgerald, Bernice Bobs Her Hair  (via eyeohtah)

(via ausoniusrubrimors)


Mom French braided my mohawk. ♥

(via pineapplecunt)

Jul 26

I left my home still as a child
I walked a thousand sorry miles
To wait for my father to gather up his tools

He said my boy you’ve got to run
Don’t wait for me, don’t wait for mum
We’ll come get you when it’s safe for us to move

So I waited many years
Held back the pain behind my tears
For my father to come find me like he said

And in that time I was alone
So many years without my home
I made brothers of a different kind instead

I don’t really have a central thesis in terms of what I’m about to type.  I’ve had a lot on my mind over the last couple of weeks and sometimes it just helps to write out what’s running through my head.  Sometimes it helps me make sense of things, sometimes it provides cathartic release, and sometimes it doesn’t do anything.  So we’ll see what happens here.

            I heard the song I posted above a couple of weeks ago and I’ve been listening to it a lot since then.  I think it’s a tremendously beautiful track and it has resonated with me hugely since I first heard it. 

            Over the last few months I’ve been having some issues with my parents.  I think my parents and I will always, in a very general sense, have a good relationship.  But it’s been difficult to be around them lately.  It’s always a high-pressure, tense situation when we’re in the same room and my visits almost always contain yelling at some point.  It’s often over petty things, but then when things get serious it’s even worse.  I don’t like it very much.

            It’s gotten me thinking about myself and my relationship with them over the years.  Like I said, it’s never been bad.  But there are certain things I never got from them in an emotional sense.  They’ve always provided emotional support and love and…I guess the Important Things, if that makes sense.  But there’s always been a weird disconnect from them in another sense.  I rarely talk with them about my personal life.  I’m not sure why.  I think part of me has always known that as much as I love them and as supportive as they are, I’ve always been and always will be something of an anomaly to them.  My dad is a math person and grew up playing basketball and baseball nonstop.  My mom grew up in North Carolina around Capital-S Southerners.  My mom is pretty religious.  My dad likes to go fishing.  So for them to have ended up with this weird kid that’s into punk rock and comics and horror movies and pro wrestling seems strange.  I’m not sure where it came from.  I think I just finally realized that I can’t tell them about the things I care about because they don’t get it.  That’s not coming from some 8th grade sense of “THEY JUST WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND.”  It comes from literally being unable to be like, explain to them why Superman is my Jesus stand-in and how these things inspire me and make me want to be a better person. 

            In all fairness, they get it where it counts.  They knew that interning with Marvel was the opportunity of a lifetime and did everything they could to make that happen.  They get that this is going to be a part of my future and support that fully.  But when my mom read my first comic, she was pretty much like, “Wow, so that was really violent and had a lot of bad language.”  Which is, again, in all fairness, a pretty standard mom response (as well as a 100% correct observation, but I digress).  I dunno.  They’ll always support what I do, but if they were to read my entire bibliography thirty years from now I don’t think they’d really get any of it.  So it’s weird to come back from an experience like HeroesCon and not really be able to tell my mom aptly how special it is to me.

            When I was at HeroesCon, I spent a good portion of the weekend pretty much latched onto Chris Haley and Kate Leth’s moves.  The whole time I kind of felt like a little brother trying to convince his older brother to let him hang out with the big brother’s friends.  I’ve looked up to Chris a lot pretty much since the day I met him in 2011 and Kate’s work has provided me with a lot of comfort over the last year or so. 

            When I got home from the convention I did some thinking on that.  As far back as I can remember I’ve been collecting Big Brother and Big Sister figures.  I don’t have an older sibling.  I have a younger sister and I do my best to be a good older brother to her, though I’ve never quite been sure what that entails aside from beating up dudes that break her heart (which I have never actually done but offered to do probably a dozen times).  I think it probably stems from that same issue with my parents never really getting me.  My parents provide all of the support that parents need to provide.  But I feel like growing up I really needed someone I could look up to and learn from that got me in the way my parents didn’t.  So I spent my life attaching myself to these people.  They were camp counselors and older students in my high school’s theatre department and the young dude that worked in the local guitar shop and a literal big brother when I pledged a fraternity and people in the comics community and every stop I made in my life in between. 

