I spent the last 11 months working with my illustrator, Marta, to make the children's book of my dreams. We were able to get every detail just the way I wanted, and I'm very happy with the final result. She is the best person I have ever worked with, and I mean, just look at those colors!
I wanted to tell that story of anyone's who ever felt that they didn't belong anywhere. Whether you are a nerd, autistic, queer, trans, a furry, or some combination of the above, it makes for a sad and difficult life. This isn't just my story, and this is your story as well.
I also want to say the month following the book's launch has been very stressful. I have never done this kind of book before, and I didn't know how to get the word out about it. I do have a small publishing business and a full-time job, so I figured let's put my some money into advertising this time. Indie writers will tell you great success stories they've had using Facebook ads, so I started a page and boosting my posts. Within a first few days, I got a lot of likes and shares and even a few people who requested the book and left great reviews for me. There were also people memeing on how the boy turns into a delicious venison steak at the end of the book. It was all in good fun, though. It honestly made made laugh. Things were great, so I made more posts and increased spending.
But somehow, someway these new posts ended up on the wrong side of the platform. Soon, we saw claims of how the book was perpetuating mental illness, of how this book goes against all of basic biology and logic, and how the lgbtq agenda was corrupting our kids.
This brought out even more people to support the book, so I just let them at it and enjoyed my time reading comments after work. A few days later, then conversation moved from politics to encouraging bullying, accusing others of abusing children, and a competition to who could post the most cruel image. They were just comments, however, and after all, people were still supporting the book.
But then the trolls started organizing. Over night, I got hit with 3 one-star reviews on Amazon. My heart stopped. If your book ever falls below a certain rating, it can be removed, and blocked, and you can receive a strike on your publishing account. All that hard work was about to be deleted, and it was all my fault for posting it in the wrong place.
I panicked, pulled all my posts, and went into hiding, hoping things would die down. I reported the reviews and so did many others, but here's the thing you might have noticed across platforms like Google and Amazon. There are community guidelines that I referenced in my email, but unless people are doing something highly illegal, things are rarely ever taken down on these massive platforms. So those reviews are still there to this day. Once again, it's my fault, and I should have seen it coming.
Luckily, the harassment stopped, and the book is doing better now. The overall rating is still rocky in Canada and Australia, so any reviews there help me out quite a lot.
I'm currently looking for a new home to post about the book and talk about everything that went into it. I also love to talk about all things books if you ever want to chat. Maybe I'll post a selfie one day, too. Otherwise, the book is still on Amazon, and it's also on YouTube as well if you want to see the full story for free.
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Had a few folks interested in how I made the patches I posted for Solarpunk Aesthetic Week, so I thought I'd give y'all my step-by-step process for making hand-embroidered patches!
First, choose your fabric and draw on your design. You can use basically any fabric for this - for this project I'm using some felt I've had lying around in my stash for ages.
Next, choose your embroidery floss. For my patches I split my embroidery floss into two threads with 3 strands each, as pictured. You can use as many strands in your thread as you prefer, but for the main body of my patches I prefer 3 strands.
Next you're going to start filling your design using a back stitch.
First, put in a single stitch where you want your row to start.
Poke your needle up through the fabric 1 stitch-length away from your first stitch.
Poke your needle back down the same hole your last stitch went into so they line up end-to-end.
Repeat until you have a row of your desired length (usually the length of that colour section from one end to the other). Once you have your first row, you're going to do your next row slightly offset from your first row so that your stitches lay together in a brick pattern like this:
Make sure your rows of stitches are tight together, or you'll get gaps where the fabric shows through.
Rinse and repeat with rows of back stitch to fill in your patch design.
When you're almost to the end of your thread, poke your needle through to the back of the fabric and pull the thread under the back part of the stitching to tuck in the end. Don't worry if it looks messy - no one's gonna see the back anyway.
This next step is fully optional, but I think it makes the patch design really pop. Once your patch is filled in, you can use black embroidery floss to outline your design (or whatever colour you want to outline with - it's your patch, do what you want). I use the full thread (6 strands, not split) of embroidery floss to make a thicker outline.
I use the same back stitch I used to fill the piece to make an outline that adds some separation and detail. You could use most any 'outlining' stitch for this, but I just use back stitch because it's just easier for me to do.
Once you're finished embroidering your patch, it's time to cut it out!
