#sing it together zine

[sing-it-togetherzine]

Last week to apply

We don’t have to wait much longer before we can get this party started!

There is still room for art and fanfic so if you would like to join our project, follow the link below to apply. Don’t wait! The application closes on Saturday, August 31st at 11pm(EST).

[jennjamindraws]

HAIIIII THERE!

So I saw your other blog about the zine that you're doing and I was wondering if you'll MAYBE do another one soon? Cuz I honestly wanna be a part of one😭

Do I know how a zine works?Well,not really! But I really wanna try something new and fun!

So yeah,if you do plan to make another zine in the future,that would be great 😊

(your art is very nice:) )

Hi!! I definitely WANT to run another one in the future! It’ll depend on a few things and if I do it won’t be for a while after this one releases (I wanna make sure everyone and me gets a break before starting again), maybe a few months to a year but we’ll see. You’re not the only one I’ve seen who didn’t/couldn’t join this one and wants to join another, so it’s possible there’s a Volume 2 down the line.

You can always follow the zine blog to stay in the loop, that’s where I’m posting all news about it and would definitely post about a future zine from there too.

So far I’m really enjoying the process with everyone🥰 It’s definitely a unique community project and I hope you can be a part of a future one!

(and thank you!<3)

[ami-v-dragnire]

🌱Growing Together🌱

.

This is where I am, mentally, all the time. My piece for the @itbeganinagardenzine, a zine dedicated to their retirement at their South Downs cottage. Where nightingales sing.

I love you all ❤️

[nilikhangdiwa]

🎧 SOUNDTRACKS: ENSEMBLE PREORDERS OPEN 🎧

"Director, let's sing a song together!"

Don't miss your chance! Get a copy of the zine now from our website:

https://a3songzinevol2.bigcartel.com/

📅 Preorders: Sept. 8 - Nov. 8 (8PM, GMT+8)

(Edit: Preorders have been extended!)

Take a peek at what we have in store for you! 👀

We've got 80+ pages of art and fic waiting, and merch you can get your hands on, all lovingly created by our contributors! 💕

And that's not all! More merch will be available when we hit our stretch goals!

Moreover, if you place your preorder before September 22nd, you'll receive a special early bird bonus for free!

📅 Early Bird Promo: Sept. 8 - 22

And lastly, if you want to place a group order, let us know through email or on our twt DMs, and we'll help get you set up!

✉️ a3songszine.mods@gmail.com

🐦 @A3SongZine

[scentedinksandwhackedseals]

some things i enjoyed about tonight in no particular order:

- claws in your back with a full band

- happy to be here with a full band

- even with a full band

- DIFFERENT NEW SONG

- someone giving her flowers (pink carnations i heard!!!) and then people started singing her happy birthday five days early

- she shut that down by going “nononononono” and shredding and—according to my dad (whose birthday it ACTUALLY is)— saying “i’m in charge”

- her dedicating rejoice to her friend ariel (ariel baldwin, who made her devout queer shirt and put together her loss protection zine and the lyric videos for the rest and more stuff i can’t think of)

- matt saying “you better sing” to us before everybody does

- singing along and screaming my lungs out

- the show beginning with over with her off stage and then her coming on stage for appointments—it was so dramatic and exciting

- her saying just kidding when she came back for encore

- her looking fucking incredible in a plain white t-shirt (just like she looked fucking incredible last night in a different white shirt. her in white shirts. damn.)

- the setlist was super different! which is so cool! i wonder what she’s gonna do tomorrow!

-oh and both the openers were wonderful!!!

-all of it. just all of it.

[smallishzine]

very important official zine stuff for real this time guys please spread this around

we realized we haven’t asked you what you want this zine to be, so here is poll with some different options for things we could do, but this still won’t set things in stone cause we’re aware that we’re working with a relatively small albeit amazing awesome and extremely appreciated audience, but it’ll give us a good idea for what direction you want the zine to go in.

some examples of what we mean for added coherence, please read before voting unless you wanna be like that guy in the Simpsons movie:

an eras tour zine (yes this is a Taylor swift joke shut up if you’re judging us you’re wrong) would be like different pieces dedicated to each, for lack of a better word, “thing” that Joel has done. @/inthelittlezine is a great example of this concept, except the mod has far better organizational skills than we ever could hope to

tourism brochure would be like we pick a specific thing Joel, such as esmp 1 or 2, or x life, or one of his hardcore/survival worlds (I haven’t listed Hermitcraft season 10 cause that’s still in progress but if you guys really really wanna, that too), and make an in universe guide to it expanding upon the lore and characters and builds and stuff. @/scarland-artbook is an amazing example of this, though of course we would be a much smaller scale of a project.

