#please do give feedback!!

[sjonni33]

MARCH SHOP-UPDATE!! ✨ a bunch of new keychains, a new notepad, stickers, and prints!! 🎣 finally including the yaoi and yuri keyrings hehe and a lovely mother's day card! sale stickers and prints have also been updated, and there's now a few sale keychains!

find my shop HERE! ✏️ find the pre-order HERE 🖍️

[bluesredhoodsideblog]

[prismatoxic]

hey if you write in microsoft word, you should get libre office. it's free, constantly updated, doesn't use AI, and has all the features you're used to. there are lots of user guides and add-ons to make it as easy for you as possible, and it's been around for a long time now.

write in google docs instead? try ellipsus. it's in beta and free to join and use. it's being actively worked on and improved, openly opposes AI, and has all the features you need for a collaborative document tool while also being extremely easy to navigate. it's also made by fans, for fans, with a promise that anything you can write is allowed.

i've used both of these programs extensively and can vouch for them, ellipsus especially. ellipsus currently only imports .md files if you wanna move your stuff over, but gdocs can export those no problem and copy + pasting rich text also works fine. (they're also going to add more formats.) ellipsus also has an import to ao3 function that pastes your document's raw html into a new work window as long as you're logged into ao3. remember how gdocs formats weird in ao3 unless you do some html fuckery to fix it? yeah, this makes that a non-issue.

don't give big corporations your money and/or data. you can always start small, and picking a better program to write fic in is a great place to begin. i promise these programs are both way more worth your time than their mainstream counterparts.

[muffinlance]

Crochet Pattern: Rollable Isopuppy (Giant Isopod Dog)

Crochet an isopuppy! As cuddled in Salvage; story and pattern both by me. Whether you’ve read the story or not, treat yourself to a Very Good Dog. You deserve it. <3

>>> Get the pattern here! <<<

[id: Photos of a crocheted isopuppy (giant isopod dog) from various angles. It has the head and tail of a dog, with isopod legs, shell, and antennae. It is a very Good Boi. End id.]

Also that is now my site for patterns, both sewn and crocheted (Dragon Zuko is also up there), so. Subscribe if you're interested in that. If you're interested in my writing, that's at this site. Also I'm on Ravelry now.

>>> Isopuppy Pattern! <<<

[critterruthlesslydraggedintosea]

In which Odysseus (possibly through his connections to Hermes and other gods) , was gifted (or cursed depending on who one asks) with the ability to gain aspects of any creature with enough divine or magical power that he injures- allowing him to gain strength from his enemies. For most of his life it doesn’t come up. As a child he grows the tail, stripes and gains some of the strength of Athena’s boar (and gets some more bristle like hairs mixed into his natural texture). That boar proves that he was one of the people with divine blood to get that trait (it’s not guaranteed) but for years after that the only enemies he slays are humans or animals that don’t have enough magic in their blood to carry over to him.

In his desperate fight to survive and get home after the Trojan war, his body starts to have to adapt quickly. It doesn’t help him feel like he’s still a man but his wife still loves him.

I don’t know if I will end up writing anything for it because my brain keeps hopping between teh Epic fandom and Submas too fast for me to get much writing done but I made designs for each of his changes/designs. They’re put bellow because he’s just in non-period accurate boxers and for spoilers/scars

First- he’s had boar-like traits since childhood so everyone knows he has this rare but known to exist connection to transformation and is just accepted to have these traits

Then he goes most of his life without change until the cyclops, where the divine essence that chooses when he gets traits counts the blinding of it as enough injury to gain some traits- mostly tusks and red eyes

He doesn’t physically injure anything else until the sirens but once he gets there, he doesn’t do the deed himself for all of them but he hurts a lot of them verrrry badly so he gets a lot of traits from them.

After that, the only traits he gains are a few from when he bites or hits or even draws his tword at Calypso. Whether or not she actually forces herself on him all the way, she is touchy and pressuring and he has instincts honed in war and battle. He can never hurt her too badly so he doesn’t gain much from her but there’s some.

I decided not to include the harpies and other things he might fight before coming into view of Ithaca, deciding that they either didn’t happen or he didn’t directly hurt them like with Charybdis. This means his next traits are from repeatedly stabbing Poseidon with his own trident over and over, getting a lot of traits (and based on my hippocampus centaur Poseidon just to be fun)- though I made the drawing for this one a little post Ithaca saga to show some of the healing :D.

