#star train zines

[hoshidensha]

After Reimi's gone, who will you see in the Ghost Boy's Alley...?

Now I can share the piece I did for the JJBA Chronology Zine!! Of course I had to do something with my three favourite boys and a whole lotta angst~ Thank you for letting me join this project, it's been an absolute honour ♥

[hoshidensha]

It was an honour to be art mod for this project! Everyone did an amazing job (and the zine is free to download :DDD) so please come check us out!! 💜✨🎶🪄

Zine Launch

It's time for the huge debut! Fame Music and Magic is now available to read here!

Cover is by the lovely @snoocupz!

[theartarmature]

My submission piece for the Razzle Dazzle: A History Hetalia Anthology #2 @hwsrazzledazzle ! The front cover was different windows with different characters, and I chose India.z

[achromant]

AND HERE WE ARE! My project for the gw2 'zine!

Featuring Baruhn, reflecting on his life so far, the challenges, the small sparks of joy, the horrors, loss and gain.

For clarification's sake; I did in fact plan to depict every stage of Baruhn's life, but uuh. File was already too big.

Might do a series of short comics (graphic novels?) though, because i fking love storytelling.

Let's look at my idiotic level of detail a bit, eh?

[Long Text Ahead]

Baruhn's story begins in the Plains of Ashford. An unsuccessful attempt to stem the tide of Ascalonian Ghosts leads to the demise of many year-long allies. Dozens of brave soldiers gave their life for a mere week of peace until the ghosts reformed. They always do. Soldiers don't.

Shaken in his faith in the Legions, the first seeds of doubt arise.

Until finally he found someone to trust with his pain. In a tavern at the edge of the Black Citadel, he gets to know this odd fellow, who is continuosly follow by the faint smell of sulfur. Although Baruhn knew where that path led, the warmth radiating from the old veteran in front of him was not only a physical, but an emotional one.

With the Three Legions busy with their internal quarrels, fighting over an empty promise, Baruhn took the first steps down a previously thought to be dark path.

Surprisingly, die Flame Legion was welcoming, their fires offered light and guidance, the embers igniting the skies like stars. Surely this was better than the cold metal over the Black Citadel.

Baruhn took to learning first, handling the small flames with ease after years of throwing fireballs at ghostly shapes. Then, he figured out how to teach, and that is where the real magic comes from. Nurturing a flame, protecting it from harsh winds, adding a bit of kindling and coal here and there. He even taught the more elusive ways of magic that wield smoke and ash.

Baruhn knew about the war, the countless lifes lost on the other side of the fence. But those were humans, and here he was among family.

That is, until he met Molly.

After a small recon mission that was assured not to be much of a hurdle, Baruhn found himself alone in a forest. The small fires he conjured for light and warmth only drew in the nearby villagers. Those with pitchforks and torches, with crude swords and a thirst for blood. He couldn't really bring himself to hate them, this was war after all. But at what cost are these battles to be won?

Trying to escape the villagers was a futile attempt. He sank to the ground, his own hot blood dousing the little flames beneath his weary head.

For some reason - maybe hope, maybe resignation - he forced open his heavy eyes, only to discover his wounds cleaned and bandaged with fragile white cloth. A small human girl, of all things in this damned forest, tried to help. Even in his weakened state, even with just one hand, Baruhn could have easily grabbed her and cracked her skull. But the only thing he did was listen. He listened to the ramblings of the small human, going on and on about faries made of leaves and gnomes of stone. She called him "bear".

When the villagers came, they saw the girl at his side. That was all it took for them to turn on her. She was to be executed like that beast that now slowly stepped in front of her. For the first time, Baruhn spoke to the girl. "close your eyes."

Fire roared, not red, not orange. not a warm, welcoming fire. Not one that belongs in a hearth, that thrives in the arms of a family. This was so much worse. This was years of inner conflict, of doubt, of closing his eyes on the other side of the fence. For the first time in his life, this was the only thing that he wanted to do, protect the little insignificant human behind him. Fire roared, and it burned wood and it burned flesh.

Baruhn picked up the little girl, she held tight to his horns, nestled in his mane. He ran for hours, years of military training finally useful. The little girl, Molly, lost her mother years ago. She burned in the fires of a war she tried to escape. "And your father? What about your family?", he asked between deep breaths. Molly was quiet for a while, then whispered, her voice barely audible, "My father burned today."

They stayed together, for quite a while. He protected her, and she, with her head full of stories, and a book full of dreams, protected him.

Things came, things went. Baruhn rejoined the High Legions, acting as a spy for Ash, keeping an eye on Iron and Blood.

Baruhn ultimately took on his role as Novice, then Archivist, then Commander. He helped during the struggles against Scarlet. A small flame here and there, some shrouding smoke, a well timed lightning strike. It was other people that finally defeated Scarlet, but he was always in the background, with all the small things at just the right time.

Mordremoth came, but with him new allies.

It was but a small tangent in the grand scheme of things. Watching the fragile sapling while waging war on the jungle itself.

Their relation was something more than friendship, something else than love. They were there for each other when they needed to be. Be it only to keep a flame burning or to banish the voices to the back of the head again, they walked the same path for a long time.

Tarir, the Egg. Aurene. A new flame entrusted to him, his to nurture, his to raise. A gamble, again. What if that little flame would some day devour the world? But Baruhn did, what he could do best. Teach.

Darker times came. Caudecus and the White Mantle. The raid on the Mursaat's prison. Then facing the last Mursaat himself.

Balthazar came, and in his wake a new kind of fire. A war, similar to the ones Baruhn had seen before, but still different. A war without a cause, war for war's sake. War against nature, against the world, like a child lashing out when there were none to help them up. Maybe Balthazar's flames were not too different from his.

After the festering swamp that Joko was, came the mountain, Kralkatorrik. Death was not a hindrance anymore, not for the Commander and his dragon. The story went as the story goes.

When it came to face the frost, the whispers, Jormag. Everything fell apart. Jormag pried into the deepest, darkest corners of Baruhn's life, dragged every doubt, small as it may have been, into the light. In the ice, every truth was warped, encased in whispers, in lies. It suffocated any hope and planted even darker seeds than anyone thought possible.

It was the spirit of the Raven that aided Baruhn. Even the black feathers of its wings were shimmering like rainbows in the moonlight.

