Keep Moving Forward

You get a Leafy Seadragon

🌟IT'S TIME!!!🌟

A Long Road Home: Volume Two print edition is now open for preorder! Preorders will be open until June 3rd, with books expected to ship in mid July.

Preorders will arrive with a free Calamari sticker!

If you can't wait (or just prefer e-readers), there are also high-resolution digital ebook editions of both Vol. One and Two available right now on Etsy and Ko-fi!

Also: new stickers!! 3x3 vinyl decals of Laudna and Imogen in bloom. 🖤🌼💜

Check them out here.

And finally, I added a bunch of new prints to my INPRNT shop! Mermaids, witches, and unicorns!

his son, at this very moment:

it’s so easy to be cynical and tell the story of a revolution that eats itself or a heroic character who is corrupted by power or a rebel who becomes the thing he once fought against but that wasn’t Thjazi and more importantly that isn’t this story

i am LOVING campaign four so much so far, and i want to get back into the fanart game, so here's some sketches of two of my faves, trying to figure out how i want to draw them!!

Somebody left little plastic Jesus figures all over one of the woodland trails I like to walk. They have big, cartoonish grins, white robes, and brightly colored sashes in a variety of colors. I’ve been picking them out of knotholes and tree-forks for days, dropping them in the recycling bin by the parking lot.

At first, the whole thing just made me very angry. It wasn’t just litter; it was litter that felt like an invasion of my own sacred space with a cheap, mass-produced icon that felt like the sacredness-equivalent of empty calories.

Honestly, it made me furious, my rage directed at a kind of deeply American-feeling religiosity that is sold in packs of 72 for $29.99 (I checked). Religion as cheap, brightly-colored, disposable eyesores littered somewhere quiet and gentle and authentic. Religion that is colorful and easy and leaves a mess behind for somebody who actually gives a damn to clean up.

Perhaps worst of all, I suspected that somebody thought of scattering the little figures everywhere as a moral act.

I’m still not happy about it, but my anger has cooled through many walks and the imaginative empathy that always arises from my long contemplations. I reasoned that it was probably a child (encouraged by adults). I reasoned that I wasn’t always respectful of wild places when I was a kid. I reasoned that there is huge, institutional religious machinery at work that seems designed to shrink participants’ worldviews down to a pinhole.

So, my anger slowly resolved into sadness.

And I’m left hoping that whoever tucked trash all over one of my favorite woodlands meets with some moments of clarity and self-reflection. I hope they consider the real value of plastic sacredness sold in bulk. I hope they consider the usefulness of virtue expressed as litter. I hope they question who they expect to comfort or convert with mass-produced trash that smells of a chemical tang, trash abandoned to block sunlight from a tiny patch of moss or wedged in tree-bark like a pebble in a shoe.

I hope they awaken to the symbolism of dropping something inert and obstructive in a place that otherwise grows and breathes and provides.