#Satari writes

[satari-raine]

How about #16? And you can pick whichever ship you want!

#16: things you said with no space between us. ask meme here - still taking requests.

It's still unnerving, like an arrow aimed at his neck - having Milo's attention fully on him.

He breathes through a snarl that should be softer around its edges if not for the fact that it's him, and that Milo is bleeding, snow blue hair matching his own shade of red around Milo's temple - a careless tumble with gravity having been content to watching him fall. It would've been worse if not for Actagawa's quick thinking, but the fact that it's anything at all simmers Bisco's blood, this irascibility a burning underneath his collar. It's a minor enough wound that there's no stitches needed, only the antiseptic and bandages required buried under the curling of Bisco's fingers - just a "Sorry, can you get this, Bisco? We don't have a mirror so I can't see to do it myself" that Bisco had cut off with yanking the supplies to his own chest, silent only because Milo's answering smile - sheepish, pink around the cheeks with the blood that he hasn't lost - leaves him unable to say what he actually wants.

Instead, he has Milo in his lap, almost nose to nose, with the weight of his partner a match to the sudden lump lodged in his throat.

"Hold still," is all that comes out, gravel-rough, and Milo answers by disobeying him with an eager nod, pale fingers curling into the cuff of Bisco's sleeve, happily trailing along, happily attached, as Bisco dabs at the split skin. Milo doesn't wince; he's too strong for that, or perhaps Bisco is blind by being this close, even as he finds himself gentling the pressure when he imagines it's lingered for a second too long. Actagawa is scuttling about in the background, from the corner of his eye, watchful among the arid sands. The sun is setting. He wants this done before it's down.

"Bisco," Milo starts, saying it almost mindlessly (as if Bisco isn't aware of how mindful Milo is when it comes to him) and Bisco holds his breath as Milo's warms his cheek. He shifts back instinctively, finding Milo has already started to move in turn to find his eyes. There's a warmth there that looks out of place with the cockiness of Milo's grin. "Bisco."

His mouth twitches to match; he stomps it down, but finds it still slips out in his tone if the way the corners of Milo's eyes crinkle when he replies, "Am I supposed to know what you mean by just saying my damn name over and over?"

"You usually do."

At that, he does grin, his laugh a bite at Milo's bark.

"Moron," he states with certainty, curling the red-blue hair back behind Milo's ear from where it had slipped, fingertips brushing over the curve and trailing down to the lobe. "Duck your head back, I'm not done."

"Yes, sir," is all Milo ends with, voice a sing-song smoothness that Bisco wonders he used when he was treating patients back in Imihama. If - a big if, Bisco imagines - Pawoo ever got injured, beyond the rust, if Milo's voice served as a balm to her cracked pride.

The bandage isn't shoddy by his own standards but already, even without a precious mirror, Bisco watches with a barely contained frustration - a "really, doc?" ready on his lips - when they lean back from another and Milo instantly reaches up, not with the hand still curled in Bisco's sleeve, and pokes at the bandages. But then Milo's smiling, sparing no restraint in how often he's gracing Bisco with the sight, his hair catching on the setting sun as he tips his head back with a proud laugh, a short and quiet thing in the space between them, with all of who Milo is in this moment lighting every single one of Bisco's nerves on fire.

"Not bad, Bisco," he says and it sounds like he means it, and the two bloody rags draped over Bisco's knees makes Bisco wonder how tired Milo is now, finally dropping down from the adrenaline. There's a coolness quickly spreading over the desert, as the moon in his periphery begins to rise, so Bisco thinks nothing of it as his fingers drop down from curling Milo's hair back behind his ear - again - a slow glide of callouses against pale skin, fingertips resting at his neck, and Milo shivers.

He thinks nothing of himself when, for a moment, he pulls Milo forward, pressing his forehead to his partner's. His goggles push up into his hairline, crooked and threatening to fall back behind him into the sand, but Milo's hand is leaving his sleeve to curl around his fingers, a smooth warmth against the chill Bisco didn't realize he was carrying. He lets out a breath in a sigh and does everything in his power - and failing miserably - not to smile when Milo copies him.

With his eyes closed, without looking, he knows Milo's focused on him, that the man has settled himself in to staying like this for as long as Bisco allows it. He never had to teach Milo what somehow comes to him so innately - not archery, or cooking out in the wild with only the elements providing for them, or for having the damn decency to say no for once, come on, Milo; no, not this - the way his partner has let himself be so captivated by whatever he sees in Bisco that his focus leaves Bisco feeling stripped raw, as if there's no space between them.

He sighs again, brushing noses with Milo as he pulls back, opening his eyes to find Milo's right there, open, trained on him like a well-nocked arrow.

Just for that, with a grin, he raps his knuckles once, twice, against Milo's bandages and lets Milo's hiss of pain, pittering out to soft laughter as he tries to push Bisco back into the sand - tries and fails, "you're on me, y'know, you idiot" - chase away anything he could think to say in this moment, locked down, deep in his chest.

He'll let it burn there for a little while longer.

[ace-malarky]

Open Heart

in which Sila cares a hell of a lot and that makes her brave, even if she wants to regret it

~~

 This was her problem; she cared too much. Everyone around her growing up had said it would be a problem, and she hadn’t really believed them until this moment.

 Halla was on the ground before her, splayed on her side, just out of reach of safety. Their oalla were gone, startled by the ribbon snarls that had happened upon them. Harlowe and Esrin had split away to draw attention.