A small piece stayed with him, just a fragment. Nevermore.

After that, the stars themselves. Astralaria.

So many stories that make a life, so many pieces. Every encounter, every step along the way is another fragment of the whole. People are made of other people, that is what it means to be alive.

[hoshidensha]

Bread zine is out now!! So many cute and tasty pieces by a bunch of talented creators AND it's a free download! So go check it out~ 🍞❤️

🍞Toasty Mart is now available for free download🍞

Grab a some bread and download it at: cmykae.itch.io/toasty-mart

Features:

34 bread enthusiasts

a 75 page digital zine

digital merch

Featuring art by: @cmykae

Need more bread content? Check out the original bread zine at: cmykae.itch.io/toasty for an additional 200+ pages of bread.

[shannendoherty-fans]

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/07/17/opinion/shannen-doherty-gen-x.html

The New York Times — Opinion

We Owe Shannen Doherty an Apology

July 17, 2024. By Jennifer Weiner

Shannen Doherty was difficult.

If you were alive and sentient in the 1990s — whether you, like me, were a devoted fan of “Beverly Hills, 90210” and E! or you were just the most casual reader of People magazine — you knew this to be true. The sky is blue. The earth is round. Shannen Doherty, the star of multiple hit movies and television shows, is difficult. She was, per the tabloids, a volatile, unmanageable diva, and that reputation was only reinforced by the pouty, prima donna roles in which she was so often and so brilliantly cast.

Ms. Doherty died on Saturday, at the age of 53, of the cancer that was diagnosed in 2015. Since the news broke, the tenor of the conversation around her has changed. Instead of being an eye-roll-inducing wild child, Ms. Doherty is now being praised for the sensitivity and candor with which she discussed her cancer diagnosis and her time in the spotlight. And those ’90s tabloid stories? They’re hitting differently. The glee with which they were once consumed no longer feels appropriate. Ms. Doherty made her fair share of mistakes, but Gen X’s quintessential bad girl no longer looks all that bad.

If this reassessment feels familiar, it’s because in death, Ms. Doherty has joined the growing ranks of female celebrities whose scandals and legacies are being reconsidered by a newly sensitive culture.

In 2002, when Britney Spears’s high-profile relationship with Justin Timberlake ended, she was a train wreck, a bad joke, a problem. Eventually, her career and her money were placed under her father’s control. In 2008, Katherine Heigl went from queen of the rom-com to Hollywood purgatory for the sins of taking herself out of Emmy contention and having the temerity to say that “Knocked Up” was “a little sexist.” In 2009, Megan Fox got slammed — and fired — for calling out Michael Bay, her director on “Transformers,” for a desire “to create this insane, infamous madman reputation.” (OK, maybe she did also compare him to Hitler, which never ends well.)

Today, so many of the former tabloid mainstays do not look like punchlines or cautionary tales, but like regular young women enjoying the pleasures of fame. Some even look like role models. Ms. Spears emerged as a hero, not a villain, and it’s her ex who’s the target of comedians’ jabs. Post #MeToo, Ms. Heigl and Ms. Fox look like truth-tellers, not ingrates. Ms. Doherty, sadly, did not live long enough to enjoy her restored reputation.

A former child actress, Ms. Doherty was only 19 when she landed a starring role in “Beverly Hills, 90210.” She played Brenda Walsh, half of a set of fish-out-of-water Midwestern twins navigating the halls of West Beverly High. She left the show after four seasons, reportedly after feuding with co-stars, including Jennie Garth and the boss’s daughter, Tori Spelling. When Aaron Spelling hired her again, giving her a three-season run on “Charmed,” tensions with a co-star reportedly led to her being fired a second time. She was separated from the other actors as though she were an irrational toddler rather than a skilled, valued employee.

Those high-profile roles, along with her talent and her beauty, made her a star. But the conversation about her often made it seem as if her real job was to be fodder for the tabloids and a target for late-night comedians.

To be sure, Ms. Doherty gave them plenty to work with. There were the feuds and bar fights, a pair of quickie marriages and a D.U.I. arrest. Producers complained that she showed up late to the set, hogged the spotlight, bailed on the Emmys. A former fiancé filed an order of protection.

Ms. Doherty was eviscerated for this behavior in a way that indecorous male actors were not, at least at that time. A People magazine cover labeled her a “hard-partying, check-bouncing bad girl.” A zine called Ben Is Dead published an “I Hate Brenda” newsletter, complete with the “Shannen Snitch Line,” where informants could call in reports of unaired bad behavior.

In a 1992 cover story, People asked “TV’s brashest 21-year-old” why she, “alone among ‘90210’ co-stars and teen idols,” got stuck with the “difficult” label. Is she “one of those women who rhyme with rich? Is she, as the tabloids have gleefully reported, impossible on the set? Is she a prima donna? Also: After hours, does she party too much?”

Years later, Ms. Doherty copped to some of her misdeeds. “I have a rep,” she told Parade in 2010. “Did I earn it? Yeah, I did. But, after awhile you sort of try to shed that rep because you’re kind of a different person.”

So what drove the scandal? Blame it on youth. “90210” begat a whole generation of shows with ensemble casts of teenagers. Ms. Doherty was not the only one who needed time to grow into her outsize prominence. “We were locked in this sound stage for 14 to 16 hours every day,” Ms. Garth, who was also just a teenager, said years later. “There were times when we loved each other and there were times when we wanted to claw each other’s eyes out.”

Blame it on a desire to typecast female celebrities as heroes and villains, sweethearts and shrews, and the time-honored tradition of setting women against each other.

Or blame it, if you like, on plain old sexism. Ms. Doherty said the first time she was called a bitch was when she called out a male cast member on the set of “Heathers” for taking advantage of an extra. “I’m a strong woman,” Ms. Doherty told People. “There are still some people out there who can’t deal with that.”

Today, maybe more people are equipped to deal, more likely to look askance at misbehaving men instead of the women who call them out. Instead of the coy, “is she a rhymes-with-rich?” of early ’90s People, a Rolling Stone tribute is headlined “Nobody Could Break Shannen Doherty, and Everybody Tried.” “Shannen Doherty was irresistible, underrated and permanently shackled to misogynistic speculation,” wrote Adam White in The Independent. The headline on an opinion piece in Vogue read, simply, “Team Brenda Forever.”

