the furtive pygmy, so easily forgotten

Just got back from a week-long art intensive studying horse anatomy with Terryl Whitlatch out at New Masters Village in Mancos, CO! I've followed Terryl's work for over 20 years, and her passion and expertise is unmatched—feeling challenged, refreshed, and like I want to draw a bajillion horses.

your first concert

your last concert

your next concert

We are thrilled to announce that pre-orders for the charity bundle of the Women's Wrongs zine are officially open, and will remain so through December 31st. This project is the culmination of more than fifty writers and artists coming together to celebrate the complexity of the female characters of Baldur's Gate 3.

The charity bundle will release January 1, 2025, and include:

A digital PDF of the zine

Access to a digital flipbook of the zine

All digital merch

A version of the zine formatted for at-home printing (exclusive to the charity bundle)

To submit a pre-order, you will make a qualifying donation, which should be:

Made to one of the three recipient charities: PCRF, Women for Women International, or Oxfam International

Made between November 1, 2024 and December 31, 2024

At least 5 USD, with 10 USD suggested (or the equivalent in your local currency)**

** If you are from a region with a currency/economy significantly weaker than the USD, we ask that you make a donation that feels commensurate in value to you. 

Once you have received your donation receipt, which may take up to a day, depending on the charity, you may submit a pre-order form.

The free version of the zine will be released on March 8, 2025: International Women's Day.

finished Veilguard recently so you KNOW I’m back on my bullshit

I am contributing a little piece about Aylin and her dear aunt Shar to the @bg3womenswrongs zine. Here's a sneak peek - a snippet from when it all began. Enjoy!

---

The Nightsinger becomes an aunt on a day that would have otherwise swiftly faded into the sheer vastness of her existence.

It is par for the course for her vapid sister; this insistence on life and creation, this blemish she sears into the world. Selûne's lurid intrusions writ small, contained to a single being. The puny scale is pitiable, when before her efforts resulted in teeming swarms and the cacophony of an entire universe under the burning sun she lit. Shar takes offence just the same, and so it will be snuffed out just the same.

A babe, conspicuously placed at the temple's entrance in a basket - not even a thing ostentatious and silver. No; plain wicker, with plainer wrappings to keep it warm against the autumn chill.

At the first cry that tears itself free from its garishly powerful lungs, as the wail goes on and on even as some poor moon-bedecked acolyte rushes out to fawn over the detestable little creature, Shar knows her one desire is to silence it forever.

-

The temple in whose care she was placed is put to the torch by ill-omened purple-clad figures before Aylin learns to walk. Enclave to enclave in secret, from temple to monastery to cloister, Aylin grows up hunted, a blazing target for agents of her Mother's greatest enemy.

She grows up honed to perfection, trained and taught and sharpened to an edge so keen it threatens to cut even when she might not mean it to. 

But she also grows up loved. Even if her Mother is a distant lodestar, She is present in ways Aylin does not think anyone understands, no matter how much she tries to explain, how deft with words she becomes in her efforts to convey the peculiarities of her own existence.

-

Many women's wrongs are happening, keep an eye out!!

~~~~

The three druids seem to stand between her and them like a shield. Olodan’s voice is gentle and comforting as they offer aid, and Kagha wants to lay down the weight on her shoulders, but she can’t. There is nobody else to take it up. She aches to turn into tail and claw and escape into the cracks of the walls like they do. But there is nobody fit to take the weight, and she will not leave it unattended. She stands tall as ever, despite the weight.

The Archdruid is dead. Must be dead. She has accepted that she is left to lead alone, and she will do so as best she can. They knew the shape of things all along, and now, finally, so does she.