[starry-bi-sky]

you can't choose what stays and what fades away

No light, no light in your bright blue eyes I never knew daylight could be so violent A revelation in the light of day You can't choose what stays and what fades away

(and I'd do anything to make you stay)

------------

Shen Yuan wakes up in a woodshed.

He's in a body that's not quite his own.

(WIP also available on ao3!)

He wakes up in a woodshed.    

No, actually— let him correct himself. Shen Yuan does, indeed, wake up in a woodshed, but it’s not the first thing he realizes upon waking. No, in fact, consciousness comes quite slowly to him; sluggish, his mind attempting to slog through calf-high bogland without exhausting itself. It’s like he’s trying to drag himself to the surface of a river with a weight tied around his ankle, the weight trying desperately to drag him just as quickly down.    

His senses come to him just as slowly, his hearing and touch and smell and taste all trying to claw its way up back into existence till they’re thrumming beneath the thin skin of his body. Yes, it’s very much like trying to wake up from a long, deep sleep where he didn’t get quite enough rest, and he wonders, not for the first time, if he had collapsed again. His mouth is dry, his lips feel crusty, and his eyes are sealed shut by congealed-whatever-mixture of disgusting bodily fluids his eyes are capable of producing.    

Much like breaking free from sleep-paralysis, the moment he’s able to register that he’s actually sensing things again, the strange, spongy film that had been dampening them suddenly crumbles and collapses. Everything rushes forth like water spilling out of an open dam, or maybe like blood from an open scab, and Shen Yuan is abruptly accosted by the world and its sounds and sensations.   

The sun is hitting his eyes in just the right way that he can see the light burning behind his eyelids – which, that can’t be right, his curtains should be drawn, -- and there’s the distinct and gentle sound of wind rustling past, of birds singing softly, and the faint trill of music floating through. Shen Yuan is abruptly imposed with the mental image of a yellow autumn leaf falling delicately onto a still pond, that is how tranquil the world around him sounds.    

It is so, so, incredibly cliche, that he can’t help but open his eyes with a deep rooting incredulity planting itself firmly in the core of his chest. What he expects to see is the ceiling of his bedroom – the ground is hard enough that, for a moment, he thinks he may have fallen asleep on the floor again, or perhaps the hospital, because then that would at least explain better the tranquil sounds in his ears and the sunlight hitting his face.   

(Except he doesn’t smell the familiar sting of septic and cleaner, nor does he hear the beeping of the heart rate monitor beside him, the bustle and soft murmur of nurses outside that are always on the move. There’s no paper thin and slightly scratchy blanket laid over him. And never, not once, has he been subjected to the sounds of an eight-hour tranquil music ASMR while in the hospital.)  

(In fact, his nose feels rather stuffy. The same way it gets when he has a runny nose that just dried or a bloody nose that just finally stopped bleeding. He smells dirt and wood, and— and… is that blood?)    

There’s still crust clinging to his lashes and the corner of his eyes when he opens them, so his vision is immediately blurred in the way only recent consciousness can create. But even then, he can see the roof clearly enough to know that this is neither his bedroom nor the hospital. Shen Yuan sits up while his heart drops right out of his chest, regretting the action immediately as an ache shoots up his arms and staunchly reminds him of a terrible soreness spread throughout his body, one that he was not previously aware of.   

The hiss he makes is involuntary, and the sound rusted and weak, irritating his sore throat while his head pounds behind his eyes like a hammer against a nail. Get your bearings, Shen Yuan, he thinks, vision swimming, sucking in his dessert-dry bottom lip between his teeth and catching it on the incisors. The air does nothing for the inside of his mouth. Where the fuck am I?  

His eyes flick around the crust poking irritably at his corneas, as he tries to soak in where exactly he is. On instinct, his hands come up to flick away the crust obscuring his sight, and when he pulls his fingers away, there’s dark, brown-red buildup crumbling against his skin.   

Wh—? Shen Yuan rubs his eyes again, and realizes there’s a flaking trail coming from his eyes down his cheeks that, when he rubs at it, peels off into what can’t be anything but dried blood. It does nothing for his rapid-beating heart and the sinking shock and horror settling between his ribs. Why has he been bleeding from his eyes?    

