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robthegoodfellow · 17 days

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3DPC4EVA

@harringrovezine submission! Billy and Steve take a backseat while their cars get busy. Crack taken seriously. Brace for puns.

Summary: When the Camaro rumbles into the Hawkins High parking lot, she catches the attention of a certain luxury vehicle.

Harringrove, Camaro/Beamer (or Bimmer/Beemer whatever you prefer)

Rated G | ~2.2k (slightly expanded version) | Alternating Car POV

thank you @adelacreations and the rest of the zine team for all your hard work!

~🛞~

A car never forgot the moment it came to—became aware. For PC, it was rounding a bend of the Pacific Coast Highway, to the left a sprawling sea, baked cliffs sloping opposite. And inside… was a boy, death-grip on the wheel relaxing, his stiff back gone slack on a long exhale.

He was gazing at the water, mesmerized. Revved the engine, a vicarious roar—but not of rage.

Exultation.

They meandered north for miles, blue horizon painted pink and red, glittering in the sinking sun. Veering onto a rocky shoulder, he hopped on the hood. Reclined, sighing smoke, until the sky had bruised purple.

The boy’s mind wandered on the drive back, and PC got a sense of him then—name, where he lived. Enough to nudge reminders before he missed a turn.

PC learned its own names, too—knew the boy thought of it as a she. Called her Baby. Or sometimes he’d smush the first part of her plate together, PCE, and think peace.

~🛞~

3D didn’t belong here, wasting away parked outside a school. A BMW E23 7-Series? Far more befitting the head of the Harrington family, not his spoiled Lothario of a son.

But no—downgraded months after purchase when the wife gifted her darling husband a Rolls-Royce.

Who could compete? So here it was, surrounded by malformed AMC experiments, rusted-out Oldsmobile barges, decrepit Pintos liable to explode if you looked at them wrong. Oh, and tractors—let’s not forget the occasional farming equipment caked in mud and manure ridden to school for a laugh.

3D could have borne the shocks without blowing a gasket—it was a high-performance vehicle—but then… then the boy made it his mission to bed every girl in town. And 3D had spacious seats. Spacious and luxurious: black leather, gleaming wood trim—not that the paramours would notice, too busy humping while 3D stared out its headlamps at the lake or the trees or wherever it could fix its attention that wasn’t the pair of humans copulating all over its pristine interior.

Finally, the boy hitched himself to a girl with standards, one who preferred privacy. Granted, that relationship coincided with some rather strange occurrences—early on, the boy sped off to a remote property with faulty wiring, lights berserk, and ran inside to much screaming and cacophonous violence. 3D was certain that menace would emerge grievously wounded if he emerged at all, and do you know how hard it is to get bloodstains out of leather?

Well, 3D didn’t, either, but it was bound to be impossible.

Anyway—despite that bizarre hiccup, the boy seemed happy, and so too was 3D.

Happy its rear bench was a Motel 6 no longer.

~🛞~

The blistering hurt he'd stoked from San Diego to Indiana—this despairing, gnashing fury—had simmered to a low-grade pang when PC rumbled into the Hawkins High parking lot, blazing past milling students.

Billy slammed the door—pat the handle, apologetic, before striding off. Max wheeled away on her skateboard.

Though PC was facing the school, she wasn’t limited to staring dully at the brick. Sky through her windshield, a side-view out her windows, the lot behind via the tail lights. In no time, she’d taken stock: not too different from back home. Less pervasive rust from salty air, fewer finishes sun-bleached pale pastel… and the crusty tractor was new… but a parking lot was a parking lot.

That’s what she repeated, again jerking her focus from a gleam in the next row. A BMW—PC had a weakness for German makes. Her first crush was a cute Volkswagen bug that belonged to one of Billy's surfer buddies, but the Beetle couldn’t hold a candle to this burgundy beauty—shining in the sun, the lines of its hood so proud, so pert and compact compared to PC. The appealing rounds of its double headlamps, spider eyes on either side of those distinctive kidney grilles. Like bared teeth.

The plate read 3Ds46T2.

Its wipers twitched, annoyance loud and clear. What?

PC barely reined in the startled beep, hot underhood. But then—well… what else to do when caught so blatantly staring?

She flashed a taillight, a quick, cheeky wink, and the headlamps across the way flared—a bright flush, though brief, firmly repressed.

Didn’t want to push it—the blush perhaps more embarrassment than pleasure—but when she risked a glance, 3D was looking back, intrigued.

At final bell, PC blared both taillights, a last gambit—and her fan belt fluttered when 3D’s wipers swept a wide arc. A farewell.

Half-expected to overheat on the way back to the new house. Like all the coolant in the world couldn’t help her.

~🛞~

A showy, brutish Camaro Z/28 wouldn’t typically warrant more than an irritated huff of exhaust, but a car like that had never been bold enough to… flirt? Just brazenly wink for the whole lot to see, gazing like you were the most riveting object in existence.