do you wanna tell a story? Or ride our bikes around the halls? We can’t help with the second one, we’re not very sporty people, but this option is both the most difficult and dangerous to the success of the zine, and the one that intrigues me specifically the most. Like, guys, I know I’m polling this, but I’m secretly hoping that this one wins. Like all the hoping. Ever. But I’m not gonna just say yeah let’s do this because if like only three people also wanna this zine will never get made and I will be really, really sad. This option is basically do we wanna take something Joel has done and work together to create an original universe/story based off of it, each contributing a small part of the story in comic or writing form. Unless you’ve been living under a rock and/or this post broke containment sorry if it did I assure I’m usually mostly sane, you probably know where I’m shamelessly stealing taking inspiration from. We heart you @/hotguycomiczine. If we went with this we would obviously create our own universe and storyline, and we’d try to base it off of one of Joel’s characters if possible. Also, if we went with this, we’d start the mod and application process and stuff and once we knew everyone who was going to be in the zine then we’d all get together and start working on the story, and this is the part I’m worried about because if we’re all stumped then I guess the zine is out of luck and I’d be sad. Also even if we did do this, like preemptively temper your expectations I am no where near as good as the legends at hotguycomiczine at organization and promotion and story writing and all that good stuff. However, if you have an idea for a story and want to share, send us an ask cause we might just end up using it.

I think the last two are mostly self explanatory.

please reblog for reach.

[jacobpking]

HERACLES and HEBE - Afterlife in Bliss

This is my contribution to the Sing o Muse Greek myth art zine! I illustrated the 15th Homeric Hymn, to Heracles, and it mentions that after a life of hardship, Heracles and Hebe live happily together on Olympus, and I thought that was really poignant. Here's a vulnerable, content Heracles, (most) hard edges worn away.

It was an absolute joy to be a part of this, go purchase a copy of the zine to see my behind the scenes process work!

[dognonsense]

Song list for my album! Updated Song Links under read more!

Puppy Girls Rule the World by Dog Nonsense

Muzzled Monster (youtube- woods) (tumblr- woods) (youtube- victory square open mic) (tumblr- bedroom) (tumblr- zine) (tumblr- studio show) (tumblr- skatepark)

Woof Woods (tumblr- live at rat labs) (tumblr- studio version clip) (tumblr- bedroom) (tumblr- live at rat labs clip) (tumblr- skatepark) (tumblr-tyrant)

Train Track Diorama (youtube- victory square open mic) (tumblr- bedroom)

Poly Dyke Menace (tumblr- victory square open mic) (tumblr- victory square) (tumblr-rat lab) (tumblr- studio show)

Toke & Choke (youtube-woods) (tumblr- woods) (tumblr-live at rat labs) (tumblr- open mic victory square) (tumblr- backyard) (tumblr- studio 1, 2) (tumblr audio- victory square)

Rotting Flesh

High Speed Railing (tumblr- studio show) (tumblr- studio show)

Mommy I Got Rabies

Patch Trade

Thinking Together (youtube-woods) (tumblr- woods)

Foggy Doggy (youtube- victory square open mic) (tumblr- zine)

Punk Venue Backyard

Bubbled Away (youtube- victory square open mic)

Whiny song for whiny people

Show photos & video links

march 9 Studio show

Show Photos: yvrpunks Intergalacticleaf spittakephotos

Video: Tumblr post with link to Instagram- muzzled monster, high speed rail, punk pets, poly dyke menace

March 30 studio show

New age doom singing video

April 6 green auto show

after show photos , patches for sale

Singing for new age doom tumblr video

April 13 skatepark under bridge

Photos

June 6 tyrant

Wood woods

August 15th victory square

Toke & choke

[dragonflylady77]

you got it

Paring: Harringrove | Rating: G | 2333 words | Getting back together, song fic

This is the fic I wrote for @harringrovezine over a year ago. Well, this is the slightly longer version of the fic that went in the zine. I was trying to come up with an idea and I got to thinking about the song You Got It by Roy Orbison (or, more specifically, the version Whoopie Goldberg sings in the movie Boys on the Side). Its a song that makes me cry in 10 seconds flat... And I thought, ooh what if Billy was in a band, and he sang that song to try and get Steve back... so I went looking for a cover with lots of drums and I found this song:

I have plans to expand, both before and after what happens in this fic, even started a playlist for the band. I hope you enjoy it.