He looks up from his hand. That shock and horror rising as he finally, finally takes in his surroundings, while also realizing, his dry tongue running against the back of his teeth and the corner of his mouth, that he was tasting blood too. Faint and stuck against his gums, but there.   

Shen Yuan is surrounded by cut wood, and beneath him he’s sitting on an old, tattered blanket. He’s wearing robes. Robes, worn and slightly dirty, made of a pleasant-to-the-eye green and white fabric, and straight out of every single Xanxia novel, drama, and poster he’s ever read and seen. There’s a simply, if slightly tattered, white fan tucked against his thigh.   

Oh, oh no. His hands fly up to his hair and— yep. Yeah, slightly tangled but undeniably soft and smooth, black hair slips against his fingers like silk and pours over his shoulders and down his back. It’s ten times longer than it should be, ten times longer than he’s used to, and he’s sitting on the ends of it. He releases his hair only so Shen Yuan can slap his hands against his face, automatically picking at the trail of dried blood on both corners of his mouth. His fingers are chilled against his skin, and he ignores it to trace his new (he thinks—the bow of his mouth and the curve of his cheekbones feels achingly familiar) facial features.   

Whose face am I wearing? What book have I entered? Because wasn’t this transmigration one-oh-one? The last thing he remembers was becoming incensed with the ending of Proud Immortal Demon Way and, in the middle of his scathing rant, dying of food poisoning. This was totally transmigration one-oh-one. Dying after reading a book, only to wake up in a place that was not the modern world, only to realize shortly after that they were now in the book they had just read?   

Wait— if he follows that trope, then... Shen Yuan’s heart decides it’s had enough time in his stomach, and leaps right into his throat. His eyes flitter around anxiously. There are bamboo stalks rising out the window, and the music he’s hearing, Shen Yuan realizes belatedly that it’s the sweet plucking of a guqin. Oh no. Don’t tell me--   

Like an activation phrase, a too-loud notification ‘ding!’ goes right off in his ear, resulting in Shen Yuan flinching violently as a too-bright and eye-stinging blue message box seals open into existence right before his eyes.   

[ SYSTEM Successfully Activated! Welcome to the world of Pride Immortal Demon Way! You are ‘Shen Jiu’ -- otherwise known as Shen Qingqiu, thirteen-year-old Disciple of Qing Jing Peak. Currently your actions are restricted due to a frozen OOC function that will eventually be unlocked after you familiarize yourself with the world. ]  

No! Of all the people he could have been transmigrated into, did it have to be the villain? Scum Disciple Shen Qingqiu? No— no, of course it was the villain; wasn’t that also transmigration one-oh-one as well? That the transmigrator was either the hero, the villain, or an NPC related to either one?   

Was this karma? Was the world enacting karmic justice on him for all those late nights spent arguing with internet randos online when he should have been doing something productive with his life? Of all those hours spent countlessly researching mythical beasts and animals and folklore all so he could tear the author a new one for his terrible plot and even worse papapa? Did Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky inflict some kind of curse on him that resulted in him being dragged into his shitty, shitty, stallion novel to act as the same guy who later gets his limbs torn off and pickled by the main protagonist?   

It had to be. That’s exactly what this was. This was karma.   

(Oh god, he’s never going to see his family again, is he? He’d died. He’d died in his world, he knows it. That’s how this always goes. At least he hadn’t been hit by a truck, at least he’d died somewhat originally. But he died. He’d been choking and everything went dark. The fluid filling his lungs, the lack of air, the steady crawl of blackening fuzz slowly encircling his vision--)  

(Who will find his body? How long will it take? It’d only been a week prior that he’d gotten into a fight with da-ge and the others, and they usually give him space for a while when they do. It’s not like Shen Yuan had any close friends left either--)  

(Will they find him rotting? Will they blame themselves? What will they think?)   

--(...Oh god, who was going to tell Hai-ge--?)--  

Shen Yuan drops his face into his hands, ignoring the throbbing of his skull and the influx of nausea that sloshes from his chest to his stomach as he does. He groans, low and painful, ignoring the sharp sting of his throat it causes. Does it have to be Shen Qingqiu? He asks, and wonders if the SYSTEM needs an audial vocal command or if it would just--   

[ You have been chosen to play Shen Qingqiu, the Scum Villain Disciple! ]   

Annoyance burrows into his throat. That’s... not what he asked. His teeth grind against each other, the stupid message box burning into his eyes. That at least answers that question, though. He won’t have to talk aloud to communicate with the SYSTEM, so at least he won’t look insane for talking to himself in public. Why does it have to be Shen Qingqiu?   