 And there was a ribbon snarl baring down on them, because of course the distraction hadn’t worked. Of course it had come after her and Halla.

 She knew plenty of people – plenty of riders – who would leave Halla there, take the opportunity granted by her sacrifice, however unplanned, and flee.

 Sila just… couldn’t do that.

 She stepped out of hiding and ran towards Halla yelling at the ribbon snarl as it bore down on her.

 Halla shrieked something as she passed.

 Sila swung her glaive in front of her, charging at the ribbon snarl despite every instinct screaming at her to flee.

 The ribbon snarl crashed over itself as it stopped short. Then, when Sila didn’t, it turned and bolted.

 Sila kept her momentum going, still yelling, until it outran her and disappeared.

 Silence fell.

 Sila stood there, panting, scouring the rocky hillside for any sign of it.

 “What in the shit was that?” Halla asked.

 “I suppose it doesn’t do outright fights,” Sila replied. “They haven’t covered that yet.”

 “No, I mean – what the hell was that? Why did you do that?”

 Sila turned.

 Halla was on her feet, holding her weight mostly on one side, but she was steady. She was staring at Sila in a way that made her feel scrutinised.

 Sila shuffled, looking down rather than making eye contact. “I don’t – I couldn’t leave you.”

 “Anyone else would’ve. I would’ve.”

 Sila shrugged.

 “Guess I’m lucky you’re not me.”

 “We should find the others, they’ll be – they’ll be tired, probably.” Sila ignored Halla – or did her best to. As if she could ever fully ignore Halla, but the reminder that no one would do the same for her stung.

 “I want to tell them all about my heroic rescue.” Halla stuck her finger in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle. “Let’s set up camp here.”

 “We don’t have any of the gear, it’s all with the basts.”

 “Ah.” Halla hesitated. “Well, we can gather firewood, at least.”

 Sila nodded. “If – are you sure you’re not hurt? I can take care of the fire if you need to just sit and–”

 “Sila. Scales, come on, it didn’t even touch me.”

 “You almost died, Halla,” she snapped. “That might not have sunk in for you yet, but–” She cut herself off.

 “I… didn’t know you cared,” Halla said slowly. “Oh – no, I did, you care about everyone. I didn’t realise this would mess you up.”

 Sila was saved from answering by Aristona’s arrival; Poseidio landed and Aristonia was off her back before the dragon had fully settled.

 “What happened?” She looked around as she strode towards them. “Where are the other two, your mounts?”

 “They should just be coming,” Halla said, pivoting towards her. “We got split up.”

 “Care to tell me why?”

 “Scouting,” Halla said.

 “There was a ribbon snarl and the oalla startled,” Sila said. “Esrin and Harlowe tried to draw it off, but it came at us and we got thrown.”

 “How did you get away from it?” Aristonia looked around. Did you kill it?”

 “No. Turns out it doesn’t like being challenged,” said Halla. “Sila chased it off.”

 Aristonia’s eyebrows shot up. “Well. We’ll have to update that part of the bestiary. Ilse will be delighted.” She turned her attention to Sila. “Are you alright?”

 “I – yes, I’m – I’m not the one who–” Sila blinked several times.

 “Ok.” Aristonia stepped closer, more carefully than Sila had ever seen her. “Halla, track down the others. Poseidio can spot them from the air, just follow her.”

 The dragon launched herself back into the air.

 Halla shot a glance at Sila and then left without a word.

 “Sila?” Aristonia reached out to her but didn’t make contact. “Would you like to sit down?”

 “Um.” Sila dropped to the ground with more force than she intended.

 Aristonia followed her. “It was a brave thing you did. Now I need you to focus on your breathing. Can you do that with me?”

 Sila nodded and gulped in a breath.

 “Good. You’re doing good.”

 They sat there until Sila felt more in control. Aristonia’s hand was light on her back, measuring her breaths.

 “Alright?”

 Sila nodded.

 “That was a brave thing you did.”

 “It was foolish. What if it hadn’t worked? Then we’d both be dead.”

 “You were incredibly lucky, true. But that doesn’t stop it from also being brave.”

 Sila nodded, not really believing her.

 Aristonia let out an amused huff and sat back. “It’s alright if you don’t believe me. But Sila probably thinks you were very brave too.”

 Sila wrinkled her nose.

 “She’s bad at showing it?” Aristonia gave her a wry grin. “We all have people like that.”

 That caught Sila’s attention. “Who–”

 “Here they are! Here’s our hero!” Halla announced.

 Esrin and Harlowe were with her, leading the four oalla.

 Poseidio landed beyond them, on the slope, and settled in like she was guarding them.

 “Sila’s bleeding heart strikes again!” Esrin threw herself to the ground beside Sila. “Damn but you pulled it off.”

 Harlowe winced in sympathy. “Esrin.”

 “Such tact,” Aristonia said dryly, getting to her feet. “We’ll head back tomorrow, alright?”

 “You’re staying with us?” Harlowe asked.

 Aristonia nodded. “Apparently there are dangerous beasties we haven’t warned off hanging about.” She grinned. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep out of the way.”

 “Hey.” Halla tapped Sila’s arm. “Thanks, really.” She kept her voice low, not quite looking at Sila. “I owe you my life.”

 Sila nodded. “You’re welcome.”

 “I’ll try not to make a habit of it, you know?” Halla laughed. “Special occasions only.”

