#30 Day CLAMP Challenge | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reasonsforhope · 2 years ago

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"California just cracked down on pollution from transportation in two major moves, part of an effort to improve air quality and cut carbon emissions at the same time.

On Friday, the California Air Resources Board unanimously approved a rule that would ban the sale of diesel big rigs in the state by 2036. The mandate, which will apply to about 1.8 million trucks — including those operated by Amazon, UPS, and the U.S. Postal Service — is reportedly the first in the world to require trucks to ditch internal combustion engines. The news came one day after California became the first state to adopt standards to limit pollution from trains.

Trucks and Diesel

The regulations are intended to improve air quality and trim carbon emissions from transportation, the source of about half the state’s greenhouse gases. Trucks and trains spew diesel exhaust, full of soot that contains more than 40 cancer-causing substances, responsible for an estimated 70 percent of Californian’s cancer risk from air pollution.

The trucking rule requires school buses and garbage trucks to be emissions-free within four years. By 2042, all trucks will be required to be “zero-emission,” meaning there’s no pollution coming out of their tailpipes. The deadline comes sooner for drayage trucks, which transport cargo from ports and railyards to warehouses — typically short routes that require less battery range. New drayage trucks must be “zero-emission” beginning next year, with the rule applying to all drayage trucks on the road in 2035.

Currently, medium and heavy-duty vehicles account for a fifth of greenhouse gas emissions statewide. In August, California clamped down on pollution from passenger vehicles with a plan to end the sale of new gas-powered cars in the state by 2035.

People breathing pollution from freeways and warehouse hubs have long called for stricter air standards. In the port cities of Long Beach and Los Angeles, some 6,000 trucks pass through every day, exposing residents to high levels of ozone and particulate matter, pollutants linked with a range of problems including respiratory conditions and cardiovascular disease. Long Beach residents who live the closest to ports and freeways have a life expectancy about 14 years shorter compared to people who live further away...

Trains and Locomotives

According to the new rules, the state is banning locomotive engines that are more than 23 years old by 2030. It also bans trains from idling for more than 30 minutes, provided that they are equipped with an engine that can shut off automatically.

The stage for the rule was set by a single line buried in the Biden administration’s proposed auto emissions rules, in which the Environmental Protection Agency said it was considering allowing states to regulate locomotives. Still, California’s new rules may spark a legal battle with the rail industry, which argues that the state doesn’t have the authority to make such sweeping changes.

Though railroads only account for about 2 percent of the country’s carbon emissions from transportation, switching to trains powered by batteries or hydrogen fuel cells would provide some benefits in the effort to tackle climate change. The public health gains would be even bigger: The California Air Resources Board estimates its new rules for trains, passed on Thursday, would lower cancer risk in neighborhoods near rail yards by more than 90 percent.

“This is an absolutely transformative rule to clean our air and mitigate climate change,” Liane Randolph, the chair of the air quality board, said ahead of the vote on the trucking rules on Friday. “We all know there’s a lot of challenges, but those challenges aren’t going to be tackled unless we move forward … if not now, when?”"

-via The Grist, 4/28/23

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archersxartxblog · 6 months ago

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just a quick chapter wip for resistance is futile. not sure of I'm going to keep. let me know what you guys think.

----

He was Ingo, he was a Subway Boss. One of two. He conducted the single lines in gear station, where he would stand and await trainers who completed 20 battles.

He had silver eyes, and silver hair.

He had a brother, Emmet, they were twins, Identical. Emmet loved winning more than anything and always had a smile on his face. His best friend was Elesa, a supermodel and gym leader.

He lived in Nimbasa city with his brother and two children.

Not long ago, he had been taken by an alien group known as the Borg, along with several others. They had operated on him, changed him from the outside, and tried to make him one of them.

His body was no longer his own, but his mind was still intact.

But, He was Ingo, He was a Subway Boss, and he wasn't beaten so easily.

—

He was Ingo, He was a Subway Boss, the 10th one to be Assimilated out of 83.

He had one silver eye and his ocular implant was red. And his hair had long since fallen out.

He had a brother who loved winning more than anything, and was always smiling. They weren’t identical anymore.

Would Emmet even recognize him anymore?

He'd been taken from Nimbasa City three months ago.

Yesterday, he watched as the cube he was on tried to Assimilate a cargo ship they came upon. The crew hit the self-destruction.

There were suddenly ten less voices in Ingo’s head.

But he still wasn't about to give up. He was still a Subway Boss.

—

They were- no, He was Ingo. He was a…a…Drone…no, it was something to do with trains…he was sure of it. And he was The 10th one to be Assimilated out of 83.

He had a brother…he wore white…was he still smiling?

Today they had been attacked by Klingons. They managed to kill three of them, but now their voices were added to the Collective. Their violent nature tamed by metal and wires.

It was getting harder to fight back, but Ingo was never one to back down from a challenge.

___

He was Ingo, he was a Engineering drone, his designation was 10 of 83.

He didn't remember much from before that, no matter how much he tried.

His mind was starting to uncouple.

Every so often he would recall a man, a human, that used to look like him. But he couldn't get any more than that. But he felt like he was someone who smiled a lot.

He'd been sent to repair the shield emitters during a fight with the Romulans. He had almost finished when they had been struck with disrupters. As luck would have it, he was fine, but his arm was attachment had been severely damaged.

Medical drone 5 of 30 was sent to repair damaged and upgrade hydraulic clamp attached to 10 of 83.

But what interested him was the drone sent to repair him.

They were young, too young to be a proper drone.

But they were like him.

They were fighting as well.

A name came to mind when they looked at him. Akari, her name was Akari. And she was fighting this tooth and nail.

And she believed she could get both of them out of this.

She was called away to repair another drone, and Ingo wanted to reach out and stop her. They should stick together. But he couldn't, he didn’t have control over his body.

But if Akari could continue to fight for this long.

Then Ingo could continue to fight as well.

—

They were 10 of 83. They were an engineering drone.

And they had not seen Akari in days.

They didn’t know what happened to her, they could no longer hear her voice in the collective. She had gone completely silent. And they were worried for her safety.

Had she been taken out in one of the raids?

Had the collective deactivated her?

Or had she fallen and fully joined the collective like so many others?

Maybe she was still out there, and they were simply being blocked from communicating, so she could no longer corrupt them with her sense of independence.

Whatever the case maybe, they just hoped she was safe and managed to get out alive.

Even if they could no longer be saved.

—

#All A-borg #Subway boss Ingo #submas #pokemon star trek crossover #chapter wip #Ingo slowly losing himself #Borg Ingo #Borg Akari #not sure I'm going to keep this #but I figured I should post it here

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starlight-struggles · 1 year ago

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hiya welcome to the community! ^^ if you want to would you maybe write something with ler tanjiro and lee genya where genya is feeling down after a rough training session and tanjiro tries to cheer him up? feel free to decline ofc if this doesn't speak to you, have an amazing day!! ♡

Ah, thank you! I can definitely write this for you, so please, enjoy ✨️

Ler: Tanjiro Kamado

Lee: Genya Shinazugawa

Midnight. Yes, it was currently midnight, and while this usually wasn't uncommon, it wasn't something the others were quite used to. Normally, Genya would have been back by now although he occasionally does stay out this late, the burgundy haired boy could sense that something may be wrong, and was really relieved when he saw Genya finally returning to the butterfly mansion. It wasn't that worrying to anyone, but tonight was different.. he could sense it.. so when Genya came in looking a bit gloomy, Tanjiro knew his suspicions were correct. If it were anyone else, I doubt they would be able to tell, but it's not like Genya was trying to hide it. He didn't even speak to Tanjiro he just went straight to his bed and sat there, just seemingly staring at the ground, a dull look in his eyes. Figuring Genya wasn't in the mood to talk, Tanjiro just slipped off his sandles and headed to bed himself, sleep finding him immediately as he rested his head on the pillow.