            This isn’t an old habit; I still do it all the time.  I think it’s going to be perpetual.  I’ll be collecting Big Brothers and Sisters my entire life.  Because I think what I needed the most growing up (and still need today) is someone to learn from, to look up to and grow from being around.  I think I needed an older sibling more than anything growing up.  I even remember this one trip we took in third grade when I told a family staying in the same hotel that I had an older sister named Jessica that didn’t come on the trip with us.  That’s how bad I wanted one when I was younger.

            I’ve been lucky in that most of these people I’ve made my surrogate older siblings have been receptive to it and accepted the positions.  And whether it was Kate and Chris at HeroesCon or Skyler Brown at AASTC or Adrian at GuitarWorks or Tasha from high school, I learned and grew from them and regardless of how old I get or how much I grow as a person, I’ll always look at them in that light. 

            Visiting my camp family last weekend and yesterday was extremely important to me.  I know I’ve spammed pictures and statuses nonstop about that and I do not apologize in the slightest.  We throw around the word “family” a lot and I just feel the need to stress that I mean it with all of my heart and soul.  That group of people is my second family and I consider them some of the most important people I’ve ever met in my life to the point that I would sooner donate a kidney or bone marrow to anybody from AASTC than people in my actual biological extended family.  

            I’ve been a part of that family for most of my life.  This year marks 15 since I joined it.  I realized for the first time this past weekend that I have, in a really big way, grown up with these kids.  I met some of these people when I was 13 years old and our friendship hasn’t wavered in the slightest since then.  Two years had passed since I’d seen a lot of them and it might as well have been two weeks.  The love we share is so selfless and unconditional and I don’t know another love like it.  We’ve seen each other at our best and worst and we’re all the better for it.  So to be able to see this family amidst the weirdness and stagnancy that has been plaguing the last few months of my life was immensely needed.  Seeing them reminded me who I am at the end of the day, what’s important to me, and that I should always be striving to be the person the 10-year-old camper version of me would want to have as a counselor.

            The last time I saw them I was very near my rock-bottom point.  I had just found out I couldn’t attend my dream college, my grandmother passed away in the middle of camp, I hated who I was and what I was doing, and really didn’t have much going for me.  It was a lousy note to end my time with camp on and that has stuck with me for a long time.  There were points over the last two years when I convinced myself I didn’t need them, that I was a different person and had outgrown that relationship.  What can I say?  Sometimes I’m a fucking idiot.  I’ll always need them and it’s so comforting to know that no matter where I am, how much I screw up, or how long it’s been since I’ve seen them, I will always have a home with my camp family. 

            I’ve been alone for most of this summer.  It’s been strange and jarring and simultaneously unsurprising.  I spent most of the last school year developing a wide and diverse friend group and also staying up until 2 in the morning in the library’s Starbucks, always surrounded by people.  It’s been uncomfortable to go from that to going several days without seeing friends.  I guess I got used to not having to exert effort into seeing people.  I could just sit in the library and someone would show up eventually.  I enjoy that comfort.  At the same time, this summer has put in perspective who my “real friends” are.  I put that in quotes because I don’t mean to imply that there are people I once considered friends that I don’t anymore.  Moreso, I’ve realized who I miss when I don’t see them, and who misses me.  There were some people I met this past year that I once considered to be some of my best friends.  Now it’s been three months since I’ve basically been off the grid and despite my efforts to see them, it’s clear that I’m not as much of a priority to them as them to me.

            This is fine.  I’m not bitter about it and I’ll be glad to see them whenever I do.  There’s this line in the CM Punk documentary where he talks about how growing up he was always the kind of person that, if he realized he wasn’t getting what he needed supportively and emotionally from a person, he moved on.  I’m kind of that way as well.  There’s no hard feelings between me and those people.  And I get that business and schedules and work and whatnot are a thing and they’re important.  But after a couple unanswered texts and bailouts on hanging out and catching up, I’ve kind of learned to just nut up and move on.  Maybe this is unhealthy?  I dunno.  Gimme a few more years of doing it and I’ll let you know.  Right now I know who I can turn to when the shit gets deep and I’d rather have a handful of those people than a limited friendship with every person on this campus.

            Also, just for emphasis, I’m not being passive aggressive about anybody on this website.  I’m 99% sure none of those people even have Tumblr and odds are, if we’ve hung out even just once this summer, you’re not who I’m talking about.  I realize this probably comes across as subtumbling or trying to call people out.  The fact of the matter is that based on our limited interaction over the last few months, those friends aren’t going to read this even if I link it on facebook.  AND THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT, I SWEAR. 