Make sure to leave a little border around the edge to use for sewing your patch on your jacket/bag/blanket/whatever, and be careful not to accidentally cut through the stitches on the back of the patch.
If you have a sturdy enough fabric that isn't going to fray, you can just leave it like this. If not, I recommend using a whip stitch/satin stitch to seal in the exposed edges (I find that splitting your embroidery floss into 3-strand threads works best for this).
And then you're done! At this point you can put on iron-on backing if you want, or just sew it on whatever you wanna put it on. Making patches this way does take a long time, but I feel that the results are worth it.
Thanks for reading this tutorial! I hope it was helpful. If anyone makes patches using this method, I'd love to see them! 😁
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ghost soap who have been married for several years and are playing the “how long until they notice?” game.
Soap thinks it’s quite funny when Gaz tries to warn him about Simon’s… intricacies. “—and as long as you respect his personal bubble and his morning, afternoon and evening tea, you’ll live.”
Soap nods, thinks about how at home he makes Simon’s tea for him and scratches his scalp until he comes online for the day. “Thanks, mate. Honestly, he’s kind of intimidating.”
Of course, they grew even closer after Las Almas. Gaz had started teasing Ghost about having a soft spot for Soap, and they both denied it— waiting for somebody to notice that it was a giant squishy pocket of love.
(this ran away from me. anyway. have this completely unedited drabble/ficlet? idk. merry after christmas.
Soap watches Simon from across the rec room one morning. His husband is completely offline, Soap having been kicked out of his bunk after Simon fought his way out of his fourth nightmare, probably only running on a few hours of sleep. Soap watches Gaz and Price, both doing their own thing, and Soap risks it.
Soap nudges Simon away from the counter. “Go sit. I can make it.” Simon stares for a few moments, blinking long and slow, sleepy and not ready to be perceived by the world. Soap feels the eyes of their teammates on him, and also feels the tenseness of the moment.
Simon inhales, rubs his eyes and grunts, shuffling over to the table and sitting in a chair. Soap makes his tea, making sure the honey is fully dissolved before he takes a sip to make sure it’s perfect. He sees Gaz’s wide eyes in his peripheral vision. Simon grunts again when they make eye contact, holding out his hands for the mug.
Soap sets it carefully in his hands, and Simon breathes in the tea. He takes a long drink and makes a soft noise, a telltale sign of happiness. Soap smiles softly, repeating the noise back at him. Simon narrows his eyes at him. “Quit making fun of me.”
“I’d never,” Soap scratches Simon’s back through the hoodie he’s wearing for a second. “It’s cute,” he whispers, only for Simon’s ears. Soap wants to stay behind him, stay rubbing his back until Simon wakes up enough to function like a normal human being. Instead, he has to go yell at recruits.
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Simon has had a temper since he met him. He gets any sort of negative emotion and it quickly spirals into anger, a leftover fault from his childhood. it’s the worst when he’s overstimulated, too much of everything usually ending in a petty argument when they’re home that has Simon coming back to him not when ten minutes later with his metaphorical tail between his legs and gently apologizing before taking a nap on Soap’s stomach under his sweater.
On base, it’s harder to notice. However, after a mission gone wrong, Ghost is pacing in the rec room, Price and Gaz watching him with nervous glances, waiting for him to lash out.
Soap settles on the couch with a tea, placing it on the coffee table and watching Simon pace back and forth, eventually snatching up the mug and holding it under his chin. A few minutes pass before he runs out of steam, stopping to pivot on his heel and glare at Gaz and Price. “C’mere.” Simon glares at him now, his gaze softening when Soap waves his hand. “C’mon,” he says, soft and gentle, “Come sit.”
Simon follows the suggestion, sitting near Soap, drinking his tea slowly and sinking into the cushion of the couch. “You did good,” Soap murmurs, guiding Simon to rest his head on his chest, “You can rest now, Si.”
“The fuck it look like ‘m doin’,” Simon grumbles at him, turning his head away from the lights and shoving his face in the gap between Soap and the back of the couch. Soap doesn’t bite back his smile, scratching Simon’s scalp gently with both of his hands and soothing the goosebumps that pop up on his neck. “Stressin’ me out, dirty slag,” he huffs a few seconds later.
Soap laughs gently, scratching behind Simon’s ears and kissing the top of his head. “Go to sleep.”