Not along after did Tanjiro emerge from his slumber. 1:03..? No, was it 4:30..? It didn't matter. What did matter was that Genya was still awake, and this caused Tanjiro to become concerned. Standing up, he went over to the boy and sat next to him, hand finding his head in minutes as Tanjiro gently pat the taller boy's head as they sat in silence for a few minutes.

'Genya, how come you aren't asleep?' Tanjiro said his reddish eyes, illuminating in the darkness as he spoke, his voice ever so gentle

'I don't.. feel like sleeping' His voice was quiet as he looked at the other. A red tint around his eyes immediately told Tanjiro that he had been crying earlier

'Did something happen..? I heard you had a training session with Shinazugawa, and well, you seem to be upset' No answer.. Genya didn't speak. He couldn't speak, not now. He was near crying again and definitely didn't want Tanjiro to see or hear that. About a minute went by, and he was about to tell the other to leave, but that's when he felt Tanjiro hug him. Something that didn't happen very often. Of course, he had been given hugs before, mainly by Gyomei or even Sanemi when they were kids, but Tanjiro..? It was a rare occurrence.. one that he enjoyed. They had been friends for a while, but since they didn't meet up very often, even seeing each other could be considered as "rare"

'I just had a rough training session today, and really, I'm not feeling very good about it. Besides, you already know what Aniki is like..' Tanjiro thought for a moment before answering. 'I know Shinazugawa isn't the nicest person, but he's not all bad.. he's challenging you to push yourself because he wants what is best for you..'

'That is in the past though. Please don't let it worry you. You should just smile Genya! and be happy because that's what we all want, right? No one wants to see you upset'

Genya tried to smile, but he just couldn't.. how could he? After what did his Aniki say to him? After the rough training he had to go through? He just couldn't bring himself to be happy.. however, Tanjiro could easily help with that.

'Come on, smile for me' and with that, Tanjiro gently dug his fingers into Genya's hips, making him shriek before bursting into immediate giggles.

'a-ahahhahahaha! T-Tahahhahanjihihiro!' He squealed as Tanjiro lightly skittered his fingers up and down his sides, slightly smirking at him

'What's wrong? Is something the matter?' He laughed alongside Genya, who was trying to cover his face so that the other couldn't see his smile that was slowly forming on his face. However, his arms soon clamped down onto his side as Tanjiro started scribbling up his sides, going from his hips to his armpits and then back down again, causing genya to snort as his tried to muffle his laughter using a pillow.

'T-TAHAHHAHANJIHIHIRO! STAHAHAHAHAHHHAAHAHAP! YOHOHOHOUR GOHOHONA W-WAHAHAKE THEM UHUHUP!!'

Tanjiro knew this, but really, he couldn't help it.. especially not after finding a sweet spot against his neck, which made the boy turtle as he brought both hands to his neck, lightly scratching and scribbling against it with a smile on his face. It didn't help that Genya could be flustered pretty easily, so as soon as the teasing started, he was practically unable to do anything as his face slowly turned red.

'Is someone ticklish here? Are they? Does it tickle tickle tickle when I scribble here?' Tanjiro giggled and just watched as Genya started to sink, unable to contain his laughter as he squealed, shrieked, and snorted through his laughing fits. Seeing as his laughter was starting to go silent, he stopped and watched as the other curled up on the bed, sucking in air as residue giggles escaped from his lips.

Tanjiro would've tickled him more if it hadn't been the middle of the night, but he also did not want Genya to feel uncomfortable

'Feel better?' Genya groaned slightly but nodded. Tanjiro smiled. 'Good.. now go to sleep, alright? It's not good to stay up' Genya nodded once again before falling asleep, his head resting on Tanjiro's lap

Apologies if this is short or not to your liking, but anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for asking!

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer #tickle content #sfw tickle community #lee genya #ler tanjiro #send asks

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lancedoncrimsonwings · 3 months ago

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Augusnippets Day 30

Path of Whumperless Whump Prompt; "Self-Harm"

Day 30 of @augusnippets August 2024 Whump writing challenge! (Augusnippets Masterlist)

Characters;

- POV/Whumpee/Whumper; Lancelot - The Weeping Monk

- (mentioned) Gawain - The Green Knight

(Character Masterlist)

(Ao3 Link)

Wordcount; 676

TWs; self harm, knives, self harm using knives, mental health, auditory hallucinations, reference to previous self-flagellation, trauma, self hatred, religious trauma, blood <- PLEASE READ THESE TWS THIS SNIPPET EXPLICITLY COVERS VERY DARK THEMES.

"Quiet! Be Quiet..." Lancelot snapped, though at who he knew not, and the voices that tormented him in the silence of his tent certainly didn't harken his words.

A terrible thought crossed his mind and no sooner than it had did he know the only way to silence them.

His fingers itched for the flail he no longer owned. The voices cried out for blood. His heart pounded in anticipation.

His back ached to be torn apart.

Lancelot clamped his hands over his ears, panting.

"Please..." he moaned, whimpering as he curled up on himself, kneeling on the ground and begging like a frenzied man at church for salvation and relief, drowning in guilt, yet as always, ignored.

This terrible thought had become a need, one so desperate and clawing he felt it might suffocate him. His rational mind fled, so consumed as he was now by the urge to split himself open, to release this terrible pressure building up inside that felt like it might stop his heart in his chest and drag him down to hell.

"I can't!" He cried, but still they did not listen, howling in his mind like demented wolves braying at the moon.

"I have not the scourge... please..."

You have a knife.

Steel glinted with the dancing flame of his candle. Lancelot found himself watching how the light glanced from the blade as he turned it this way and that, unknowing quite how or when the hilt had found his hand, nor when he'd stripped his upper half of clothes which now lay discarded beside him.

He could not answer the call of his back, but he could pay off his demons in blood all the same. Sweat beaded up on his brow as he lowered his gaze to his arm, that need so almost satiated by the mere idea of what he was about to do that he found himself hesitating just for a moment...

A moment as his heartbeat pounded louder than the screaming chorus. A moment that his bare, whole arm filled his vision instead of the forces in his mind that sought to claim him. A moment whilst the fog of his mind cleared for the breifest of seconds before the hungry beasts tore anguish through his soul again.

He lowered the blade into his arm.

Blood welled up and began to spill slowly, like a crimson river rising from the sundered valley of torn skin across his outer forearm, weaving over old scars and staining the green leaves below him scarlet. He found himself watching it, mesmerised. How much of his life had been filled with pain for the curse of what now flowed down his skin?

This sinful demon blood must be purged from his veins.

Again and again he drew the knife upon himself, a savage smile gracing his face as the voices sighed in relief, the demons drunk their fill of him, pain driving the haze from his brain into this single-minded focus, to slice and to main.

To punish himself and force the anguish of his mind out onto broken skin and scars.

Oh the bliss, as the voices ceased, the demons returned to their cages, satiated. He did not stop, not yet, though he could not see skin for blood, basking in the pleasure of being, of feeling just for a second, truly alive.

He cared not for the pain which he no longer felt, cared not for the mess or the injury he dealt. He cared only for the blade that bit into his skin again and again and again and aga--

"Stop! Lancelot, no..."

The bloodied blade slipped through trembling fingers, his breathing came ragged, cheeks wet with tears.

He was dimly aware of strong arms wrapping around him, a pair of emerald eyes wide with shock and concern. He let himself fall against the chest that pulled him close, breathing in a scent of pine and leather, of fear and blood and sweat.

