Venus 1975: Katie and Sally

Sally is very high. That's fine though. She's in Katie's room, which is the most comfortable place in the world. Katie makes a mess of soft things. She fills her room with things that smell good and brews and burns them until her home is always feeling like a thin layer of smoke, a little hazy, glows when the sunbeams cut through it.

Katie's exercising in her underwear. Sally knows what she wants more than anything else in this instant: stop and hold me until I no longer want to get off. Hold me. Hands, flat palms against shoulders, splayed fingers, wrapping around skin and fat, tenderly.

Sally snaps her hair tie against her wrist. The want canceled.

Sally embraces a pillow. You like to exercise, don't you, she says.

If I don't do it, my body feels greasy and stiff, says Katie.

My body has an ugly inertia, I hate it. But if I'm careful every day it feels better.

Suspended from the ceiling, climbing silk ropes, slowly moving into agonizing positions, it's hard to imagine that about Katie, who is contents under pressure, always ready to explode. Sally is wiry and liquid, learns by doing, can't focus enough to train like this when she's sober. Her body obeys the rules it wants and only with proper guidance and coaxing can Sally get those to align with anything productive.

Do you like it, asks Sally. Exercising.

I like this part, she says, stretching. Mmmm. You should do this too.

I don't know if I really can, haha, says Sally.

You're so lazy. It's really unfair, says Katie.

Here, spread out. Let go of the pillow too, Sally.

Okay. Like this?

Katie straddles Sally's back. So, here, can you feel this? Katie digs into Sally's shoulderblades. It hurts a lot, but in a super good way.

Haha. It feels nice, right? Let me know if it hurts too bad.

It's hard and frustrating until this point. If you stretched on your own, you wouldn't need this.

Sally? Sally. Sally.

Oh, sorry.

Don't fall asleep.

I won't. It does feel nice. I can feel a lot, actually, says Sally.

Yes, that's it. Katie sounds proud. You're supposed to think of your whole body at once.

I guess I really haven't, says Sally.

Can you feel it, asks Katie. Katie's pressure on her neck is so strong Sally feels like her head might pop off.

I just...blank out and can't think of anything at all.

Hmm. Well, that is close. You should stretch. And maybe you will get there.

I will.

Sally is lying. She is thinking about how there has never been a platonic massage between too people alone in a bedroom ever. It will prevent her from ever attaining enlightenment.

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Venus 1975: M and Katie

The Beast, Imperious Flame

She's big, she's mean, she's always in flames. She was once such a good girl. Her heart was so big, until it was empty. And now she's evil and cruel with the fire at the end of every heart. As her ribs open like a maw, she is set to devour the sweet and compassionate flesh of M and Katie. What lovely kids to eat alive.

M swings with venus. He's enthralling and plastic, and his sword is dull yellow chalk that breaks with every blow and never stops growing, gumming up the works of the universe. Katie, small and angry and always on fire, is so frustrated; this monster of the week is ready to ruin and her evil plot is to feast on flesh, metaphorically and also literally if she can get it, and Katie can't keep up at all. The beast's hate is so pure and perfect and right and just. Katie's hate is full of righteous anger and doubt and worry and pettiness. She can't decide to lean in her anger or cleanse herself of it; she's lukewarm, and the beast spits her out after a only chewing a little. If you can't cure, be poison. If you can't be fire, be a rock.

This is gross and annoying, says Katie.

M nods. The beast curses the earth beneath their feet.  M rides them up on a wave of chalk. This sucks, says Katie.  Can we just leave?

M thinks about it. Can we do that? I mean I guess we should fight her while she's there right?

Yeah I guess.

Sorry, I'm being responsible again.

That's right M, you should apologize for being responsible.

I'm really, really sorry.

I was joking, M.

Oh....I um. I was too...

...Now I feel bad.

Sorry.

I think you might need to prepare people if you are going to start telling jokes, M. Like, an inflection in your voice can help, and also

Katie, the beast is back.

Come on, don't interrupt. It's rude. 