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Soap walks into the rec room, immediately zoning in on Simon watching something on his phone with that intense look— the look he wears when he’s having feelings he doesn’t know what to do with— mask pulled up, covering his forehead in hair.
Soap wanders over, standing behind him on the couch and looking down at the phone. The privacy screen makes the image dull and blurry. “What’re you doin’?”
“Uh,” Simon tilts the phone, and the screen becomes clear, “Lookin’ at Tommy’s snapchats. He’s sending me old shite,” he mumbles.
Soap ignores the way Price’s head snaps up, looking at Simon with a surprised look on his face. Soap rests his head on Simon’s watching the silenced video. A younger, slightly leaner, very pissed off Simon stares at the phone with a blank stare. Tommy appears, a wide smile on his face. “So angry.”
“I literally got home and he had me doin’ shit,” Simon mumbles, scrolling through.
They had met the year Roba happened, early February at a café slash library. Soap had been wanting to finally read the Percy Jackson books again, and Simon had been sitting at the table reading a parenting book of all things. Soap had sat across from him, and they read in silence for weeks before Soap commented on his strange book choices— parenting, self-help, addiction recovery, mental health, fiction, non fiction, drama, romance, history, all in different orders. Soap hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut when Simon finished a book about Infants and then picked up a queer romance book Soap had read the week prior, “Respectfully what the fuck?”
Simon had smiled into his tea, flirted with him, and Soap had been… embarrassingly attracted to him.
Simon had called him Christmas Eve, rambling on about a fire and his family and Soap had asked, “What are you talking about, we’re out having dinner?” Because Beth had insisted they have dinner together, with or without Simon, before Soap made his way to his own family. And Simon had broken down, rambling on about a man called Roba in a way that had Soap shoving way too much money into Beth’s hands and sprinting to Simon’s location.
Simon had come home different— he had come home after they buried an empty coffin and Soap mourned what could have been the love of his life with Simon’s family— quiet, angry, distant. Hot and cold with Soap, begging for his attention one day before completely shutting him out.
Soap had found Simon trying to fist-fight the first responders— convinced his family was inside and dead— and had to pry him away and calm him down. Simon had packed them up and moved them to Scotland the week before their ‘meet-cute’ anniversary. He had reenlisted with Soap a few months later, after the every-day therapy sessions had cleared him.
Simon didn’t talk about his family— at all— he worried that even with Roba dead there would be another person out there waiting for him to slip up. Anybody who did any digging wouldn’t find any connection. Tommy had taken Beth’s name when they married, Joseph was enrolled under Soap’s (after discovering Joseph’s nursery schedule is what had led the men after Simon to the family) in a private school, and honestly Soap would lie about having an oops baby if it meant Simon would sleep a little better at night.
In Price’s eyes, Soap laying his head on Ghost and talking about his family probably seemed out of character. Simon opens the camera, and Soap smiles widely for the picture, Simon typing out a quick message before sending it off. “He’s gonna fuck up our 600 day streak if he doesn’t fuckin’ text me back.”
Soap cackles, walking to the pantry to get a snack.
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“So,” Gaz says carefully, looking over his shoulder before scooting closer, “You and Ghost seem pretty close.” Considering we’re married, Soap thinks cheekily. “Got people callin’ you the Ghost-whisperer. You’re the only bastard who can take food off his plate and not see the wrath of the devil himself.”
Soap throws his head back with a laugh. “Ach, naw, he’s a sweetheart. Real nice.” Soap watches the recruits in front of him with a smile. Almost a year and a half into Soap being with the team, and nobody had even thought about them knowing each other.
Gaz chews on his mouth for a few seconds. “Mate, I gotta be real honest right now, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but I heard that he was married. Like before he was Ghost—“ Gaz mimics tugging on a mask. “Price says he wears a set of rings on his tags— three real nice ones, too— do you know how in love you have to be with somebody to drop that much money on a wedding, engagement, and promise ring?” Soap did know, he was the one who had all of them custom made three years ago. He had agonized over the designs, Tommy stoping him from chickening out several times, and had a dent in his savings for months after. “And I noticed you guys kind of… you know. I just wanted you to know.”
“Ye think he’s cheating on his bird with me?” Soap asks, playing up the shock. “I mean… I sort of fancy him ‘nd all, but he never said anything about havin’ a girl at home.”