His Green Knight come to save him and make his shattered pieces whole.

Final Augusnippets Prompt Path; Whumperless Whump is now complete! As mentioned, I am doing the optional day 31, stay tuned for that tomorrow :)

A heavy one today, I'll admit to finding this one difficult to write and very personal, but cathartic too. Yes, Gawain found him and helped him afterwards, and yes, this will be included in the main fic at some point. I really felt it was important for me to explore this darker theme with Lancelot, I definitely felt like he'd have a tendency towards harming himself given the self-flagellation we see in Cursed and his internal conflicts, especially if it's been a while since he was injured in battle so he had less or no pain to focus on. But I also want to show a hopeful arc with him too, and hope that throughout my planned story he'll need to resort to it less and less as the urges fade away. Still! All that is for future anyways.

Thanks for reading, let me know if you enjoyed reading this, onto the final day tomorrow!

#augusnippets day 30 #augusnippets 2024 #augusnippets #tw self harm #self harm #tw blood #tw mental health #tw trauma #tw self flagellation #self flagellation #the weeping monk #weeping monk #the weeping monk whump #whump #lancelot the weeping monk

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newwwwusername · 1 year ago

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Community - Jeff & Study Group - Pride Month Prompt 30 : Aromantic

Warning : Arophobia Requested by : Anonymous on my Google Form Request : I'm not sure if you're taking requests for the Pride Month prompt challenge or not, but I really like aromantic!Jeff Winger and I'd like to read a fic about it on the last day of the challenge if possible Pride Month Prompt : Write a fic in which an aromantic character (can be a canon or headcanoned character) is coming out to/being comforted by/otherwise talking about romantic orientation with their friend(s) or queerplatonic partner Headcanon : Alloaro!Jeff

"Guys, I've realized something about myself" Jeff said with a big smile on his face as he entered the study room. The rest of the group looked up at him.

"You are gay" Pierce guessed.

"Uh, no" Jeff shook his head as he set down his bag by the leg of the table and sat down. "I'm... Aromantic"

The room went still.

"Sorry, you're whatnow?" Shirley asked. Everyone else seemed equally confused- Except for Britta, that is.

"I call bullshit" the blonde spoke up. Everyone looked at her. Jeff seemed uncomfortable.

"Um-

"If you're aromantic, what's with all the advances you've been trying to make on me since day one?" she asked.

"I think you're hot and wanted to have sex with you, not a whole relationship" Jeff said and then winced as he realized how that came out. Britta scoffed. "I didn't mean it like that"

"Okay, Jeff" she rolled her eyes. The man looked hurt, which was odd, but seriously who the hell did he think he was? There were people out there who were actually aromantic and here he was flagging the label around because he had commitment iss-

He got up and left the room.

----------

Abed walked into he and Jeff's dorm room and took in the sad expression on his roommate's face.

"So, what's aromantic?" he asked. Jeff chuckled humorlessly.

"You heard what Britta said" Jeff sighed. "It doesn't matter"

"Britta tends to do surface-level research on a lot of things, but she rarely actually makes an effort to understand them" Abed replied. "I'd like to know what it means to you, since you're the one who this is actually about"

Jeff smiled weakly at his friend before taking a deep breath and giving an explanation.

"I've just never saw myself in a real relationship with anyone" he explained. "Romantically, I mean. Sex is nice. Friends are nice. But the idea of dating someone just isn't all that compelling to me" he continued. "And it's not just an issue of not wanting to commit"

"Okay" Abed said. Jeff stared at him for a moment.

"Okay?"

"Okay" Abed repeated. "Do you want me to tell Britta that?"

"No, no, I'll do it" Jeff replied before groaning in annoyance. "This whole thing is so dumb..."

"I don't think it's dumb"

"Well, thank you, Abed"

----------

"Britta, hey" Jeff said meekly as he approached the blonde in the line of the cafe. She rolled her eyes and looked away but didn't tell him to fuck off, so he supposed he could continue. "I want to talk about what happened"

"Are you done pretending to be something your not so you don't have to own up to your bullshit?"

"Britta, I'm not pretending to be anything, I-"

"Right, right" she laughed humorlessly. "Of course. Because big and mighty Jeff Winger never does anything wrong"

"Britta, lis-"

"He'd never treat a woman like an object he can just fuck and then throw out. No, no, cause he's different and special"

"Brit-"

"He's 'aromantic', so it's all perfectly well and good if he-"

"BRITTA!" he shouted and a few people turned in their direction, concerned. Britta's mouth clamped shut as she stared at the agitated man. "Sorry... Sorry, I didn't mean to yell" he apologized. She still said nothing. "I just... Look, I'll buy your breakfast, but please just... Sit and listen to what I have to say?"

"Okay, Jeff" she agreed quietly before pulling out her phone to text him her order as she sat at one of the smaller tables.

He returned a few minutes later with two coffees, a croissant, and the sandwich that Britta had asked for as well. He sat by her at the table and handed her her breakfast before contemplating his next words, grateful that she just remained patient.

"I've never felt... The urge to get romantically involved with people" he explained. "It's not that I have a fear of commitment or anything like that, I just don't want it" he continued. "And yeah, sex is nice. I like having sex with people, but just so long as we're... Friends. The thought of anything becoming more than platonic fuck buddies just... It isn't appealing to me"

"...Jeff-"

"What?"

"I'm sorry" Britta sighed. Jeff's eyes widened. "I mean, I'm sure you can understand why I was on guard, but still... I shouldn't have said those things. If this is how you really feel, then I'm sorry, and I accept you"

"So... Does that mean we can be fuck buddies now?"

"Very funny"

----------

Jeff walked in for study group with a weak smile on this face. "I'm gonna try this again"

Abed smiled. Britta nodded.

"I am Aromantic" he said, this time with more confidence. In response to the confused looks, he continued. "It just means I don't feel the want or urge to date people. I don't feel that spark, and I'd like for all my relationships to remain platonic"

"Oh, okay" Troy nodded genuinely. "That makes sense"

"Thank you for telling us, Jeff" Shirley smiled.

"This actually makes a lot of sense" Annie laughed lightheartedly.

"Pierce?" Jeff asked, looking at the old man. The man seemed to consider this for a moment before speaking.

"So... You're still gay, right?"

Do not repost on other sites! If you want to participate in this month's challenge, there are 30 LGBT-centered prompts that you can find here

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scarlet-traveler · 2 years ago

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Katsuki’s eyes clamped shut as Eijirou leaned in, his sweaty hands clenched tight on his sweatpants. He was pretty sure it would be bad if he ruined the moment by blowing up his boyfriend.

The bed dipped and creaked as it shifted with Eijirou’s movements. Warm breath fanned over Katsuki’s lips, and he felt heat radiating off of a face that was no doubt centimeters away from his own. A warm hand cupped his cheek, making him suck in a sharp breath as a calloused thumb brushed over chapped lips, and then another pair of lips were pressing softly against his own.

The kiss was short, barely a blip in time, but it felt like an eternity to Katsuki. Heat flowed through his body as if he were using his quirk, and he clenched his hands tighter just in case sparks actually did pop off his fingers. The warmth lingered in his body as Eijirou pulled away, and when Katsuki opened his eyes he was already staring back. A smile grew on the redhead’s lips as their eyes met, and he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow in an unspoken question.

Katsuki pressed his lips to fight back his own growing smile, and the small nod he gave must’ve been answer enough as Eijirou leaned in to kiss him again.