Comment /Source

Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Venus 1975: Isabel and M

Isabel drowned M last night; she locked eyes with him, and water began to fill up his lungs and his everything. A small trickle of water ran from the corner of his mouth. Isabel held his chin steady, so he wouldn't accidentally look away, or slip out of the comfortable art deco chair in her parent's living room they were sharing. Isabel was worried but not too worried. M was full of water and it was his idea.

Last month they were sparring and Isabel was losing. It's honest to fight with your hands, because it's fair, if fair means you're faster and stronger, which M technically is, and Isabel definitely is not. She couldn't hit him, which felt beyond unfair, he was taking so long fighting with his hands that she gave up and fought him through the eyes and he went down so fast no one else noticed and she won. She'd dreamed of dropping someone one like that for so long, looking into their eyes and inspiring the water in them express itself. There's more than enough water (TL note: lit; "deep," meaning ocean water or in the sense of "deep feelings") in a person to drown them. But it's considered quite gauche to use that against someone in match. Isabel was worried about what the other guys would think about her if she did that to them but against M it was less of a big deal. They had known each other for a long time and also M kinda deserved it. Not for anything specific but in a general sense. He wouldn't say anything about it.

They had a rematch, just the two of them, last weekend. And she did the exact same thing when he came in, so close she could feel his sweat. And he didn't relent either, he held on for the part where his stomach dropped deep and he lurched towards her through it, and she dug in and fought him through the eyes and beat him with the black stone pole that sinks into metal greedily and leaves bruises on skin that convey a heaviness that only slowly leaves and he dropped again.

He asked her to do it, because he's supposed to be the one that never drops no matter what, for her and for Sally and for Katie. She was surprised but also she wasn't. It seemed like the right thing to do. His own water was coming out of his eyes and mouth and nose. The way it works is, you can't just make something in someone else. Isabel works with what's already there.

"Are you okay," she asked, finally. She didn't have the sense he wouldn't know when to stop. But at this point it seemed polite to ask. He nodded.

"Do you want me to stop," she asked. And he nodded yes. So she did. The water stopped coming out of his nose and mouth but not his eyes, not for a while. She held his chin and touched his hair. They did this for a while and then he unpaused the video and they finished watching. He slept on the chair and she slept on the couch to the VHS static.

Comment /Source

Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Venus 1975: A Terrible Thought

Sally had woken up with a terrible thought. She had been talking with someone, or maybe she had been talking with someone else, and then whichever one it was stopped talking and smiled and Sally reached out and held her and then she woke up. So Sally woke up knowing exactly what it would feel like to have that person's hand touching her there and also there, and exactly what it would feel like to touch that person there and also there, and Sally, who had been doing so well, was thinking about hands again.

Jupiter's colors are orange and red. Its verb is "to hold" in the sense of, "to rule." Jupiter personality types are very controlling; in the right mode, controlling of others, and in the left mode, controlling of self. This is the cause of Jupiter's extreme gravity, in the sense that gravity is the energy that governs the distance and power between people. Contemporary feminists have interpreted the red spot of Jupiter as the chaos and irrationality that comes alongside the desire to rule. Sally has read a lot of theory to that effect but also spent her whole life trying to quiet the great red spot of her life and body anyway, which just goes to prove the point that Jupiters don't learn. They hold on tight to what will never be solid in their fingers.

 

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

In Those Days of The Beasts: Venus, 1975

"Please watch your step there Sally! Am I climbing too fast for you? Just say the word!"

"Ah, no, I think I'm getting the hang of it!"

Sally lies twice to the flight attendant. But that's not all Sally's good at; she has the best grades in her class, she is a starter on whatever team has the most pressing need for a woman of sports, and is unfailing as a leader for her peers. That's why she's heading to Venus, after all, in this tube with narrow corridors where it's easy to get a concussion if you're not especially good at being aware of your body.  

"Oh my god! Are you alright dear?"