It was… well, flattering, obviously—a Camaro was a handsome make, whatever its faults—but more than that, it had thrilled in a way 3D couldn’t shake. So next time the boy pulled into the lot, it gently nudged the wheel, willing them to the front where PCE 235 was sitting pretty.

Maneuvering to park next to the muscle-bound stunner took more of a push—enough to trigger a frown—but the boy rarely fired on all cylinders. He shrugged it off.

3D never dreamed it could be so forward, but the Camaro didn’t mind. Quite the contrary: as the school doors closed on the last straggler, 3D spied its neighbor’s window cracking open. A loaded quiet—then the soft static of the radio searching for a station. Odd squeals, a cut-off twang, belt, chorus, then—

—too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you. Pardon the way that I stare—there's nothing else to compare.

An earnest crooning Oldie, and—it was like its undercarriage had bottomed out on nothing. 3D flushed hot as a busted radiator.

If you feel like I feel, please let me know that it's real. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you.

Seeming to sense its struggle for composure, the volume lowered until the song clicked off. The window rolled up, parted lips closing, and the wheel spun, nervous. Crunch of gravel as the front tires turned its way: Your move.

3D choked, butterfly valve sealing shut. The boy’s tastes weren’t exactly varied. Hardly strayed from the local channels piping nonstop Hot 100. But the silence would soon ring of rejection, so it powered the radio, scrambling, poised to blindly crank the dial and hope for the best—

Miracle of miracles. Rushing to open a window, it lowered all four, silently thanking Hump Day Hits of the 60s.

—thought love was only true in fairytales—meant for someone else but not for me. Love was out to get me—that's the way it seemed.

Spontaneity sparking, it left the windows down. Let the whole lot hear! What did it care what they thought?

Then I saw her face! Now I'm a believer. Not a trace of doubt in my mind…

Last bell, after hours of trading silly ditties, their batteries were dead, and 3D was in love—felt drunk on diesel, sappy sentiment gumming up its engine.

PC. How wonderful, those two letters. And a she. Fascinating.

Their drivers were baffled at both needing a jump—a much remarked upon coincidence. Waiting for their cars to revive, the boy made awkward small talk with PC’s human—a blond ruffian who smoked like a chimney.

The boy asked the ruffian—Billy—if he was going to the Halloween party later.

Billy was.

“See ya there, man,” he said, tapping 3D’s roof. It would have cringed at the fingerprints left behind, if not for a more pressing thought.

It would see PC that night.

Perhaps all night.

~🛞~

Billy was nervous—PC could tell by his fidgeting grip, Metallica blasting. Odd outfit, too: leather jacket, shirtless, with fingerless gloves.

He parked behind 3D, no encouragement necessary. Before he’d even disappeared inside the pulsing house, PC waved her wiper, overeager but suddenly—shy.

They seemed to mutually agree not to drain their batteries again. Instead, at the risk of coming on too strong, PC reached out with the nebulous consciousness linking her to her body, linking her to Billy… until she felt a psychic bump. Not enough to dent. Just… alert.

She’d never done this—gone beyond basic flirtation—but something about 3D made her bold… and maybe Billy’s loneliness, the aimless despair bubbling under his skin since the move… maybe that had bled over more than she’d realized.

A bump, and she almost ignited her own engine, so intense was the bolt of excitement. 3D was reaching back, willing to open to her—

She had no idea how much time had passed, so submerged in their mingled selves, when Billy stumbled against her with a grunt, a slurred curse. The icy jolt must have transferred before she cut off to focus on the problem sagging at her door—a problem she knew too well.

Billy unlocked her after a couple tries, more falling than sitting in the driver’s seat. Shoved the key in the ignition—groaned when the engine wouldn’t start.

“Not tonight, baby—I’m fucking fine.”

She remained unmoved, even as he slumped, forehead knocking on the wheel.

“Just start! We’re three streets away, for fuck’s sake.”

An insistent bump—so unrelenting that she reconnected, conveyed through images, flashes of memory, that this was just something they did: Billy would drink too much, and she wouldn’t start until he was sober. But that only triggered a renewed wave of concern, a series of impressions in return: pulling over to assist a family broken down, the kids shivering in the chill evening air of autumn; 3D’s human, breath misting, joking with a pretty brunette about drinking until they were warm, the girl informing him that booze made you more vulnerable to frostbite.

But… it wasn’t nearly cold enough for that, right? Although what did she know? It had taken ages to warm up this morning. How cold was too cold?

Maybe Billy would just… go back inside the house. Or she could—start the engine but jam the accelerator? Or—

Billy jumped when 3D’s horn blared, obnoxious in the still night, its headlights flashing with each trumpeting blast.

Not a minute later, PC understood in a burst of gratitude: 3D’s human trotted from the house. He would help. Flinging open the door, she spun her wheel, sharp.

A grunt, and Billy spilled onto the pavement. “Bitch.”

The alarm died with a chirp. “Hargrove?”

Billy sighed, flopping backward. “Fuck off, Harrington.”

