The Existence Of Ghost Hunt UK Implies The Existence Of Ghost Hunt (insert Country Here). Everyone In

I’ve hit this fun little patch of dopamine with making posters for thing, so here’s a couple I’ve made so far. I have some more, but they’re for a project so I’ll need to ask if I can post them here first, but for now enjoy these

Apparently making posters for a fake institute meant I have to make like 50 for different things

“Public libraries are such important, lovely places!” Yes but do you GO there. Do you STUDY there. Do you meet friends and get coffee there. Do you borrow the FREE, ZERO SUBSCRIPTION, ZERO TRACKING books, audiobooks, ebooks, and films. Have you checked out their events and schemes. Do you sign up for the low cost courses in ASL or knitting or programming or writing your CV that they probably run. Do you know they probably have myriad of schemes to help low income families. Do you hire their low cost rooms if you need them. Have you joined their social groups. Do you use the FREE COMPUTERS. Do you even know what your library is trying to offer you. Listen, the library shouldn’t just exist for you as a nice idea. That’s why more libraries shut every year

happy lunar new year!! 🎉

i meant to write this up in november but so many things have happened in between… i just wanted to express my gratitude and highlight some wonderful praise that If You'll Have Me has received. i still can't believe it's actually a book! a physical thing i can hold! thank you everyone who has reviewed IYHM or left me kind words upon reading. it means so much, more than i can even say.

thank you especially to the librarians and independent booksellers who champion these stories! i'm overcome with joy every time i see IYHM pictured in a library, and i'm so honored to have it featured on the Kids' Indie Next list as well as BCCB's Blue Ribbon Books for 2023.

it can be difficult to make art these days, and i sometimes question the point of creating at all. but the response to IYHM has been a great source of encouragement, and i hope to keep drawing and writing stories no matter what. thank you so much!

wishing you all health, happiness, and community ❤️

He is zen

blood pools under my tongue where the words should be. id kiss you but i wouldnt want to make a mess. petals on my unmade bed, petals in the bathroom, petals in the toilet bowl as I lean over it pulling back my own hair. there’s petals in my hair, too, im sick with it. sick with you. you’re growing in me like a fungus, it’s fucking hard to breathe. take my breath away, i bet you need it more. am i infectious? do you want to be sick with me too, dear? the vines around my organs are long, they can wrap around yours too, if you’d like.

Me when I remember something I said ages ago that was wrong or my values no longer align with

My 90yr old Irish Catholic grandpa doesn’t miss with my gender. He’s never gotten my name wrong, or my pronouns, never even faltered over it.

It’s all so natural too: son, big man, young man…

We’ve never talked about it. He’s the only one who hasn’t pushed for details. He just accepted it and carried on because it’s not a huge deal.

It’s so comforting.

i. angels must think that love is one sided. angels do not understand love like we do, their languages are too dissimilar from our own. how can something with so many eyes only see forward. i think they like that we try, though. i mean, we do send them little gifts. poems and prayers and lonely mornings. they send us back coffee and cupcakes and a little hope under our tongue. in this way, we are both parts of the universe, trying to care for each other.

ii. i tell my dad i think angels are probably made from flowers. there's an angel in charge of every petal. angels are in toast. angels are in gasoline; it's why they burn with holy fire and why motor oil smells so good.

iii. to my dog i am an angel. he tells me he loves me in the language we have both decided is our code - he presses his head against mine, and we both sigh. i cannot love like an animal, which would be better for me - the unname love, without speech.

iv. i think my angel is plucking her feathers from stress. it must be very hard, to love something that is intent on destroying itself.

v. sometimes it is enough to love something, i mean. pressing our fingers to the mirror and breathing our little lives into the fog. today is a hard one, though. maybe tomorrow you and i can be an angel for the bird outside, and watch it take flight. we'll both know we love it, in our own private language - and give our heart into it. i'll be the angel of daybreak. you can be the angel of dawn. we can both collect the spray of the world and spin it into yarn.