Day 1 of the 30 day writing challenge: write about a first kiss

Next>>

#mha #kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #mha fanfiction #traveler writes #fanfic #I wanna write more than just krbk but writing them just comes easy by this point ^^'#but yeah I'm gonna try and do this challenge for the whole month! probs as a warmup/cooldown or smth #I might not post all the days but most will probably be here

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ladyhoneydee · 1 year ago

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30 Day Song(fic) Challenge: Day 27

Took yesterday off and nearly didn't get it done today either (in fact, I am very, very late) but I'm back again with today's Song(fic) Challenge! The prompt was "a late night moody song", and while I'm sure the original creator of this challenge meant something moody as in angsty, I went for my personal favorite song to listen to late at night: You Are in Love, by Taylor Swift. I adore this song as one to stare out the window to as someone else drives so you can watch the stars and scenery zoom by, but as an adult who has to drive myself places now, it's just as good to hold yourself and sway to in the comfort of your bedroom.

You Are In Love

Game: Twilight Princess

Pairing: Midzelink

Word Count: 3154

Keywords: Falling in love OT3 style

One night, six months into their arrangement, Zelda wakes. The glowing hands of the Twilaiin clock on Midna’s nightstand inform her that it’s three in the morning: witching hour. She certainly feels spellbound as she stares at her lovers; at Link’s green and brown and gold, Midna’s black and white and orange, and her own purple and white and gold. A mixed palette of one another. Complimentary colors, somehow, against every sense of color theory.

Read the fic on AO3, or under the cut!

Zelda hasn’t seen Midna since they were both six years old and under three feet tall, sharing a nanny while their parents were enmeshed in diplomatic relations. At the time, they hadn’t realized that their fast, close friendship was blossoming under the shadow of potential warfare, and while the meeting had adjourned amicably, the countries of Twilain and Hyrule had remained different sides of the same coin: touching, but separate. And so did their daughters.

At some point in that thirteen-year estrangement, Midna must have undergone a hell of a growth spurt. Zelda was not a short woman by any means, even among the very tall Lanayrish hylians she descended from, but Midna still towered over her by an entire head. At least, she seemed that she would, when her gaze passed over and then hooked onto the Twili diplomat from across the darkened ballroom.

Midna’s eyes were already on Zelda. Scarlet irises shining across the room. Zelda felt herself immediately hypnotized, a mink caught in the stare of a serpent. She could do nothing but watch one elegant hand lift and crook a single finger in an unmistakable summons.

Zelda’s mouth went dry, and for the first time that night, the bodice of her dress felt tight, tight, tight.

She was sure there had been other dignitaries in the room, but they seemed to fade away to the margins as Zelda floated across the room. The Twilight Princess stood on the fringes of the gathering, and as Zelda approached, Midna glided forward the final two paces to meet her.

“Shadows and snakes, I was beginning to think I was the only one with a brain at this party. Thank you for proving me wrong, Princess.”

Zelda flushed. “Now, I’m sure that isn’t the case—”

“Are you telling me you’ve ever exited a conversation with Count Fabian of Labrynna feeling enthralled, intellectually stimulated, and excited to have another?”

Zelda’s gaze flickered over to the count in question, who was currently holding court with an exceedingly bored-looking visiting dignity whose name she couldn’t recall. She shut her mouth and clamped down the corners that threatened to rise. “Fair enough. You’ve certainly chosen a…fit example.”

“I do adore choosing the fit ones,” Midna said, voice low, and Zelda felt every drop of blood in her veins combust as her childhood-playmate–turned-absolute-stunner looked her up and down with a stare that was at one ravenous and languid. “Do join me. Just because I’m from Twilain doesn’t mean I wish to live in the shadows of your attention.”

Zelda laughed despite herself at the faux-drama in the other woman’s tone. “You make a compelling argument…I’m not sure you could survive without attention.” Midna’s jaw dropped, and for a moment Zelda thought she had misstepped until she threw her head back with a cackle.

“Oh, Princess, we are going to have such a marvelous night together. Come, I have a bottle of wine already, you won’t need to up and leave for ages.” She looped an arm around Zelda’s own elbow, and escorted her to one of the window-framed alcoves on the exterior wall of the room. A candle flickered in the center of the table, next to the promised bottle of dark, sweet wine.

Here, the close shadows and distance from the main mingling floor made the incredibly public setting feel intimate. Zelda sat down, taking care to sweep her long skirt beneath her, and reveled in the soft velvet of the window bench.

Midna sighed appreciatively as she plopped onto the bench beside her. “Now I have two things to thank you for: the pleasure of your company, and the chance to get off of these heels.”

“I’m sure you could kick them off and no one would even notice.”

“True, but how would I get you to look at my legs otherwise?”

Traitorously, Zelda’s eyes followed Midna’s suggestion despite herself and flickered down to Midna’s shadow-stockinged legs and back up. The victorious smirk on her purple-stained lips nearly sent Zelda into a tailspin, but she managed to keep a tight lid on her sanity.

“Quite thoughtful, but I’m here for more than the view.” She turned more fully towards Midna and, quite courageously, placed her hand on the warmth of Midna’s right thigh, just above her knee. “I do believe we have about two decades of catching up to do.”

They spoke to no one else for the rest of the night, contact information seized and clutched close when the event eventually closed down and they were turned out into the winter air. Scraps of paper torn from the corners of invitations. Proof that they’d found one another again, at last.

Half a decade and the rise and fall of a madman later, Midna wakes to the crowing of a rooster and a sunbeam across her face. Eyes flicker open, only to immediately squeeze shut again in disgruntled discomfort. She adds one hand over her face for good dramatic measure, shading out the red the glare painted the inside of her eyelids.

“Link, you’re supposed to be good at everything,” she groans. “Can’t you turn off the sun for me?”

A hand caresses the curve of her thigh beneath the blanket. Fingers tracing delicious patterns on her skin spell out a response she barely manages to take in: “No can do, Princess.”

“Well, what good are you?” Midna blinks her eyes open, resentful at the brightness but not so much that she can hold herself back anymore from gazing upon Link’s gaze, blue as the ocean on a cloudy day; his tanned skin, with the muscles beneath corded from farming; his dark blond hair tousled from the previous night’s activities. He’s as delicious in the morning as he was the night before, and she drapes a possessive hand over his bare chest.

“You look like you’re going to eat me for breakfast,” Link signs. Rather than teasing challenge in his gaze, however, Midna can only find bottomless affection. Not in the mood for a morning round, then.

“Well, I might if you don’t cook up something for us.” She stretches like a cat, legs poking out from beneath the blanket and extending beyond the edge of Link’s mattress as they go taut. He watches her with interest, the kind that says I’m taking all of you in without the particular flavor of I want to take you, and when his gaze finally travels up her body to her face he returns her warm smile in kind.

“I guess I can part with some eggs,” he signs, and she rolls her eyes at the sass in every roll of his wrist.

“You better throw some sausage in there, too. I’ve got a big day today, you know.” She throws her legs off of the edge of the bed, and slowly lifts her upper body off the bed, vertebrae crackling.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve got a date with that woman, you only talked about it for half the night,” Link teases, and follows her in getting up. He tosses Midna one of his old shirts without needing to ask, knowing she prefers going around in his clothes in the morning despite them barely covering her midriff. “I was shocked you didn’t scream her name last night instead of mine.”

Midna narrows her eyes, but knows he can still see the warmth in them through the faux-glare. “Keep the sass up and next time, I will.”

They stumble down the ladder from Link’s loft down to the main living space. Link gets the pan heating up in short order and begins shaping small handfuls of ground seasoned goat sausage into patties. She watches with wanton abandon: he’s always so good with his hands, no matter the context.

Soon, though, the desire simmering in her belly subsides to something more warm and enduring. With his brow quirked in focus like that, it’s easy to see the man she fell for all those years ago, the one who challenged her when she needed it and held her when she wanted it, even when her faith in the entire world—and herself—had been shattered.