Harrington did not—kept coming until he towered, hands on hips. Prodded Billy with a curious foot.

“You wanna be roadkill, or what?”

Bratty snort. “Or what.”

“Well, in the interest of not scraping you up tomorrow, how about I drive you home?”

Billy propped himself on elbows. A hum, considering. “Pass.”

PC resisted whacking him with the door. From his expression, Harrington felt much the same.

“Take you to mine, then.” Stooping, he stuck his hand out, waiting while Billy curled his lip, rolled his eyes—finally took the hand.

3D’s lights beamed worry as Harrington started the engine, Billy safe in passenger. PC twitched a wiper—shoo—and settled in by the curb. Small price for peace of mind.

~🛞~

At some point between disappearing into the Harrington house and emerging in the early dawn, something had happened—3D couldn’t begin to guess. The surly quiet of last night now buzzed like coins in a cupholder. Glances darted, never meeting.

3D resisted cranking the radio to drown out the awkward. Or redirecting the beads of condensation cutting through the misted windows so their dewy paths spelled HELP.

It rumbled with relief to see PC, glistening in the gloom, right where they’d left her.

“Last night,” Billy said, as they rolled to a stop. “We—it can’t happen—”

“You scared?” The arched brow was bluster, his frame rigid with nerves.

“You dumb?” Sneered it, scathing.

He was dumb, 3D would vouch for that, but the boy only glared. Billy huffed, paired an eye roll with a shake of his head, reaching for the door.

A lesser vehicle would’ve missed the other hand pounce across the console, but 3D fogged the windows just in time.

No one saw the driver yanked sideways by the shirt, arrested by snarling lips pressed to his own—or the hands that grappled in reply, cupping cheek and chin, fingers sinking into hair.

No one saw, but PC knew—was practically dancing, wipers waving, front wheels pivoting left and right. And usually 3D would sigh, resign itself to rounds of necking and worse, but it couldn’t muster the fumes.

Because it would put up with anything—happily, no matter the wear and tear—for more time right here, sharing PC’s air.

Since keeping one meant keeping the other, this would be no fling. Not if 3D could help it.

What was it humans liked to say?

My way or the highway.

~🛞~

Read on Ao3

#CARS IN LOVE #CARS BRINGING BOYS TOGETHER #harringrove #harringrove zine #there's a follow up idea where the camaro saves billy from the mindflayer #maybe one day #billy hargrove #steve harrington

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theinstagrahame · 5 months

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One of the best things about Crowdfunding is, stuff arrives even when you're cutting way back on spending. A *ton* of stuff arrived in the last month and a bit. Got a bunch of really neat projects in, and it's time to get hype about it!

Why these games rule, under the cut

The Revenant Society: Banana Chan is one of those names that immediately catches my attention when she's on a project. Actually, looking at the list again, the team for this game was stacked, it was a real All-Star Cast. But like, even without the powerhouse designers on the case, this just gets all the things I want in a game: Time loops, murder mysteries, trapped on the Underground. A PbtA game where you solve your own murder is, y'know, a pitch that'll attract my attention.

Hellwhalers: I saw this game coming up through design phases in the Plus One Exp Discord, and it sounded incredible. Using tokens and an old ship betting game, you're part of a whaling crew chasing Moby Dick into actual hell. Maybe Ahab wasn't crazy after all, and maybe we won't survive.

Xenolanguage: I might own everything Thorny Games makes now, because they make games about language. Folks who may not know me might not know that I *love* linquistics. Honestly, if I could repeat college, I'd put more of my time into Linguistics. But due to the linear nature of time, I'll settle for playing games about decoding alien language in a first contact situation. Sorta like that movie Contact. Which, I loved.

Mothership and Desert Moons of Karth: I read through the original version of Mothership a couple of years ago, and it's one I wanted to get more into. When I saw that there was a chance to pick up the full 1e boxset on KS, I jumped. I've also seen tons of people talk about Karth as a really awesome sandbox module for the system, so when I had a little cash on DTRPG from selling books, it was an easy pickup.

Inscrutable Cities: Possum Creek Games told me to back this, so I did (this is a joke, but I do love PCG a whole lot). In reality, I saw Inscrutable Cities on Itch a while ago, and the pitch grabbed me. I love reading solo journaling games (I still haven't found a way I like to play them, if I'm completely honest, but they're really neat reads). Walking through an impossible city is something I'd love to do, so, I have the book for it now.

Reap: Spencer Cambell makes bangers, and bangers only. I'm not *not* on a mission to collect all of his work, but Necromancers? Solo tactical board games, built on Rune? Sure. I'm in.

Luna: Spencer Campbell makes bangers, and bangers only. I also picked up another of his books this month. The Nova universe? Moon cultists trying to destroy the sun? Sure, I'm in.