The reassessment is more than just a desire (sincere or otherwise) not to speak ill of the dead. It’s a result of a few tough decades that have taught us what real bad behavior in Hollywood looks like: not impolite ingénues but Harvey Weinstein. Or Bill Cosby. Or Danny Masterson.

Maybe Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton and Tara Reid were not hot messes, but just girls being girls, the same way we’ve always allowed boys to be boys. And at least their misdeeds were largely victimless, unlike the missteps of so many male counterparts or superiors.

Maybe showing up late to the set, while not ideal, is not completely unexpected from a teenager adjusting to sudden, unimaginable wealth and fame. Maybe the bitches and the bad girls were giving voice to inconvenient truths about men with power and the sexist scripts they greenlighted, the abusive film sets they ran and the bad behavior they indulged in or ignored. Maybe the difficult women like Ms. Doherty are the ones we should have been listening to all along.

[hoshidensha]

Here's my page art for @tgaacspringzine!! Just some pre-canon Asoryuu on a springtime bike ride, inspired by this massive cherry tree that I used to bike past on the way to work~

Thank you again for having me! 

[lumieresdanslacave]

🛠♦May Update♦🛠

-I'm trying to switch from photoshop to gimp, and it is VERY confusing, after twelve years using Photoshop

-Biggest thing in May will be Zinzinerie festival in Rennes (France), 25th and 26th of May! It's been organized by my good friend Victor from Cosmic Studios and his friends. We'll have a classic zine table and Astéroïdes instance with 4 people reading. Including me. And a dear mutual from here! Hello @northwest-by-a-train 💜��️

-Next is our very next zine published by Cosmic Studios by rising star of lezb poetry VampireGarage. I'm so proud of this project, her texts are insane, some sort of Violette Leduc if she had a little too much to drink. I gave her drawing she inserted in her zine and broke in appaling ways, and I also worked a lot on the layout.

-HUGE riso print hot from the machines by my friend @emilienblanchard I've seen it coming out of the printer. It's a fucking banger. It's for Cosmic.

-I fed the queue so we're good for the next forty days or so. Recent drawings. Some I'm happy with, and a fat minizine.

-I'm writing! I have so much things to write. things to come for the end of the year, soft November, dark December I hope.

-We couldn't make ceramic with my ceramic friend. That will have to wait till July

My head aches! I'm going straight to bed

🎀take care weirdgirls with girlstink, the world is a shit right now 🎀

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @projectteyvat zine! I absolutely love Darker than Black and Dainsleif and the twins fit in so well with the AU

…

…

…

…

i. Past

The stars were fake. Dainsleif knew that, and yet he still found himself drawn toward them, looking up whenever they took a break. Those twinkling lights above no longer represented light travelling across the cosmos, the memories of a star from eons in the past. No, instead each had an earthlier attachment.

“You really like the stars,” Lumine said, interrupting his thoughts.

Dainsleif tore his eyes away from the false heavens to a sight closer to ground. Even for the night, it was dark in Liyue. The country was torn between the past and the present, between embracing modernity and clinging to traditions. Out in the countryside, stone lanterns were the only light for miles, their flickering light casting small pools of yellow-orange light. Fireflies drifted in the dark spots between, casting enough light to make out shapes.

Next to him, Lumine sat on a rock jutting out of a flower patch, her long white coattails and scarf fluttering in the wind. Her twin brother, Aether, leaned against her shoulder, his blond hair covering his eyes as he slumbered. Dainsleif didn’t have to look up to know that the Viator star was dim.

Lumine looked at him expectantly and Dainsleif shrugged. “I would not say like.”

She laughed lightly. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Contractors can’t feel, right?”

“We can feel,” he corrected immediately. “We just don’t let those feelings determine our actions.”

“Sometimes I wonder…” Lumine murmured, gently tousling Aether’s hair. She watched her brother affectionately, pulling him closer as he slept. “You’re different from him.”

“How so?” he asked, curious despite himself. They had been travelling together for weeks now, by order of the Abyss Syndicate, and while he had learned much of the twins during their long journey, he still couldn’t get a bead on them.

Maybe it was because Lumine was an ordinary human, stubbornly joining the Abyss to stay near her brother. Maybe it was because Aether was oddly sentimental, often making decisions that prioritized his sister over the mission. The choices were rational, Dainsleif was certain about it, but they still rang more emotional than practical.

“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly, her finger twirling one of Aether’s stray locks. “You’re more distant than him. Less human.”

“We’re still human.” Dainsleif looked at his hands, sensing the power coursing through them. It was a magic that belonged to fairy tales. “In a fashion.”

“You just don’t act like it.” She looked up at him now, her eyes almost luminescent in the dim light. A gentle breeze ruffled her messy hair. “You’re hard to get along with. You’re cold. Aether hasn’t changed much.”

“That’s because he has you,” Dainsleif replied simply, peeking at their snoozing companion. There were few contractors that stayed with their family, fewer still who wanted to. Perhaps they would all be ‘sentimental’ if they had any earthly attachments.

Lumine smiled softly. “Maybe.” She looked up now. Her eyes widened as she tried to take it all in. “I know they’re not real stars, but they feel real. Is there really one up there that’s Aether’s?”

“Yes, the Viator.” Dainsleif looked up for a familiar green star. “It’s harder to find now.”

“Because he’s sleeping.” Lumine’s hand curled into Aether’s shoulder. She frowned. “I don’t like this. Why are you all connected with a star?”

A shooting star soared across the sky. Somewhere, a contractor had died. Dainsleif hoped it was one of their enemies. Their mission in Liyue would be a lot quicker if they didn’t have to fight for every step they took. Every nation wanted to stake a claim.  “No one knows, but it’s probably the gates.”

“The Archon gates,” Lumine recited, no doubt repeating the Abyss Syndicate’s training. “They suddenly appeared at the same time you got powers and the real stars disappeared.”

“The gates probably caused all that.” Dainsleif crossed his arms. It wasn’t the first time he’d contemplated the strange quirks of fate and it probably wouldn’t be the last. No one knew where the gates came from or why. No one knew why the stars now pulsed with the heartbeat of a contractor, letting those who could decipher its morse codes read the life of each contractor.