[ Shen Qingqiu plays a vital role in Pride Immortal Demon Way! You have been chosen to take on his role as the Scum Villain Disciple. ]   

What vital role!? Shen Qingqiu, sure, had a role in the beginning of the book as the disciple who did nothing but cause a ruckus and trouble on Qing Jing Peak when the protagonist’s back was turned; trying to drag Peak Lord Luo Binghe’s precious name through the mud while inciting what was basically tyranny by clawing his way up to a Head Disciple position through being a green tea bitch. He then went and used that power to abuse and bully the younger disciples when the adults weren’t looking.  

He only got away with it for so long because Luo Binghe was so busy with important missions and night hunts and the sweeping-of-peerless-beauties off their feet off the peak, that when he was on Qing Jing, it wasn’t long enough to realize just who was behind the disruption. And Shen Qingqiu was sneaky about it, so it took even longer. 

Only coming to a head at the Immortal Cultivation Conference when demons attacked and it all came to light like a hellish volcano, resulting in Shen Qingqiu not only finding out about Luo Binghe’s status as a half-heavenly demon, but also him being pushed into the Endless Abyss. He re-emerges half a decade later, brimming with demonic cultivation and a half-crazed lust for power and vengeance — revenge that ends up failing because he’s going up against the powerful protagonist.  

He causes a handful of actual problems before Luo Binghe finally has enough, and in the end, Shen Qingqiu ends up with his non-vital limbs cut off and stuffed inside a jar like a human pickle. A horrifying and befitting ending for any villain and antagonist of the main character.  

That is to say, nothing about him is actually vital. He was, for all intents and purposes, pretty much a low-tier cannon fodder villain meant to boost up and accentuate the protagonist’s abilities in the beginning of the book. A way to introduce the audience to the might and intelligence of the main character and their problem-solving skills when there is a ‘mysterious figure’ going around besmirching his name.  

Which... may just work in his favor, actually. Shen Qingqiu ended up with the fate he got because he went against the protagonist, a big no-no in practically every trashy novel. So, solution so Shen Yuan doesn’t end up a human stick? Don’t get in the protagonist’s way.  

That annoying ‘ding!’ rings in his ear, causing yet another flinch out of Shen Yuan as a notification unapologetically forms in front of him.  

[ WARNING: OOC! Host’s refusal to stay in character will result in automatic point deductions. If Host’s point score gets too low, SYSTEM will automatically mete out punishment. ] 

Of course it wasn’t that easy. Of course not, because why would it be easy? Of course there was a point system, this was a SYSTEM after all. Of course he couldn’t just avoid the villain’s fate, because that’d be too easy. His annoyance simmers out across the plane of his chest, and he decidedly ignores the faint tremor in his arms and the pulsing beat of his heart as he picks himself up off the ground and stands.  

His legs, much like his arms, tremble, and his head swims. He pushes through it, ignoring the ill-feeling of fear making itself home in the pit of his stomach. He should ask what those punishments are; what they’ll look like. He should ask about the point system, about how to increase his point score, about all the functions in the SYSTEM and what he has available, and what he does not.  

He should ask how old he is – because he’s much smaller than his old adult self had been; probably child-sized? -- and where he is in the book. What year is it, how long until the Immortal Cultivators Conference. Just when is he? 

Shen Yuan reaches out to grip onto a particularly towering stack of firewood, careful not to knock it or himself over. It feels like physical therapy all over again. Granted, a primitive, unsupervised, cobbled-together version of physical therapy, but physical therapy, nonetheless.  

His foot kicks against the fan, he’d frankly forgotten about that, and it slides off the blanket and across the dirt. His fingers twitch to grab it, something possessive and uncomfortably vulnerable rearing in his lungs – ah, an instinctive emotion from the original goods then? He’s heard of that in other transmigration stories he’s read, the novels failed to mention the full extent of how strange it felt.  

(It felt so eerily natural to want to pick it up. Of course he’d be upset about kicking it, and the unhappiness of dirtying it slots itself against him like second nature. How strange. How creepy.)  