3 Moonlight on Roseville Beach zines: I played Moonlight on Roseville Beach on my now-defunct podcast, and it's a game that I honestly think about a lot. The dice system was complicated, but in a really neat way that gave the players a ton of really interesting decisions with every roll. What part of my action succeeds? What kinds of complications am I opening myself to?

Anyway, R. Rook put together some characters, mysteries, and monsters for the game, and I really wanted to explore more.

Hiria, In the Margins, A Visit to San Sibilia: I mentioned earlier that I like the notion of exploring weird cities, right? Well, here's two games about that, and a cool bookmark RPG for reading. I listened to San Sibilia played in an episode of Friends at the Table, and it really captured my attention. The questions were fascinating, and they let the players flesh out a city we'd only heard of, but not seen prior to that game. It was a cool coda on a really fantastic and weird season, Sangfielle.

Grandmothership: The title alone had me, but Armanda Haller is a creator I keep an eye on, because she makes really rad stuff. This caught my attention because solving mysteries in a weird, Mothership-esque sci-fi setting, as nosy grandmothers, really just, gets me. I want to do that. I want to live that.

Holdfast Station: I've been watching Stonetop develop through its email updates. It's another PbtA game, but with a robust city-building and city development core loop that, is 100% my jam. (Low-key, one of my favorite games is Dragon Quest Builders 2.) This game takes that concept to space, which is 1000% my jam, in fact.

Spectres of Brocken: Aaron Lim is a designer I got into early on in my foray into games, and I do love Mech Anime. I am eager to see his take on Mech Anime, and I am really intrigued by the way this game handles playsets and worldbuilding as part of the game itself. Really can't wait to dive into this.

Lay on Hands: This is another of those games I've heard about, but never actually checked out. I know Alfred Valley better by reputation than by direct experience, but this is one of those games I hear people constantly telling people to check out. So, I'm gonna!

Penumbra City: Maybe 5 years ago, I read a novella by Margaret Killjoy about anarchists living in an abandoned city, and beset by assholes within their community, and supernatural horrors from without. The world kinda stuck with me, so when I saw she was working on an RPG not in the same world), I was curious to see what that would look like. I haven't cracked Penumbra City open yet, but I'm jazzed to do so.

These two fell off the pile for the big photo, so I forgot:

Deathmatch Island: I enjoyed the Hunger Games and Battle Royale movies a pretty moderate amount, but what really caught my attention here was the promise that players could also break the Reality TV Parody. The use of the Paragon system also caught my attention. After hearing one AP of Agon, I really wanted to see how that would translate into this, and it didn't take me too long reading it to go "Oh, okay, this rules."

Our God is Dead: What if you were a paladin or priest of a faith, and you found out your god was dead? What if you also had like, a bunch of people who really needed that god not to be dead, like this weekend? This sounds hilarious, and I am going to insert it into conversation often to see if people want to play it. Apologies to people who know me.

Eagle eyed viewers may have noticed a second Mothership box. What's that about?

It's a storage box for all my Mothership Zines so far... Except the two that are just slightly too big!

And, some fun comics/graphic novels:

Good Boy Paws: A friend of mine in comics put this together, and it looked extremely cute. A sweet tale of a good boi.

Wine Ghost Goes to Hell: Picked this up because the creator had contributed to Bugsnax, which is a game I enjoyed, and the concept seemed fun. Will have to check it out and report back!

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg #indie ttrpgs #indie comics #crowdfund haul report

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likeabruise-zine · 4 months

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✨✨✨

Introducing @bibookdemon who will be contributing to the zine as an artist!

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"Hi y'all! The name's Bibo.

Yu-Gi-Oh has been my special interest for many years, with emphasis on special. (Bibo stop yapping about YGO mission impossible!) I'm pretty funny silly goofy, so I saw the Zine and I was like. Yes. Absolutely. I haven't written nor drawn art for Tender before, but I've wanted to be able to do something for them for a while! This is the perfect opportunity, and I hope everyone enjoys my work <333"

-The MOD Team

#bibookdemon #ryou bakura #yami bakura #tendershipping #ygozine #fanzine #yu-gi-oh #like a bruise #ygo dm

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stormears · 2 years

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Zhongchi, love, courting and rabies

Daydreaming a zhongchi barely-reminiscent-of-canon fic that I wish I could write. Even though, again, I do not play Genshin I just like the fanart. And the two Genshin zines I bought. I guess an actual player might find some parts of this just wacky.

Here is my writeup. Read this long post if you like things like a possessive dragon Morax and terrifying soldier Childe and canon being mostly ignored and they're a mated pair by the end.

AU where Childe comes from Snezhnaya to Liyue carrying a rabies-like disease he acquired from the Abyss. Something that grants him exceptional power but could wipe out a huge swath of society. The Tsaritsa has commanded him to infect the population to topple this nation.

Morax/Zhongli is still the ruler (idk how I will deal with the 2 names) and he/his men fight Childe in a barrier or dome of some sort in the grasslands outside of town. The disease, if you might call this demonic force that, gives Childe unheard-of power. Onlookers can tell even the mighty war god Morax is unnerved by the impossible strength and power of this foreign man. Childe might have gutted a couple guardsmen and bitten their throats out before he got sealed in the dome.