Summary:

Billy is the lead singer of the band Renegade Sunshine in San Diego. He left Hawkins with a broken heart the day after graduation. Max got the band hired to provide the music at the Hawkins High 10 year reunion, in a last ditch matchmaking attempt to get Billy back with Steve.

“Billy, you have to go.” 

Max shook the invite in his face and Billy was two seconds away from biting her hand if she didn’t cut it out.

“No, actually, I don’t have to do anything.” He focused on his breathing like he’d learned in therapy, and it was vaguely working.

“Come on!” The whine in her voice took him back to their teenage years. He rolled his eyes and counted to ten. She kept shoving the shiny piece of paper in his face and he had enough. He snatched it out of her grasp, folded it and put it in his back pocket.

“Give it up, Maxine.”

“You know I won’t, William . This is your chance to get him back.”

Billy felt everything inside him turn to stone. He should have expected Max to hit below the belt, yet it still hurt. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Billy, please!”

Billy turned away from her and walked to his room, closing the door carefully behind him instead of slamming it like he really wanted. The lock clicked really loudly into place. He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. 

Fuck!

The last thing he needed right now was to think about Steve. The invite for the Hawkins High Class of ‘85 ten year reunion was burning a hole in his pocket. The way Max inferred it was his fault that the thing between him and Steve had ended was burning a hole in his gut. 

Read more on Ao3

[eye-of-enigmatic-thought]

Happy New Year! I hope you all had a good December! These were my contributions to the @welcomehomefanzine winter zine! I managed to do more art this time too! For my contributions I wanted to draw art on various Winter traditions from different cultures, such as also my own! If you decide to colour in any of these, please @ me!!

Also keep in mind, we are not affiliated with Clown or the team behind WH, we are just fans who love the work!!

I wrote more on all the artworks under the cut! Including the traditions they were based on!

First one was a little visual pun on the first verse of '12 Days of Christmas', Poppy is the partridge in the pear tree! Not much to say about this one, it's my only Christmas related thing! Second one was based on the Southern Welsh winter tradition of the Mari Lwyd. The Mari Lwyd is a hobby horse made from a horse's skull and is then decorated. It is puppeteered to go to the doors of various houses where its handlers will sing verses on letting it in to the home, you are supposed to sing back excuses on why you can't let it in, and if you relent, you invite the Mari Lwyd and its handlers in your home, where it will eat your food and alcohol and terrorise your children! The tradition and its true origins and meaning and even etymology is unknown, but it's thought to have ancient Pagan roots! It seems here, Eddie relented in his songs to it and regretted everything immediately after!

Third image is another Poppy centric piece because I love her. Here she is dressed up as a figure from Schnabelperchten! This is a tradition seen only in Rauris Valley in Austria and is a manifestation of Perchta, a goddess from Alpine Paganism that took the form of a old woman who'd punish misbehaving children by slitting their bellies. For Schnabelperchten, on the 5th of January, figures dressed in smocks, jackets, and a beak-like mask will visit various homes to check their upkeep and cleanliness all while emitting a soft 'ga ga ga', in more ancient versions of the legend, if you did not keep your living quarters in good enough conditions, the Schnabelperchten would slit open your belly and dump all the rubbish inside! Poppy would never do that though! No one tell her about that part!! Last but not least is one based on a tradition from my culture! Here you see the entire neighbourhood celebrating Yalda Night and spending time with one anotherThis is a Persian/Iranian festival with Zoroastrian roots held on the Winter Solstice. This day was traditionally seen as ill omened as being the darkest day of the year, the forces of Ahriman and his Deevs were most active, and so much of the day entailed family and friends getting together in good company. They would read stories and poems (especially the Shahnameh or poems by Hafez) with nuts and various fruits from previous harvests being served, watermelon and pomegranates being the most prominent! It was also encouraged to stay well up after midnight lest misfortune befall you! Due to it also being the longest night, it was also seen as the birthdate of the sun deity Mehr (or Mithra), as the subsequent days would get longer.