“If we secure them…do you think the syndicate could find the answers?” There was a slight wobble in Lumine’s voice and he looked down to find her resting her cheek on her brother’s head, hugging him close. “Even free you?”

“I doubt it,” he replied honestly. “No one wants these powers to go away.”

“Not even you? What about your obeisance?” Lumine looked up sharply. “Aether at least only has to fall asleep when he uses his powers. Yours deage you. At some point, you’ll die.”

“Maybe.” Dainsleif admitted. While the payment for his powers was heavy, it didn’t scare him. Nothing had, ever since he’d woken up with this ability. “Is there any need to live long?”

It was a truth, albeit a harsh one, and Lumine recoiled as if struck. “Of course there is.”

“For you two, perhaps. Not for everyone.” Dainsleif shrugged. “Still, I have no intentions to die just yet. I will be careful.”

“That’s not—” Lumine cut herself off, taking a deep breath to calm down. Her jaw tightened as she glared at him. “You follow contracts.”

It wasn’t a question, but he nodded all the same. “Provided the price is right.”

Lumine snatched a white lily off the ground and held it up. “I don’t have much, but here. You’ll take care of yourself. You’ll take care of Aether. You won’t be reckless.”

Dainsleif stared at the flower, surprised. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

“That’s not what I said.” She smiled. “You’re hard to get along with, but we’re partners now, right? I’d like to know you better.”

She was genuine, he was certain of it, though he couldn’t fathom the reason why. “That isn’t a good deal.”

Lumine didn’t waver. “Then, I’ll protect you too.”

It still wasn’t a fair deal. Despite all of her training, she wasn’t more than a glorified servant, allowed to join as long as she guarded Aether when his obeisance forced him to sleep. Her abilities weren’t worth more than a delaying action.

“Fine.”

Despite all of that, he picked up the flower. She smiled at him and his lips twitched in return.

Maybe he wanted to get along with her better too.

ii. Present

The stars were fake. Yet, despite that, they were more constant than anything in Dainsleif’s life these days. In the five years since that starry night in Liyue, Dainsleif had de-aged ten years, left the syndicate, and even started his own mercenary group. Not even his hands looked the same as they did the day before.

Yet, if he looked up, Viator would still be in the same spot, glowing as brightly as it had years ago.

“You still like the stars.”

Even if that star was now connected to the hostile woman in front of him instead of her brother. Dainsleif studied the woman standing across the courtyard. If he hadn’t known she was Lumine, he would have thought her a stranger. Her gaze was cool, impassive as she stared back, the emotionless eyes of a contractor.

That mission had changed everything, for better and for ill.

“I would not say like,” he replied languidly, searching for a reaction.

Disappointingly, she didn’t react, not even stiffening in her defensive pose. Her grip on her dagger remained tight as she pursed her lips. “You went missing.”

“I did,” he acknowledged with a slight tilt of his head. Fortunately, Mondstadt’s streets were empty tonight, the park long abandoned by children. In the distance, the shadow of a statue kept watching, a man-made god protecting the city.

If they ended up fighting, there was no one to get caught in between.

Dainsleif stepped to his right, peeking around her to the man passively sitting on the bench. There was nothing of Aether’s smile in the boy, nothing of his charm or his wit, but then again, there was nothing of Lumine in the woman across from him.

The rumours were true.

He frowned, unable to help himself. “Aether?”

Lumine followed his gaze. As soon as she looked at Aether, her expression softened minutely, her arms lowering slightly. Then, just as quickly, that moment of weakness was gone and she was impassive once more. “He’s a doll.”

A doll. A ghost of himself. If there was something worse than turning into a contractor, it was turning into a doll. Dainsleif couldn’t recall the last time he’d met one with a wisp of personality, let alone memories of the past. The powers dolls got in exchange were minimal; they could see distant places through mediums, making their only use as scouts and spies.

There was a slight breeze and he wondered if the wind was Aether’s eyes now.

Dainsleif dug his fingers into his palm, grounding himself on the sharp pain. “That’s when you…?”

“Got his powers?” Lumine finished his question. Her eyes narrowed. “You were there for that.”

“I can’t remember it that well.” It was a half-truth. He had images in his mind, flashes of memories of when they’d entered Liyue’s gate. The region surrounding it had been a topsy-turvy mess, a place where the laws of physics didn’t make sense. Dainsleif remembered Aether’s glow, remembered Lumine’s tears, remembered how he had dragged their bodies free of the dark gravity of the place.

But he hadn’t really seen the aftermath. Not till now.

He took a step forward, focused on Aether’s vacant expression. “I didn’t think he’d end up like that.”

Lumine stepped to the right, blocking him before he could get any closer. With her growth and his shrinkage, they were the same height now. He could clearly see the anger in her eyes. “I didn’t either. Why are you here?”

Dainsleif lowered his hand. “Just passing through.”

She snorted, raising her dagger once more. “Is it for the Barbatos gate?”

“No.” His hair tickled his neck as the wind blew. Mondstadt was silent, except for the breeze whistling through the winding streets. “That gate’s a lost cause.”

“Then why?” Lumine’s eyes locked on his. She tightened her grip on the hilt. “And why are you so young? What have you been using your powers for?”

Dainsleif remembered a younger girl worrying about him. There was none of her concern in this Lumine, none of her fear. “Does it matter?”

“If it gets in the way, yes,” she replied bluntly, not even a flicker of worry crossing her face. Something in him twisted at the cold response. “So? Why are you here?”

“Visiting old friends,” Dainsleif answered slowly, considering his next words. While Lumine was a contractor now, there were still shadows of her old self in her. He could reach her if he were careful. “The syndicate is using you.”

Lumine laughed dryly. “They always were. Besides, it’s mutual.”

A practical response. It was one he’d given years ago too. “If it’s safety you’re looking for, there are other places to join.”

“Thanks for the suggestion, I’ll keep it in mind,” she replied coolly, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Why are you here?”

“For you,” Dainsleif finally said, carefully pulling a white lily from his pocket. He had preserved it right after Lumine had given it to him, using his powers to keep it in an eternal stasis. It glowed faintly, reminding him of moonlight and dew, of a flickering lamp and Lumine’s smile. Cradling the bloom, he held it out.