The meat of the fic is Childe SOMEHOW talking/negotiating with the locals which turns into friendly banter which turns into "hey, come inside the dome and we'll chat and have a drink, I swear I won't bite you!" and he means it. Somehow he interacts with the locals from inside his dome, who get to thinking he's a pretty swell guy. He also meets with Morax, seeking to interrogate and intimidate him. The two have fun talking. Locals notice they have fun talking. They spend a lot of time talking. Discussing poetry and food and combat arts. Looking into each other's eyes...

One time Childe is demonstrating the craziness of his old lifestyle in the Snezhnayan wilds, like wrestling fish out of icy rivers with his bare hands, just nonsensical shit that would be in a viral video about people in Russia or Alaska. And Morax interrupts him by eating rocks. Actual rocks. CRRRRUNCHing them down like hard candy. Just to fuck with him. Make him unable to speak for once.

Over time (weeks!) Childe even is allowed to leave the dome and tour Liyue Harbor with Zhongli. Show him around. Even though he's effectively carrying a nuke in his blood. It's fine it's fine it's fine!! Childe and the dragon god have a nice night out on the town. Multiple nights. He comes out of the dome all the time now to hang out with Zhongli and friends.

However, Childe starts to be affected by the disease which he believed himself immune to. Coughing up blood, difficulty swallowing water...rabies symptoms but also whatever-I-want-for-the-story symptoms. Morax helps him realize that the Tsaritsa sent him on this mission to die, though she had said to Childe's face that he would be fine and return home. He is overwhelmed with betrayal and shame...and despair, because he will never see his family again.

Eventually, Zhongli asks him to renounce his loyalty to the Tsaritsa, and choose to stay in Liyue with him. He will find a way to save him and bring his family here, too. He'll do it himself. He'll do anything to make Ajax, he now knows, stay with him.

Childe falls to his knees, weeping in misery at this new choice and betrayal to his queen. With a heavy heart, he renounces his loyalty to his queen and goddess, the Tsaritsa.

Zhongli goes to his knees too, in front of Ajax, placing his hands on the young man's shoulders. To console him, and claim him. He says, "You have a new god now...and so do I."

And then...because I love a romantically-tinged chase scene and will insert it into anything...after this moment, Childe decides he wants to take revenge on the Tsaritsa for attempting to use him and dispose of him, and the people of Liyue, in this way. He makes a break for it. He tries to escape Liyue and fucking RUN all the way back to Snezhnaya.

Because with his powers from this Abyssal disease, despite his brain and blood cooking themselves to death, he could stand a chance against her. He may as well be like that Finnish solder in WWII who fled a Russian army alone for 250 miles and survived by constantly injecting himself with meth.

But Morax will not allow this. He will keep Ajax in Liyue now and steal a Snezhnayan Harbinger for his own. This will be his revenge for the Tsaritsa's attempted attack on his land. So it becomes a chase scene. Childe is borderline frothing at the mouth and looking a bit Foul Legacyish and he's broken out of the dome. The Liyuen guard dare not get in his way. Only Morax will. Their clash scars the landscape and burns them both. Ajax can run nearly fast enough to outpace a dragon. Ajax is halfway to godhood, but not for long. He is dying. He is not an ancient god. He could never run to Snezhnaya. He begins to slow down.

After much dodging, lashing out and sprinting, Morax traps him at last. Captures him as his desire and instincts demand. But the situation remains grim. Ajax apologizes and asks to be killed. He asks Morax to save his family. He begs to live. He can barely think or breathe. Morax has already decided what to do.

Morax uses his own powers to burn the disease out of him. It is unholy, unkillable...but for an Archon's power. So he removes his own gnosis and breaks it in half. One half he puts inside of Ajax. He burns to death there on the ground. Is reborn. The body that carried the disease is gone. His new body bears a Geo symbol on the skin at the base of the neck.

Zhongli picks up the half-human creature he's chosen to mate and carries his weak body back to Liyue on foot. The Liyuen people see the monstrous force that "possessed" Ajax like some ghost or demon (the widespread excuse for Childe's attempted war crimes) is now exorcised and the god is bringing his new love home. It's too soon to take him to the bridal chambers, as they are not wed. But is taken to the god's own chambers to rest in his bed, where he belongs now. One day soon they will court properly. This right was earned after Morax hunted and bested him.

But it must wait for Ajax's recovery, and for his family, who will be rescued and move to Liyue and give Ajax their blessing to marry Zhongli and have no problem with that or their forced emigration and now they're both demigods and that's that. THE END.

20-25k words. And I would make it a oneshot.

