Hello! I just discovered your blog and I immediately became captivated by your webcomic, but I'm unsure where to read all of it. I know it's on Webtoons, but I can see it hasn't been updated for a while, and you still post about it.
Are your physical novels just prints of the webcomic? Are they a continuation? Is the story complete? Thanks in advance!
Hi there!
Glad you found me and are enjoying my comic!
It's only on webtoons, and the story is not complete yet! We're 2/3 of the way through right now. It's currently on hiatus, and it's scheduled to come back in about 2 months!
I'll explain why it's been so long if you're curious, but also for my followers who might also be wondering about it under the cut. Sorry, it's pretty much just me complaining haha
I took a month off
I took 2 months to get the books printed
I took a month to prepare my next comic
and I took 2 months to write the rest of the series (I knew the character arcs I wanted, but not the time periods or mysteries!!!)
I've been working on actual episodes since then
I had to take some time off because of some pretty extreme burnout due to the sheer amount of work it was to draw over 800 pages and write 6 complete stories in a year and a half... I was getting sick almost weekly due to the overwork, it was really really bad honestly. I was having to work 60+ hours every week just to keep up...
The nature of the comic itself is also difficult... Each of the arcs is a complete, self contained story which can be read (ideally) without context, and my arcs need to be about 10-13 episodes each... And since I have an exact number of episodes to work with, it's even harder.
It takes a ton of planning and a ton of refinement, and working week to week with no breaks I was forced to put out second or even first drafts, so I just wasn't happy with the work I was doing... And to do that for the rest of the series? I wouldn't be proud of the work I did.
Plus... To be entirely honest, webtoon has treated me quite badly IN MY OPINION... They deprioritized me before I launched (I had to beg for more promotion, I'm not exaggerating), they outright denied me the opportunity to even ask for a raise, I don't make any money on fast pass and they pay me less than my partner makes working at trader joes. My first editor left me completely hanging, my second editor (who I loved) was fired... And they told me I wouldn't get a third season before my first season even finished. So it was just repeatedly completely demoralizing.
I'm sorry it has taken so long, it'll have been 10 months by the time I come back. But I realized... I won't get promotion either way. I won't get more episodes either way. I won't get more money either way. So to finish everything, to make it feel good, to make it something I'm proud of, I chose to take longer to make it better.
I am fully aware I will lose a significant amount of my readership for this and it might genuinely affect my career moving forward. But it's what I had to do! So I'm sticking to my guns on it, and I'm confident long term it'll be worth it. It never could have been this good if I didn't take this much time.
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Could I get a uhhh… *squints at the menu* Jinx burying or cremating Silco’s body?
you have chosen 'veran's interpretation of what a jinx mental breakdown would feel like, featuring dead dad number 3.' this was interesting as hell to write and genuinely challenged me thank u anon!!!
Dead bodies were waste. Big, bloated flesh things. Ugly, useless, so so useless. They took up too much space. In her eyes, in the street, in the inside too, deep in the dark thing that writhed around in untouchable—
Nothing ever stayed dead. Did it?
Living things were a waste too. More than dead things, sometimes. Dead things whispered, living things were big and loud and angry. Living things hit and hurt.
Jinx knows that. Has been that. Is that. The dead has no place. Useless. Like trash. The living always became dead. And lived again, as dead.
Nothing ever stayed dead.
An idiot’s prayer
Her first body was hot and fresh. A mothers face. Father’s disappeared. Gone. Bridge eaten. Her third down the end of a stinking lane, a rotting, a misface. Then her own. Then others. More— forgotten, as if she would—
Corpses weren’t scary. Never. It was normal. She knows what people do with them.
Jinx doesn’t know what to do with Silco’s father’s body. The last body had—burned? Burnt. Shimmer mangled and dead dead dead – her fault, always.
He was in his chair. She’d made it pretty for him, drawings like he liked. The ones she made for him. His paint blood was splashed with it, now. It was prettier. Worse. Neither. She can’t look. Looks anyway.
He was cold, now.
Jinx knows that bodies rot. Flies, maggots, the stench of decay. Seen them in the streets. Made them, dozens. Proud of that, when flesh was warm. Now, now, she—
Fishbones is heavy on her shoulder. It digs into her skin, cold metal. Cold like him. The eyes dead without the crystal. Silco father didn’t have his crystal anymore. Cold, dead, soft— not metal. Maybe—
She picks his body up. It weighs as much as Fishbones. Maybe Fishbones should have been red, like him.
She asks Fishbones. He answers.
At least someone stayed. Mylo hisses in her ears. A bullet shuts him up.
Jinx takes the body from the chair.
There should be a monument. There should be people in witness. No one should see her, her Jinx, no one should know but him, Silco, bigger and better and Zaun—
Vander had one, him in metal spikes, father’s face rendered and big hands around big pipes and what would Silco have when—
Sevika. She would know.
Jinx takes Silco father to the shore.
In the lanes, you burnt your dead. It was space efficient. The first father, the only mother, they were not burnt. Piltover took their corpses from their bridge to be buried in a shallow hole. Vander—she doesn’t—
Silco should be burnt. A true Zaunite.
Jinx Powder doesn’t know how to burn a body.
Useless.
Useless
His body floats on the waves, Jinx walks out with it. Where Powder died, here, in the waters. Where Silco had died. Where father will rest.
It was wrong. Right? What would Violet think of her, hugging a corpse, soaked in his ocean, shimmer mixing with the pollution in an agony wracking her body.
She doesn’t want to let go. Pain was evidence. Pain was a cleanser. How much did it do to her? All the purple purple pain and stupid grinning faces and that fucking woman—
Was she perfect? No, no, or else—
Silco can join his first death. Live and die and live again. Like Jinx joined Powder’s death. Wasn’t that what he wanted?
A face drifting in the tide. What was peace when his face was always a painting of a single thrash of brother given agony. Betrayal. Ringing knoll bell of a new death—
Dead. He was gone. Her fault, always her fault.
Someone is screaming.
Her grip loosens. The tide grabs him with invisible fingers, pulls him away. He should have been in his coat. With a cigar. She should have fixed his hair, done his eye, like he was particular about.
Jinx watches as father’s body disappears into the tide. Not burnt. Not buried. Jinx can’t do anything right. Or— Powder—
Fishbones speaks. Jinx sees her own face disappear with father’s.
Above the dark wash water, Piltover burns.
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