The flight attendant who has taken such a shine to Sally is concerned but Sally says not to worry, she bumps her head into things all the time and probably her large and unnecessary military jacket or luggage caught on something. Responding immediately with reassurance while her head is swimming is another of her talents. She thinks about hands holding her head, gently rocking against her temples. So gentle, then she kills the thought. Neither Sally nor the flight attendant spends more than a second thinking about what's implied in "bumps her head into things all the time" but that's part of the list of things Sally's so bad at which are: remembering due dates, remembering where her head is, remembering to make her flight on time, premeditating what comes out of her mouth, using makeup, having a sharper than vague sense of whether or not she's being flirted with, and keeping unwelcome thoughts out of her head.

This is also why she's heading to Venus.  

"I'm glad you made it, we wouldn't have a full flight without you. Almost no one goes in the summer."

"It's supposed to be very mild this year. The forecast said it's likely almost no one will die."

"How lovely! Here's your seat."

Sally is seated in layer 7, near the top. The layer has twelve seats, arranged in a circle, big and soft and firmly bolted to the walls. One of them is reserved for Sally. One of them is occupied by M, who is sitting with his legs crossed, taking up as little space as a little thing like he can in a mostly empty room. He's curled over a book; maybe he's trying to be inconspicuous, or maybe he is embarrassed and trying to hide it. Sally sets her bag in the seat next to her and pulls her legs onto the chair and rests her chin on her knees. She is also bad at posture. But she is good at being comfortable. She likes the security of holding her whole body. She had a bad dream this morning and is allowing herself to feel less guilty about making a childish impression. She thinks about hand on her shoulders. She snaps the hair tie around her wrist. While it stings she smiles pleasantly at Katie.

Katie, annoyed, says something hello-like in Sally's direction, and Sally says something much more sincere back. Katie is small but is taking up as much space as possible, trying to get something done before takeoff that the world can probably wait for but she cannot. Katie always seems like she might be on the verge of breaking something, the way she leans into her chair, bends the spines of her books, bends the pencil between her fingers. Katie is very strong. She spends a lot of time on her body. It didn't come naturally to her.

With all this space, Isabel is sitting next to M, holding one of his books and being mercilessly fashionable while watching Katie like she's in-flight entertainment. Isabel looks too perfect to be here but that's why she's here. Maybe she is bullying M? But he never seems to mind. That could mean all sorts of things. Sally thinks there's something tryhard about the way that Isabel is cruel. There's something lukewarm in it.

There's a perfect balance of usefulness and liability to the young for which Venus is the most perfect solution.

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: That Ancient Storm, Sleepy Dusk Sarah

Sarah is compressing some devil into a speck, cupping her hands like she’s holding something small, and well, it sure is now. This devil’s name was she forgets now, which I guess is the point? It’s a red point of light now, surrounded by the ancient storm Sarah brought. The empty office trembles under the quiet thunder of the pale yellow-orange clouds and dimming red mote. The storm was inside of Sarah. She brings it with her everywhere. It tosses things into place. It seizes and won’t let go. It batters until you cry out. It leaves bruises and welts. It flings you in the sky for the world to see. It holds Sarah by the jaw and brings you to your knees. It’s that kind of storm. It was raging before the world was young.

Sarah cleans up the mess. It’s only polite. She’s hunting Mars again, which is Marie’s job, and not hers at all, but she’s bored and feeling worried lately. So she’s procrastinating and poaching. Politely though. If Marie catches her they’ll fight and it’ll be great. If Sarah’s lucky, she might even lose. Winning is great. Losing is great. As much as possible of either. Like a storm where so much happens and at the end the is quiet and mysterious, asking what it was all for.

Sarah is also poaching on Nico, but Marie and everyone knows it’s open season on her.

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: A Grove Against The World and The Boiling, Roiling Girls—Devils of Mars

Nico and Marie and The Boys go to mars. This must be the bedlam of its surface, arcing ferns yearning for the sky and plundering the earth with their roots. The deep red that thrives on life until it’s all spent away. They hack at the surface and the ferns writhe in excitement. It’s a fight they came looking for, turning the sky red and stirring the earth into dust.

