Comicby Parker Washington
PARKER says:“Blu and Amber are two cute alien girls who have lived rent free in my head for years. Now they can take up space in yours! Join them as they find their place on Earth.”
BIOGRAPHIES
HEY, Reader!
Until a couple of weeks ago, this zine didn’t exist.
Well. That’s notentirelytrue. Up until a couple of weeks ago, the heart of this zine existed as something else: a literary magazine run and funded by our public high school. Then a new year came, and with it, a new budget. Suddenly, there wasn’t space for our magazine (or a handful of other arts programs) anymore.
And to that, theMixxedMediateam respectfully says:Fuck that.
We didn’t let it get us down. Instead, it made us CARVE OUR PLACE.
Together we have written, curated, edited, formatted, printed, and bound a collection that follows that theme. And, honestly? We like the place we’ve made for ourselves.
You’re welcome to join us.
—The Editors
Emerson&Mal
CHAPTERFIFTEENASSEMBLY LINE
It was after two p.m. when Mal and Emerson made it to the Haus at 3rd Street, all 1,200-plus pages of what would become the first run ofMixxedMediabalanced on their hips. Mal was sure Emerson would spill her box (pages 6–12) when she leaned behind the counter to snag her mug off its hook.
“I’ll come back for coffee,” Emerson said to the person behind the counter with such intensity it sounded like a threat.
But Emerson didn’t have to come back for coffee, because it was waiting for her in the back room.
Everyonewas waiting in the back room.
Parker and Nylan were there, and Kodi and James, and Stella, sitting by herself at the farthest corner of the table, fingers scrolling across the screen of her phone. Sam was there too, putting the top on a giant carafe of—
“COFFEE!” Emerson squealed. “Oh, bless you, Sam. You know, I’ve always said—that Sam. They’re so good.”
“Nice to see you too, Emerson,” Sam said, and they laughed. “When Parker told me you’re putting the zine together today, I figured y’all could use it.”
“It may or may not have been a ploy for free coffee,” Parker confessed.
“All that matters is itworked,” said James, and he stood to join Emerson at the small folding table Sam had set up for their coffee station, crowded with disposable cups, creamers, and almost enough sugar to keep Emerson happy.
“Thanks, Sam,” Mal said as the rest of theMixxedMediastaff swarmed the coffee station. “That’s really cool of you.”
Sam shrugged. “I think it’s cool what you’re doing here, so I’m happy to support. Consider it my Elder Queer duty. Oh, also—I brought you some more goodies. Come here.”
Mal followed Sam to the worktable, where there were now a handful of tools: hard plastic bone folders, very sharp awls with wooden handles, sturdy sewing needles, and some dangerous-looking cutting tools.
“What’s all this?” Mal asked.
“Tools of the trade,” Sam said, smacking the table like it was a used car they were selling. “I’m basically a zine major—I’m doing an Interdisciplinary Studies major that’s technically under the English and gender studies umbrellas, but my focus is on queer literature and specifically on DIY zines in queer history.”
Mal huffed a laugh. “That’s not something you can do at real college.”
“Uh, excuse me,” Sam said, raising a hand to their chest and pretending to be hurt. “Northern Kentucky Universityisreal, and Iamdoing it, so.” They shrugged. “I think it is.”
Mal blinked at Sam. “But what evenisthat?”