This was all fun to do and I hope I did all these traditons justice!! I am most likely missing out a lot on my explanations for them, so I hope I at least peaked your interest in these different Winter festivities enough to look into them on your own!

[sing-it-togetherzine]

Zine Application

The wait is finally over! Thanks again to everyone who filled out the interest survey, this project is coming to life in part thanks to you. The application is open to artists and fanfic authors alike, featuring @spooky-pop as the cover artist!

If you would like to apply, you can find the link to the form below.

Please note: the last day the application will be open is August 31st, so make sure you apply before then or if you can’t right away, mark your calendar!

Tagging people below who requested to be notified:

@v-poreons @grim-ghosty @sili-a @florad0ra @drabbles-of-writing @millieduboisart @sorcerymuses @alydacat @tamagoneko @hey-hey-j @finnylemon @qernna @veryballoondestiny @sapphireskeletons @zivazivc @rawr-frog @potatoisvibing @ninjaturtlemaniac @creativepot4to @phibsies @oli-b3rry @priestessofnox @idiotcream @sandflakedraws @artistmarchalius @moonlit-validation @partywithoutsmiling @kodasawyer @c455idy @seldomscilence16 @elrahuffle @starfyhero2 @deakinscbuck @barbimica @oneproudwritter

[dovspeaksbeast]

Welcome Home

thinking about this page from @sleepvines’ lovely zine “Kind”. been thinking about it a lot actually. it’s so simple but I got kinda choked up reading it. I wasn’t sure why it hit me like that at first.

welcome home. I didn’t even know there was one. there’s a home? what does this home look like? I see dry leaves and stones and singing around a fire and dancing. somewhere I don’t have to pretend to be human or “normal” . We all take off our human masks and we laugh about it. How hot and stuffy it was having those things on. Fangs and claws glinting in the moonlight and wings around bodies in an embrace. Howling together and more than one tail wagging. Growling and barking and drumming in intertwined rhythm. WHO’S that beast? WHO’S that beast? you’re that beast. you’re here and you’re home. Welcome home.

Where is home and how do I get there. How can I help the beasts that need it get there. Where is home. There’s a home? I thought beasts like me weren’t meant to have a home. But you said welcome home. I’m welcome. We’re welcome. Home.

a home for all beasts. it’s not so impossible.

[rattlingmycage]

Hescrates

I figure it's about time I actually centralize the scattered pieces of my BG3 OC's bio in one place.

Species: Tiefling Gender: Agender (they/he) Background: Noble Class: Fighter. Previously Bard

Occupation

Heir to a noble lineage subservient only to royalty. The family makes their business in handling the martial affairs of the Crown, and are generally feared by aristocrats and peasants alike. Occasional personal security aide to one of the princes. He's charismatic, Epicurean, friendly, and a pain in the ass for Hescrates because he drags them to his various social excursions with foreign dignitaries.

Alignment

Neutral evil. Generally speaking, they're rather vicious. Cut you for staring at them funny vicious. It's what keeps the hired mercenaries in line, and ensures no rivals get any misguided ideas.

They chill out more in the game timeline, since they don't have an army at their disposal and the game companions are all they have to work with. It's an intentional strategic choice, but also the first time they relax the tyrant facade in about a decade.

Philosophy Strike first, ask later. Loyalty is a commodity, trust is a mistake, and power is the only safety. Personal survival above all. I made this OC because I wanted a more precarious relationship arc with Astarion, so I chose the personality traits according to that. They're things that Astarion can relate to, but also a source of constant conflict with him.

Curse Hescrates made a pact with a witch long ago. The stitch scarring on their lips sews back together if they ever try to sing, and the wound reopens without warning at times. In exchange they're very strong and can tank most damage with ease. (I basically made a fucked up Ariel. Instead of legs she just gets hella jacked. And becomes dollar store Deadpool. lol)

I have a zine that goes into detailed backstory (too much, if you ask me), several au versions of them of varying nastiness, and I ship them with Astarion in an enemies > begrudging allies > lovers > separated > ??? something fucked up here > bitter rivals way.

[voids-colourful-creations]

Glass Roses - A Kanna Kizuchi Fic

[Read on Ao3!]

Rated: T Your Turn to Die - Up Until the end of Chapter 2 Words: 2,550 Warnings: Canon Typical Anguish, Death, and Depictions of Torture

Kanna, in the shards of glass that remain after everything falls apart.