 Sila smiled faintly. “Of course.”

 Halla nodded, seemingly satisfied, and left to help Esrin unsaddle the oalla.

 Sila looked up and caught Harlowe’s eye.

 He gave her a knowing smile and tilted his head in an invitation.

 Sila stepped across to help him, losing herself in the familiar tasks.

[ginneke]

3 and 12?

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

To answer this, I feel like I halfway have to answer question 2 as well: most used additional tags

My top three: "Canonical Character Death", "Canon Compliant", "Grief/Mourning" (or just "Grief")

It's a long running joke at this point. Why do I always fall for the pairings where somebody canonically dies? My two main ships from 5Ds were Jack/Carly (even if she 'got better'; behind-the-scenes trouble means she was almost better off left dead...) and Yusei/Bruno -- two ships that I once referred to as 'the inherent tragedy of broken glasses'.

And of course, I had to imprint upon a troublesome, abrasive, irritating, strangely cute, and altogether frustratingly endearing specimen of a bird who canonically died long before canon. (Revali, Revalito, my beloved.)

Yet my first use of a 'grief' tag technically backdates to a story from 2012, long before I'd ever felt any major personal griefs in my life. And still, the story that sparked it then cannot be anything *other* than a form of grieving: Aporia, the three aspects of somebody who suffered so much, the unfolding of a story which left me in a genuine daze for a full week.

And things like this make me dispute the truism that persists in certain quarters, that fanfiction is what happens when you're fundamentally dissatisfied with what canon gives you. It can be that! Sometimes, it's the crack in the canon that you need to fill, in whatever way you can: whether patching up what dissatisfies you; or finding a way to say Actually, That Never Happened; or throwing canon out the window entirely, which is its own kettle of fun! But sometimes, it's when you're happy with what canon bestows, and yet still ambivalent: still needing to rid yourself of those lingering feelings in whatever way you can; needing to explore just what it means to you. And that's just as precious an approach, and it's something that I come back to again and again.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

Hmm, this is a tricky one!

On the face of my previous answers (and my comment on an ask to @coconi), I wouldn't be surprised if people expected me to answer 'kidfic' here.

And yet.

While it has definitely grown on me for the purposes of writing it, if I'm entirely honest, I still need quite a lot of convincing to give the 'accidental baby acquisition' trope a try in almost all other circumstances. Is that hypocritical? I hope it isn't hypocritical.

[coconi]

17 and 42?

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

I doubt I'd be the only person to appreciate it, but I'm always a sucker for ghost hunting AUs for whatever media I'm obsessed with at the moment. They're just so much fun and have a lot of potential for both tomfoolery and delicious angst 👌👌

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

Many, many times, but right now the ones that stand out to me the most are two comments in Spanish I got on The Haunting of Bag End. They were very sweet and enthusiastic and it was a lovely surprise 😄💗

[silvormoon]

WIP Wednesday Game

Picked this game up from @satari-raine --- Choose one of the filenames below and I'll write three sentences from that story and share them.

The Best Day of My Life (Tiger & Bunny) Zero to Infinity (YuGiOh Sevens) The Real Hero (Original Work) Magic Exchange (Boueibu Happy Kiss) The Wandering Priest (Boueibu)

Or you can just ask for random/dealer's choice!

[marspriere]

*clears throat* allow me to clarify the clarifying:

Satari and Maharl belong to eachother.

😤

and second of all thank you so much for all the kind words again ;//; reading your ramble(s) was very fun and i enjoyed it lots! and i am so glad my efforts paid off and that you enjoy the piece :') it was so challenging yet fun to work on >ᴗ<

to think it started with a meme..

now for some lil bits of fun facts about the piece : (yes, bits of fun facts. we do not do full fun facts here apparently :') (idk how to write man..) the sonas arent drugged, nor in any altered state of mind (?) (i guess..) but they do not feel any pain either (or at the very least arent bothered by it in the slightest) - they are just happy to be here :› and ofc this isnt in their canon and it was just some fun prompt to work with!

thankyou again for eveything sam and live laugh love satari ; ;☆

i thought i wouldnt mind losing my individuality if it meant getting influenced by yours.

Satari (the white-haired character) belongs to @sampx, Maharl belongs to me ໒꒱

[housedzemael-archived]

Writing preview!

[heleentje]

Fanfic Writer Interview

I got tagged by @coconi! Thank you for the tag!

Tagging @higuchimon, @silvormoon and @satari-raine if you’re feeling up for it!

How many works do you have on AO3?

40!

What’s your total AO3 word count?

371 512, but probably over 500k if you include the stuff I never moved from ff.net.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

9 fandoms: Yu-Gi-Oh, GX, 5D’s and Arc-V, Ace Attorney, Oban Star Racers, Nachtwacht, Breath of the Wild and Modao Zushi

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Your own heart that matters (BoTW)

Guiding a Star (YGO 5DX)

Shadows Cast (YGO GX)

None of Worth (YGO GX)

One Second Per Second (YGO 5DX)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to! ... But I’m very bad at it. Sometimes I reply almost straight away, sometimes it takes me months and months before I manage. I do very much appreciate each and every comment that comes my way!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably Zero Hour (YGO 5Ds), which was my shot at a soulmate fic where canon events and motivations were more important to the characters than any soulmate status.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have an entire series where I throw Judai into unrelated fandoms just to see what explodes :D I highly recommend doing so, it’s great fun!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not outright hate, though someone once got terribly offended at *checks notes* portraying Jiang Cheng as a multifaceted character who has extremely complex feelings with regards to Wei Wuxian?