Instead of asking any of that though, Shen Yuan turns his bitter mind inwards to the SYSTEM and asks, perhaps, the most important question of them all; Why did you bring me here if you were just going to kill me again?   

Isn’t that unnecessarily cruel?  

[ Host has been brought to Pride Immortal Demon Way because it is our sincere hope that Host can transform this stupid work into a magnificent, high-quality, first-rate classic! As part of the welcoming package, and to help ease the transition, a few things have been left in Host’s inventory! We hope you enjoy your time in Pride Immortal Demon Way! ]  

To change-- 

To change--?  

To CHANGE--?  

Indignancy surges itself from the tips of Shen Yuan’s fingers to the crown of his head, anger not unlike every single time Airplane threw away an interesting plot point for sex fuzzes out his vision and turns his pounding headache into a full-fledged migraine. His grip on the firewood tightens, and he can feel the rough and textured bark digging into his skin. 

His mouth curls inward, the cracked skin splitting down the middle of his bottom lip as Shen Yuan threatens to snarl at the SYSTEM. How the fuck am I supposed to change the plot if I can’t even change the way my character acts!  

[ Reminder to Host: The OOC Function is frozen, but not permanent. Once Host has become properly settled in and completed the tutorial will he be able to unlock it. ]  

Fine, fine! He has half a mind to unload a string of curses at the SYSTEM, because apparently its rules were as stupid as the author who made this world. Shen Yuan refrains; he doesn’t know how sentient the thing is, and upsetting it right now when he has no idea when he is – nor does he know a thing about the point system -- would only be detrimental for him in the long run. 

Instead, he lets loose a groan from his throat that could be more accurately compared to as a growl. With his one free hand, Shen Yuan drags his palm down his face, and then loops it back up to comb it through his hair. ...His hair that is much longer than it used to be, and which is snaggled with little knots and tangles that he’ll have to get out.  

He hits the first knot and immediately withdraws his fingers, freeing up a few strands of ink black hair while he’s at it. With a quick wrist shake, the strands fall to the floor and Shen Yuan leans the rest of his weight against the log pile. Some of his anger cools down until it’s nothing more than boiled water gone cold, and he sighs out through a clogged-up nose until there’s nothing more than a quiet pressure of unease curled around his shoulders.  

There’s really not much he does know about how Shen Qingqiu acts – after all, he put up a responsible and dutiful disciple front when he was in the presence of Luo Binghe, and was only then revealed to be a scumbag later down the line. Which only got backed up with secondhand accounts of the other Qing Jing Peak disciples.  

He didn’t show up often either, since most of the time Luo Binghe was off the peak. Nobody wants to read about a powerful peak lord being a teacher after all. Many more interesting things in the world around him than his students.  

SYSTEM, how old am I? He must be pretty young if he bases it off how small he is – although, Shen Qingqiu didn’t have much of a description in the first place. He was only described as having skin as white as jade, with glossy black hair and a noble air surrounding him. Height, eyes, and finer details like that were left unmentioned. Why did I wake up in a woodshed? What time is it? 

[ Host is currently thirteen years old! Last night Shen Qingqiu experienced a severe Qi Deviation after having an altercation with the Head Disciple. It is early morning; the other disciples will be getting breakfast. ] 

That doesn’t explain why he was in a woodshed. But at this point, Shen Yuan was starting to believe that he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of every question he asks. That does explain the blood in his mouth and crusted on his face – and the soreness and exhaustion currently wrought through his body, though.  

In a rapid set of blinks and a little bit of mental fiddling, the message notifications disappear out of his sight and the rest of his senses begin to filter back in, the SYSTEM seeming content to disappear into the back of his mind – which, wow, feels just as weird as the original goods’ instincts from earlier. 

More of his own strength had returned, enough that Shen Yuan feels comfortable with pushing himself off the firewood stack and standing on his own. Making sure that his legs won’t collapse under the weight of his own body, he takes a tentative step forward and drops his gaze down to the little white fan sitting on the ground.  

...The idea of leaving without it returns that discomforting, vulnerable feeling from earlier, as if he had walked out without a shirt on. The hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up on its own with unease. Shen Qingqiu was mentioned to hide his face behind a fan in every appearance he made, it must be the original goods’ emotions he’s feeling then. Again.  