Lumine’s eyes widened and she lowered her dagger. “That’s…” She glanced at him, then the flower. Reaching forward, she picked it up, studying it. “You still have it.”

“Of course. We had a contract.” Something in him uncoiled as she examined the flower.

“We did.” Her voice grew colder and she looked up. “I don’t need it anymore.”

She turned her hand, dropping the bloom. Without thinking, he stopped time, freezing her in place. Quickly, he plucked the flower before it hit the ground. He brushed its petals delicately before looking up at her frozen face.

“We still have a contract.” He reached up, cupping her cheek, brushing her hair out of her face. “And I will keep my end of it.”

iii. Future

The stars were fake, and yet they were preferable to the dirty clouds that stretched out above Dainsleif in the Khaenri’ah Gate. The city itself had been destroyed when the gate appeared, leaving behind collapsed houses and abandoned cars. The remnants of a people no longer here. The air was full of dust, giving everything a hazy look.

“There aren’t any stars here,” Lumine murmured, rubbing her arms as she looked up. There was a faint tremble in her voice, a faint sense of fear, and Dainsleif wondered if that was her or if that was the gate’s influence. “I didn’t think it’d be so…dead in here.”

“The gate obscures the sky,” Dainsleif explained, picking up a torn teddy bear. Its button eye dangled by a string.

She raised a brow. “Doesn’t the gate create the stars?”

“Maybe.” Dainsleif looked up at the cloudy skies. Faintly, he could make out a single star, and he wondered if that was a real one from his childhood or just another fake. If only he had enough time to explore the possibilities. If only he had time.

But he was a child now, maybe eight at most, and there was only enough time within him for one last trick.

Aether tugged on Lumine’s shirt, his head bowed as he stared blankly at the ground. “I can’t see.”

Dainsleif snapped his attention to Aether. “Don’t try to use your Sight. It’ll only drive you mad.”

Lumine gently grasped Aether’s hand, keeping him close. Years ago, it had been the reverse, Aether holding Lumine as they explored the Morax Gate. She glared at him. “You didn’t warn us.”

“I told you it would be dangerous,” Dainsleif countered calmly, dropping the bear. “You’re the ones who followed me.”

“Don’t act like that wasn’t your plan,” she sniped, snorting. “You left plenty of clues.”

“Fair enough.” He studied her profile. Anger was etched on her face, but also fear. But also hope. Perhaps there was still a chance. “Did you leave the Abyss?”

Lumine frowned, looking away. “Yes. You were right, they were too dangerous to deal with.” Annoyed, she kicked a broken bottle and watched it roll until it hit a brick wall. “I thought nothing was left of Khaenri’ah.”

“The people, no.” Dainsleif crossed his arms. The place looked like it was full of ghosts, though that was an irrational thought. Despite the new existence of magic, there still was no such thing as the supernatural. “They suddenly vanished when the gate appeared.”

“You vanished once,” Lumine pointed out bitterly, turning to him now. “This doesn’t look like a ‘gate’.”

He ignored the barbed attack. “It’s not a physical gate. A metaphysical one. It might be possible to see the real stars if we could clear the clouds.”

Lumine raised her hand. Wind swirled around her, her clothes ruffling rapidly as the gust grew in pressure. Aether tightened his grip on her hand.  When she finally unleashed it, it blew up to the clouds before dissipating entirely. She frowned.

Before she could raise her again, Dainsleif grabbed it. “Don’t. You don’t know what the gate could do. It might erase our existence entirely.”

She yanked her arm free. “Fine. Why did you call us here?” Her eyes narrowed. “You said you knew how to get us out.”

“I do.” Dainsleif stepped forward, holding out his hands. “I’ll tell you how, after.”

She eyed his hand suspiciously. “After what?”

“I just need to check something,” Dainsleif lied, taking a deep breath. Before they could react, he grabbed Lumine’s and Aether’s wrists. His powers churned as he activated them.

“What are you doing?” Lumine shouted, trying and failing to free her arm from his iron-clad grip.

“Keeping my end of the promise.” Dainsleif felt his power course through him and into them, felt their time reverse, felt himself shrink in response.

Aether’s powers had flowed into Lumine at the gate. It was only at the gate that they could flow back out.

Aether stood straighter, his eyes glimmering with awareness. “Where…I…”

Lumine gasped, tears forming in her eyes. Already, her emotions were returning. With her free hand, she grabbed Aether. “Aether! You’re you.”

“I…I am?” He looked perplexed, still processing the sudden dump of sensations and memories.

“Yeah, you—” Suddenly, she snapped back to Dainsleif. Her eyes widened and she pleaded, “You can’t! Dainsleif!”

He smiled, his grip weakening as the last of his strength surged out of him. The flower in his pocket tumbled out, landing at her feet as Dainsleif fell backwards. “It’s fine.”

Aether was back. Lumine was back.

He’d done it. It was more than enough.

Dainsleif could feel himself shrinking, de-aging, his body going backwards until it wiped itself out. Above him, all he could see were those yellow clouds. If only he could have died under the stars, real or not. If only he could have said something more.

Lumine screamed and a surge of power hit Dainsleif before he landed on the ground.

Somewhere above, a new star appeared.

[hoshidensha]

Yayyyy it's me!! Honoured and super excited to be helping out with this cute and cosy project~ ❄️💗

⋆꙳•❅‧͙ VOL. 2 MOD INTRODUCTION CARD!‧͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

Toasty with a kick of spice, Art Mod HoshiDensha (@hoshidensha) joins us for the first time!

Hello, I'm Hoshi! I'm a longtime Pokémon fan (started with the OG Sapphire on GBA, Mudkip my beloved 💙), general lover of all things Nintendo, and of course artist and zine enthusiast! I had an amazing time participating in last year's edition of Winter Wonderland and I'm so honoured to be helping out with Vol. II! Looking forwards to working with you all~

🍪Twitter🍪IG

[eclec-tech]

Art by Shyranno!

Young Tech's exuberance when learning about new things rubs some of the other cadets the wrong way. Luckily, his squad is there to show him that they appreciate what makes him special.

SFW, family fluff, 1500-ish words

This is my little contribution to Lost and Found: A Bad Batch Zine! This is the original version. It's a tad longer than the zine copy, with an extended intro and cameos from a couple other cadets. I hope you like it!