Amongst A Grove Against The World the girls are boiling and roiling, thick and sweet and salty like oil, like tar, like honey and sweat. They churn in waves together and crash against the Scapegoats, battering Nico until she feels drunk and crazy like she is. But she’s like a stone. But she’s like a fog. They rock her but they can’t get to her. Marie pins one down, drives her daggers through its hands, roars into its face. She’s hotter than them, and she will turn them into mist, boil them into the atmosphere. The Boys dance. The grove quakes. It’ll be a long afternoon.

 

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: Nico And The Boys

Nico’s been wound very tightly lately. Her head hurts. So she’s drinking in the middle of the day. She doesn’t sulk, she just looks faraway. Marie doesn’t try to get her to talk. That’s fine. Nico is happy not bothering her. But also a little jealous. She doesn’t know what to make of The Boys.

The wood seats are soft and warm. There’s an air of slightly stick dampness to them, the sweat and the sunlight from outside is seeping in the wood and also Marie and Nico and the boys. The moisture comes pouring out of everything in Yerba Buena, and they’re finally running out. Soon they’ll be no water left to quench this thirst. What fun venus will have then.

Nico drinks and drapes herself over Marie. Maybe she likes The Boys. She loves that none of her life’s pathetic drama registers for them. They’re loud and clever. They hate delightfully. They love tearfully. They’re a constant riot. They don’t let anyone but the ones in front of them have a moment of piece. They’re like being in the eye of a constant storm she takes no responsibility. Nico can say something quiet and dry twice an hour and they holler with laughter. They fill the vast space of Nico’s annoyance with mockery of everything that’s making her mad. She loves that everyone else in the bar hates them. She’s thriving on the way they piss off the world. Seeing their smugness melt into disgust is so validating. They don’t deserve the right to look at us with pity, and The Boys know it. To The Boys, cheers Nico, and everyone howls with her.

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: Breakfast In Gold

Nico and Marie go to Red Honey. Red Honey is popular in Yerba Buena; they take it from red bees that float their hives in local lakes and pollinate water lilies exclusively. The honey is actually gold or light blue, but they add spices to it; Marie and Nico always go to this place because it’s the hottest here. Nico likes it best over a cornmeal jalapeño biscuit. She likes poached eggs and a hash or something; this time, she got the one with sweet potatoes and carrots and beets and spinach and bacon, they roasted it all with rosemary and pink salt until it was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. Nico likes foods that crunch, and also foods that melt. Marie loves sweet things; she got the banana-nut and orange pancakes. The oranges are almost yellow and equally sweet and sour. The bananas were used to candy the walnuts. 

All this stuff just grows here like it’s the simplest thing in the world to live.

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: Dawn In The Gold Country

Nico feels like the most wonderful ruin. She’s getting everything the devils get from Marie and more, plus she gets to wake up at noon after the fog has burned off and Marie’s apartment is windows wide open with sunlight and jasmine. Marie lives in a horde but her apartment has a perfect view and she looks directly over the best neighborhood to eat, which is good because Marie never cooks and Nico’s always like “in your dreams Marie.” Nico’s a woman who sticks to the dignity she can find, okay?

So they go out. Nico nearly topples trying to stand up and again when she tries walking down the stairs so Marie carries her like a princess down the flight without even asking. Nico scowls and tries to stand up herself but Marie just laughs which is, what a irrepressible presumptive jerk? Also is that not the super hottest possible thing? Fuck Marie.

It’s nice to get a chance to give up on being taken seriously. It’s almost all Nico worries about, so not having to care is such as refreshing change of pace. Do they think I’m stupid? Are they humoring me? Do they just pretend to think I’m interesting because they want to drink me up as much as I’ll let them? Well no worrying about that with Marie. Marie doesn’t give a shit about Nico. Marie’s insatiable but she never asks for the parts of Nico that are off limits. Maybe hating each other a little in a fun way is the secret of a good relationship. This is obviously a bad relationship, so that is probably not true. Still, they are having fun. They’re going to hunt this afternoon, and have breakfast now, and Nico hasn’t been this happy in a while. Nico thinks about Ginette for a moment. Then she thinks about her for the whole walk to brunch. Maybe she’s doing something wrong.