This was written for the amazing YTTD Epilogue Zine! Be sure to check out the other amazing artists and writers in this!! This project's a bit old, I wrote this over 2 years ago! But this is still one of my favourite projects to be apart of, it was so much fun!

--

Teardrops are sliding down Kanna’s face slowly, taunting her. They taste terrible, salt, sweat, snot and sorrow, but Kanna isn’t sure she’ll be able to breathe right if she closes her mouth.

Kanna sits on the floor, it's hard and cold and she can feel tiny pieces of grit and dirt digging into her skin. They’re tiny needles and barbs, small whispers and reminders. Each tiny pinprick sings to her, “you deserve this.”

Reko’s hand is resting on her back, making light circles. Her hand is wide and warm, the tips of her nails blunt. Not her sister. Kugie’s hand was slim and cool to the touch. Her nails were long, painted in perfectly even strokes.

Kanna’s not sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. She knows the hand attempting to comfort her isn’t Kugie’s. It won’t ever be Kugie’s. Not anymore.

Everytime she thinks about that for a moment too long, her lungs seem to have the air siphoned out of them, until she’s wheezing and choking on her own lack of oxygen.

But on the other hand, Kanna doesn’t need Reko’s hand to pretend that Kugie’s beside her.

The voice is already whispering in her ears; or rather, it hasn’t yet stopped.

Kugie screamed when she was crushed. A loud, raspy scream accompanied by a grotesque splattering, splintering, crushing noise. Within the echoes of that scream, a whispering voice remains, ringing around and around with no end.

Kanna stares at the floor as Reko murmurs, touch still light and gentle.

It only makes things worse.

The floor is so shiny. So pristine and clean. Was this building freshy built to torture them? Or did the kidnappers simply scrub it clean before they had arrived.

It’s so sickeningly shiny. Kanna can see her reflection. Kanna can see Kugie’s reflection.

The more Kanna cries the more her vision blurs, the more her reflection distorts, her features melting away leaving Kugie in her place, sobbing still. Melting, melting, melting, like snowmen (they’d never make one together again), like crayons in heat (they’d never draw together again), like ice cream (they’d never eat together again) that Kanna could still taste. Disgusting, sickly sweet, burning against the back of her throat.

It’s stinging, sickening pain as Kanna shakes.

She can’t tear her eyes away from her own reflection (or is it hers?).

The sallow eye sockets stream with tears, mouth wide open.

Why’d you kill me Kanna. Filthy disgusting Kanna. It should’ve been you, Kanna.

Kanna, Kanna, Kanna.

She hasn’t noticed that Reko’s hand has left her back until it’s coaxing her forward, pulling her gently into an embrace.

“Kanna, Kanna look at me, okay?”

Kanna tears her eyes away from the reflection.

Reko’s eyes are sharp and defined, but her expression is soft and concerned.

“Kanna, can you just take a breath in for me? Just one nice big breath, good, good that’s a good girl. Now breathe out- you got it! You’re doing incredible, Kanna.”

Kanna watches Reko’s face carefully, focuses on matching her breath. She doesn’t look away, tracing her eyes over each smudge of makeup, each hair in her eyelashes, the crisscrossing pattern of her braid.

And if Kanna focuses hard enough, she can almost convince herself that she can’t see Kugie’s crying face reflected in Reko’s eyes.

--

There’s a dull hum in the monitor room, but the sound is starting to get to Kanna. It stings, this buzzing sound that won’t leave. It’s dozens of tiny sparks in her brain.

She keeps staring at the screens unblinkingly. To any observers she appears frozen in place, but her heart is pounding hard and fast.

It’s not here.

Even with no picture on the back of any monitor, Kanna keeps staring at one monitor in particular, hoping that somehow a mistake was made. That somehow, the screen will flicker to life, and her sister will smile back at her, scold her for being so silly.

She stares, unblinking.

She stares.

It stings, but she’s too terrified of missing something in the split second she blinks.

Nothing changes.

It won’t stop being Kanna, staring back at Kanna. Her own eyes, growing shiny the longer she stares into them. If she looks hard enough, within the reflection on the screen, she can see the reflection of the screen in her own eyes, and so on and so forth down a never ending hole. The sort of hole Kanna feels herself on the edge of ever since she got tangled into this mess.

