#day 3! yay! i'm getting there

[rebornofstars]

Hi @devil-acid! Your artwork is just incredibly colourful and gorgeous and has inspired me to continue creating for this fandom. I admire you a lot, so I wrote this short piece for you as part of the Fan Joy July challenge based on your artwork. I hope that’s okay!

“Ssh,” says Hyrule, as Wind draws in a breath. “Don’t say anything.” Wind’s mouth closes with a soft clop. He hunches over the little patch of blossoms that are tipped towards the sun in the corner of the woods. The soft pink petals seem to glisten as they reflect the shine from Hyrule’s wings— Because somehow, the traveller has wings. “You’re sitting in a flower,” Wind says, choking up. He cups the plant in his hands. Hyrule beams up at him. He’s so small. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s a secret to everybody. Do you promise not to tell?” “I promise.” Wind can’t hide the wonder in his voice when he says, “you’re a fairy.” The wings flutter at that, quick and bright, sending kaleidoscopes of light spinning across the flower. Wind’s eyes are so round they hurt. Hyrule looks unbothered. Are the extra appendages so intrinsically a part of him that it was an unconscious movement? Can he not see the way that he shines?  “Sort of,” the traveller responds. “Not technically? Or, maybe technically but not biologically? I don’t know how to explain. It’s just a spell.” “You’re a fairy,” Wind repeats, still awestruck. Hyrule laughs. It's the same laugh that Wind’s heard from across the campfire for months now, but now there’s a sound like a bell laid on top of it, chiming clear and high, and his wings thrum. The air ripples, just a little, in ways that are difficult to notice but hard to forget. “Do you think you can carry me back to camp?” Hyrule asks. His face is the size of Wind’s thumbnail. A little tentative. A little hopeful. “Sure,” says Wind. “Why? Don’t feel like walking?” He holds out his hands and Hyrule flits over, reaching for his fingers for balance. It’s bewildering, watching their traveller curl both arms around his pinky. The touch is light and almost unnoticeable, but the glow of his wings becomes even more apparent lighting up the cradle of Wind’s palm. He’s like a tiny star. He’s even warm. “Something like that,” Hyrule says. “It’s a bit too far to fly.” Wind watches the way he’s holding his right leg, stiff and white-knuckled, and quietly vows to shove a red potion at him as soon as they get back to camp. He lifts Hyrule away from the sun-kissed patch of flowers as gently as he can.

Fan Joy July Masterpost

trying new stuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuff

ft lu hyrule

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[telesodalite]

[He's getting a happy meal for Grimsy :) ]

[realboutfatalfury]

legends don't die, they get better!

[dayurno]

the amazing showstopping life-changing beautiful lovely and talented @alcego tagged me in the writing game where you post all your first sentences from already posted fics (and also the just as amazing showstopping life changing beautiful lovely AND talented roisin, thank you!) but i don't really care much for those lately so here's the first lines of several WIPs at the moment as a compromise :)

Kevin knows he’s being watched. (with @knickknacksandallthat <3)

“Riko? Are you awake?”

In the morning when Jean is supposed to be sent to his death, he takes five minutes out of his schedule to braid Kevin’s hair. (with @jaywalkers :)<3)

Not for the first time, they are in the infirmary. 

“Coach says you don’t talk anymore,” Aaron mumbles, looking out the window awkwardly. 

Christmas dinner with the Gordons is perfect.

Some people ride the crazy train. Jeremy drives it. 

Neil knows the gray does something to people.

what this tells me is that i am bad at writing first lines HAHA :3 i am tagging um everyone who wants to do this. thank you!

[msue0027]

Can i be picky, pricky, mean and bitch a little? Pretty please?

So, I've watched x-men apocalypse (wow, I'm soo early to this party). It was nice, and look, there's my country (so of course I'm gonna have opinions). And well. I've been reading fanfics, and as i skim thru the tags i see Nina Gurzsky, and then again, and hm again, and who tf is Nin... Oh, NINA, as in Erik's daughter. Wait, Gurzsky?

What kind of surname is that? Because it's not Polish. (but we can fix that.)

