had a lot of fun this year, here are some of my submissions to zines ran by others (including a bonus one that did not get used for the where are they now which is v funny and you should go look at)
here's a link to the zines each are for:
Forecast Jazz Vol. 2 (x) featuring a collaboration with @pysics (also check out that cover!)
The Big Blaseball Activity Book (x)
Food and Fashion (x)
Make It Blaseball (x) done in collaboration with @thehallstara
All Players Have Been Released (x)
movin images over to tumblr from twitter, mostly blaseball nonsense
I headcanon Priya being a big cosplayer, so I drew her and her wife Hahn Fox as Utena and Anthy. It's one of the pieces of fanart I'm happiest with even if I dislike how I did the shading.
The sun is gone. Hahn prepares for changes, and for constancy. Written for Blasetober, day twelve: Sun(s).
“Can you tell the difference?” Priya asks.
Hahn is ready to say no, she hasn’t been here long enough to be able to, but something stops her. “Maybe?”
“Maybe, how?”
“I don’t know, it just… feels different.”
“Different temperature? Light sensitivity?”
Hahn shakes her head. “Just different.”
When the sun went out, the rest of the Beams had taken it badly. They’d been lethargic for weeks. Lars’s hands had flickered in and out of existence. The Passenger hadn’t spoken to Nagomi for days. Sandy’s eye went out, maybe the scariest thing of all. They’re all back to normal, more or less, but there’s no denying that “normal” means something different now.
Hahn had called in every favor she could to try and figure out what was going on, but everyone said it was supernatural. Metaphysical. That losing the sun that they’d all been tied to had hurt them in some way that couldn’t be diagnosed or fixed, other than hoping that this second sun could fill the void of the first.
“Should I be worried?” Priya says, all business, the way she does when she’s trying to mask how worried she actually is.
“You’re not inspiring a lot of confidence right now, my love.”
Hahn absently takes Priya’s hand and lifts it to her mouth, brushing a kiss against the back of her knuckles. “I’m trying to be honest, not inspirational. Unfortunately I can’t do both right now.”
“Do you think the Hellmouth is changing you?” Priya asks. Hahn can hear the unspoken question: is it going to change her, too?
The Sunbeams think, and Hahn is inclined to agree, that her adaptation is that she is immune to the general weirdness of the Hellmouth. They treat it like a gift, but Hahn doesn’t know what to think. She’s always wanted to fit in, to understand everyone around her, to be in the thick of it. This adaptation has taken that away from her. She’s always going to be on the outside of this particular experience.
“Not the way it changes everyone else,” Hahn says at last. There are a bundle of smaller truths that she could say: she’s more sensitive to humidity than she was in Miami, she’s been on edge since the second sun usurped the first, she’s been more afraid of the Hellmouth changing Priya than changing herself.
“Okay,” Priya says. Hahn thinks that means she’s heard all the smaller truths. She thinks that it’s an acceptance, or as close as they’re going to get to one.