Link cracks four eggs, one after the other, into the pan atop the half-cooked sausage patties. “Can you make up some toast?” he signs one-handed, refusing to release his spatula.

Midna goes through the motion of cutting the bread and getting it on the heat, but her mind is firmly elsewhere. On nights where all they had were each other. On nights when they had more, but chose one another still.

She doesn’t notice Link’s signing until he’s tapping her on the shoulder insistently to get her attention. “Midna! Seriously?”

“What?” She glares. That was a nice memory!

“You burned the Din-damned toast!”

Midna looks over Link’s shoulder—an easy task, with how much height she has on him—to see four pieces of blackened bread smoking away on the counter. She belatedly realizes that the air smells awful, acrid with charcoal.

“In my defense, I was thinking of how cute you are.”

Link rolls his wolf eyes at her and thrusts a plate into her hands. A curved heap of pan-scrambled eggs smiles at her under two sausage-patty eyes. “Shut up and eat your breakfast.”

Link isn’t sure how he got here, but he’s pretty sure he likes it.

Well, that’s a lie. He knows how he got here, it’s just that it feels like a fever dream to remember. Still, remember it he can. Midna had suggested that he might like her mysterious woman as much as she does, promised that the woman had seemed intrigued and open to it as well, gave them the place and time. Introduced them. And then pranced off, cackling like some sort of storybook villain, into the night.

And here he is, arm in arm on the streets of Castletown with Hyrule’s princess.

With the winter solstice celebration on the horizon, Castletown buzzes with seasonal visitors. Candles meant to invoke and bolster the magic of the Light Spirits as their powers wane with winter’s coming line residential windows, and while many homes still have pumpkins and leaf wreaths from the harvest season on their doors, others are beginning to replace them with spicy-smelling pine boughs. Link wonders absentmindedly where they got them—the market? Did they go out and pick them from trees outside of the town’s sturdy stone walls themselves?

He broaches the question to Zelda, a little hesitantly. While their stroll around the streets and squares has been amicable so far, things still feel a little awkward. They’re both quiet in different ways: Link in the ‘I’m not great with new people’ way, and Zelda in the ‘I want to show you I’m listening and I care’ way, which is unfortunate when paired with someone who isn’t doing much talking.

“That is an excellent question!” Her eyes light up, and Link feels a flicker of satisfaction and pride at the response. “You’re actually correct on both counts. The closest pine groves to Castletown are to the north, but as you’ve no doubt noted, there is no north gate to the town, as the Castle lies that way. Thus those who source their boughs from outside typically go on day trips. It takes about half a day if one goes on horseback; those harvesting in bulk with a wagon spend about a day in total. Those who pick extra often do sell them in the marketplace, or gift them, for those people unable to go to the groves themselves.”

Link nods in understanding. “They’re very interesting. I like the ones with additional decoration.” He points to a wreath on a door to their right, barely visible from how deeply it’s set into the alley. That one has pinecones and bright red berries sprinkled throughout.

“I want to eat them,” he signs, the motions small.

“You what?”

His hands jitter in place with indecision, a kinetic ‘um’ of the first kind, and then sign an apology. “You weren’t supposed to see that!” At her quizzical stare—she’s really cute when she tilts her head to the side like that—he adds on, “I didn’t think you…were watching me that closely. It was just meant for myself.”

Zelda smiles at him, and he feels his heart leap up to his throat and embed there with the speed of an arrow. “I’m enjoying watching you. I like the way you watch everything so closely. You notice things about my world that slip my notice these days, and it’s refreshing to experience them through your eyes.”

Link flushes, and imagines that the heat of his skin is giving off steam in the cold night air. “That—I—you—” He stumbles through several more signs that amount to nothing more than babble. “I like watching you too!”

He about collapses to the cobblestones with embarrassment at her laugh. “Hm, but I’m not necessary to keep an eye on, since I don’t communicate through sign.” She arches an eyebrow at him, and something passes through his stomach with the gravity of a thundercloud over Hyrule Field. “Perhaps there’s something else that attracts your gaze?”

Oh, oh, there’s the lightning. He feels it crackle through his chest and down to his toes and back again.

“Perhaps there is,” he replies, and hopes she can’t see the way his hands tremble ever so slightly with newfound desire.

Of course, his hopes never come true when it comes to these women. “Your hands are shaking, Link. Are you cold, perchance?” Her tone is innocent enough that if he wasn’t looking right at the teasing heat hiding in her slate-grey irises, he might have thought her entirely sincere in her concern. “There’s a delightful shop near here that sells all sorts of warm beverages. Cider, tea, milk, even a new import known as kaffe.” She smiles. “I’m quite partial to it myself.”

“Doesn’t kaffe keep one up at night?” Link cocks his head in confusion.

“Certainly. It’s exceedingly helpful on the days I’m called into audiences with the Cabinet of Representatives, and then have a mountain of reports to read and paperwork to complete.”

“But…wouldn’t that keep you up way too late tonight?”

“I’d rather enjoy staying up late with you. In many senses.”

Link doesn’t even know what he signs in response to that, but it must have been some sort of vigorous agreement, because they’ve set off towards Zelda’s little shop with vim in their step. He tries to distract himself from taking in the flush in Zelda’s cheeks from the chill and their flirtation, the slight frizziness in her chestnut hair from her winter layers, the power in her stride and how it ceaselessly reminds him that she has legs. Unfortunately, as charming as the houses lining the avenues are, they hardly compare to hers.

One wreath does stand out to him, however, as they approach the shopfront. The residential balcony atop the shop has a particularly jaunty whittled squirrel accompanying the more typical pinecones and berries, and he grins at it.

He taps Zelda on the shoulder gently to get her attention. She pauses in the midst of reaching for the doorknob.

“Look up,” he signs, and points to the adorable squirrel. She follows the line of his finger, and he takes in the sunshine of her delighted smile at the same time that her shoulder brushes his own: the first time they’ve touched all evening with the exception of their linked elbows.

Lightning sparks through him once again. He can taste it in the roof of his mouth, under the root of his tongue.

Midna is very familiar with his taste in women, it would seem. He will never, ever admit it, under pain of death. She’d be insufferable for weeks.

Yet, as he walks through the door that Zelda holds open for him, he thinks he might not even mind.

They sleep conjoined for three nights straight. They wander Twilain with Midna as their erstwhile guide, who gets far too much of a kick out of Zelda and Link’s stunned expressions with every brush with techno-magic. Link nearly faints when Zelda cleans syrup made from some sort of tart berry off of Midna’s face with her thumb and then sucks it clean in the middle of the restaurant like it’s nothing, and then ends up cooking the next two meals in a row because they find themselves unable to get out of their rooms without someone being pinned to a door.

They argue about how this is going to work, how they’re going to share, how they can be together all at once when they are two princesses and a goatherd, when only two share the same physical realm and those two don’t share the same hierarchical realm. Link accuses Zelda of inane optimism, and she locks herself in the bathroom with magic for an hour until Midna teleports under the door with her shadow-hopping magic and brings her out after a hushed conversation. They fall asleep together, not one eye unreddened between them, but with a refreshed desire to try.

They exchange letters through an increasingly beleaguered Postman. They meet in Hyrule Castle, in Link’s treehouse in Ordon, in a bungalow in a Twilaiin mangrove forest. They are complicated and complex. They are unbelievably, incandescently happy.

Midna and Link blink open groggy eyes when Zelda wriggles between them, tears streaking down her face. Her eyes are wild but sure.

Link and Midna have devoted themselves to one another for years. Midna’s heart has held Zelda’s portrait in it for decades, fleshed out from a pencil sketch to an oil painting. They know immediately what this is, what it means. They can see it in the dark of the room; they can hear it in the catch of Zelda’s breaths in her lungs.