@thebadbatchzine@shyranno

The large window that allowed Kamino’s ever-present lightning into the barracks of Experimental Unit 99 was dotted with patches of excited breath. The boy responsible was currently as charged as the atmosphere.

“That one is new!”

Crosshair paused his current fidgeting session with the itchy cadet logo on his tunic and turned his attention toward his brother. “What is?”

Tech’s forehead remained glued to the window as he spoke. “That aiwha calf! It was not there yesterday. The alpha cow in the pod has finally had her baby! I wish I had seen it happen. They give birth right over the surface of the water, then the entire pod calls out to the calf to encourage it to leave the water and fly!”

“That’s great, Tech.” Hunter sent a small smirk to his other two brothers. For months they had listened to their inquisitive brother regurgitate every piece of information ever discovered about Kamino’s native cetaceans, nearly becoming experts themselves in the process.

Crosshair and Wrecker grinned back. This was not the first time Tech had become fixated on a subject and unleashed his exuberance upon them. However, this was the first time one of his interests was something found on their own planet. It had given his brothers an idea.

“Well, I’m on clean-up detail with 99 tonight. I’ll see you guys later.”

Tech rounded on his pewter-topped brother. “Again? What is going on with all of you? I seem to be the only one here who has not had to endure some form of punishment for doing something stupid recently.”

Crosshair smiled back wickedly. “Maybe we just know how to have fun and you don’t.”

Tech’s curious expression morphed into an annoyed scowl. “What was it this time?”

“Like you said. Something stupid.” He turned and waved over his shoulder. “Don’t wait up.”

----------

The next morning was the start of the worst day Tech had ever had.

As soon as breakfast was over and he and his brothers separated for their individualized lessons to hone their enhanced skills, Tech was cornered by a group of cadets who had overheard his mealtime ramblings. They did not share Tech’s enthusiasm for the giant animals outside and they let him know it in no uncertain terms. By the time the next group of cadets found their way into the corridor where the scuffle was occurring, the strap on the back of his goggles had been snapped in half.

“HEY!”

The deeper voice behind them instantly got the attention of Tech’s tormentors. Tech looked up in surprise as five older boys stalked up to where he had been pinned to the wall. Three of them stood between Tech and the other cadets while the other two moved to stand beside him. “The next time we see any of you near this kid, we’re going to hang you upside-down from one of the training tower cannons! Now get lost!” The younger boys scattered, leaving Tech alone with the five young teens. “You okay?”

“I think so. Thank you for intervening.”

One of the boys picked up Tech’s goggles and turned them over in his hands curiously, then handed them back to Tech without a word and followed his brothers quickly to the class they were now late for. Tech looked down at the broken strap and sighed miserably. His only option for the remainder of the day was to tie the two halves together into a knot that made his goggles so tight that he got a headache within a few minutes of putting them back on.

It only got worse from there.

At the range his practice blaster jammed and overheated, burning his hands and causing him to place last in his group’s skills assessment. The pain from that failure negatively impacted his cognitive speed drills score as well. The sting of his instructor asking him how he could have lost so much intelligence over the course of a single rotation was a dig the boy would not soon forget.

When he joined his brothers in the mess hall that evening, his downturned face all but told his story for him. 

Hunter stood slowly as he approached. “What happened?”

“I-I don’t want to talk about it.”

Crosshair narrowed his eyes at the burn blisters on his brother’s palms. “You need to talk about that.”

Tech shrugged. “I lost a fight with a malfunctioning blaster.”

Wrecker stared at the knot on the far-too-tight goggles. “And those?” 

“Oh,” he pulled the frame from his face with a groan, revealing deep purple indentations. “I lost a fight with a group of cadets too.”

Hunter crossed his arms. “Why did they come after you this time?” Tech stared at the floor, struggling with how to explain. “Tech?”

With all three of his brothers looking at him, the tears he was holding back started to fall silently down his cheeks. “They heard me at first meal talking about the aiwhas. They said I was pathetic. They said they didn’t know why you all humor me the way you do.”

Hunter frowned. “That’s not true. We aren’t humoring you. We like hearing what you have to say.”

Crosshair stared hard at the forlorn expression on his brother’s face and a flash of resolve settled on his features. “Let’s do it tonight, Hunter. We're ready.”

Tech looked up and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ve got a surprise for you,” Wrecker enthused. “But eat first. We’ll show you later.”

Tech ate quickly. He was anxious to return to the barracks and get to the bottom of his brothers’ mysterious behavior. When they got there, he watched with wide eyes as Hunter put his ear to the wall, listening as the vibrations of their home spoke to him. “We’re in luck. There are two of them there.”

“Two what? Where?”

“Yeah!” Wrecker yelled with a clap of his hands. “Plan Seven is a go!”

Tech put on his spare set of goggles and gave his brother a quizzical look. “Plan Seven?”

“Plans one through six didn’t get us where we needed to be without being caught,” Hunter explained with a proud smile. “You’ll see.”

----------

The lights-out tone for all fifth- and sixth-year cadets sounded just as the four boys slunk silently into the empty corridor. Tech’s brothers still would not reveal their destination to him, and he hoped it was worth the trouble they would all be in if caught out of bed.

His fears multiplied when he heard hushed voices coming from the hallway ahead of them. 

“We should not be doing this, 5555. According to regulation—”

“Shhh. Nothing is more suspicious than you listing off which rules we’re breaking out loud! Just keep walking like everything is completely normal.”

Tech was surprised to see the five older boys from earlier as they rounded the corner. They recognized him as well, sending a collection of guilty grins and pleading glances to the group of younger cadets as they passed. They looked as nervous as Tech felt. It wasn’t until the other group was out of sight that Tech was able to let out a relieved sigh.

His brothers, on the other hand, were remarkably calm as they clambered into the ventilation grate Crosshair had noted on his datapad. Tech was amazed at the precision of this plan his brothers had come up with. Maps, codes, notes about Kaminoan movements—this plan of theirs, whatever it was, must have taken weeks.