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: When Marie Was Young

When Marie was small, she wanted to be small. She took up a lot of space and she didn’t want to take up any space at all. She tried to not work out. She tried not to eat so much. She even got a mean jealous boyfriend to make her feel small. “I need to be careful. If I more too fast, if I’m not gentle enough, I’ll ruin everything. I should be slow and caring. It just takes a moment to lose all of it.” She’d think things like that all the time. She carefully made a world that would not survive her touching it, thinking every day about exactly the things she shouldn’t say that would instantly destroy everything, until the morning she, for no reason at all, said it.

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: Smoldering Sky Marie

A kingly tussled crown of short dusk-pink hair above Marie’s stupidly smug smile, oh what a jerk, and she’s strong and tall too, wearing leather jackets that look like they’re going to rip off her with back patches she made herself of botanical illustrations because her favorite thing after fighting is drawing trees. Her hands are bigger than Nico’s which is Nico’s favorite thing about her, that’s literally all Nico has ever wanted, hold your hands in mine, be strong and don’t care about me too much.

Marie starts with Anything-But-Passive Abilities, and they are all extremely lowkey hot, loudly quiet like thunder or the curl of knuckles when she clenches her fist. It’s hot the way things melt and break apart slowly, inevitably, watching a pot until it boils. Marie lets the pink-red heat of her passive passion do the work. ‘Look at me,’ says the prick of heat on your neck; the heat is mild like curiosity but the light of her face is the command, 'you and me babe <3 come on now.’ People have trouble looking and looking away from her and she wears aviators just so she can take them off too close to Nico.

The way her Aggressive Abilities work is kinda like, so there’s a dagger with guards and grip that you hold between your fingers, because you push it through. I think that Marie’s thing is that she likes to be able to pin whatever it is down and then just kind of lazily growl at it until it melts and condenses and she can squeeze it in the form she wants it to be in.

Marie is all Mars.

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: Nico

 Stop  No  (image by Mia Schwartz)

Stop

No

(image by Mia Schwartz)

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: Good Nico, Bad Nico, Professional Devil Hunter Nico, Fake Hoe Nico, Ivory Sun Nico

“But I made myself up. I did it on purpose. I was a thing. And then I was another thing. And another and another. And then I was me. A lot of it was an accident but a lot of it was on purpose. ‘I will be this and not that’ that sort of thing. Because of course right?”

“No, no, I get that too! Haha, it feels so weird. It’s hard. I feel like I must be crazy, so, thanks. I know that feeling, like you wish you could be ice cold and mean, warm and sweet and The Burning Ray Of Light And Air That Sunders Our Enemies And Clears Us The Way. Doesn’t everyone? But when you’re lukewarm it feels like everyone will just spit you out.”

“I kinda just fell into it, I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone? It’s just impossible and I dunno I’m just lucky. I take a lot of selfies and like ten percent of that attention translates into people listening to me? Haha finding a cool pose with a dead devil is kinda morbid and fun so I like it even though I’m fake and a hoe.”

“Um this is terrible but It feels so good to know there’s this ambient longing directed at you? It’s like people’s glances or thirst favs or the way they look at you more than listen to what you say. It’s like having that feeling follow you all the time because venus is just crazy about you. Attention feels good even when you know it’s totally not honest.”

“The devils are so much weaker than us. I can stop it whenever I want.”

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: Nico Smokes and Prays

The last thing in the world Nico should do is smoke these cheap bad cigarettes. But she wants to. Her hips nearly give out when she tries to stand because Marie is the best and also the worst. She turns on the fan and blows the smoke out of the window. Marie is the most content sleeper. She’s got nothing to lose.

