#writober 2019

[anntar-radix]

“How?” Carolyn sighed. “How in the hell did you get this much candy?”

“Easy, you go to Price Chopper when they open at 4 in the morning.”

“You are going to get sick eating all of this.”

Evan shrugged. “I like my candy, Princess. Don’t judge what you can’t appreciate.”

Carolyn glared at Evan. “Stop with that nickname.”

“Not a chance, Princess.”

Carolyn huffed. “You ass.”

“An ass about to be filled with sugar.”

Carolyn shook her head and started to head out the door. She came face-to-face with a very groggy Alex. “Your friend is trying to put himself into a sugar coma.”

Alex sighed. “He raided the Price Chopper again, didn’t he?”

Carolyn nodded.

“Evan!”

“What?”

“Make sure you throw up into the toilet this time. I will force you to clean it up otherwise.” “Ugh. Fine.”

Carolyn looked at Alex in disbelief. “Really?”

“What? As long as none of us have to deal with the repercussions, I don’t see the issue.”

She rolled her eyes. “Anyways, where were you and your boyfriend last night?”

“First of all, not dating. Second of all, nearby the parks, laying on the street.”

“Strange place for a date—”

“Not a date.”

“But what were you two even doing?”

“Stargazing.”

“And you couldn’t shoot me a text saying you lovebirds weren’t going to make it?”

“I forgot. The stars were too beautiful.”

“Are you sure you were looking at the stars and not Deven’s eyes?” She waggled her eyebrows.

Alex sighed. “We are just friends.”

“Sure…”

“Carolyn!”

(And that’s day 1 of 31 (5 days late...) Thanks for reading and thanks to @thenightofthelivingwriters for the prompts! The prompt I chose for that was “Who gets the most candy from trick or treating?”. Apparently, not anyone in that group. Cause I can’t read apparently. Hopefully tomorrow I can get day 4,5, and 7 up... See y’all then!)

[jessethejoyful]

Hey guys! So my friend who is a writer and I had talked about a writing counterpart to inktober, so - I made up a prompt list, and Writober 2019 was born! I know I have some writing followers out there, so feel free to use this for some inspiration throughout the month! If you write anything, totally send me it, I’d love to read it 😍

[dragonologist-phd]

16 for the softer world prompts?

thank you for the prompt! gonna take a little break from tradition and do some Dragon Age today (this prompt just works so well for my Mahariel)

(Also on AO3)

#16: Roses are red, Violetsare blue, You can do whatever you want to me. (please do.)

Of all the things Zevran does, it’s the stupid poem thatdoes her in.

The topic comes up one of the nights they stay up to keepwatch. Just the two of them, sitting by the fire, and Zevran begins talkingabout the beauty and art and poetry of his homeland. He puts on a show of shockwhen Allys tells him she knows nothing of Antivan poetry, and she just rollsher eyes. “Where exactly would I have heard any Antivan poetry? I’ve never evenbeen to Antiva.”

“And what a shame!” Zevran proclaims, and Allys marvels athis ability to somehow sound both earnest and teasing at the same time. “Abeauty like you should be serenaded by words of romance every hour of thenight.”

“Sounds exhausting. A girl needs to sleep.”

“Ah, but there are better things than sleep, my lovelywarden.”

A few months ago that comment would have left Allys stutteringand speechless, but now she’s used to it. Zevran flirts with everyone. . He is forward and brazen andprobably knows more dirty jokes than the entire Sabrae clan combined. Allysshould probably tell him to behave himself.

She doesn’t.

Instead she just leans forward, chin resting in her hands,and gives him a contemplative, daring look. “Prove it.”

Zevran leans forward as well, and the fire they’re sittingnext to suddenly seems to be giving off much more heat. Allys is vastlygrateful for the fact that they’re the only ones still awake. Just when shethinks he’s about to close the distance between them, he instead clears histhroat and begins reciting.

Before he’s even halfway through the truly horrible poem,Allys is laughing nearly loud enough to wake the whole camp. But Zevrancontinues, unabashed, voice soft but intense, his eyes never leaving her face.

Yes, Zevran flirts with everyone. He just seems to save hisbest efforts for her.

When he finishes, Allys shakes her head, still fighting backgiggles. “Is that really what you Antivans call seduction?”

Zevran’s smirk is playful, but decidedly not innocent. “Thatdepends. Is it working?”

Allys tilts her head in mock consideration. “I haven’tdecided yet.”

His smile grows wider. “Be sure to let me know when youhave.”

The worst part of it all is that for all of Allys’s teasingand eye-rolling, her consideration isn’t actually feigned. True, Zevran’s anincorrigible flirt, and has questionable loyalties, and he’s an assassin. But he’s also the only one whocould manage to make her forget about the grim reality of the Blight longenough to dissolve into hysterics over a horrible poem, and right now, Allyscan’t think of anything better than that.

“Zevran?” She says before she can lose her nerve.

“Yes?”

“I’ve decided.”