            I’ve felt very lost for the last few weeks.  I got that Timehop app, which has been a cool little thing to look at every day that shows you what you posted on social media accounts a year ago each day.  And it’s been very sad to see pictures from my last few summers around this time.  Last summer I was in New York working with Marvel and doing exciting things.  And specifically, a year ago yesterday was the day I first heard “Blue Dahlia” by the Gaslight Anthem and simultaneously realized that I was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with the most amazing girl I’ve ever met in my life.

            Two years ago I was at one of the lowest points of my life, but I was still with my camp family and at least doing something I loved amidst it all.  In years prior, I was also at camp and as an added bonus, didn’t hate everything about myself or my life then.

            So then it gets me thinking about where I am now and what I’m doing.  I spent the first half of the summer straight-up doing nothing and the second half in a class that I hate that makes me want to just curl up and fucking die at the end of the day.  I hate how stagnant I’ve allowed my life to become this summer and I hate that I’ve fallen out of touch with so much of what and who I care about.  I hate that through all of this, I’ve hurt AT LEAST one person that I know of and can’t do anything to repair the damage of that.  And boy, do I fucking hate myself for that these days. 

            At this point there are good days and bad days.  Some days I wake up and everything just clicks.  The weather is nice and I wake up to texts from people I love and good comics are waiting to be read and I walk into my Spanish class and actually LEARN things.  Other days I can barely drag myself out of bed and as soon as I’m out of class I lay on my couch half-asleep and wait for September to come.  I hate that I’m spending my last college summer in such a shit place.

            Which is, again, why the last week or so has been on my mind so much.  Spending time around people that excite me, invigorate me, and remind me that I’m not always the worst person in the world is important and probably healthy.  It’s also nice to have a beach trip with them to look forward to that starts literally right after my class ends for the summer.

            I’ve been marathoning a lot of Sons of Anarchy for the last couple of weeks as well, which is where I discovered the song above, “The Lost Boy” by Greg Holden.  The episode I watched today opened with Jax narrating a letter he was writing to his young sons and it resonated with me hugely.  I can’t remember the direct quote, but he talked about how a child looks inward.  He looks at how his actions will affect him.  A man only looks outward at how his actions affect others.  And he uses his abilities and actions to benefit others, not himself.

            I’m not there yet.  I’m still very much a child in that respect.  I know for a fact that there are things I could have done differently years ago, recently, even over this past week.  If I hadn’t thought of myself in these situations, I could have spared others hurt.  I don’t know if I’ve grown up enough to be as selfless as I’d like to be.  But I’d like to think that eventually I’ll get there.  I’d certainly like to work on it more in whatever downtime I have left this summer.

            It’s probably pertinent to mention why all of this is being posted with that song up there.  As I mentioned, I heard it in Sons of Anarchy.  I’ve been listening to it a lot. 

            I won’t pretend my parents left me abandoned.  I won’t pretend I’ve lead anything other than a pretty comfortable life with most of my real problems being ones that stemmed from personal issues, both self-created and ones that I was born with.  Nonetheless, there have been huge chunks of my life during which I have felt immensely lost.  It’s been in the back of my head since the second grade.  Sometimes I find myself surrounded by people that make me feel a little less lost.  It happens when I’m at camp, when I’m at comic conventions, when I’m staying up til 3 talking with Chris, Tommy, and August.  But in between there are hugely lonely, scary chunks of time when I don’t know who I am or where I’m going.  I’ve been in the midst of one of those and I don’t know when it will be over.  I hope I come out stronger.  Until then, the most comforting thing I can do is listen to that song and remember that I have amazing people in my life, and that my compass will always point back to them when I look to it for guidance.  It’s as simple as that.  And while I don’t mean my camp fam exclusively, it seems pertinent that my camp’s logo has always been a compass.  And no matter how lost I become, I can always look to it to take me back to the places and people I call home.


(via ausoniusrubrimors)

The whole “one side shaved” look has really taken off among women, which is rad because it’s a great look.  But has anybody seen many guys doing it and pulling it off?  I’m curious.  I feel like Skrillex did it but that’s not exactly a “pulling it off” example.


Red Lotus Band by Ki-Hyun Ryu


Red Lotus Band by Ki-Hyun Ryu

(via swrd-play)