I know in comics Magda is of Romani ancestry but i don't remember it being mentioned in the movie? So i guess she's polish-polish. And "Gurzsky" looks like she's 4th or 5th generation of emmigrants to america, has let everyone pronounce the name anyhow which led to diff spelling, and doesn't speak polish anymore.

(Really, who came up with that name, I'd like a word. What was your reasoning, your reasearch, the background you came up for Magda? Maybe it makes sense and is justified to be like that? Maybe I'm wrong, don't have all the info, misunderstood something? Then I'm really sorry.)

Nonetheless, let us begin. Gurzsky

So i guess anglophones just skip this surname all together, but let's try to read it. It would be something like goo-zh-ski or goor-zz-ski. Both are bad and hard to pronounce. Why is the "z" there? Why complicate it unnecessarily? Let's drop it (some ppl would do it anyway, even if it being there was justified, it's called simplification and it happens when there's many hard consonats next to each other, or something, i'm half asleep). My brain did it intuitively upon reading this name. It shouldn't be there. There's no reason i could see. So it's Gursky now.

Ehh. How many times? "-ski" is traditional ending of a polish surname, and used to indicate nobility. "-sky" is traditional transliteration from cyrylic alphabet, it's for the russian surnames. (And the ending "-sky" came there from Poland.) (I'm very passionate about that, sorry not sorry. But don't get me started at another polish surname "-cki" bc americans always pronounce it wrong. That “c” is separate letter and not just “k”, and i don't think i can find corresponding sound in english language (so you might be forgiven) and i don't want to bombard you with IPA (never mind, next day me kinda wants, so, it’s like “ts”, or german “z”), especially that it's not main topic of that post. But really, you could put some effort. We know the language is very different from your own, with weird sounds, but please, try. We're gonna love you for that. For one word. Anything really. Well, you already know “kurwa”, so maybe one more. Sorry, i digress.) So, it's "-ski", but not really. This type of surname changes based on gender. "-ski" is masculine, and "-ska" is feminine. Yes, not always, there are women with “-ski” and men with “-ska”, but then it does not flex at all (same form for both genders). You just have to ask. But that's minority. So now it's Gurska.

And surnames don't have to follow general rules of orthography and flexion, they can have their own unique spelling and way of decletion, you need to ask the bearer of the name. But. They still usually do. So looking at that name? It begs to be the deriving from mountains: góry. So it should be Górska. Pronounced: goor-skah. Now it is a Polish name. A good one.

So. I'm gonna use this name for that little family. It's canon for me now. Magda Górska and Nina Górska, and Erik was going under Henryk Górski. (Kinda cute if you ask me.)

Oof, I'm done. That was long. Thanks for coming to my little ted-talk, hope you enjoyed :))

(ps. i have rewatched scenes set in Poland, and Erik actually intrudeces himself as Henryk Górski, which means i was right but also why have a made this long-ass analysis? It was fun tho, and too much of my half asleep brain power went into this not to post it.)

[t4tstarvingdog]

the epic highs (my mom helped me figure out late-registration here bc of my complicated address situation) and lows (i have to lie to my parents about voting pro choice etc) of having a mom 👍

[anothermonikan]

it's kinda awful how validating Gabriel Ultrakill is in my head. I took my binder off yesterday and heard the 'Unbind now, King' audio in my head. so right Gabriel Ultrakill. I felt like a solid 2x better about it.

[sysig]

Having fun, more and more! (Patreon)

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <3

[bumblingbabooshka]

The Doctor turning into women and having romantic dalliances with men is every kind of queer...to me.

[koka-mi]

vent under the cut you don't need to read if you don't want to!!!!!!!

I honestly hateee opening up or oversharing with ppl. it's kind of like eating for me where it feels okay in the moment but then afterwards I just feel awful. it feels like I'm attention seeking or saying someone else's experience isn't valid for some reason and it sucks. I don't do it at all with ppl I just met but with friends I tend to get carried away with it sometimes,,,

It hurts even more because I've been distancing myself from ppl bcz I'm scared of this exact thing happening. People have messaged me before, saying I seem cool and they want to be friends. And I get happy in the moment, but then I get really anxious about accidentally getting too comfortable and blurting out personal things, because then their opinion of me will wane and they'll think I'm annoying or ungrateful. So I subconsciously begin to distance myself and take a while when responding to messages, because I'm scared of getting too comfortable with them. But now I'm anxious that they think I'm cold or distant and that I secretly don't like them. It's just a lose lose situation mannn </3