After a few meters of crawling, three more corridors, one lift, and two near misses with wandering droids, the group surfaced from the last vent at their destination. Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker turned and watched as Tech emerged and took in his surroundings. The drop of his jaw when he realized where he was made them all smile. Tech momentarily forgot how to breathe as his eyes raked over the enormous aiwha landing bay, settling immediately on the two saddled aiwhas bobbing in the huge pool in front of him. 

Hunter’s hand rested softly on Tech’s shoulder. “We’ve been trying to get in here without being caught for a while now. We made plan after plan, but only just found out how to get through the corridors and ductwork yesterday.”

“Wait. This is the reason you’ve all been getting into such trouble? You’ve been sneaking around for me? Creating this ‘Plan Seven’ of yours?”

“Well, yeah. We know how much these big beasties mean to you, so we've been tryin’ to work out a way to get you in here so you could check ‘em out!”

Tears sprung from Tech’s eyes for the second time that evening as he walked up to the tank and began stroking the vast muzzle of the animal in front of him. He couldn’t believe they had gone to all this trouble just for him. “I don’t know what to say, you guys.” He dried his eyes on the sleeve of his tunic and sent them a watery smile. “Thank you.”

The others stepped up to get a better look at the giant creatures as well. Tech pulled his eyes away from the tank and instead stared at their amazed faces, thinking. His mind began to work rapidly through everything he knew about his three kind brothers, and a satisfied smile slowly spread across his face.

“I have an idea for Plan Eight.”

Or have you? Some people on AO3 only want to read fics with a certain number of kudos, so do me a favor—head over there via the link at the top of this post and hit the kudo button for this fic if you liked it. It only takes a moment.

[theartarmature]

My submission piece for the Razzle Dazzle: A History Hetalia Anthology #2 @hwsrazzledazzle ! I was given the 1900s, and I chose Japan and the creation of the Ginza Line which opened in 1927; becoming the oldest subway line in Asia.

[dollarbin]

Shakey Sundays #35:

Hitchhiker (plus A Snapshot in Time)

Six months is a century in Shakeytown.

These days Neil will summon the Stop Shopping Choir for a whistle stop tour, release 4-5 new Archive records, reroute 6 barns worth of toy trains, publish a Greenville zine or two, respond to 4,672 fan emails on his forever Beta-version website, each in 7 words or less and each response featuring the words "peace," "love" and "Al Gore", write 36 new songs, all of them with the working title Love Earth (Or Else), and publish yet another memoir, this one dedicated to his penchant for hip hop, all in a six month window.

Case in point: Archives 3 is about ten minutes old and he's already promoting a forthcoming and utterly unrelated live record from his first tour with Cranky, Silly, and Gnash. Apparently Joni was at the show, gnashing her own teeth in anguish while Graham "Honey Baked" Hash debuted Our House; by the end of the show Mitchell surely instructed Grahamcracker to retitle his song My House (Cuz Joni Just Slipped Out The Back, Jack). Nash, apparently, refused to make the change.

All of Neil's productivity is cool; it's a great time to be a Shakey fan. But these days he lives beside a Colorado lake with Daryl, her dogs, 64 of his cars and the grinning ghosts of David Briggs and Ben Keith; 48 years ago he lived utterly alone in a psychedelic tepee of his very own design.

After all, just try and get your mind around all he accomplished between August 76 and March 77:

He got high as a kite and recorded the primary subject of this week's post in a single night.

He wrote an entirely different record (this week's secondary subject) and taught it to Nicolette Larson and Linda Ronstadt in one sitting.

He recorded 1/2 of that second album with a full band, eventually releasing it as the Side A of American Stars and Bars.

He wrote the highlight of that album - Will To Love, which is arguably the single greatest song of his entire career - and then spent another single night in the studio layering up instruments for it in front of his signature crackling fire - and he has not played the track again a single time since in any setting of any kind, ever. Guess he's had too much else to do.

He released a mixed-at-best record he'd made in the previous six months with Stephen Stills and Joe Freakin' Lala.

He began a full tour with those dopes, playing a month's worth of shows before making new plans Stan and telling them in writing to eat a peach and finish up without him.

He played a full US tour with Crazy Horse instead.

He performed at The Last Waltz.

He found the time to do a lot of cocaine, which is apparently obvious in Scorsese's footage. I've never been able to see the rock in question, however. My working knowledge of Belushidust is clearly negligible.

He continued to write songs about his recent breakup with Carrie Snodgress while starting to romance both the aforementioned Larson and his future beleaguered wife, Pegi. (Plus he surely probably slept with countless other women in this period; Neil was quoted at the time as "really enjoying the bachelor life," which sounds even sleazier than the reality television show of that moniker, which, by the way, should totally feature Neil in its next Golden iteration; after all, he's already demonstrated that he is perfectly willing to ditch his current wife so as to play the field.) Okay, that was just mean. Sorry Neil!

And, right around the moment those six months were up, Young joined yet another band - The Ducks - which was entirely unrelated to all the other bands listed above, and began the process of learning 20+ of their songs.

Plus he chewed a whole lot of Bubblicous and guzzled a whole lot of Natty Light throughout it all.

Yeah, he did all that - except #12: fooled you there! Both delectable items were introduced in the following six months, during which time Young, you guessed it, recorded yet another album of unrelated songs with entirely new musicians.

So, I gotta ask: what the hell did you accomplish between the late summer of 76 and the Spring of 77? I'll bet you can't compete with me or Neil. After all, I crapped my diaper, repeatedly. My mother reports that I "looked just like a frog." I'll bet your lazy ass wasn't even born yet.

Anyway, I stand before you on this very Shakey Sunday prepared to argue that the greatest thing Neil did in that incredibly crammed six months, except for Will To Love, is Hitchiker, the done-in-a-single-altered-night acoustic record which he waited a mere 40 years to release rather than waiting the full 48 so as to include it on Archives 3.

Let's drop the needle already and talk about Hitchhiker's shimmering greatness.

First of all, the whole thing is a poetic work of art. I'm serious. Pocahontas and Powderfinger set the table: both are dreamscape anthems, chock full of heartbreak, guns and waterfowl. And Campaigner may well be Neil's lyrical high-water mark. When roads stretch out like healthy veins and wild gift horses strain the rains I kinda freak out.

Note the previously edited out second verse featured on Hitchhiker: you know a song is lyrically exceptional when a line like "traffic cops are all color blind and people steal from their own kind" submits to the editor's ax.