Gaz gives him a pep talk and a look of sympathy.
Later, Soap sneaks his way into Simon’s office, twirling the ring on his middle finger with a grin. Simon looks up before ignoring him for the report on his computer. “What’s got you lookin’ so smug.”
“Gaz knows you’re married.”
Simon raises an eyebrow, looking up at him again. “Uh-huh. So the game’s done, then?” Soap honestly thinks he looks pretty with his mask gone, grease smeared on his waterline, glasses held between his fingers.
“No. He thinks you’re married to a woman,” Soap says excitedly, “He thinks we’re havin’ ourselves an affair. I’m gonnae wear my ring on my wedding finger. See if any puzzle pieces fall into place.” Soap slides his ring off and hands it to Simon, watching his husband twirl the ring between his fingers. Soap holds his hand out, and Simon smiles gently as he slides it on the finger it goes on.
Simon looks at his hand, gently swiping his thumb along Soap’s knuckles. “I wanna take you out for dinner when we get home,” he mumbles, “To that diner you like. Take you shoppin’.”
Soap smiles, unable to contain the squishy-fluttery feeling Simon gives him.
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Nobody notices Soap’s ring moving fingers.
They kick up their flirting several notches, drop hints, but nobody seems to pick it up.
Soap is packing his bags for leave, when Simon sneaks into his bunk. Soap smiles when he feels Ghost wrapping his arms around him and rocking them side to side. “Hey, baby,” Soap says, looking over his shoulder at Simon.
“Garrick asked if my wife knew about us.”
Soap really does feel like a gossiping wife when he gasps, “What did ye tell ‘im?”
Simon snorts. “I said yes. He just looked at me in disbelief. I think I traumatized him.” Simon leaves gentle kisses along his shoulder, squeezing him closer. “I Imagine we’re goin’ to have a chat with Price soon. Considering it’s illegal and all that.”
Soap hums.
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The next day, they are called into Price’s office. Gaz is sitting guiltily on the couch, and Price looks more stressed than usual. Soap drops his duffel on the ground next to a chair and drops into it, followed by Simon.
“Reason yer callin’ me in here before my plane?” Soap settles in the seat, twisting his ring as a habit. He sees Price’s eyes catch on it, and he feels giddy about people noticing it before he realizes why they’re in here.
“I’m sorry,” Gaz blurts, “I just can’t have it on my conscious that Ghost has a girl back home and you’re… doing whatever it is you’re going.” He gestures between them.
Price drags his hand across his face, and Simon sighs dramatically, “Looks like the jig is up, Johnny.”
Soap slaps his hand against his forehead, because out of everything he could have said, that was not it.
“I mean— how could— you have a wife, Ghost!” Gaz gestures, clearly fighting his loyalty and his morals.
“I do have to admit, cheating isn’t something I expected of you, Simon.”
Soap decides to try and break the tension with a dramatic turn, “You’re cheating on me? After all I’ve done for you?”
Simon glares. “Yeah, I’m sick and tired of you not feeding the damn cat.” He sits up, counting on his fingers, “Your meatloaf is dry, you have a secret love child—“
“Joseph isn’t even blood related to me, you dramatic fuck, he’s only using my last name for his school!”
Simon scoffs.
Soap rolls his eyes, kicking Simon with his foot, “Gimmie your rings.” Simon takes off his dog tags, slides the rings off the chain and hands them over to Soap. Soap fits them together, leaning onto Price’s desk and leaving them there. He digs into his own duffel, pulling out his engagement ring and sliding off his wedding ring, fitting them together with Simon’s. He showcases it to Price. “Simon and I are married.”
Price looks baffled. Soap realizes what Simon said and— “You think my meatloaf is dry?”
Simon scoffs. “No, Johnny, your meatloaf isn’t dry. I could eat a whole pan of it but you don’t let me because other people need food too or some BS.”
“You’re married to each other?!“ Gaz looks shocked and relieved at the same time. “You let me warn you about how strange he is!! And you went along with it!”
“I honestly thoufht you would have realized by now…” Soap rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Sorry.”
They get scolded, and then Soap is congratulated for putting up with Ghost for so long. And then Ghost is congratulated for keeping Soap from killing himself via microwave explosions.
Everything is fine, in the end.
(Simon takes Johnny out for dinner when he joins him on leave, and takes him shopping. They’re in love.)
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