“I love you too,” Midna whispers, tracing one hand up the soft curve of Zelda’s spine.

“I love you too,” Link signs, his fingers tender on Zelda’s cheek.

“I’m yours,” Zelda cries, and throws her arms wide around them both.

It is an imperfect way to put into words what has been building between them, even when the language of tight squeezes and grasping arms is added in and built upon. No sentence or paragraph or lifetime of novels could cover it, if they spent the rest of their lives orating and writing it down. They are simply too complex and complicated.

But they are unbelievably, incandescently happy. And in this moment, it is enough.

#loz #midzelink #twilight princess #loz tp #my fanfiction #30 day song(fic) challenge

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ghostwise · 2 years ago

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2022 Writing Summary 🖊️🗒️✨

This year was an interesting one for writing and I am so excited bc I tackled a few different projects in 2022!

- I worked on for suffering is such a part pretty much daily from December, finally finishing it in April with a total of 51,575 words!

- In April, feeling pretty burnt out on writing, I did some fluffy AU pieces (huapangos de arlathvhen) as well as aloe, elfroot, and the flood (which will probably be rewritten, but remains as an attempt to write a DAO-era Crestwood fic).

- In May I busied myself writing original fiction and firing off some submissions to literary magazines. I am still working on a way to bring original fiction to an audience, but for now I just don’t feel very comfortable sharing it here. Stay tuned, though!

- In June I got into Wayfarer and challenged myself to develop a character by writing 30 micro fics. This got me writing pretty consistently, and I collected all those pieces in lovesong of the buzzard.

- Closed the year with a fic I wrote for the Wayfarer Exchange, there’s a flame that burns out at sea, and also planning for Quinta de Talpa and other original projects.

I’m looking forward to what 2023 will bring. 💖

January

Zevran tried to picture Hamal’s face without any of the vallaslin, but found that he couldn’t. The blood writing was such an important part of his Warden. He knew that Hamal was fiercely proud of them. Now he knew why.

He smiled at Mathuin, feeling that they must have shared the story both for Cammen’s benefit as well as for his.

February

Every time he made a mistake it was like this: Somewhere in the deepest parts of his id existed a small thought that Hamal might not want him once he realized that he was broken in a way that was permanent; not transient like the Blight, not as easily defeated as an Archdemon. Sometimes the thought was loud. Right now, however, he was able to confront the thought, because the fact was, Hamal had married him.

March

“And how are you?”

Zevran raised a brow and looked at him.

“Zevran. In the past few days you fought a sylvan, fractured a bone, hiked through the forest, fell through a ceiling, got a concussion—and that’s just the stuff I know about. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

April

Loneliness was a sharp barb that worked its way under his skin. He’d never felt it so keenly; it was agony, it eclipsed everything, every thought, every feeling, every past, present, or future, even his name.

May

Everyone here is so busy. His cousins now have titles and jobs and families. Even Petra is married and has children now.

Fortunately he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. The ocean peeks over the rise of a verdant hill and suddenly they’re there. Arlathvhen.

June

“What if I do not wish to go back?” Hamal asked. “What if I ask you to leave?”

“Then I suppose it’s just a question of what I should tell the others.” Zevran looked away with a shrug. “But it’ll have to be good; both to ensure that no one comes looking for you, and to clear me of any suspicion.”

Hamal let out a hint of a laugh at that—short, bitter, but a laugh all the same. The sound surprised him as much as it did Zevran.

July

Perhaps because of his desert childhood, it delights him at first. Rain is transformative, a sign of good things to come: the cacti flowering, the buried animals emerging from the dry earth.

(He once believed them to be resurrected; believed the whole world was a dead thing coming alive.)

But the rain in Rona is different. There is no transformation, no resurrection here.

August

Alassar steel cuts through the darkness, flashing as Refugio cuts his vocal chords. Just as quickly, Yuribia clamps a hand over the other one’s mouth and smothers her wings around him tightly, muffling his scream as she snaps his neck.

She and Refugio stand there for a moment, breathing heavily in the dark.

September

It’s a bad pain day. It swoops upon him like a vulture and pecks his back apart vertebrae by vertebrae.

Refugio slouches in his seat, each bump and pebble on the road sending painful little shockwaves through his back. He’s known Yuribia long enough that he doesn’t bother hiding it. She’s known him long enough that she doesn’t bother commenting.

October

Kit’s long hair hangs like a curtain, her legs draped over the backrest of the couch she currently occupies. Anyone else might look absurd lounging in such a manner, but she pulls it off; she just has an air of grace about her, on and off the stage.

Refugio smiles appreciatively, his eyes trailing from her pretty curls to the script in her hands.

November

The Amell mansion is big enough to house a haunting.

Renata has always suspected that she ought to have one of those, which is to say, the absence of one had been thus far conspicuous in her life; a thought in the back of her head all these many years, from Lothering to Kirkwall. Late at night in her family’s little farmhouse she’d think of it, paranoid of some specter that never was there. She just never had the time or the space for it.

December

“I imagine he wants what any man wants: His life, with a shred of hope, and a regular fuck. So he slit your throat! We are Crows! If we killed everyone who made an attempt on our life, we’d hunt ourselves to extinction.”

#this is very indulgent but when i realized i wrote EVERY MONTH this year i wanted to put this post together to view my own progress #and maybe a few of you remember when I was super shy about writing and hardly posted any at all; i'm really really proud of overcoming that #it's a big deal for me and i rely so much on the kindness my pals have shown me <3 #thank you thank u mwa mwa also if any writer friends want to do this please go ahead and tag me!!#rinnywrites #2022 writing summary

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lookatlavender · 2 years ago

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ohhhh, you want to be tricked into perpetual denial? mmm. i’m thinking about tallying up your denial together and marking your date on a calendar. and making you watch as i push the date further and further back if you edge or ruin when you’re not allowed 💗

i’d give you games, too. like after a few days of true no-touch, where even i don’t touch you and you can’t touch your nipples, i’d have you laid out on the couch and tell you not to move while i cover your whole body with my hands and lips. i’d put a collar on you, perhaps one that’s just slightly uncomfortably tight. i’d work my mouth and lips and tongue and teeth up your thighs. with my tongue hovering over your tdick i’d explain that i’ll put my tongue on you for five minutes for every day that you beg me to push your date back by 💖

maybe i’d even have you a little high for this. you’d be so hungry for my touch. when you beg me to deny you one more day i’d make a whole show of setting the timer and moving the date on the calendar. then i’d use my tongue on you, softly at first, and then harder, sucking you, biting you. 30 seconds before the timer runs out i’d have my fingers at your entrance, almost pushing into you but not ❤️ i’d ask you if you want another five minutes of me touching you. i’d let you trade away orgasms for weeks in exchange for just a little more pleasure right now.

of course we’d have to find more ways to punish you if you edged or ruined while i touched you 💓 perhaps i should add a clamp to you for each time that happens?

after everything i’d numb your clit and put a tunnel plug in you and ride your strap until i’ve cum on it as many times as i like. 😇💫

that would be so hot, in the moment i’d be so torn trying to be good and not make it too hard on myself, and with wanting to chase pleasure. plus there’s always a little part of me that wants more time when i’m starting a challenge like that, the idea of being trapped is so intoxicating 😵‍💫💖

maybe at first i would try to resist your game once you laid me out, but i’d be so worked up and want you to touch so bad. just you kissing my thighs softly and describing what you wanted to do to me would send me wild too, and any resolve i had would quickly crumble until i was begging you for my first additional day in denial. if you got me high i would probably be even more desperate for it, my head would get fuzzy with a mix of weed and your tongue and pretty soon i’d forget all the reasons why i would ever ask you to stop. you’d ask if i wanted another day after the first five minutes and i bet i wouldnt even hesitate, just immediately let out a breathless “yes please” while my fingers grip into the sheets

i bet i’d ruin a lot too, at least at first. i’d have clamps up and down the lips of my pussy, you could even use them to hold it open and get better access to my tdick while you tease me. and once my pussy has too many that they would get in your way, you can just start adding them to my nipples and tits instead 🤭 i have a spiked collar too (like internal spikes), maybe if the clamps weren’t convincing enough and i kept letting myself edge you could switch my normal collar out for that one, so any time even i gasp or swallow i’m reminded to keep myself under control for you.

