Free My Girl She Did All That Shit But The Fandom Is Mischaracterizing Her For It

Campaign to make The God of Arepo an award winning work and win a literal brick as a trophy for the authors and for Tumblr community as a whole (SUCCEEDED!!!! Update below)

As the artist for one of The God of Arepo comics, my version is up for consideration for the Ignatz Awards for Outstanding Online Comic.

For those of you who don't know the Ignatz is one of the highest industry awards that "recognize outstanding achievements in comics and cartooning by small press creators or creator-owned projects published by larger publishers".

The thing is, winning the award means winning an actual literal brick. Because the mascot is a brick-throwing mouse. So they have to make a bit where the trophy is a brick. Like. Look.

For a long time I thought it was just plain bricks they were handing out, but my friend who won a couple of bricks two years ago had theirs stamped (I saw the bricks in person at their house). So now I am obsessed with the idea of The God of Arepo winning an Ignatz trophy. It will have the honours stamped. On a freaking brick. That's the most Tumblr level meme trophy this comic/story could win (which is also a legit high honour industry award on its own btw don't get me wrong). But wilder than that, the brick allows me to do something. It allows me to smash that break into 5 pieces and ship one of each to the authors plus myself. Writing Prompts, sadoeuphemist, ciiriianan, stu-pot and me will get a piece of clay in recognition for our work with the farmer who built a temple out of stone. The full circle moment.

Imagine the value of this win to the lore of this Tumblr sacred text/folklore. This brick will be smashed and given to the creators, but as a collective folklore, it's also dedicated to all of us on this hellsite too. AWARD WINNING. If The God of Arepo wins I will document the entire process of smashing that brick here.

But we have to make this happen. We need to gather our collective energy and make this campaign work. Please help make The God of Arepo an award-winning story and vote for it in the Outstanding Online Comic category (link). You will need to request a ballot, then submit your vote. I recommend checking out the other nominated comics too. The Ignatz really shortlists good stuff. The voting closes September 8 2023 . LET'S GET THE GOD OF AREPO A BRICK FOR HIS TEMPLE!! LET'S GO!!!! REBLOGS HELP TOO!!

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do you ever think way too much about “He’s a friend. The sort who’d refuse to let you get thrown off a ship by yourself. The sort you’d try to protect, even though I told you it would mean your death.”; “He swims, I swim.” / “He worth that much to you?”; “If I send you away, I lose the last friend I have in the world. Who wins then, Jean? Who’s protected then?”; “The ‘Oh, look, Jean Tannen is lying about betraying his best friend in the whole fucking world to a couple of Verrari cutthroats’ signal!” / “I should’ve known. I should’ve known we didn’t even need it.”; “I can’t name the poison that’s killing your friend. But the one that’s killing you is called hope.”; “You saved me!” / “It’s my turn every couple of years.”; “[...] he found Jean Tannen was already waiting for him, with a cheap gray cloak in his hands. Before Locke could move, Jean flung the cloak around his shoulders.”; “You said you needed optics. […] I lifted some pairs for you.”; “Jean noticed that Locke’s fingers were curled tightly in against his palms, and he carefully eased them apart.”; “Incomprehensible babble.” Jean sat on the edge of the bed and gently pushed Locke’s sweat-slick hair out of his eyes. “I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”; “Jean!” Locke clutched weakly at the lapels of Jean’s coat with his good hand. “I’m sorry, I fucked up. Please don’t stay here and get caught; the blackjackets will be coming, soon. I couldn’t bear to have you taken. Please just leave me. I can’t walk.” / “Idiot, Jean whispered, brushing away hot tears with his good hand. “You won’t have to.”; “I don’t care if you cough up buckets of blood. Buckets I can carry.”; “Jean.” said Locke, “you are a greater friend than I ever could have imagined before I met you; I owe you my life too many times over to count. I would rather be dead myself than lose you. Not just because you’re all I have left.”; “Gods help me, I will never be better off without you.” or are you normal?

America be like "you cant have free healthcare or easy access to disability but you can have a gun"

I went to a psychic, and she told me that I would be totally heartbroken in 14 years. 

I felt so bad about this, I went and got a puppy.

it's because the bear wouldn't kill me just for being a woman. the bear doesn't kill me for fun. the bear can be shouted at, and will leave me alone. the bear won't make a tiktok complaining about how i crossed to the other side of the path when i saw him coming. if a bear kills me, it's just being a bear: it cannot understand logic. it is not acting out of malice - just fear or hunger.

bell hooks once wrote about how porches might be the only outside space left for women - it is still the domain of the house while it is also outside-but-safe. when i am in the woods, i am in the bear's home, and he has a right to defend his property. outside spaces - anywhere at night, certain parks in the day - those are often implicitly "owned" by men. i cannot explain the feeling of knowing when you have entered a man's "territory." you walk into a place and just know you are in their space. you get a sick sense - you're in danger.

the other day a group of about 8 men were fooling around in the woods while i walked my dog. i had to go around, take the extra 3 miles just to avoid them. it's okay, i like walking. this wasn't even a #feminism moment. it was just a tuesday.

what a plain and easy question. only one of the situations is seen as a tragic accident. i would rather die and have a park bench erected in my honor rather than have my family questioned about why they let me, an adult, walk in the woods in the first place when i should really be at home in the kitchen.

i worked in retail and food service. i have had women say and do absolutely heinous and abusive things to me - not because i was a woman, but because i was there, and they were angry. the way men treated me when angry was different - it was because i was a woman. you can always feel the difference, how there's an undertone of i'd hurt you worse if i could get away with it. i keep seeing people try to cite stupid statistics. why is there always a strange rage whenever women agree on things? like men can argue their way out of our lived experiences? it isn't a buzzfeed quiz - which of these traumas are you? 10 super cute ways not to fear strange men.

i have actually (thrice!) seen a bear in the wild, by the way. i died each time, obviously, and am a ghost writing to you. (it was scary but completely and utterly fine). the second encounter was a black bear with her cub. she looked at me like - do we have to do this or are we good? my dog was busy sniffing a bush, completely nonreactive. i felt like i was in a sitcom: feminist poet reacts - does she actually mean she'd choose the bear? my only thought was - she's so beautiful. her paws are massive.

and there's a part of me that feels the rage spinning out in a corner. why do we have to come up with quippy little comments in order to teach men empathy. would you rather die in a car accident or due to a mugging? and would you rather your house burn down due to an electrical fire or due to arson? gee willikers - it's almost like we're human people, and want to risk the accident versus the intention.

i would rather my last thought be oh shit, a bear rather than i'm a person too. why doesn't that matter? why don't you care?

the reason the forgers haven’t discovered each other’s covers yet is because they both have not idea what constitutes a regular person