The lights of Marie’s computers and charms soak the apartment. Nico loves the way all the lights go out at night. Only small glowing in the Yerba Buena night. Prayerful. Nico folds her hands. 

Oh.

Glory. 

Songs of selves.

We tell the story. 

We are the gods.

We are the story.

We are the stars.

Give us the story. 

The skyline is so beautiful. Nico loves it. She is so happy. She has one of Marie’s blankets around her and she smells nice. She can’t see herself and no one else can see her. So she’s beautiful. So she’s so beautiful.

Comment

Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: Mars In Love

Marie sleeps like a dragon in a bed big enough to fit herself and everything she adores. She snores in her piles of clothes and blankets and possessions and abrasive fragile little creatures who want to share that experience. Marie can hold down Nico with one hand, but when Nico wakes up in the middle of the night Marie’s grip is lose enough to wriggle out of. Marie is so magnanimous with her things. She doesn’t care if she loses her stuff or it gets stolen or broken. After stuff becomes hers it can become whatever else it wants. Marie expresses her greed with a monk-like attunement to the impermanence of the world. Girls and stuff can come and go as they please, and why shouldn’t they? They have the right to. They can do whatever they want. Nothing in the world can make Marie mad and you just have to accept that. You have to accept that she can rule your entire world or not whatever it’s fine.

That’s why getting out of Marie’s bed is a fucking odyssey.

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: Nico’s Lover, Smoldering Sky Marie

Nico is very lucky. But it’s not luck that devils were waiting for Nico as soon as she got off the plane. It’s love. It’s the thing in her that tastes like honeysuckle, something that’s not just for the boys and the girls. 

But it’s also for the boys and the girls, like Marie. Marie gets as much as she wants, because Nico never says stop. Marie can just do whatever and there’s no limit to it, not because Nico has so much to give, but because of what it takes to get anything at all out of her.

Marie’s apartment, when Nico finally drags her bags up the stairs to it, is unbelievably hot in the cool floral spring. It should be impossible to have a smoldering august apartment in march, sweat hanging in the air around the stacks of horror movies and discarded clothes. Marie smiles at Nico as she tries to make space on the floor for her things. Nico starts to say something. Marie lets her, and climbs up from the couch. She touches Nico’s shoulder. Nico forgets what she’s saying. Marie touch Nico’s shoulder the same way she holds her throat, the same way she reaches in Nico’s chest and messes her insides up. 

Nico looks at Marie’s hand like if she tries hard enough she can this aggression as annoying and obnoxious as it should be. It doesn’t work at all.

Marie does whatever she wants. 

Comment

Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: Nico Enjoys The Drop Rate

Nico examines the corpse of the devil. It’s definitely whatever it is that devils do instead of die.

You might be thinking that Nico is very lucky or unlucky for finding a devil within an hour of getting off her plane but luck has nothing to do with it. Luck has a lot to do with what happens now, and the luck will be bad because most of its antlers were already gone. Nico gently brushes the chalky, dusty body off of what remains of them anyway. The root is what is most important.

They are quite deep, which might be good. She has plenty and will probably sell it. This devil’s horns grow into itself as its other horns grow out; the world gets stuck in venus the more venus gets stuck in it. That’s the way venus wants it, which isn’t good for the world, and it’s even worse for venus. But that’s the way venus wants it. The way venus wants everyone, and the hunters the most, and Nico most of all. venus loves Nico and Nico doesn’t love venus back. That is why Nico is so perfect at this.

Maybe she will get a reading with it or maybe she will just go and hook up with whoever she is staying with.

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: Introducing Gifts Through The Eyes—A Devil of Venus

Our first Devil is an easy one. Nico spots it looking at her from the flat roof of an apartment as her light rail car sails past. Gifts Through The Eyes is a pest most common to more loosely packed, lonelier urban areas. Yerba Buena is too fast and anxious of a longing ecosystem to support the aimless needs of this particular devil of Venus Forest. Nico is less than surprised though. There’s room for all the shades of the yellow of Venus’s gold in Yerba Buena.