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Nah, I’m the kind of ace who is no good at it. I tried once, but it made me feel extremely awkward in a way I couldn’t work through.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not outright stolen, but someone once took large swathes of a fic of mine and just changed the names and relevant details. They did credit me as an inspiration, buuuut it was a little more than just inspiration.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Once! I’d be delighted if people wanted to translate other fics of mine!

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I usually have favorite ships per fandom, though the ones that have been with me the longest are Yubel/Judai/Johan (GX) and Yusei/Bruno (5Ds).

Whats a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I once started writing a fic about Aki coming to terms with her powers and how they evolved post-canon, mostly because I was in a rut at the time and needed to write something. I still hope to come back to it one day, but it’s looking increasingly unlikely.

What are your writing strengths?

Emotions and stream-of-consciousness, particularly when a character is panicking or otherwise not thinking clearly. I love writing those scenes.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Description. I am horrifically bad at describing things or people and I have aphantasia, so elaborate descriptions à la Tolkien are entirely wasted on me (give me a five-paragraph description of a lush forest with all the various creatures living there and my takeaway will be ‘there are trees’.)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I like doing so, but it’s a delicate balance and if you’re gonna do it, make sure the language is correct and it makes sense for the character. Only do it if the other characters in the vicinity really aren’t able to understand what’s being said.

What’s being said also needs to make sense in context, even if the full translation isn’t given.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter, a fic about the Hogwarts Founders. I was 13 and it never saw the light of the internet :D

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

I am still very fond of So Far, So Good! When it comes to more recent fic, I had a lot of fun writing Nowhere Near (Nachtwacht), Your own heart that matters (Botw) and Stranger to your soul (mdzs)!

[chrispersonalcornermoved]

20 Questions Tag Game

I was tagged by @shellsan (thank you~!)

Name: Chris Nickname: I’ve been giving various little nicknames but some have been only briefly used (pretty sure I was once nicknamed butterfly and cupcake), others are chrysanthemum (you know what, I never asked how this one came to be, split between the similarity with Chris and the cheerful meaning it can have), fried friend (born from a typo, i think you can see it :P), queen of feels (born from all the feels i would write with a good friend and how he was already called king of feels), silly (self given), morethansatsan (a play with an old url, and again, giving feels).  Zodiac sign: Cancer (water monkey in chinese zodiac; leo in moon sign, scorpio in rising).  Height: 170 cm last I knew  Languages: English, French (native tongue but I write better in English), some knowledge of Spanish, very very basic Japenese.  Nationality: French  Favorite season: Fall  Favorite flower: This is a very good question, I’ll love any that looks pleasing to me, I guess because I know them more I would say rose, but really it’s just, visual pleasing ones.  Favorite scent: I can’t say, I love when it feels “fresh” and I’ll like a lot of flowery and soft scents. I also like nail polish scent and some paints scents.  Favorite color: Light shades of blue tend to be my fave, but I also love a lot gold and silver, as well as white and black. I also like green in various shades, dark shades of blue, and dark shade of red. Favorite animal: Fox, wolf, felines in general, horses, dolphin, a fondness for bunnies due to fictional husbands exposing me to sights of cuteness.  Favorite fictional characters: Allen Walker, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji; they are my current faves and have been for a while; we honestly don’t know much about them but I also love Nea and Mana Campbell; and I do love Tyki Mikk. And Cross Marian. I do like Jiang Cheng too (a lot of MDZS characters are likeable so). Don’t get me started on BBC Merlin (Merlin, Arthur, Gwaine, Lancelot). I got to say Natsume Takashi, he’s precious boy. Coffee, tea, or chocolate: Tea, I don’t like the taste of coffee, and while I can drink hot chocolate it’s rarely my choice (the irony is that I don’t like the taste of chocolate alone nor do I like the taste of milk alone).  Average sleep hours: it can depends, in general it’ll be around 8 hours, and sometimes it’s like, 4/5 hours then I’m awake then I nap for anywhere between 2 to 4 hours.  Dog or cat person: I love both, I feel more in tune with cats and felines in general, but I do love both!  Number of blankets you sleep with: It depends, when it’s hot I’ll sleep with one, otherwise it’s generally two, and three if it’s cold. I have one warm cover and the others are thin, so I can also juggle which I put.  Dream trip: I will never grow tired of visiting London; I also hope to one day do a sort of tour of UK (especially Ireland and Scotland); and I do feel like I’d hope to one day visit Japan; on another note, I feel it a nice thought to have a trip to see all my friends and/or have all us make a trip together.  Blog established: This ones date back to December 2014; I’m pretty sure my oldest blog dates back from somewhere in 2012 (on a side note, chrisemrysfics dates back April 2018 but I moved it, the old one, chrisemrysblog, dates back to May 2015).  Followers: 77 here (148 on my fic blog).  Random fact: Inspired by Shell speaking of that, I recently started collecting pine cones and feathers I find that attract my eyes, and I tend to not resist getting swords/blades and dragon stuffs so I kind of collect these too!

Rules: Answer 20 questions then tag 20 blogs you’d like to know better!

Tagging: If you want to and also anyone else who wants to can do it and say you were tagged; @higuchimon @satari-raine @ast3ri @chibi-usapyon @mo-xuanyun @gonedolin (tumblr why) @thejestercalledhappy @faeriexqueen @silentium-nightshade

[chrisemrysfics]

Weekend Writing Goals

Tagged by @mo-xuanyun (thank you!)