#Genshin Impact #Zhongchi #Zhongchili #Won't use the tart tag because it's not my preference and it's not the vibe this fic would have #fanfiction

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liyahmackenzie · 13 days

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Double drat. Could it be? No, it can’t. Yet it can. I’m perplexed. Please help me Understand The meaning Behind what I used to Consider The hard truth. Now it’s but A part of A picture Puzzle that I don’t want To complete. Many things I can choose To ignore, Overlook, Or cover, But to be Shown a new Perspective And to hold True to its Convictions Is so hard. Why have I Been given This mission? I must not Turn it down, But it will Be truly Difficult. Please bear with My conscience. Indeed, share Compassion With my own Feeble mind. I need it. I give thanks. For you give Me mercy, You show your Mighty grace. When I say, “Triple drat”.

This poem has a three-syllable structure. It conveys the feelings of someone who realizes they’ve been thinking the wrong way about something for ages, and now they have to adhere to new ways of thinking. It’s difficult but not impossible, and with enough grace and mercy of others, anyone can better their conscience.

Support me by downloading a zine of this poem at the following link and donating.

#syllables #mission #perplexed #confusion #poem #perspective #zine #poetry book

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missionzine · 2 months

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💥ZINE RELEASE 💥

Thank you, agents, for your patience and contribution to the IMF. The efforts of your hard work are now available for all to see - the documentation of a legacy decades in the making.

Here's to decades more.

✨ READ LEGACY HERE.

#mission impossible #dead reckoning #ethan hunt #benji dunn #ilsa faust #luther stickell #zine release #mission zine

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owlishintergalactic · 3 years

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This is an anthology of original stories written by fanfic writers. One of them is my own. For so long, fanfic writers have been discouraged from sharing their links to fandom in the original stories world and from disclosing they write fic to the publishing industry. Fic writers have been told many things. We're told we are inferior writers. We're told fic isn't real writing, but practice for originals and, simultaneously, that our originals will never fly because we cling to our beloved tropes and the conventions of our genre. I took these things to heart, for a long time, even as I knew there was an audience out there for the kinds of stories I wrote. Folks who would love the slower, more character driven adventures I wrote with fluff scenes interspersed throughout the action. Who consumed character studies and emotional prose as if they were as necessary to life as food and water. Who were desperate for the sort of inclusiveness in origfic that fanfic has always had. The same inclusivity the publishing industry has barely begun to tap into. So many of my fandom friends can point to a 200k word story they swear is better than any published novel and that it would suffer greatly from being forced into the 100k word or less box Big 6 publishers insist on to reduce risk. It can seem impossible to get your name and your words in print when you want to tell your stories, not those of the publishing industry, and you don't want to stop writing fic, much less renounce it. Self publishing, too, can seem like an insurmountable mountain of work and self-promo. I could sit here and talk about indie presses and niche zines and how they are, for the most part, a friendlier place for fanfic writers, but I mostly want to get the word out that there are two (that I know of) who specifically only take on fanfic writers and have built platforms around supporting those of us who want to be published: Duck Prints Press (@duckprintspress) and OFIC Mag (@oficmag). In the interest of full disclosure, I am both published with Duck Prints Press and became a part of the editorial staff after my story and contract were finalized for printing. I don't speak now as a staff member, but the author I am. I don't ever want to hoard opportunities, because we all benefit when there are more stories out there for us to read. I've got no affiliation with OFIC Magazine and haven't submitted a story to them (yet), but they appeared on my wall and inspired this post. I truly, deeply, down into my very core, believe in the missions of these companies and want to see them succeed (it's why I accepted a staff position in the first place). Publishing needs diversity; not just in authors and characters, but also in style and structure. It needs new stories. Fresh stories. The kinds millions of fandom folk already love to read. We don't need to grow out of our tropes or write something to Market with a capitol 'M'. It's not the only market, and it excludes so many people and so many beautiful, impactful stories. And I am glad there are people willing to put in the time and effort to publish books, anthologies, and publications to showcase all of these amazing tales of adventure, sorrow, intimacy, fluff, and love. If you're looking for paid opportunities to write the kind of stories you love, please check out https://www.oficmag.com/ and https://duckprintspress.com/ for upcoming opportunities. As I learn of more fic-writer-friendly publishers and zines, I will try to share them here as well as my fic-friendly general writing advice and answers to Asks on writing, making the transition from fic writer to origfic writer, and how my birds/guinea pigs/child/wife are doing. And, if you aren't interested, pass these opportunities along and keep on writing and reading. You're all amazing.

