Cocoon and Evolved Metallic Mechanitis Butterfly Chrysalis from Costa Rica
Nope. Those are real chrysalides, but the butterfly is not. Notice that it’s being held up by a coiled piece of wire? And that in fact its coloration looks a hell of a lot like what happens if you take a blowtorch to sheet copper? It’s someone’s art project and it’s gorgeous, but it is not Mechanitis polymnia, the orange-spotted tiger clearwing, which is what is going to come out of those pretty golden pendants.
Fun fact: “chrysalis” actually references the Greek for “gold” because so many butterflies show this metallic golden coloration during this stage.
sorry, guys :(
Tidied up/modified version of something I did a while ago on my tablet, since I have finally accepted the fact I can draw better in Illustrator than I can in Photoshop.
overprotective parents raise the best liars.
but seriously, i mean i don´t even do bad things and i have to lie a lot
"Hey, how do you spell Massachusetts?"
"How should I know? Just grab a handful of Scrabble tiles and let fate decide."
A week from today is Willim’s birthday, the day Willim (and Songbirds of Valnon) was invented in 2002, and the day that Evensong’s Heir was published last year. This time a year ago I was at the beach with my proof copy in-hand, nervously hoping that everything would line up just so and the book would manage to get itself published without breaking my sanity or the internet. (And I can fairly say that, given everything going on in my life during the past six weeks, I’m really glad that this year I don’t have a book coming out in a week.)
I’ve just done some math, and Evensong’s Heir has sold something like 550 copies in its first year in online sales. (Not counting things like my own paperback sales to local bookstores, etc.) That might not be a big number to an author with a big publishing house behind them, or even an established indie author. But every single one of those sales is because someone heard about the book—from me, from you, from the Guardian article, or even just browsing Amazon—and decided to take a risk on it. It was never displayed on an endcap in Barnes & Noble. Target never bought it in bulk and stuck it up next to the gum and impulse purchases at the register. People didn’t know my name and snatch it up at once. (They probably wouldn’t have done that even if I put my old fandom pen name on it, because being a video-game gay-fanfic-writing BNF in 2001 has remarkably little clout in the indie book world of 2013.) And apart from a few web banners early after publication, there has been no advertising for the book except word of mouth from readers who loved it.
Five Hundred and Forty Four Copies. Let me put this in perspective: I was shit at selling girl scout cookies, even when my mom was scout leader. For Chorus fundraisers in high school, I always wound up eating more of those crappy chocolate bars than I sold. My first fan zine I printed a modest ten copies to sell at a major convention: I sold three. (Would you like one? It’s for Vagrant Story. I have my spare copies around somewhere.) The only thing I’ve ever been good at selling is bead jewelry, face-paintings, and $5 tarot card readings, which I would do from a tent every year at the local Earth Roots Jamboree when I was in college. (Earth Roots was a poor man’s Coachella, circa ‘95, out in the woods at Indian Fort Mountain. If that sounds unbearably redneck-hippie to you, it’s because it is.)
Earth Roots always took place the weekend of Earth Day: April 22nd. Willim’s Birthday.
I suppose the lesson to learn here is either I need to arrange to sell things April 22nd of every year, or that stoned local band fans on their way to a rainbow tribe gathering and drum circle are always an easy mark. But really, the truth is Songbirds of Valnon sold those copies because I loved it so much, and because you loved it so much. I didn’t think it was possible for me to love Valnon more than I did the day I published it, but every day since then, with every time someone hears the music for the first time, that love just grows. The world becomes more real, the music more powerful, the characters more beloved, every single day.
This year on April 22 I expect I’ll be putting my house back together— we should finally be free of the Great Bug Invasion of 2014 as our last treatment is Thursday. I would love to do some big event for the one-year anniversary of publication, but the truth is, I’m fucking exhausted, and I’m afraid if I promised anything I’d only be sorry I did. So this year for Songbird Day, I’m leaving it up to you. There’s no requirement or anything, but April 22nd this year it would be super if you posted a doodle or reblogged a rec post for Songbirds of Valnon. I hope someday that Songbird Day can take over tumblr with homestuck-like fervor, but this year I’d be much obliged if someone else can handle Willim’s cake and ice cream.
All I want is to see him blow out those five hundred and forty-four candles come next Tuesday.
(And you know he can.)
this is the teacher from the incredibles
This Anna Kendrick Little Mermaid SNL sketch is impossible to find (NBC ran into some legal issues with Disney)… watch while you can!
"Why would I need your hair? Mine is GORGEOUS! I mean it’s white, slicked straight up, & buzzed on the sides."
Dear NBC, it was worth every penny.
this is too fantastic for words.
i do not know, because i am a crab.
"um you’re being kinda a bitch" OMFG
no i’m so serious no guys you think i’m kidding i’m not kidding in preschool i convinced three fully grown women my middle name was butterfly to the point where it was on my certificate when i graduated and when my mother confronted them about it their response was ‘she was very convincing’ this is not a drill because i liked butterflies i basically legally changed my name when i was three years old