Nico gets off on the next stop. It’s a compulsion. She notices the devil and now she has to kill it. She can’t leave it alone. That’s part of their trick, but Nico can’t help herself anymore. It’s a waste of her time if you calculate the time to the energy to the profit, but if that logic could save Nico she wouldn’t have dedicated to venus running down her left thigh. So she goes.

The trees are black green in the night, the ones that know what season it is, as most aren’t from here and haven’t learned there’s no winter; by the time it feels like fall spring is a few weeks away. A tree that’s trying to shed leaves and grow flowers at the same time fills Nico with pity. Humans will find a way to teach it how to properly adapt one day.

Gifts Through The Eyes takes the form of a faraway deer with a yellow smile. Its teeth are long. Its skin is a soft brown stone that feels like wood and comes off in layers. This one’s horns are almost gone, so it’s especially worthless and has done almost all the damage it can do. Nico knows that but she still has to kill it.

The devil is always faraway. There’s no getting close to the devil until it is dead. So Nico is looking for an angle. She’s tricking it into a line between them. It has to put Nico above it and it has to put the devil below, but it must be mostly straight. The vertical most be wide but the horizontal must be narrow.

Nico spots it at the end of an alley. That’s not ideal but it’s probably good enough. She takes out a chain and at the end of the chain is a small weight of the same dull warm ivory. She spins it in the air and catches the streetlight with it until the weight is thick with it and the alley is nearly dark, and then she lets it go, and it sails into the yellow smile, and there’s a thud, and then it’s dead.

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.

Yerba Buena, 2011: The Terrible Fate of Our Heroine

Nico successfully makes her train but 30 minutes in the land of Yerba Buena and she is being forced to eavesdrop on a pedantic man. He is hovering beside her in the subway talking down at a woman in the coldest blue suit she has ever seen, while Nico’s shoulders tense under the weight of her bags. He is explaining to the woman how it is that one should hunt the devil, and the woman is listening, and Nico wants to kill him, not because he’s wrong, but because he’s being such a fucking nerd about it.

Nico hates explaining things, because it’s so easy to make the most beautiful things sound dumb and terrible. There’s an art to making things sound interesting and Nico doesn’t feel like she’s the best person to do it, 

Nico has found that understating the importance of interesting things is the key to making them interesting and important. First, you have to get in the mood of a person that isn’t invested at all in the thing. Cool off and treat what’s precious to you for once as if it wasn’t precious. This will give you a new perspective on the thing, and maybe life if you’re not used to it. Nico had a particular sort of religious upbringing so the idea that she and everything she cares about doesn’t matter is not unfamiliar to her.

Nico’s summary for hunting the devil"

1. It’s more boring than you might think, but it’s not boring.

2. The devil is weak, and humans are strong.

3. The devil is tricky, but humans can be trickier.

4. It’s hard until you know the trick, and easy when you do.

5. Except sometimes it turns out you never knew the trick.

And that’s why people still die sometimes, is how she’d finish. “How awful.” Yeah it’s awful but don’t worry [laughs] people are a lot more dangerous. Everyone has a good laugh about that.

This dude, though, is starting at the beginning and dumping lore on so poor woman and Nico feel like she might need to stop him. Then Nico feels terrible. She should be bigger than that. Maybe Nico is wrong and she’s having a great time listening and Nico just knows too much and has heard the same shit too many times for it to not automatically make her angry. She thinks she needs to be more generous.

She’s wrong though, because the lady in the cold cold business suit has been at it longer than any of them and is trying to see how high he can hang himself if she gives him enough rope.

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Aevee Bee

Aevee Bee is a flannel vaporwave queer and the editor of ZEAL, an online micro zine with cool art and games coverage of overlooked games from exciting new writers and artists. She runs an extremely self-indulgent twitter account and tumblr, contributes regularly to Paste magazine, and freelances in the odd corners of the web. Mammon Machine is her horrifying aesthetic.