Why? Why not her sister? How come Kanna couldn’t see her again? Now that the possibility had been presented to her, ripping it away was unimaginably cruel.

It’s an ugly and selfish guilt that pricks her stomach. A ball of thorns, woven around and around in ringlets and coils. What made Professor Mishima so much better than her sister? How come Nao got this splinter of relief, while Kanna fell further, further, into a world she knew she’d be alone in?

She doesn’t tear her gaze away from the monitors until they flicker to life, blaring reds and glaring yellows, flashes that light up the dark room. 

Kanna’s eyes burn. 

Taunting, laughing dolls address them with amused expressions. Ranger looks down at Kanna like she is the doll instead, a plaything, something to break if bored.

His skirt (though it’s not his skirt, she can’t call it his when it's what little remains of her sister) sways back and forth as he paces around them in circles, eyes swirling. It’s nauseating. She wants to deny it, but she knows. Can’t deny the familiarity of the tiny tear at hem’s edge, the loose thread that gets longer the more it's pulled at. 

Ranger’s laugh slashes away at Kanna’s heart, and with her vocal cords cut she remains silent. 

--

The cage is transparent, but Kanna can still see hints of her reflection in the glass. The tips of her fingers, pale and clammy, clutch at the edge of a jacket barely visible in the darkness. Her scarf, creased and crumpled, digs into her neck as she strains herself, trying to get a better picture of what’s happening. As all the color continues to drain from her face, her own fearful expression becomes more and more defined. All except the eyes, empty holes into the view beyond. The tiny figures of those strangers, those friends, those people playing unwillingly with each others’ lives. Sara, Reko, Nao, suspended high on a platform, their panic playing out in Kanna’s empty eye sockets.

It’s not the Reko that held her, the one on that platform up there. It’s not the Reko who comforted her, who told her things would be alright when they first entered the game. But it still looks like Reko. It still talks like Reko.

Dolls are, Kanna thinks, confusing. Non-human.

A manifestation of memory, maybe? But then, these weren’t created of their own will, were they? Unnatural beings…

An idle memory floats to Kanna, an inopportune time for it, as always.

She’s still holding onto her sister’s hand, scuffing her feet as she tries to keep up with her pace walking home. Her shoes scrape the curb, brushing against the tiny wildflowers that grow over the edges of the pavement.

Kugie is complaining again. About schoolwork this time.

Kanna listens intently to her sister’s words. Everything her sister says is interesting, and this is no different.

It’s something about a psychology class she’s taking, or philosophy? 

Some theoretical that she has to do a presentation on, and Kugie couldn’t care less.

“How about you explain it to me, then?” Kanna had asked, and Kugie’s expression had softened just a bit, her grip squeezing Kanna’s hand for a split second.

“Basically, it’s this dumb idea some really old guy came up with a really long time ago, or something. This guy claimed that every person’s “being” or sense of self or whatever it was, was like… made entirely out of their memories? I think…”

Kanna nodded, that made sense.

“But then it gets complicated because then like… if you lose your memories, are you not the same person? What if you misremember things, or lose your memories and get them back? See, it’s silly.”

“It sounds… scary.” Kanna decided on.

“Then that leads to this other idea,” Kugie continued, “that moment to moment, each version of you is a different person from the second before.”

“Then, Kanna would be talking to a new sister now, wouldn’t she?”

Kugie smiled, nodding.

“Yeah, exactly. Hello, newest Kanna.”

Their footsteps filled the silence for a moment. 

“And… What happened to the other Kanna?”

Kugie hesitated.

“I guess… she died.”

Now, Kugie’s words echo in Kanna’s mind, a loop that won’t end. She tries and tries, but her sister’s voice is ever present, never ending.

It’s terrifying. The thoughts that keep swirling, the idea that Kanna let go of. Regardless of her wishes, The Reko That Never Sang a Requiem was created of Reko’s memories. If she has Reko’s memories, is the Reflection That Isn’t Reko as real as the first Reko?

Maybe it’s the atmosphere, the distance, the fear, but Kanna’s stomach squirms when she looks at The Reko That Doesn’t Breathe. It’s Not Kanna’s Reko. There’s nothing about The Reko That Is Pleading For Its Life that’s wrong , per se, no single trait Kanna can point to and say, “there! That’s not the Real Reko!” Then again, maybe it would be better to say there was nothing more wrong with this than to be expected. Because everything about this is wrong, nothing about this is right, Kanna is scared and tired and she wants to go home with her sister and sleep.