He leans down, his core trembling just a little, and plucks it right off the ground. The grooves of the wood fit against his fingers perfectly, hinting at weeks, if not years, of use and the oils of his hands wearing it down. He beats the side of the fan against his leg lightly, ignoring the bruising-aches it shoots up his thigh, and brushes off the dirt clinging to it.  

Without thinking, Shen Qingqiu flicks it open and flutters it about for a few quick beats. The unnerving, skin-crawling sensation marking across his spine settles down, and he snaps the fan shut before reaching for the door.  

[ OOC: Host should make himself look presentable before being seen in public. Failure to do so will result in immediate point deduction. ] 

Shen Qingqiu grits his teeth again, there’s nothing in here but dirt and wood, how am I supposed to do that? It’s not like he had the whole layout of Qing Jing Peak memorized; Luo Binghe was barely on so where everything was, wasn’t important. Is there some kind of bathhouse somewhere?  

Which, if there was, he wasn’t planning on using until it was entirely empty – the mere thought of it returned that gross, uncomfortable skin-crawling discomfort. He’ll shower at night, thank you, repressing a shudder at the horrifying idea of someone potentially walking in on him.  

[ OOC: Shen Qingqiu would never bathe with the threat of other disciples around. There is a nearby creek that Host can clean himself up at. ]  

That’s really not much better.  But, so long as he isn’t undressing in public, he can probably just... wash the dirt off and get his hair damp enough to detangle it. If Shen Qingqiu was sleeping in here, then he probably has a change of clothes somewhere around here, right? He should look around for any hidden bags before leaving.  

He finds a small qiankun pouch tucked safely between a set of wood logs near the blanket, and inside it is a clean set of robes for him to change into, which, perfect! The robes he was wearing right now weren’t terribly dirty, but there were a few dirt spots visible enough that Shen Qingqiu was sure that he’d probably get a point deduction out of it, or a scolding from senior disciples.  

(Does Shen Qingqiu sleep in the woodshed often? Shouldn’t he be in the dormitories?)  

He plucks the bag out of its little hidey-hole, giving it a place on his belt, along with his newly acquired fan, and turns towards the door. Shen Qingqiu crosses the room in the span of a few large steps, and just as he’s about to curl his hand around the handle, he... pauses.  

It’s only for a split second, a moment of hesitation, of personal confirmation that, once he opens this door, there will be no going back. Not that there was since he opened his eyes, but, it would cement it.  

Shen Qingqiu breathes in a shaky breath, and then opens the door to the rising sun.

[crovvrr]

Fresh!sans Alt outfit and darkworld fit

this is totally not for my passion project

Fresh!Sans by @loverofpiggies

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 1: Dread on Arrival

(Part 2)

[itskaist]

i literally had this post already drafted and was dragging my feet whether to send it or not; and then @reapersmarch tagged me for a wip so fuck it we ball

wouldst anybody perchance be interested in an fhr code chart like this? 👉👈

[arithekitsune]

Hold on I might be cooking

I’m cooking something hold on

[artyfartyliz]

girl help i can't stop drawing catchetfield with glee quotes

[edandstede]

Your writing is a bit on the waffly side but other than that I enjoyed your recent fic :)

There was never gonna be any other answer to this than “fuck off” but you knew that when you sent it, dint ya?

[broeckchen]

People mean so well when they tell me to rediscover the joy in creation by just making stuff for myself.

But real talk? I hate making stuff for myself. Myself hates me and everything I create if it's even slightly off from her VISION (TM).

The bitch is just biased against me, there's no pleasing her. That's no fun.

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[northern-passage]

i've been thinking a lot about the word "representation" and what it means and how it's changed over the last few years, particularly when it comes to the writing/publishing landscape but also in movies and tv shows… and i really don't like it anymore. to be clear, of course i think it's important to have diversity in your work, i'm not saying i hate the concept of representation. but i do really dislike the way it's used now, and i really just hate the word itself