For Today (Friday): Ahhh friday is has finished for me, it’s 2 am and I’m close to going offline to sleep. I would say, I don’t think I would have had goals for today, unless you take into account original writing, if we do then I wanted to post a little scene in my series of scenes and I did~

This Weekend: I would say many tend to have more free time during the weekends, but for me it’s the opposite; as it is during the weekends that we have the habit of seeing my brother and him coming visit. So I very rarely have any sort of goals set up for a weekend, although ironically sometimes I will have a random, high level writing mood before it’s time to go offline. Still, my goal is more about relaxing and charging up!

The Week Ahead: I have plans with my original writings, I need to catch up a bit on my french translations; but I do feel like I’ll want to work on fanfics as a break from translation. I have a few different things I wish to do fic-wise, and no real priority, so I could do any of those (or multiple of those)~

Finish up my general ABO worldbuilding

Write a character study for Wei Wuxian (introspection on everything romantic&sexual)

Work on the next chapter of Shadows Symphonie (MDZS)

Work on next chapter of Meet me Halfway to the End (DGM)

Work on next chapter of Assassin’s Light (DGM)

Work on the next chapter of Rise of the Walker (DGM)

Work on the next chapter of Bring me to life and/or Make it RIght (DGM)

Start to write a continuation to No one else but you (MDZS)

Indulging in writing for a DGM&MDZS crossover (Noah!WWX, after body-offering ritual as main story, alternate stories with earlier Awakening)

There’s a slight chance I might work a tiny bit on each of these, but more likely, I’ll focus my energy on one or two things. There’s a small chance I end up not having much energy to do any of these but, I do want to try getting my butt to work small steps by small steps again so!!

I take the guess it’ll be easier to work on MDZS stuff, as well as the ABO, but we never know. At least I made myself a check-list now~!

Tagging: @higuchimon @satari-raine @shellsan if you want to, and anyone else who wants to!

[pierrotguru]

Tagged by @amber-zeppeli (thank you!!)

rules: bold what you prefer and tag 10 people

1. go apple picking vs go on a hay ride

2. scary vs. sweet

3. sweaters vs. boots

4. socks vs. mittens

5. bonfires vs. football

6. trick-or-treating vs. watch scary movies

9. bake pie vs. bake cookies

10. rain vs. fog

11. black cats vs. owls

12. ghosts vs. wizards

13. harry potter vs. halloweentown

14. go hiking vs. sleep in

15. cinnamon vs. nutmeg

16. reading vs. writing

17. hot chocolate vs. tea

18. live in a cabin in a forest vs. have it be fall 24/7

19. candy apples vs. caramel apples 

20. blankets vs. pillows

21. roasted marshmallows vs. roasted chestnuts

22. coffee vs. apple cider

23. red leaves vs. orange leaves

24. braids vs. bows

25. scented candles vs. the smell of fresh baked goods

26. carve pumpkins vs. make pumpkin pie

27. pumpkin spice lattes vs. chai tea lattes

28. coats vs. oversized sweaters

29. beanies vs. berets (neither)

30. candy corn vs. peanut butter cups

31. s'mores vs. apple crisp

32. jump in a pile of leaves vs. swing on a tire

33. corn maze vs. haunted house

34. bob for apples vs. visit a pumpkin patch

35. whipped cream on hot chocolate vs. marshmallows on hot chocolate 

@blueeyeswhitegarden @colorfulwatcher @orochimemelord @metalpaca @prismatic-bell @kittyseeboo @silvormoon @unknowncapybara @dragontamer05 @satari-raine @higuchimon and anyone else who wants to do this!

[satari-raine]

6 for the meme, Judai and your choice of partner!

#6: things you said under the stars and in the grass. ask meme here - still taking requests!

It’s fitting, finding him here – Judai thinks Jim’s no more at home than under a blanket of stars. He wonders why he thinks that, exactly.

There’s something like trepidation, a rhythm of irregularity in his chest, the closer he gets, the closer the floating embers from the campfire become more apparent against the night sky. He knows exactly how long it’s been since he’s seen Jim (and Karen, for that matter, of course.) Long enough to feel like he’s interrupting a stranger instead of sneaking up to surprise an old friend. He walks slow, steps quiet, soft enough to leave the dust of the earth settled below his feet, but even that is loud enough; he hates he smiles about it.

Karen’s head is raised now, orange eyes piercing and staring straight at him, a beacon in the dark.

Before he can speak out, Jim’s raising his hand and Karen instantly settles, curling back into Jim’s lap where he’s stretched out in a lazy sprawl. Judai waits, but Jim doesn’t turn around. Judai waits, but all he gets is ambience, wildlife – there’s a couple pairs of cicadas singing to the east and distantly, if he focuses enough, he can hear some water rushing nearby.

He keeps on walking, finds himself opening his mouth before he can stop it.

"Room for one more?"

Jim doesn't reply verbally, instead flicking his hand in a flourish towards the empty patch of dirt next to him. Karen's tail thumps as if to say, Sit down, you're always welcome, even as her eyes pierce him over the ridge of Jim's thigh. He takes it, sitting upright, his bag making space between the two - three of them - as if it's a wall. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim is smiling, a soft wisp of a thing that looks like it ripples almost, somehow, in the way the firelight flickers.