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liass-21 · 10 months

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writing a teamhunt! fic for the mi zine 👀

#should i post it before or after the zine is released though #tis the question #all other wip’s are taking a temp break so i can GET THIS OUT BEFORE THE DEADLINE 😭#mission impossible #legacy mi zine

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qweerhet · 3 years

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a lot of the “racism in AO3″ discussion seems to conflate what is actually two separate topics: moderating person-to-person interactions on AO3, and moderating the content hosted on AO3.

the issue of reducing racist abuse on AO3 often gets derailed by discussions of reducing racist content on AO3, which sucks imho because we should be talking about reducing racist abuse on AO3, but that’s separate from what content is posted to AO3, because this is not a social media platform we’re talking about, this is a content archive that has made it extremely clear their mission statement is to not moderate any content posted on that archive whatsoever--the only content they’ll remove is content made specifically to exploit and disrupt the function of the archive (people mistagging fics solely to trick people browsing a tag into clicking on them, for example, or people purposefully spamming tags in order to make them more difficult to browse). whether you agree with that decision or not is moot; that’s the function of the archive, that’s the mission statement of the nonprofit running it, and not only are they not going to change that, it would be infuriatingly difficult to change that due to their nonprofit status (as someone who runs a nonprofit, the restrictions on what we do as limited by our mission statement are a constant factor in how we function).

the discussion of racist content is a fandom-wide discussion and not by any means restricted to AO3; racist fan content is hosted almost everywhere, on twitter, tumblr, pinterest, in fandom facebook groups, in discord servers, in zines sold at cons, and yes, on AO3. limiting the discussion of how to combat the production of racist fan content to whether or not AO3 allows it is a disservice to all fans affected by racism in fandom; AO3 does not set the standards by which all fan content across the world is judged, and it shouldn’t, because the very function of AO3 is that, like a public library, it will contain the absolute worst most upsetting shit you have ever laid your eyes on, and that does not say anything about whether that content should have been produced in the first place.

so like, apart from doing a massive disservice to the overall wider problem of racism in fandom, derailing those discussions about AO3 also takes focus from the actual issue with racism in the archive, which is in person-to-person interactions, the ways in which archive functions are used to enact racist abuse against authors. this is a massive fucking issue, authors of color receive racist abuse on the archive daily, and AO3 does need to massively improve its moderation system to keep users safe now that there’s a massive influx of users engaging with it as if it’s a social media tool. but literally every single fucking post i see about this topic gets derailed by people yelling about how they shouldn’t allow racist fanworks, or about how they can discourage racist fanworks, or about how it’s impossible to moderate racist fanworks, or whatever.

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kumeko · 3 years

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A/N: For the FF15 Changing Fate Zine! I wanted to change Nyx + Crowe's fate, but alas, we could had to do minimal changes. T_T

…

There were very, very few times that Libertus found Insomnia beautiful. It was a cluttered city, crammed to the brim with people and buildings. Day or night, there was a constant stream of sound, of angry horns and high-pitched laughter. For all that Insomnia was alive, it was never quiet, not in the way that Galahd was. There were no slow-running streams here, no frogs to serenade him to sleep. At home, the only lights at night were the moon and fireflies.

Still, it was safe here. Libertus had learned long ago that there were few things people wouldn’t trade for a peace of mind. As piss-poor as the food here was, he could get used to it. As much as the guards cussed him, it was a better fate than death. And for all of his homesickness, he had his best friend and a little sister of sorts here.

“Libertus, get your slow ass up here already!” Crowe yelled from above.

Libertus frowned, staring at his plate. Well, she certainly was like a little sister, all right. Sometimes he wondered if she loved him at all, or just loved insulting him. Before she could yell at him again, he shouted back, “Hold your horses, I’m coming!”

“Bring a drink while you’re at it,” Nyx called out.

It was bad enough the locals treated him like a servant, he didn’t need his friends doing the same. Libertus shot a dirty glare at the door leading to the roof. When he’d first gotten this flat, he’d thought he was lucky. If he’d realized how often Crowe and Nyx would eat dinner at his place, he’d have never signed the lease. Biting back an angry swear, he picked up two beers with his free hand and headed over to his friends.

As he stepped onto the roof, his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. Just ahead of him, perched on the edge of the roof, Nyx and Crowe chatted quietly. Their plates were beside them, forgotten, and Libertus wondered what they were talking about. Not another mission, he hoped—he never wanted to talk about the work outside of the job. As he approached them, Nyx looked over his shoulder. “I was starting to think you’d injured more than your leg.”

“Don’t be a smart ass.” Rolling his eyes, Libertus tossed the beer can. Infuriatingly, Nyx caught it with ease. “Make some room.”

“Didn’t realize you were so fat,” Crowe teased, shuffling to her left. Patting at the spot between her and Nyx, she smirked up at him. “All yours.”

“I’ll remember this the next time you’re injured.” With a groan, Libertus lowered himself. His plate wobbled precariously as he sank onto the roof. “Next time, we’re eating out.”

“Sure, I have to watch out for my elders.” Crowe dodged his half-hearted swipe, laughing.

“Leave the old man alone,” Nyx reprimanded. Whatever sternness he was aiming for was undermined by his laughter.

“We’re the same age!” Libertus smacked Nyx. “Anyways, what were you talking about?”

“Nothing, really.” Nyx shrugged, gesturing at the city sprawled out ahead of them. Hundreds of lights flickered on and off below them, various shops opening and closing as time passed. It looked almost like the fireflies at home. Almost. “For a city with shit food, it’s not half bad to look at.”