I have so many DMs I've put off responding to, and I've stopped talking in servers as much bcz I'm scared of getting close with ppl in them. I really feel bad for it, though. I've drifted from friends bcz of that and it sucks because I genuinely love them a lot. I love everyone I talk to a lot and they always make my day better--I just wish I could be the same for them. I feel like it's a chore to talk to me. I honestly don't know what to do. It's even worse when I get close to someone bcz they like what I make/post because again, now that they've seen how I really am and I've opened up, they more than likely see me as annoying or a bad person. Like it hurts enough whenever we become friends naturally talking, but if it's with someone who's seen me at my "best" and has seen things I work on or stories I've created, they ofc associate me with those things, and their expectations of me are through the roof. So when I disappoint them it hurts a lot more. I hate getting attached to people it hurts so much

[corinneistherainbowsign]

having one day off work and one day on work and the next day off work is doing fantastic things to my psyche

[balladetto]

     Once, when Link was even smaller than he feels, he'd knocked his shoulder out of its socket in a terrible fall.

     Terrible in that he'd cried about it, ashamed and at the then-height of pained, not that it was a particularly horrific tumble. He'd just landed wrong, he remembers someone telling him — frantic and almost apologetic in their reassurance. Too much has happened for him to reconstruct a face for the memory, but Link can still recall the stutter in their words. You're g-gonna be okay. Y-you're gonna— gonna be f-fine.

     And he was. Someone had gone to fetch a healing fairy while others came to keep him company. It'd been the right shoulder, burning at the joint and numb all the way down to his fingertips, but he'd found a spot of hurt he could grit his teeth through; then breathe through; then eventually speak through. By the time the fairy was brought over, Link had been so deep in the rhythm of holding himself together that he'd nearly slapped her away when she broke it.

     He remembers her, he thinks, the most out of everything. There's a distinct clarity associated pain will give you with any recollection. She was rose-pink, a little darker than he was used to, and she'd bristled when he whimpered through a fresh wave of tears and pushed at her with his pinky.

     "Stop that," she'd said. "Bones aren't easy, you know. It'll only hurt for a pinch, it has to for me to fix it. You're already being so brave! Can't you be brave a while longer?"

     Outside the memory, Link lays crumpled on cold tiles, eyelids like crushed butterfly wings and the cave of his chest barely moving as he looks up and up and up. He thinly wonders, for a fixing like this, how long he'd have to keep being brave for.

     Neither of his shoulders took the landing this time, but he knows many things are wrong with both of them. By extension, many things are wrong with all of him. He should take stock, a part of him understands. He'd like to take stock, another part realises, if only he had the capacity to. Each breath shifts the slivers and splinters his bones have shattered into. Agony twists through every vein like a replacement for the blood he imagines paints his trail from platform to windows to the far below floor. He can't feel his fingers, which twitch as if to grip something — his left hand, mangled, rests as if in graveyard dirt.

     There is no amount of searching in this sea that will land him in a place where this might be bearable.

     "Link!" Navi yells, a trilling bell that drowns out the sound of dying. His heart threads an extra thump, like he still has it in him to be scared alongside everything else, before it fades back into a whisper of a pulse. She wheels above him in panicked, powdery circuits: hair to boots and back. "Get up! You have to get up!"

     He does. He does have to. Link doesn't get to think he's gonna die now. He doesn't get to be tired enough — small enough — for that. He draws a rattling inhale, head practically cracking open with how the air presses against its seams. He's sixteen. The world will end if he's nine. He's sixteen, sixteen, sixteen.

     He chokes on liquid rising in his gorge, coughs it up, and closes his eyes when gravity brings the blood down in blotches on his skin. It's— really gross, and that's such a mundane thought in the face of what he has to reckon with that his chest starts spasming with strangled laughter instead.

     "Link!"

     Navi, he replies in his head, 'cause that's all he can do. He traces over more names: Sheik, Zelda, Saria, the Sages, the Kokiri, the list goes on as his voice dips into hitching, searing gasps. It's an awful thing to realise — that's all he can do. Link has to get up, has to be Courage, has to be more than what he is.