"I prefer this to a postcard any day, you know that."

"You're still mad about that?"

"Nah," Jim says, with ease. Karen rumbles. "She is, though."

Judai laughs, despite himself, tipping his head up to peer up at the stars to avoid the way Karen's peering at him, such human eyes for a ferocious animal (she's hardly scary, love, he hears in the back of his mind.) The last time he was meant to come, to spend time with Jim, spend the days away in a comfortable haze he has trouble finding these days, he chickened out - as simple as that. Instead he sent a postcard, something more permanent than a fleeting visit, more than what would've surely been a sporadic pit stop barely discussed before he landed in the country, barely able to take in a breath before he would've been swept up in such an enthusiastic hug that it'd be difficult to not feel a little choked up.

Imagining it now, it's a little much, even as an assumption.

Looking back, having mapped out the clearest constellation as one he'll need Jim to educate him on, he sees the man laying back in the grass, trademark hat over his face with that same smile as before still peeking out from underneath. He looks simultaneously small and larger than life, at home against the earth.

Judai waits, counts the minutes and stops at three. He'd be content to let the peace cover for him but he can tell Jim's listening, shoulders holding a rigidity that shows he has the man's full attention.

So, he jokes.

"If I spoil her with treats, will she forgive me?"

Jim grins. It wavers at the ends when he sighs. "We'll see."

Judai contemplates that plurality and lays back, content for now at listening to Jim breathe, an unsent postcard burning a hole in his pocket.

[ace-malarky]

Assassin

Which really would have been the perfect prompt for Sparkles, perhaps, but that is not how the dice rolled so here we are with Ishal; herbologist, medic, researcher.

this setting is not one of the Mist Worlds but a joint project with an old friend that she seems to think? we've finished with? jokes on her; I kept writing even when she stopped responding to letters

~~

 There were supplies missing from her stores. Not much – not enough to be noticeable, if Ishal didn’t know the weights and placements of everything in her shack intimately.

 Whoever had taken it was good; barely anything else disturbed, which very much ruled out Irith. While he wouldn’t remember to say anything, he wouldn’t have hidden his presence.

 “And I suppose you saw nothing,” she said to Mals.

 Her pentaloft rolled her head towards her and burbled, not shifting from her sprawled out position on the roof.

 Ishal rolled her eyes and returned inside to check. The plants that had been taken nagged at her and she wanted to check her notes before she acted on anything.

 It didn’t take long. Ishal knew her stock, knew her plants. She just hadn’t wanted to believe it before, which was nonsense. She was a scientist, a biologist, a botanist. She knew the use of every plant in here, both on its own and in conjunction with others.

 “Shit.” Ishal ran her hands through her hair – loosened from its horsetail already by frequent use of the same motion – and stayed still long enough to work out a plan.

 Then she bolted from the building, running for the main structure, where she prayed to anyone listening that Ilse or Prianthus are inside. She’d take Ari or Jolek, but–

 Ishal ran.

 Oli was just inside the door, and he pulled to the side as she charged in. “Ishal?”

 “Ilse?” she asked.

 “Upstairs,” he replied, “she’s with–”

 But Ishal was gone, launching herself upwards along the curving staircase.

 “Wait, what’s happening?” he called after her as he followed.

 Ishal burst into the sitting room, startling the whole group.

 Prianthus and Ari both reached for their weapons. Nyssa grabbed the knife from zir plate. Jolek turned, shifting as if to run. Ilse flinched back in her seat.

 “Ishal,” Prianthus said, recovering first. “What is the problem?”

 “None of you have eaten anything yet?” Ishal asked.

 “No, Olizaar has only just brought it up.” Ilse frowned.

 “Good. Don’t.” Ishal fought not to bend over and pant.

 “What’s happening?” Oli appeared in the doorway behind her.

 “Poison,” Ishal said. “Plants stolen, nasty–”

 “Malle–” Ilse started to say.

 “She wouldn’t,” Oli interrupted. “Sorry. But. She wouldn’t.”

 “I meant it might be for her, we should–” Ilse flicked a glance towards Jolek.

 “She eats with the rest of the students,” Ari said with a growl.

 “She also isn’t our only high-profile student.” Prianthus kept his voice calm and level.

 “Oh, that wasn’t what I–”

 “Ari,” Nyssa said. “Stop.”

 “It’s far more likely to be someone known to take meals separately.” Ishal straightened up, walked further in, and reached for the nearest dish. “Oli, was there anyone new in the kitchen?”

 “I – you know what turnover’s like down there, they don’t outlast Ari for–”

 “With fewer jokes,” Ishal snapped. She would apologise later.

 “Sorry. Um – there might have been – I thought he was just delivering supplies, but they don’t hang around that much.” Oli hesitated. “Unless he’s sweet on someone.”

 “Ari, stay put,” Prianthus said. “Jolek, you go with Olizaar. If he’s still around, don’t let him leave.”

 Jolek grinned and saluted, peeling away from the wall. “C’mon, kiddo. We can grab some food, too.”

 Ishal set down the plate and reached for the next.

 “We don’t have specific plates,” Ilse said, watching her. “If this is targeted, it seems sloppy.”

 “Yes, but–” Ishal froze, a plate in her hands. “Who was going to eat from this one?” She didn’t have to ask, really; the way it was loaded more to a northern palate gave it away as one of two people, and Nyssa had never eaten that much since she’d known zir.

