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Part 01 – 106

Part 01 – 106 published on 36 Comments on Part 01 – 106

– “on loan” from leo (permanently)
– has a weird soggy spot? does wood go bad?

Thanks so much for your patience, everyone! I wrote a bit on Twitter about what’s been going on, but to summarize — the stress of my workload this month really got to me and tanked my health for a while, which is why I’ve been so inconsistent with updates. But I’m slowly feeling better… especially considering we’re finally at my favorite part of this chapter >;D

Happy holidays!! Wherever you are, I hope you’re safe and warm.

A brief intermission

A brief intermission published on 29 Comments on A brief intermission

[High-res version!!]

Hey, folks! In light of recent events, in lieu of a regular update, I decided to put together something a little more lighthearted. It’s even background-sized!

I wanna talk for just a moment about something. If you’re even reading this webcomic, then it’s probably no secret to you that what happened Tuesday devastated me and my loved ones, and I’m guessing it probably hurt you too. Right now, all the people close to me are sitting in fear. And I could use this space to tell you how scared I am, detail all the ways this can go bad, urge you to fight so hard.

But…

When I was in high school, I was the weird gay kid that nobody liked. My biggest act of defiance was just writing “I’m Gay” on my bag, and then getting too nervous and taking it off the next day. It was right around the time when California had just voted to repeal same-sex marriage, and to 15 year old me, that was the biggest deal in the world. And going to school in Nowhere, Florida, with nothing but miles and miles of farmland around me and having never met a single out gay kid my own age in my entire life, I felt pushed down. I felt helpless to defend myself or campaign for myself. And I also knew that I was the kind of person who couldn’t fight that way, even if she wanted. Meek-voiced and terrified of confrontation, I knew that it wasn’t my fight.

So… I turned inward. Almost worse than outright confronting me, the world around me felt simply apathetic. So every day, in my little notebook, I wrote down tiny fantasies. I wrote down snippets of conversations between characters, ideas for scenes and settings, even one or two drafts of whole stories. I wrote about people who felt the same way I felt. I wrote about gay teens, trans kids, quiet weirdos who tried their best. The worlds they existed in were microcosms: tiny spaces defined not so much by a place in space or time, but by the way the people in them related to each other. I wrote about worlds where that all-pervasive apathy was missing. These fictional characters hugged and kissed and told each other it was all going to be okay, and I knew that it would be — after all, if nowhere else, I was in charge here.

Fantasy was always something I’d been interested in. But until then, I had always been more interested in what I could do rather than what I could feel. There was a purpose to these spaces now. Whether the story was about a cool girl with swords fighting an evil king, or gay high schoolers chilling on a roof, I felt like I was doing something other than just relating a series of events. I wanted to right wrongs. I wanted to stick it to the people who couldn’t care less about me by caring about myself really, really hard.

That was my tiny act of rebellion. I took all the fear and loneliness and apathy, and I tried to spite it all by creating a world where it didn’t exist.

Right now, you’re reading one of those stories. That same thing that drove me years ago still drives me now. I still relate to the world by imagining ways it could be kinder, gentler, queerer. And I’m lucky enough to be able to share those fantasies with you all — and as it turns out, maybe this isn’t such a bad way to fight after all. Because I’m still that meek kid who can’t handle confrontation. And chances are a lot of you are too. But there’s other ways to defy that awful apathy. If you can find a way to reach out and hold on to each other, if you can spread compassion and shared understanding and positivity, you’ll make the safety net all that much stronger for those who are on the front lines.

I make comics because it’s fun, and because it’s how I make a living. But beneath all that, the kernel at the center, has always been a desire to create a refuge where weird queer kids like me can feel, even if just for a moment, like they’re normal, and they belong, and they’re loved.

In the early hours of Wednesday morning, amid all the fear and devastation and panicked tweets, the one thing I felt other than terror was a weird, burning resolution. The same kind of spite I felt back in high school.

I’m gonna make my goofy trans-ass comics harder, louder, and gayer. And no matter what else happens, this space will still be here, and I’ll still be here, every day, for the next four years and beyond.

As long as I’m here, I’m doing what I can to make sure you don’t feel alone the best way I know how.

I love y’all, and please stay safe.

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