     And he can't.

     Sound drifts down from above, mocking. Cruel. It's a laugh getting louder and louder, and Link prises his lashes apart with the sheer will borne from a unique dread. A kind of fear, if you felt it not in sensation, but in the dizzying spiral that is the certainty of where this will all end.

     A kind of fear — and a kind of fury.

     Link is nine, thrown to the ground, battered and muscles stinging with a magic he tastes as something crackling on his tongue. He glares up at the tall man on the tall horse, smouldering so brazenly with protective, frustrated outrage that he shakes with it. He is not unafraid of the sneer that answers him, but he does not look away.

     Link is nine, broken over the ground, near dead and stuck in a body he's tried to make his. His eyes are cold as he watches Ganondorf descend, burning with tears dyed red from failure. The brand on his left hand glows, resonating with a magic he no longer has the nerves to feel. Navi doesn't leave. There are a thousand things he wishes he could scream.

     Large fingers fold around the wrist of his gauntlet, deliberate in their ignorance of the softness a joint that bent must be afforded. As his arm is lifted, the pain dragged along every passing second like some horrible, continuous song-note that eclipses even his fears, he pretends none of the noises coming from him are his and thinks everything that could mean: I hate you.

     He thinks everything that could mean: I'm so sorry.

     The man raises his other hand, palm closing in, and Link forces another entire earth on the child he can't be even here — even now. He does not look away. Navi, oddly muffled, rings something wordless.

     Link waits for the end of this story.

[keeps-ache]

once again i am on the playlist lol

[tormentum-ab-intra]

augusnippets day 3

Prompt: Heat wave Word count: 487 Content warnings: none really! Unless you count the beginning stages of heat stroke :)

---

The worst of it isn’t the heat. It isn’t the burns on his soles from walking barefoot on the packed and blistering dirt. It isn’t the stinging in his eyes as sweat trickles down his forehead. It isn’t even the fact that his waterskin’s nearly empty. No, the worst of it is that he wouldn’t even be in this spot if not for Dochibo.

She’s lucky his people and hers share ancestors. She’s lucky his people and hers are friends, and that he honors those ties. He’d let her find her own way back, if not for that.

Scanning his surroundings with baleful eyes, Na Deng wets cracking lips with his tongue and raises his hand, whistling sharply between his fingers. The sound worsens the throbbing of his head, echoing off the sides of the gorge. Na Deng pauses, listens, whistles again, listens again.

Silence.

How Dochibo even managed to get this far in such a short amount of time is beyond him. Maybe she’s just hiding. Maybe he passed her an hour ago. The idea of her wedged beneath a rock somewhere like a lizard hiding from wild dogs would be funny, if he were picturing it from the cold and comfort of the underground inn.

As it is, he’s out here slow-roasting like a rack of lamb, and he fails to see the humor in it.

Thinking, not watching where he’s stepping, Na Deng doesn’t see the sharp stone embedded in the dirt until it’s slicing into his foot. With a hiss, he trips to a stop. Momentum carries him forward another few hopping steps, working with rising nausea to send him off-balance. He rights himself, sort of, and stumbles over to the side of the gorge. The rough stone burns when he leans his hand against it for balance.

A brief inspection of his raised foot shows blood enough for leaving footprints and a cut that will need stitching later. Angrily, Na Deng whips off the strip of cloth holding his hair out of his eyes and sits to tie it around his foot instead.

Now that he isn’t moving, it occurs to him that his leg is cramping. Funny how that sort of thing slips the mind when it’s focused on other things. That, or he’s just too sun-addled to pay attention.

It takes a moment before Na Deng can convince himself to stand back up, but he reasons to himself that the sooner he finds Dochibo, the sooner he can head back and cool off.

Could go back without her, part of him thinks, as he pushes to his feet and tests his weight on his injured foot. Could skip the inn and go home. Say the ghouls got her.

Nonetheless, he limps forward, not back.

Raising clammy fingers to parched lips, Na Deng whistles shrilly, and listens for an answer.

He wishes he’d brought his spear along for a walking stick.