 Ari frowned. “Me, but–”

 “If you are about to ask why, don’t,” Ilse said, sounding as close to snapping as Ishal had ever heard her. “You are one of the founders. You ride an elemental. Your death would disrupt a lot.”

 “Besides which,” Nyssa said, “as far as anyone knows, you are the sole survivor of the Satar clan.”

 Ari looked at her cousin. “Not Malle, then.”

 “She’s supremely uninterested in the politics of any clan outside the true North of the frozen circle.” Nyssa’s tone was arch, gently mocking.

 “I will – dispose of this.” Ishal covered the plate over with a waxed cloth from her pocket. “I advise that you all get new plates, regardless.

#

 It took longer than she would like to neutralise the poison. They’re far more up Irith’s tree, but he’s nowhere to be found. Again. As usual.

 Ishal ignored that, focusing on picking it apart. No one ingested. That’s good. She should, perhaps, teach them a class on identifying poisons.

 Or get Irith to. Maybe that would get him to focus.

 “Ishal?” Oli poked his head around the door.

 “You aren’t interrupting,” she replied.

 “Good. Because we found the poisoner. Ilse wants you there. If you’re… ready.” He didn’t come any further in.

 Ishal swept the remnants of the food into a pouch and sealed it. “Yes. Sorry.” She joined him at the door. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

 “It was a tense moment.” Oli shrugged.

 “Still.” Ishal squeezed his arm. “I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

 Oli smiled at her. “Well, when you put it like that.” He laughed. “Come on, let’s condemn an assassin and see what passes for justice around here.”

 “Assassin?” Ishal let out a puff of laughter. “Is that what they’re saying?”

 “Well, he did try to kill Ari, so.” Oli shrugged. “It’s accurate.”

 Ishal hummed and followed Oli back to the castle.

 Mals was more alert now, still perched up on the roof above the door but with her eyes focused on the path.

 Oli shouldered his way past the students who were milling about, avoiding their questions.

 “They know something’s happened.”

 “I mean yeah, they’re not dumb. Most of them.” Oli shot her a grin. “Plus, you made a spectacle when you launched yourself across.”

 Ishal hummed again.

 Oli led her into a room that rarely saw use. It was bare stone, thin slits of windows, not quite big enough to be a hall. There had been steps down into it, but not enough to put them fully underground and into the tunnels.

 Ishal started to look for a way down before she realised that the room was already occupied, and snapped her attention to them.

 There was Ilse and Prianthus, standing beside each other, Jolek to the side and Ari in the corner with a cloaked figure that Ishal assumed was Nyssa in her shadow.

 There was one more person; he looked to be from the north, like Ari and Nyssa and Malle, but he was dressed in worn labourer’s clothing and his hair was cropped short. He was standing, arms tied behind him, and was sporting a split lip and a swelling eye.

 “This is our thief?” Ishal asked.

 “Our would-be assassin, please,” Jolek said. “Don’t align him with me.”

 Prianthus shot him a warning glare.

 Their prisoner laughed. “I’d heard the rumours about a criminal in the ranks of these claimed riders. The beast must have been quite desperate. Or an easily led fool.”

 Jolek’s face tightened into a scowl.

 “Don’t,” Prianthus said, and for a moment it was unclear who he spoke to.

 A growl rumbled in through the windows and Jolek frown became a smirk.

 “They’re listening as well. So, you know. Be careful.”

 “Why did you attempt to kill me?” Ari asked. “Actually – why did you come at me like a coward?”

 Jolek muffled a laugh. “Priorities.”

 “Because we don’t want you coming back to claim the throne,” he answered easily enough.

 Ari squinted at him as she parsed his words. “I – I left, I was never in line, you just wanted our whole clan wiped out.” Ari stroked down the haft of one of her axes.

 He tiled his chin up, unafraid or resigned. “That should never have delayed your death.”

 “And then you failed,” Ari said.

 “Did your clan leader send you?” Prianthus asked.

 “He should have.”

 “Is that why you stole supplies from me?” Ishal asked. “No blessing from your clan?”

 “They will award my initiative.”

 “If you’d succeeded,” Jolek said.

 “If you get back.” Ari’s voice was light, noncommittal.

 Ishal shot her a glance; she was still stroking her axe, her face carefully still.

 Ilse shifted on her feet, almost as if she was going to caution Ari, but she didn’t say anything.

 “We don’t have any higher judgement than us,” Prianthus said, seeing Ishal’s glance.

 “Well, the dragons, but I think they’d jut as soon eat you,” Jolek said.

 “This is a Northern problem,” Ari said. “As such.”

 Nyssa placed zir hand on Ari’s shoulder.

 “Are we just here for witnesses?” Ishal asked, folding her arms. “He stole as well.”

 “Would you like his hand?” Ari asked.

 Ishal tilted her head. “What would I do with that?”

 “Don’t toy with your prey, Ari,” Ilse murmured.

 The prisoner snorted. “Children that you are, do you not know how the world works?”

 Ari growled.

 Nyssa squeezed Ari’s shoulder and stepped past her. Ze slipped an axe from Ari’s waist as ze walked on.

 The prisoner frowned at zir. “What are you, her dog? Do you dirty your hands when the failed bodyguard is too much of a coward?”

 Nyssa pushed back zir hood. “No, I’m proof of your failure.”

 He frowned. “You–”

 “Nyssa Satara, heir to the Satar clan.” Ze was smaller than him, slighter, but ze carried zirself with the grace of the whip tailed dog when it knows that a meal is close at hand. “We survive.”

