So, thanks to Miss Careless Cat Sybil getting a big ol’ foxtail in her eye, I am now in credit card debt, a place I do not like to be. SO! This is me letting you guys know that I am open for drawing commissions. I will draw whatever you want, within reason. Pricing is as follows:
$5—black and white digital file
$10—color digital file
$15—black and white print
$25—black and white original
If you want something a bit different, like a custom comic, email me the details (asiavou at gmail dot com), and we can work something out. If this isn’t something you really want or can afford right now, you can still help me out by spreading the word.
here is a bit of rambly writing with no regard to proper writing protocol:
hi, i'm a character. you don't know me. you will never know me. this is because i don't exist. i never have, and i never, ever, ever
will. someone else--someone out there--is making me up. Right now. putting words in my mouth whether i like it or not. right now that
person is trying to decide on a name for me. Sally. it's sally. it's always sally, probably. i bet that is their default name. look at that!
cynicism. i've been made to be a cynic. i hate myself. i do? shoot. i guess i am a cynic and i say shoot. anyway, my point here is not to make you sit and watch while i discover myself, because, well, that's not even really what i'm doing. it's hard to discover who you are when each new characteristic IS you. like, i didn't discover that i was a character, i was just made to know it. it was already true. each new thing about me that gets written down is already true, unless stated otherwise, or, i guess, unless thought otherwise. yeah, sometimes you, the reader or whatever, don't get to know everything about the character that the author knows. but that's okay! probably. because, like, you will be making up your own little aspects of this character as you read, and you can't really be wrong, because that's just how it is. everyone sees things differently, even see real people differently. that's a good thing, because otherwise my poor Uncle Rob would've been single forever. Oh, that Uncle Rob. Him and his snowflake sweaters. I actually kind of like them, but I'm pretty sure he's got like 44 different sweaters, all with snowflakes on them. But aunt Mona seems to be okay with it. Look at me, a character reminiscing about other characters. It's almost like I'm some sort of creator. No. No, it's not like that at all, because I'm still not the one writing this. in fact, i should stop saying "writing" like it's happening right now, because it only will be happening "right now just one time, not every time it's read. who knows how many times that will be, but if you are reading this, then chances are it is not being written at the same time. unless there is someone spying that
the author doesn't know about. probably not, though. well, anyway, i guess that's it. you've now been introduced to and listened to the ramblings of a nonperson. How does that feel, to become even remotely invested in a person who doesn't exist? How. Does. That. Feel. or...why does it?