“You know, you keep saying shit food but never bother to cook actual Galahd food,” Crowe pointed out. “When are you two planning on enlightening me?”

“I guess you’re ready for some real food.” Libertus wasn’t a great cook, not by any stretch, but even a taste-blind amateur was better than the cooks here. “After you come back from your next mission, okay?”

“I’ll make sure to get the healers ready,” Nyx added, unhelpfully. He laughed as Libertus swiped at him now.

Still, Libertus had to give him a begrudging point. The city was beautiful, if only for the fact that they could have nights like this.

-x-

There were very, very few times that Libertus found Insomnia beautiful. And now he would never think that again. Shell shocked, he stood at the gates to the city and watched as his new home burned to the ground. It had been unbelievable when he’d raced through the darkness, guiding Nyx and Luna across the collapsing terrain. It was even more unbelievable now as the sun rose, revealing just how much the empire had destroyed the city. How much hehad destroyed the city—unintentionally or not, he had lent his hand to this invasion.

God, he’d been stupid, thinking that for one minute the empire would have freed Galahd. The only thing they wanted was to watch everything burn. The only thing they’d leave behind was rubble. As the sun rose, Libertus forced himself to stare at the city and witness exactly what he’d wrought. Demons disappeared as the sun hit them, the giant guardian statues shattered into a thousand fragments now that their duty was over.

“It’s over,” he muttered, half to himself.

“No, unfortunately it is not,” a quiet voice replied and Libertus snapped his head to find Luna standing next to him. He’d almost forgotten that she was still here, that there was at least one survivor in the city. She looked at him with tired eyes, exhaustion wearing her down to the bone. Dirt smudged her skin and it would be easy to think of her as another ragamuffin on the street and not the princess of a lost country. “This night might have ended, but there is a longer one ahead of us.”

“Oh.” What was he supposed to say in response to that? And what was that answer, anyways? Her words were so cryptic, he wasn’t even sure that Crowe could have deciphered them.

Libertus covered his mouth. Crowe was dead. In the rush of everything, he’d almost forgotten that he hadn’t just lost a city. Crowe was dead and Nyx—he took a step forward, already scanning the city. “I have to go get Nyx.”

A cool hand grabbed his, stopping him in his tracks. Looking over his shoulder, he watched as Luna shook her head. Her eyes were so big and sad he almost didn’t need to hear her speak to know what she was about to say. “I am afraid it’s too late.”

“How do you know?” he growled, yanking his hand free. Whirling around on her, he grabbed her shoulders. “What do you know?”

“Not enough,” she admitted, her voice cracking. Luna wasn’t looking at him, her gaze instead on the smouldering ruins behind him. “If only I could have prevented this. I wanted to save Nyx, to save the King, and instead all I managed to protect was this.” She held out her palm, revealing a small ring.

The king’s ring. He had seen what’d happened to Ravus. What must have happened to Nyx.

To the foolish, heroic Nyx.

“No…” Libertus uttered, staring at the ring.

“I am truly sorry.” She closed her eyes.

“No!” he cried, collapsing to his knees. His hands slid down her arms, fingers digging into her skin, but she didn’t cry out. “Nyx…he…”

Nyx was dead. Crowe was dead. Galahd was taken over and Insomnia destroyed. There were few things that Libertus could call his own and all of them were gone. Libertus wanted to cry. He wanted to yell. Losing his home had taught him a thing or two about loss but that didn’t make it any less of a gut punch.

“Please, take care of yourself. He would have wanted that.” Luna gently pried his hands loose, still giving him that sad smile.

What did you know about loss? he almost screamed, but even he’d heard of Tenebrae, of her mother’s death. The empire was cruel to everyone, whether they were princesses or the most common of folks.

Gravel crunched underfoot as she slowly walked toward the city’s gates. Whatever purpose had brought her to the city, she clearly hadn’t finished achieving it yet. Despite her kind words, her expression had been determined. Libertus had seen that expression on Nyx and Crowe a thousand times. She was a woman with a mission.

And he…he had none. He didn’t even have bodies to bury. All that he had was a wellspring of grief that threatened to bury him. Libertus forced it down, fighting back his tears. This wasn’t the time or place to mourn. He glanced behind him again, at the crumbling city. Should he go back to Galahd, hoping for the off-chance that Nyx might have pulled the impossible? Should he just disappear quietly, fading away like thousands before him must have?

Or a third choice. He turned back to Luna, to her slowly shrinking figure. Nyx had given his life to protect her. And while Libertus could care less about royalty, he didn’t want Nyx’s final act to go to waste. Didn’t want this night to have come to nothing. Crowe had died for this princess. Nyx had sacrificed himself for her.

The least Libertus could do was make sure she at least got to her destination in one piece. Scrambling to his feet, he jogged after her.

“Hey, Princess, wait up!”

And if he didn’t have to deal with his grief now, well, that made it all the better.

#nyx #libertus ostium #crowe altius #ffxv #lunafreya nox fleuret #fanfic

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