Plus, beauty has rarely been draped in such stark and hopeless wonder. Indeed, the only record I can think of with a tone to match Hitchhiker is Pink Moon - and what higher praise can you think of than comparing anything to Nick Drake's unadorned-by-anything-or-anyone-else Pink Moon? Neil and Nick had both had it, at least for the moment, with arranging records. So instead they just took the Plastic Ono Band approach and upped Lennon's ante by laying all the songs down in a single take, every last bit of their armor set aside so as to reveal their very souls.

Just compare Give Me Strength and Which Will. Hear two men who could not have been more fundamentally different both asking the kind of fundamental and elemental questions which males are still instructed to avoid out of false courage and idiocy.

Yeah, I know: Neil's song coulda' used one more take as he loses track of the chord structure and melody altogether for parts of the closing. But I still say my comparison is apt even if Shakey and Drake couldn't be further apart on the sobriety and perfectionist spectrums.

Hitchhiker's tone could not be more different than its newly surfaced companion, the here, let-me-show-you-how-our-record-is-gonna-sound session Neil concocted for Linda and Nicolette six months later and which Neil has titled A Snapshot In Time for Archives 3. Snapshot replaces the earlier record's stark and trembling poetics with a big dose of what Ronstadt instantly recognizes on tape as "obnoxiousness."

On the one hand you have the songs Linda was directly referring to: check out, if you can get your hands on it (Neil seems to be clutching many of the tracks from Archives 3 in his self-appointed greedy hands rather than posting them for free on the internet) Young posing as a randy, grinning and stumbling creeper in Saddle Up the Palomino.

Here's the eventual band track.

Neil's mood had clearly shifted a great deal in the intervening six months. Lines like, "it's a cold bowl of chili when life lets you down but to it's the neighbor's wife I'm after" would have had no place whatsoever on Hitchhiker. Nor would the song's attempt at an arena rock riff.

On the other hand, even Snapshot's non-boneheaded songs are a bit obnoxious. Imagine inviting Linda Ronstadt over and then asking her to sing along with lyrics like "hey babe, say your mine all mine" over and over again. She'll do it - if you're Neil Young. But don't fool yourself; she'd rather have been taught Give Me Stength.

Look: I love every moment of A Snapshot in Time, not to mention the first half of the classic record it spawned. But it sure ain't high art.

Hitchhiker though? It'd take me a solid six months just to shout all its transcendent praises.

[hoshidensha]

Extremely honoured to be helping out with this project, and very excited to see all the pretty art! ♡

Contributor applications for art, writing, and merch are open for 2 more weeks so go go go!!

We wanted to introduce our art mod, @hoshidensha! With their great eye for art, we know they'll help all the artists in this project make their pieces their best potential.

If you were interested in being a contributor, please feel free to follow this link and the applications will be there.

[l13bg0tt]

Get to know me!!

thank you to @ep6bastogne and @lovememadly92 for the tags!

NAME:

cameron but call me cammy!!

PRONOUNS:

she/her

STAR SIGN:

scorpio rising, gemini moon, scorpio sun :)

(significantly less mysterious, confident, charismatic etc. than a scorpio is meant to be)

# OF SIBLINGS AND FUN FACTS ABOUT THEM (IF YOU HAVE ANY):

my brother (Sam) is ~8 years older than me and he works for the government and is currently working towards improving the housing crisis in my province!

my sister (Harlee) is ~4 years older than me and we are currently living together while attending school, she is getting training to be a 911 dispatcher!

# OF PETS & THEIR NAMES:

my 13 year old kitty is Joey (a girl!!) and my nearly 4 year old puppy is Otis!

FANDOMS:

Band of Brothers obviously but other than that I would likely only fall under the umbrella of being part of a fandom for TLOU and Harry Potter :)

FAVOURITE COLOUR:

dark green or dark purple... or cornflower blue

FAVOURITE SONG:

don't make me choose pls i violently cycle like 10 songs until i'm tired of em

champagne supernova - Oasis

banana co/no surprises/exit music - Radiohead

my love mine all mine - mitski

FAVOURITE AUTHOR (OF ANYTHING READABLE - BOOKS, FANFICS, ZINES, WEBTOONS, WHATEVER!):

dkm but it is Stephen King by a mile... man can WRITE

FAVOURITE FIC TYPE:

probably enemies to lovers or hurt/comfort. i want emotional damage lmao

FAVOURITE HOLIDAY:

Christmas, but really any one that gives me an excuse to spend heinous amounts of time with my mom

DO YOU HAVE A PARTNER (ROMANTIC, QPR, ANYTHING!)?:

no but i do have an online homoerotic dependency (help) (kidding)

HOBBIES:

antiquing!! also researching/reading and watching movies, but antiquing is quite possibly my favourite activity ever.

FUN FACTS ABOUT ME:

i'll be applying to vet school next year

i have celiac disease (literally not a fun fact at all sorry)

i love pigs so much

some would say i am a horse girl but rather than riding i drive draft horses. wagons and sleighs kinda thing!

i am disgustingly indecisive if you couldn’t tell

tagging: @liptonwashere @hanniewinnix @land-sh @mads-weasley @luckynumber4

sorry if you’ve already done it or been tagged, ignore me!!

[milfglupshitto]

CAI MILFGLUPSHITTO’S 2023 WRAPPED:

- continued working in digital collage to make a variety of self-indulgent pieces including possibly the greatest idea I have ever had

- learned how to make simple gifs in photopea

- read ~30 books across multiple genres

- first solo train ride and plane ride

- got my third degree black belt

- started playing the violin again (can now stumble through danny boy worse than you’ve ever heard it)

- lost marbles starting february 4. people of the world: I am sorry

- danced (not enough. but it’s a start)

- ate upwards of 50 plums

- identified the spinal abnormality that causes my chronic pain

- outlined four seasons of a fake star wars tv show on a blog created specifically for that purpose

- began organizing a zine

- passable solo karaoke performance of “you and tequila” despite shaking like a nervous dog

- cried loudly and often

- needle in the back (yeowch!)

- scared my friends

- made my friends laugh

- watched movies (a few bad ones but mostly good)

- untangled a nest of coaxial cables

- bitched and moaned

- had, all things considered, a pretty good time.