i got my isbn today for the book. 8 months to go. my mom and i were talking about what the next steps are. i was eating trail mix, standing on one foot, phone tucked into my ear.
"yeah," i said. "the problem is that tumblr as a market is like, not something that can be studied." there's this weird wave of nostalgia and affection for this place that came up over me: how lovely we avoid consumerism. okay, it sucks as a creator. but also? keep stickin' it to 'em.
my mother made the sound at the back of her throat that i also make, the one that means i've got an idea. "you should figure out some kind of reward for presale amounts. maybe you give out poems or a mug or a signed book or something. would your followers like that?" my mother is sweet, and kind, and i have no idea how to explain on this website you can buy someone crabs.
i put more m&ms down the hatch. i had to speak through peanuts and almonds. "if it passes 25 thousand i will print the book out in its entirety and eat it live on camera."
"oh god. no, you don't have to do that." she was anguished. "just tell them that you'd love them to read it, and that they've inspired you to write. you got started on that site, and they helped you keep going. raquel, you love these people. the community? you talk all the time about the other writers and artists and whatever else. tell them that you're hoping for their support, they'll come through."
"no," i assured her. i discovered i had dropped an m&m, but an ant had already found it, so it belonged to him now. i will let his little life have a surprise blue treasure in it, too. "i'm gonna fuckin' eat the book."
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but if red robin had tapetum lucidum?
sketch/doodle dump, v mild nsft
i was having a mid-wip crisis so i drew tim in club fits to console myself
lighting experiment w dickie
tims
i think a cat wouldve fixed him post botc (lol probably not but probs wouldve helped)
wont stop putting tim in nightwing merch o7
bb tim in a bunny onesie, dick head shot then yennefer, tim and an oc
bb dickie, sketch of dilf dick
for the folks who liked tim in latex lol, these exist (i might clean them up eventually but eh):
a wip im trynna muster up the energy to work on
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"girls support girls-" okay but are you normal about queer women? are you normal about BIWOC? are you normal about disabled women? are you normal about autistic women? are you normal about fat women? alternative women? unattractive women? are you normal about women who choose not to shave their legs and armpits and faces? are you normal about butches and tomboys and masculine women? are you normal about trans women? are you normal about trans men? are you normal about nonbinary folk and people who lie outside the gender binary or renounce gender all together? are you normal about women who absolutely despise and detest the latest trends? are you normal about weird women who unsettle you with their interests? are you normal about women who don't wear makeup, who will never wear makeup, who openly dislike makeup and the makeup industry?
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Today we are devastated. Both my betrothed and I are just having too much of an allergic reaction to Wyvern to keep him. Neither of us have been allergic to dogs before and we thought his kennel miasma was the problem. Even after a bath and hardcore cleaning bouts our throats are both swelling up around him several days later. Even if we get allergy shots it could be months to see relief and we can’t go on like this.
We both just wanted a buddy, and he’s gonna be such a good dog, but he can’t be our dog. My betrothed is gonna call out tomorrow so we have a full day together with him before we have to surrender him on Tuesday. We wanted to look for his new home ourselves but the shelter wanted him back. I know he’ll probably be there like a day before he gets snapped up, he’s so precious.
We had a week with him and there was ups and downs but god we fell in love. We left him with better manners than we found him. He gave me such a gift in recognizing that I can do a lot more than I thought I was capable of. I know he’ll find a good home but god I wish it were ours.
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