When Kanna squints, she can see it. Not physically, not in a way she can describe, but she can feel the difference. That’s not Kanna’s Reko.

The scary part, Kanna knows, though she tries not to think about it, is the lingering feeling that it could’ve been.

Kanna can picture it even, this Reko, though slightly more brash, being Her Reko. This Memory of a Reko. A living ghost for a woman who hadn’t died. Not yet anyway, but from the way Ranger was laughing, Kanna couldn’t be sure how long that would be.

This Reko, The Reko That’s Not Quite Right, is nothing like Ranger, or Safalin, or Miley. Nothing like the Reception Doll. 

She’s Reko, but she’s not.

If this Reko, the Reko that’s crying, make-up staining artificial cheeks, had been the one Kanna had met before, would they still feel the same way?

She doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter. 

Reko tumbles back with Sara’s shove, and Kanna squeezes her eyes shut. 

--

Kanna’s fingers tremble as she holds the phone she’s finally retrieved in her hands. Clumsy Kanna, stupid Kanna, how could she have lost it.

Kanna shakes her head, not that it quiets the voices. 

Taking a deep breath, she begins to type her apology. 

It’s her turn now. She knows it’s her turn now. She’s made this choice, she’s earned this fate, she’s prepared for what it means. She thinks. She hopes.

The tips of Kanna’s nails clack against the phone screen as she types out her message. They didn’t used to. While Kanna was trapped here, they must have grown. The thought unsettles her more than she was expecting it to. Letter by letter, slowly and carefully, she types. She’s not quite hesitant, not quite unrestrained. 

Kanna will be the big sister. She’ll protect her big sister, her Sara, that’s what matters. She can make up for her mistakes, she can atone for her sins. Kanna can do it. Even if her fingers tremble. 

The screen is dark, though Kanna can still make out each letter she types. Her own face reflects back at her, tinted red by the phone’s screen. 

She doesn’t look like herself, really. Or perhaps, she doesn’t look like Kanna? Does Kanna not look like her? The longer she stares at the screen, the more she wonders if Kugie would recognize her. Does she even recognize herself? Though, perhaps recognition is not the top concern. Kanna wonders, more idly than she should, if the Kanna from last year would resent the Kanna who stares back at her now. She wonders if she ought to care either way.

This can be her apology. To her sisters, the both of them, to herself.

When the message is complete, Kanna’s fingers slowly slide off the phone's screen. They’re sweaty, she’s shaking harder than she realized.

But she can’t stop yet. She’s got to atone. 

And she will.

--

Sara’s sobbing when she votes, and Kanna watches her shake. Kanna smiles, softly. She had done it, hadn’t she? Finally, she’d done something right. Just like her big sister, what a good girl, Kanna. Wasn’t that just how things went for a Kizuchi sister? To die to protect her sister? It hurts Sara now, Kanna can see, but she’ll move past it, Sara’s excellent at moving forward. Much better than Kanna in every way. And with Sou, the group will be even stronger. Much stronger than they would’ve been with silly little Kanna.

Yes, this is much better for everyone. 

So Kanna doesn’t see herself when she looks at Sara’s sobbing face. Not in the slightest. 

--

The moment Kanna feels the stabbing, pricking pain, she closes her eyes. She can feel the seeds spreading, flowing through her veins. It’s an awful, horrible feeling, and she screams out despite herself. She wants to slash her skin open with her own hands, rip herself to pieces. At least that would be less painful. She’d prefer the running, dripping agony, than the buzzing, stinging growth that swirls inside her. 

Her eyes stay firmly shut though she wails, mouth wide open.

There’s a saying about memories playing back as someone verges on death, Kanna can’t be certain if it's true or not. But she sees it, playing on the back of her eyelids. The Kanna of yesterday. The Kanna that will never exist. The current, tangled, Kanna, wilting and blooming in unison. They’re smiling, all of them. It’s comforting.

At the very least, it’s Kanna. Her selfish scrap of comfort is that it’s her name she can hear them yelling. I don’t blame you, she wants to say, thank you, she wants to cry, but the vines have replaced her vocal cords.

