Chapter one:

cute, Creepy, Becoming

The convention hall was loud—buzzing with the voices of hundreds of guests meandering through rows of fabricated booths. The hum of tattoo machines echoed in the air, blending with the announcements over the intercom.

“We’re about to start the first panel of the day! Please join us at the main stage to sign up for—”

Jazzy DeLong, sitting at her booth for her first convention as a tattoo artist, tuned the message out. It wasn’t for her. Instead, she looked down at her iPad, where a goofy, wall-eyed axolotl clambered down a set of stairs. It stared up at her—or tried to. She hummed quietly, “There’s an axolotl on the pink stairs…” That TikTok song had been stuck in her head all morning.

This was Day Three of the anime convention, and the experience hadn’t been quite what she expected.

Art, Hustle, and Comparison

She was doing her best—smiling, greeting everyone who passed with a cheerful, “Hello! How are you? Having a good time?” People did stop to flip through her flash tattoo portfolio, filled with original anime-inspired designs, but most of them kept moving.

Her booth partner, Nari, was doing better. Offering cute, internet-familiar designs at a “2 for $100” deal, Nari had a steady flow of clients. Jazzy wasn’t jealous—just reflective. Maybe I should’ve brought more small, quick designs, she thought, watching yet another couple compare her originals to Nari’s accessible flash sheets.

Still, Jazzy felt fired up.

She loved being away from the routine of the studio. She loved the chaos, the costumes, the creativity of the guests. Her favorite cosplay so far? A Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle. Down the hall was a booth with a giant goose plushie and a handmade worm plushie wearing a cowboy hat and a single boot. Even further down was a booth displaying expertly drawn (and extremely NSFW) anime tattoos.

And on the opposite side of the hall?

A six-foot-long Furby.

Looking back at her own table, the realization hit: she was unprepared.

The Path Here Was Never Straight

Jazzy had started tattooing three years prior. Back then, she and her husband, Brian, were working as servers in Northern Virginia when she got the offer she’d been waiting for: an apprenticeship with a family friend.

But there was a catch.

The artist was relocating his business and gave them a choice—move to a tiny town in Georgia, or a tiny town in Southern Utah. Neither option was ideal, but Utah won out. Jazzy had family there, and the studio was already established. So they packed up their lives and moved across the country, into her grandparents’ basement.

Utah was a whirlwind. Her first mentor—once a friend—turned out to be volatile and toxic. Three months in, she quit. Miraculously, she found a new mentor right away: a calm, empowering woman who ran a small, women-owned studio. Jazzy thrived there. She finished her apprenticeship in a year, had a baby, and kept working until—once again—her little family moved, this time to Savannah, Georgia.

From Jazzy Ink to Something More

By now, her tattoo business was known as Jazzy Ink—a name her sweet grandmother had suggested. She rolled with it. Her branding featured an orchid with an eyeball in the center, a motif that had followed her since her SCAD days.

But it wasn’t until the 2025 convention that she realized how much her brand—her identity—needed to evolve.

A Creative Crisis (and ChatGPT)

The Tuesday after the con, she came into the studio, buzzing with caffeine and determination.

She sat down in front of her iPad and sketchbooks and scrolled through her art.

Nothing felt right.

Flipping through page after page of doodles—eyes, faces, vague creatures—she felt a tight knot of confusion.

“I just realized... I haven’t drawn for myself in so long, I’m not even sure what I like to do.”

Rob, the studio manager, looked up from his sketchbook full of calligraphic hearts.

“Ah man, really? But at least you enjoy it all, right?”

“Of course. I never mind drawing for clients or assignments. But… a lot of it doesn’t really feel like me.”

She started over in her sketchbook, trying to pull out favorite pieces. Everything felt like mental spaghetti—tangled, directionless, trying to be someone else.

So, with a wince and a sigh, she pulled out her phone.

She opened ChatGPT.

And she typed:

“I don’t know my style. I like drawing humans and animals, sometimes cute and silly, sometimes creepy. I like mythology, books, anime and cartoons. I like fantasy, horror and poetry. I like sugar-coated gummy worms and pink sparkles—but I also like lace and bones and vampires. I get excited when my art has something dark and twisted about it. But I also like cute things. What is that? What do I call that?”

Some suggestions were cringe. Others sparked ideas. But the process—laying it all out, sorting through the spaghetti—was exactly what she needed.

And Then Came: Fairy Rot

She made mood boards. She dug into old dream journals. She pulled out sketches that had felt like her over the years.

And finally, it clicked:

✨ Fairy Rot ✨

It was her world. A space where pink glitter and sugar met insect legs, buried bones, and bubbling cauldrons.

It was cute, yes. But it was also macabre. Whimsical and strange. Playful and dark. A perfect fusion of her contradictions.

Then came Rotten Reverie, a label for her more narrative, fine art–driven work.

Later, she planned to introduce Milk and Marrow—an identity for her erotic artwork.

She didn’t need it all figured out right away. Building Fairy Rot would be a process.

But for the first time in a long time?

She finally felt like she knew who she was.