🤭💖 i love that that’s one of your favorite combos, numbed and forced open on a tunnel plug just so you can ignore my pussy completely and ride me like a toy, or make me fuck into you just how you like 🙈 imagine if you left all the clamps on my tits and the spiked collar while you used me too, just a little added spice to remind me of my place 🥴

#lavender asks #💫 anon

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achilleanfemme · 2 years ago

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30 Day Poetry Writing Challenge, Day 2

2. Where is home to you? Tell about a location or people you feel the most comfortable around. Paint a picture with words, capture what you see and feel.

Coming Back by Achillean Femme

Burning pine needles have a very distinct smell.

Their smoke is a light gray and

As you watch it twist and twirl in the autumn air

It is easy to get lost in its dance and minty aroma.

I still remember the time that I hit my cousin Allyson

In the neck with a very large pine cone.

It was quite literally a softball-sized pine cone.

I was about 15

And had borrowed my grandmommy’s clamping arm

That she used to grab cans out of the upper cabinets

In her kitchen when she couldn’t lift her arms very well above her head

Because she was going through radiation treatment

For her cancer that had come back for the third time.

She had passed about a year prior.

Anyways,

So I had borrowed the clamping arm

And was running around the yard outside her house

With my cousins Zeke, Savannah, and Allyson.

I picked up one of the large pine cones that was lying on the ground

With the clampers

And began to spin around whimsically with it

(Because I have always been a fairy princess).

Suddenly, the pine cone ripped out of the grasp of the clamper

And hit my cousin Allyson squarely in the neck

With a loud thwack!

I was mortified

And apologized profusely.

She didn’t talk to me for like 2 hours.

Then 6 of my cousins, including Allyson, my sister, and I

Decided to play a board game on my grandmommy’s

Golden-colored wooden kitchen table

As we had done countless evenings prior.

We cackled over silly stories from years past.

Like the time that we almost set grandmommy’s house on fire

Burning a mountain of pine needles that we had raked up in the yard

And set ablaze in the burn pit

On a particularly windy afternoon.

She was rightfully really mad when that happened.

I can still see us frantically rushing buckets of water

Back and forth

From the water hose faucet outside

To the site of the growing fire

Desperately trying to put it out as it

Kept fighting to come back.

But if she were with us on that night that I hit Allyson

In the neck

With the giant pinecone,

I think that she would have cleaned Allyson’s wounds,

Applied some neosporin or iodine to the injured area,

Given her a kiss,

Given me a smile and a wink as she passed me

Waiting nervously in the hallway on the red carpeted floor,

And beamed with joy for the rest of the night as we played games

Around her golden-colored wooden kitchen table.

#poetry #queer poet #30 Day Poetry Challenge #poem #poet #new poet #original poem #original poetry #amatuer poet #cancer #home #family

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jotunheimsaga · 2 months ago

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Sigyn Chapter 7

The next day on the job proved more challenging as Jess was charged with double the number of rooms to clean on top of mopping floors, doing dishes, and clearing trash. Whenever she had a moment to relax, Sigyn would pop up out of nowhere and give her something else to do.

If Jess ever asked for help, Sigyn would say she was busy and then either disappear into her room or go for a hike up the mountain. Jess would watch her through the window, trekking through the snow with only a light jacket for warmth. Once she disappeared in the woods, it was anyone's guess where she went.

If she wanted information, Kark was the easier target. As they worked in the kitchen together, washing dishes and organizing the food cabinet, she pulled out her phone to show him her photo of the tree she found while skiing. "Do you know what that symbol is?"

There was the tiniest flinch on his face. If Jess hadn't been watching him, she wouldn't have noticed before he brushed it off.

"Looks like someone carved something on a tree."

She knew he knew more than what he led on. It was only a matter of digging the information out. "At first, I thought it was a trail marker."

Kark shrugged. "People draw symbols all the time, it's nothing to be afraid of."

"Who said I was afraid?" Jess said, tilting her head innocently.

Knowing he slipped-up, Kark stumbled over his next words. "Uh...I mean...coming across strange symbols in the woods, that must be spooky to some people."

"You know what it means, don't you?"

"...If I had to guess... I'd say it's a warning. That doesn't mean I'm right!"

"Why would someone carve a warning on a tree in a language no one can understand?"

Kark shrugged and buried his head in his chores, deeply regretting ever opening his mouth. As much as she wanted more answers, Jess didn't want to push him too much, considering he was the nicer one of her two bosses.

If she wanted answers, she would have to find them herself. The opportunity presented itself when she spotted Sigyn returning from her hike and going straight into the supply shed. She told Kark she was taking her 30 minute break, and ran outside without grabbing her jacket.

The cold mountain air bit at her skin through the thin fabric of her shirt, but she figured she wouldn't be outside too long. Sigyn had left the wooden door of the shed ajar, giving Jess the perfect opportunity to slide in. Inside it was dark, lit only by a couple of old bulbs hung from the rafters, inches above the ski racks.

Sigyn was in the back of the room facing the workbench, but she wasn't cleaning skis. The clamp was pushed aside and the cans were away in the cabinets.

The old wood creaked under Jess' feet, forcing her to sneak as slow as possible behind the ski racks. Step by step, she creeped forward to see what exactly Sigyn was doing. She made it far enough to spot a burlap sack in her hands the size of a bowling ball.

The floor cracked. Sigyn whipped her head towards Jess, who ducked behind the racks in just the nick of time. The object in the bag lolled from side to side on the table as Sigyn left to investigate.

"Is someone here?" she called into the darkest corners of the rooms. She should have been alone - this was an employee's only area and there were hardly any guests that day.

As Sigyn turned the corner, Jess fought to keep her breathing steady, hiding her footfalls within Sigyn's own steps.

When she found nothing, Sigyn chalked it up to paranoia. Then, the door hinges squeaked. The hair on the back of Sigyn's neck stood on end. She opened a switchblade from her belt and hid it in the folds of her blouse as she moved towards the door and peeked outside to the empty ski hill.

Closing the door behind her, Sigyn turned back towards the darkness when a shadow lunged towards her.

Sigyn grabbed the person's shoulder to hold them against the wall but they were stronger than she anticipated. The assailant's feet stayed planted as they twisted Sigyn's own strength against her to throw her off-balance. Sigyn gripped her knife tighter. What she was dealing with was not human.

Sigyn slashed with her knife forcing the other to block with their arm and expose an opening in their defense. Her free hand opened and a spike of ice shot from her palm, slicing through the air and barely missing the opponent's head.

The fight got faster and more intense with each passing second. Hiding in the rafters above them, Jess held her breath as she tried following every move, but it was like trying to predict where a lightning bolt would strike.

Sigyn was the first to make a mistake. She twisted too far and gave her opponent the option to grab her shoulder and pin her against the wall. A white glaze covered her eyes, gone feral like a wild animal cornered.

Jess dug her fingernails into the wood. Someone was about to die in front of her, and she was helpless.