in a broader sense it's just become a marketing tool. i'm not impressed by any publisher or author who just describes their book by listing all of the minorities/identities the characters represent as if that should be enough. it feels very gross, very exploitative and disingenuous. it also really bothers me because it's always marginalized identities- which i understand Why, but it feels very othering to me (and again. Very exploitative as an advertisement). you would never list out "cishet able-bodied white man" as a character description to pat yourself on the back over. so why do it to everyone else? why insinuate that one is the "default" and the other one is "special"? (and when i say this i'm mainly talking about advertisements/marketing. i understand why people would specify about characters in descriptions with the plot, but i don't like to see an ad that's just "this book has gay people!" with nothing else)

which then leads me to my other point, which is that a lot of people treat "representation" as if it's "too hard." like "oh i don't know enough to write about that, i don't have that experience, etc" which is a fair way to feel! however… it's weird that people only say this about writing trans characters or characters of color. i'm writing a story right now with a character who is really into motorcycles. i personally do not know that much about motorcycles, so i researched what parts are what & what different kinds of models there are & what basic bike care looks like. i guarantee Most people will have to google something at some point in their writing process. so what's the problem? it also, again, feels very othering when authors treat certain groups of people as "impossible" to write, "too hard" to understand. they are just.. people. you write them as a person. and then you figure out the rest later.

and i think part of the refusal or fear to write something outside of your experience is because of the way representation is treated as So Special. these characters are So Special that they aren't allowed to be anything other than "representation." they're Not allowed to be characters with complex emotions and interesting motivations, they have to just be Trans or Gay or Disabled or whatever. they're not allowed to be people. which means, at the end of the day, we loop right back around to where we were at the start….

there is bad representation. there are depictions of certain marginalized people that are harmful and that are damaging, i'm not trying to minimize that or argue against it at all, in fact we should all be mindful of that while writing and reading. but i also think it's possible to swing too far in the opposite direction as well and put certain groups of people on a pedestal and not allow them to do anything at all but be Perfect Representation, if that makes sense.

[hana-bobo-finch]

tis here!! My stupid little beta pdbc comic!! UHHHHH

additional ramblings because I don’t know how to stop yapping:

I know the ending is extremely abrupt but honestly? I can’t even lie I think it’s funnier and somehow more in character that way. There is no way in hell he’d question what just happened he’d just lay on the floor and say “alas!” As if that is in any way is a proper response to what just happened. So no apologies for that, I genuinely think the ending is amazing and won’t hear anything else. Alas.

I WAS REALLY SCREWED OVER WITH THE TEN IMAGE MOBILE LIMIT SO THE PACING IS VERY IFFY!! That alongside the fact I wanted to get this out as quickly as possible to gauge opinions and such—therefore making this much less detailed than I’d like to have made it, yes that’s my own fault I know—means that I couldn’t properly show what the briar zome is like (HEARTBREAKING). It’s a lot more spacious and unending than what’s shown here. In this it only looks like you’re there for a few minutes but experiences there can last up to a week. There are also a lot more thorns and spiked vines, it’s just that, like I said, I wanted to get this posted quickly and coloring in all of those spikes probably took more time than some of the drawings themselves. Had I made this as accurate to canon as possible, it would be much more visually cluttered. The briar zome is VERY hard to traverse because almost everything is covered in thorns (hence the name). Also worth noting that although it’s seemingly wintry there, there’s no actual temperature in the briar zome which is why pumpkin daddy is not fucking freezing to death (you have to look DAPPER when you’re illegally eating crabs)

This technically isn’t canon. This is a mishmash of all of the stuff I have about the briar zome, but in canon it’s all much more spread out, e.g. the eyes weren’t discovered until a few trips in when they actually bothered trying to figure out if/where the briar zome ends, in which BAM they found a buncha eyes!! Speaking of the eyes, their official names are Sotes, and where they’re found is called the “Eyes Rink” (GET IT!!! EYES!!! ICE!!! GET I-💥💥💥)

you’re probably wondering what the Miika chimp incident is, which is a fair thing to be wondering, however I will not be elaborating because I think it’s funnier that way. sorry (I am not at all sorry)

AND THE TIIIIIIME yes indeed the time works differently there. As one could. Probably guess by the wack-ass watch positions. The briar zome does in fact have its own time system that’s displayed differently than most would be used to. Alas, I had to cut that part short because I realized I was quickly running out of pages and I really wanted space to draw some of those beautiful beautiful eyeballs. I has this whole lecture about different types of watch hand designs and their names but that was unfortunately cut for time (ironically)

anyway uh. hope this was somewhat enjoyable? *EXPLODES*