 His eyes widened; he took a step back, as if that would help him avoid what was coming.

 Nyssa drew zir hand back, flipped the axe in zir grip, and sliced it across his throat.

 Ilse let out a gasp and covered her mouth with her hands. Jolek tried to shape his shock into amusement and mostly failed.

 Prianthus and Ari barely blinked.

 Nyssa stepped back to avoid the blood that was spilling down his front, and handed Ari back her axe as the man dropped to the floor behind zir. “I trust no one contests my judgement?”

 Jolek let out a high-pitched noise and then cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s a – a bit late for that, I think.”

 “What do you intend to do with the body?” Ilse asked, fighting to keep her voice level.

 “Feed it to the dragons,” Oli suggested.

 Everyone turned to him like they’d forgotten he was there.

 “What?” He shrugged. “They’ll be hungry.”

 “That won’t even scratch the surface for one of them.” Jolek flicked his gaze down to the body.

 “Can I have it?” Ishal asked.

 “What are you going to do with it? Your penta can’t possibly eat all that.”

 “Oh, it’s not for her.” Ishal shook her head. “Research. It’s not often I get a chance at a fresh corpse.”

 “Horrifying,” Prianthus said dryly.

 “If Nyssa and Ari have no objections?” Ilse glanced at them.

 Ari shrugged. “Let something good come of him.”

 Ishal nodded. Maybe this would get her brother out of his head for a bit.

[ginneke]

Moonsong, 3 and 11?

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

Oh, this is a difficult question, but on reflection, probably this one:

Thankfully, Link reached for the Sheikah Slate before the moment had the chance to turn maudlin, or trod any closer to the acknowledgement of a last goodbye.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I like that @ghirahimbo liked it

While the above is most certainly true, I'll answer in the spirit the question was meant:

I like that I was able to strip two very different stories down to their basics, and then try to integrate them with each other. I'm also really glad that both ghirahimbo and heleentje think I did it *well*.

[coconi]

"Song" for the WIP meme?

Wow I thought I had none, but a very, very dusty WIP came in clutch:

“I have a present for you.” As a new song flared to life, Zelda adjusted her grip and placed the quaint object on Link’s middle finger, disguising the motion with a graceful spin.

[scurvgirl]

More dad!Marassal! It’s apparently all I can write right now *shrug*

Dirthamen here belongs to @feynites. 

Tagging @selenelavellan for itnerests.

“I write you a story!” Dirthamen declares, waving around three pieces of paper for Marassal.

“You did? Oh how wonderful! Let’s see!” Marassal sets to reading the irregular, large handwriting. It’s impressive at all that a five-year-old can write this well at all, let alone write a story. His son is so talented!

“’Once upon a time there was a mushroom. The mushroom was dark. He had a toadstool friend. She was red. She had spots. She looked like Minnie Mouse. The mushroom and toadstool liked to dance. They danced with two birds. The birds were friends. The mushroom jumped high. He wanted to fly. But he can’t. He is a mushroom. The end.’” Marassal stares at the papers for a moment before looking back to his son who is sitting at his little play table.

“This is amazing, Dirthamen! You are so creative!”

He is getting this framed, it can go next to the masterpiece he drew last week of his school. He added a tentacle monster in the parking lot, which Marassal thinks is brilliant commentary on how the school system tends to suck all the creativity out of its students in favor of standardization.

Dirthamen smiles and reaches for the papers again, “I wanna draw the mushroom.”

“Does the mushroom have a name?”

“A…a…gar-i-cus Bis…por…us,” he says, making Marassal raise his eyebrows. Desire shifts in him, perking her metaphorical head up.

That is the scientific name for the common mushroom.

Why do you know that?

I actually am able to pay attention to the picture books our son reads.

You got him a picture book on mushrooms last time I let you drive?

He was very excited about it.

“That is a very nice name.”

“His friend’s name is Minnie because she looks like Minnie Mouse.”

The scientific name is Amanita muscaria. It associates with deciduous and coniferous trees.

You are really enjoying this.

His face was glorious while reading that book.

Marassal smiles and smooths Dirthamen’s hair away from his face, smiling fondly. This is another for the great horde of everything this boy has created in this life time. And it’s moments like these, where he sees Dirthamen so happy, a little odd but also strangely cute, where he wonders what he would be like with his biological family. An Evanuris instead of a Sataris. He thinks about what his life was like before, with his brother and sister, with his mother and father. All he can picture is a quieter boy, a nervous boy that hides his pictures of large tentacle monsters sitting in parking lots and stories about mushrooms who befriend birds and can’t fly.

He takes a seat at the small play table and takes a piece of paper from the stack at the other end. He picks up the purple crayon.

“Whatcha drawin’?”

“A spirit.”

“What kind?”

“Desire.”

“Wha’s desire?”

“To desire something is to want it a lot. Like remember when you really wanted that cookie at Davie’s party over the weekend? You desired it.”

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna draw a spirit too!” He declares, grabbing another piece of paper.

“And what kind of spirit are you going to draw?” Marassal asks. Dirthamen thinks for a moment before grabbing the blue crayon.

“Cookie spirit!”

“You…mean like the Cookie Monster?”

“Spirit!” Dirthamen affirms, pushing the crayon into the paper to get that pure blue color. Marassal chuckles and nods.

“That sounds good to me.”