But the attacks stopped, and the stranger pushed back their hood to reveal their smiling face.

"Bitch," Sigyn breathed as the fear of death ebbed away.

The other girl laughed before, to Jess' surprise, closing the distance in a passionate kiss that ended with them resting their foreheads together and inhaling each others' breaths.

It was Sigyn's turn to be surprised when she took a sharp slap across the face. She hunched over, covering her cheek while the echo of the sound reverberated off the mountain.

"Do you know how scared I was?" the girl yelled, breaking into a full-out rant. "Of all the times for you to up and disappear on me! Ymir!" Strange words dotted her speech as she yelled, the same guttural growls and hisses Sigyn and Kark had exchanged.

Still holding her cheek, Sigyn waited for the girl to give her a chance to explain herself. "They were right on my tail, I would have led them straight to you!"

"So be it! We could have gone down fighting together!"

"I prefer living."

The strange girl chuckled, taking in the entirety of the rickety old shed. "And how is that working out for you? Playing human." She made her way towards the workbench and opened the burlap sack to reveal a bloody wolf-head frozen in mid-snarl.

Jess slapped a hand across her mouth to stifle her cry.

The girl's only reaction to the severed head was to look at Sigyn like a concerned parent. "Is this the first one?"

"No," Sigyn answered as she fidgeted with her switchblade. "There's been at least three."

"Okay. What's your plan?"

Sigyn frowned. "Plan?"

In a slow voice, the other girl answered: "Yes. Plan. Because it's only a matter of time before she comes after you herself."

"You'd think she'd have better things to do."

"This isn't funny, Sigyn! They know you're here, and they want you dead. There isn't much time."

"That's the nice thing about Earth - time moves faster here. We have more time than we think."

A shuffling noise came from the darkness. Sigyn turned her head to home in on the sound, and then shot her hand towards it. With a flash of light, and a squeal, it was over.

Sigyn wrinkled her nose. "We're getting a rat problem. I'll have to put Kark on it. Would you like to continue this conversation in my room?"

"Typical Sigyn, trying to get me in bed as fast as possible."

Laughing, the girls left together, arm in arm. When the coast was clear, Jess dared to peek out from her hiding spot. In the corner, she spotted a limp rat's tail buried under shards of ice.

#norse mythology #norwegian #mythology #mystery #fantasy story #fantasy series #writing #sigyn #chapters #creative writing #writers #writers on tumblr

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il-giardino-del-castello · 2 years ago

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Nitro+Chiral 30 Days Challenge - Aggiornata

Avevo fatto la Nitro+Chiral 30 Days Challenge (Tutta insieme, perché non succederà mai che io mi metta a fare una 30 Days Challenge come si suppone) prima che uscisse Slow Damage. Quindi, ho deciso di farne un aggiornamento - Dove serve, ovviamente. Non è che ora SD occupa tutte le risposte, oh.

2. Favourite N+C game. [Gioco della N+C preferito.]

... Scusa, DMMD, ma non ho fatto un tuo rewatch completo appena ti ho finito-

3. Favourite character, other than a protagonist. [Personaggio preferito, a parte i protagonisti.]

Questa era una domanda a cui avevo dato una risposta per ogni gioco.

Nel caso di SD, in realtà... Mi piacciono bene o male tutti e quattro i bachelor allo stesso modo?

4. Your OTP. [La tua OTP.]

Per SD, FujiTowa. L'ho detto svariate volte che sono molto originale.

7. Character/route you initially thought you wouldn’t like, but ended up liking. [Personaggio/route che inizialmente pensavi non ti sarebbe piaciuto, ma che sei finita con il gradire.]

Per SD, assolutamente la route di Taku. Gli ossan non mi sconfinferano troppo, e pensavo che la sua fosse la Route Riflessiva E Filosofica. Non pensavo fosse brutta, ma non pensavo neppure fosse super fantasticherrima, ecco. Invece, è la mia seconda preferita di SD e credo sia anche una delle migliori di tutta la N+C.

10. Game with best art? [Gioco con la grafica migliore?]

La risposta rimane la stessa, ma voglio aggiungere che, sì, confermo che tra Kana Tatana, Seiji Onitsuka, Honyarara e Uiro Yamada quello che mi piace di più è lo stile di disegno della Yamada. Fa molto Clamp, il che implica che i mezzi di trasporto viaggino a targhe alterne sulle spalle dei bachelor, ma me ne sono fatta una ragione, come per blinking e labiale - che all’inizio mi facevano un po’ strano.

11. Ending that makes you the happiest. [Finale che ti ha reso più felice.]

La risposta rimane la stessa, ma non posso non fare una menzione d'onore al Good End della route di Fujieda.

13. Favourite OP. [Opening preferita.]

... A giudicare dall'impressionante numero di volte in cui ascolto il, temo abbia superato Lamento (opening). Scusa, Lamento (visual novel), hai comunque una colonna sonora di tutto rispetto!

14. Favourite music track. [Traccia musicale preferita.]

Per SD, Genzai kara mirai e / First Sin to the Future. Nnnnon so perché, non è il mio genere, ma-

(E poi c'è il dramma di Damaging you. So che è tipo una delle più popolari di SD se non LA più popolare. A me non fa impazzire e odio il growl, ma è dannatamente anni ‘00 e MI RIMANE IN TESTA.)

Se invece si parla di tracce musicali strumentali, assolutamente Determination.

17. Favourite voice actor. [Doppiatore preferito.]

La risposta rimane la stessa, ma confermo che Yuuki Ono ha una voce molto carina e, nelle scene di "euforia", molto spudorata. Non siamo ai livelli drammatici di Luce Verdefiume, ma è comunque da menzionare.

18. Favourite route. [Route preferita.]

Per SD, come ripetuto, non sono originale, quindi quella di Fujieda.

Fujieda che, tra l'altro, ha spezzato la maledizione delle True Route problematiche della N+C.

19. Favourite CG. [CG preferita.]

Dato che SD ha 160+ CG (300+ con le varianti, e non sto scherzando), direi di ridurre tutto ai minimi termini, di andare alla route di Fujieda e di calare le carte That escalated quickly e Ormai i miei denti sono perduti nessun dentista potrà mai rimediare (Qui in realtà amo tutta la sequenza, ma non la metto per motivi immaginabili).

20. Favourite protagonist. [Protagonista preferito.]

... Scusami, Aoba. Sei cattivo, ma non sei un gremlin.

(Ad ogni modo, pare sia un "problema" che ha colpito il 90% di chi ha visto/giocato SD. Sembra che solo le fan di Akira abbiano resistito al rompicoglioni. Da parte mia, è finito nel circolo di mostriciattoli che già vedeva Len Kagamine e Saeran Choi - Per quanto Len rimanga Signore Assoluto Del Male.)

27. Favourite antagonist. [Antagonista preferito.]

La risposta rimane la stessa ma devo dire che, se la N+C se ne uscisse con un approfondimento su Maya, lo leggerei volentieri. È il Male Incarnato, ma l'hanno resa abbastanza affascinante da volerne sapere di più.

(Mi fido abbastanza da non temere il disastro fatto in Mystic Messenger dalla Cheritz quando quest'ultima ha voluto approfondire la sua antagonista. Posso fidarmi, sì, N+C?)

30. Why Tokino’s route is the best. [Perché la route di Tokino è la migliore.]

Konoe, non sei più solo! Ora c'è anche Towa che può vantare ben DUE amykettyh che non vogliono piegarlo come un tovagliolo! Eiji, Igarashi, andate lì da Tokino e beatevi della vostra immunità al Fascino del Protagonista, è un potere molto raro!

#val sm danno lento molto lento #val sm robe mie

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