Kanna’s not sure if it's a mercy or a cruelty that her brain appears to be untouched by the flowers. Her mind whispers out its last message, it repeats and repeats in her brain, the same words rewind and reply, echoing over and over. A reflection, a shadow, a regret. Kanna’s final lament.

Sister… 

Are you... watching?

Are you... proud?

...Kanna

Is just like you... now.

...Kanna did it.

The screaming stops.

I... protected someone with my own death.

...Kanna ...died knowing her sibling would be safe.

Just  

Like  

You.

...Right?

Two girls walk home, holding ice cream in either hand.

Sister?

Kanna made sure sister’s gift wasn’t wasted. But Kanna’s a big sister too now. Kanna’s learned to share. So if it’s me… then it’s fine.

It hurts, sister.

A flower blooms. 

I’m coming to see you again, sister.

…

I hope Kanna hasn’t left you waiting too long.

[Ending.]

[worldbeyondzine]

THE CAT'S OUT OF THE BAG!

go pick up a digital copy of the World Beyond the Veil transmasc horror zine today!

Video description: A video timelapse of a white man making art of a vintage-styled Halloween cat on a giant lite brite. Background music sings "it's spooky season" repeatedly. The video starts with a finished view of the cat, then shows the progress of it being put together. Text overlay reads: "The cat's out of the bag--World Beyond zines are back! Pick up a digital copy through November 18th for $2 off. And don't forget to stay spooky."

[greenerteacups]

this might seem v random but, if you haven't come across it already, i would really recommend tavi gevinson's latest online zine 'fan fiction' -- not because of the fan fiction element of it, though, but because of your evident love of taylor swift (who it's about) and your impeccable literary taste. and would love to hear your thoughts!

This was an excellent recommendation, and I loved it. I will admit that the RPF segment had me leery (RPF throws me for reasons I have yet to intellectually inspect but believe may relate somehow to the concept of voyeurism) but I'm glad I finished it, because she pulls it together very well. The dialogue in the last segment is especially great, particularly these parts:

And this:

And this:

Because this gets at what I find so Gordian about Internet conversations among even relatively respectful/measured people about Swift's work and presence: we can't seem to figure out what it is we want from her. There is no right way for a woman to be more famous than most presidents. Do we want her to need us or not? Should she care about our approval or shouldn't she? Is the fact that she doesn't "feel" authentic to us the consequence of having demanded authenticity for so long she literally had to shape her personality to fit what "felt real" to millions of people, and in the process, of course, of course, inevitably, produced work that felt authentic to no one?

And then also, like. To what extent do fans use her autonomy/consent as a lever for bad behavior? I.e. does the "invitation" of personal information in her songs license us to speculate about her like she's a character on a TV show? Where is the line of appropriate speculation in an autobiographical medium? I was talking to my friend at dinner just tonight about how it's gross that people can't seem to give her the credit of writing songs that aren't 100% always About Her, and my friend pointed out that she invites comparisons to her own life by teasing names and iconography we identify with her public persona. It's like Brett Easton Ellis writing a book about a character named Brett Easton Ellis. Sure, they're not the same person, but you've invoked a symbol, and people are not being ridiculous for trying to analyze that symbol in the context of the work. In order to do that, they need to understand what the symbol is. Which means the biographical stuff actually is relevant to the text, and Swift's obvious irritation at her fans for failing to just... fuck off a little bit and let her live, while an entirely fair and morally defensible human response, is complicated by the way that her art is produced to resonate best for those who care most. Folklore and Evermore prove even Taylor is on some level aware of this, because she uses the third-person mechanic (and again in "Bolter") to differentiate those protagonists from the narrative construct of "Taylor Swift" in her other first-person work — i.e. pulling apart the Swift who is speaking and not the Swift who is singing (if that makes sense).

And then, finally: "The irony gets a bit tired. You can just say you like music. It's fine." What a deliciously recursive little bit of irony, considering it's a criticism being offered by a character whose ironic distance is itself being criticized. And the fact that the author is putting her own self-criticism in the mouth of a non-existent popstar who's deliberately flattening her take on her subject matter? Mingling valid with invalid criticism to establish a protective distance from her flaws and prove her smarty-pants intellectual self-awareness while also implicitly disowning the faults in her work, an (ironically) childish gesture of insecurity that stands at odds with the mature intellectual persona? Trying to have about seven or eight different cakes, and eat every one of them? "The irony gets a bit tired." Fucking perfect. I laughed.