and then, roxy.

i can't stress enough what a joy roxy is to behold in this comic. it runs through his design, his ethos, what he works to bring to fruition. and the joy doesn't fully register until you regard the tapestry of lack from which it must rise.

i looked through the concept sketches, the analysis of a timeline for his sartorial evolution. the visuals underlining the message within the dialoglogs: why bar yourself from the kind of beauty that brings you strength? let the cat out of the bag! i grew up on monster high, my little pony, the salad days of fashion tumblr, dress up games by the hundreds. years later, i confronted the he within me and the 'necessary' trade of one for another.

in the timeline, i recognized the hiding. the diminishment of oneself. the half-steps. and here, in this latest-game thought exercise, i recognized one who overcame that confrontation with the ease of overcoming a building block on the floor. like. the boots! the hair! the silk panty with attached 60 denier hose shorts!!! fuck!!!!

roxy and dirk came up from the empty echo of society and evolved into the maddest scientist and his six million splinter man. they are the babylon boys: the mated monuments to masculinity's last, deadliest crashout. i don't know how long roxy hid in the void, and i don't know how long he hid in plain sight. but in or beyond canon, the hiding is over.

may we all find what we lost in the negative space.