They end up in Allys’s tent, ignoring the fact that they maywake the others. Zevran’s lips and body are hot and insistent against Allys’s,and she doesn’t think once about the Blight for the rest of the night. The onlything that matters in the world right now is him, and her, and bad poetry.

Send me prompts for OC-tober!

[elventhief]

Fictober Day 2: Nightmare

Nightmares were not terribly uncommon to Cara, though she found that Miraak’s presence seemed to calm them, to where she hardly had them anymore.

Ones that would make her wake screaming at least.  

Her disposition did not betray her plagued mind, the things she’s seen, the things she’s experienced.

Liches deep in Ayleid ruins, half mortal, half eldritch horror.

Cara still had no idea how she managed to destroy them, nor the dread zombies that also shambled in the corridors of deep ruins.

She had nightmares of Summerset, of things she wished long ago would leave her.

They never did.

As much as she longed for the white beaches, the clear water, vibrancy of everything that Skyrim lacked, she knew that Summerset was so far out of reach for her, likely for the rest of what would be a very long life.

Her father was there, the Thalmor was there, he was there.

And sometimes, the nightmares would just simply prey on her worst fears.

“What is your name, laat Dovahkiin.”

“Carawen.”

“And you know who I am?”

She nodded, and he stepped away, turning back to his desk.

“You’re Miraak, the first Dragonborn, First Mage of the Dragon Cult, and traitor.”

He looked at her over his shoulder.

“Mora struck my name from anything written about me, and the cult did the rest what Mora could not. How do you know so much?”

“Bronjunaar. As far as I can tell, it used to house the records of all Dragon Priests. The Hall of Stories recorded all of the First Mages. There was one scratched out, ‘traitor’ written across his likeness. I couldn’t find any record of him, and when you sent those assassins after me, I asked Odahviing. He filled in the missing pieces of history.”

“I did not send assassins after you. I did not know of your existence until a few moments ago.”

Confusion washed over her face. “There’s cultists in your temple, I found a note that said ‘you’d be pleased at my death'.”

“I wouldn’t be pleased. I do not want to see you die, but,”

He sighed and turned to face her fully, his hand coming to rest on the sword at his side. Cara followed the movement, sparks coming off of her fingertips.

He took a step towards her.

“I need your power to return to Tamriel.”

As he drew his sword, Cara took a step backwards, her hands up in a placating gesture.

“Wait! Just a moment, please.”

His eyes seemed to burn under his mask, but he did not relent.

“This is what must be done, Dovahkiin. You have to die so I can live, krosis.”

Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest, but she pushed her fear down. Lightning gathered around her; she didn’t want to fight him, but she would if she had too. The Black Book had fallen from her grasp and skittered across the floor when she landed in this Gods-forsaken place. She just had to grab it, and she could leave, and this would all be over.

“FUS RO DAH!” She Shouted, the extra force of a storm of lightning trailing after her Thu’um, trying to get him away from her.

It did nothing, her magic just washing over him, as if it was just the wind.

She bolted to the book, her fingers just brushing the spine when she felt him grab at her long hair and pull, sending her back and sprawling across the ground.

With his free hand, he grabbed her by her neck and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, closing off her throat, she struggled to breathe. She gripped his arm, trying to relieve the pressure.

“Wait-“ she choked out. This was wrong. All of this was so wrong. This was the man she loved, wasn’t it? This isn’t how this happened.

She could feel the tip of his sword dig into her chest, but he paused.

“My darling- this isn’t- you—” she let go of his arm and grabbed his mask and tore it off.

He didn’t look as he did before, after she got him out of Apocrypha. His stormy-blue eyes were clear, not tainted by his years in the Daedric realm. His gaze held no warmth, no love.

That was the last thought that entered her mind and he thrust the sword through her chest, and she felt her soul be ripped from her, a black void smothering everything.

This wasn’t right.

Wake up.

Her eyes shot open, the only light in the room coming from the dying fire in the fireplace. Taking a few measured breaths, she gripped Miraak’s hand, which was draped over her waist, his bulky frame curled around her, his warmth at her back grounding her back to reality. She didn’t want to wake him, but she shifted, turning around in his embrace, gripping his shirt and resting her forehead against his chest. She breathed with him, feeling herself calm down. Miraak shifted, holding her closer to him, his arms coming to wrap around her in a protective embrace.

Cara let herself fall asleep again like that, the sounds of Miraak’s steady breathing and heart lull her mind at ease.

[chemicalforgery]

Death's... Specie?

Writober Day 1: Crow/Raven

WIP: Zerryu

---------

"Where's Qalbo?" Hayopi landed next to her sister and asked the other dragon gods.

They were all lazing around in the big temple's garden. Saoli was on her side under some big trees. Her tail was swapping the dusty ground. Raja was hanging for the giant tree from the opposite part of where Saoli was sitting. His wings , legs and tail were moving in the wind. Kyosuke was curled in the big white stone fountain. Water was continuously pouring from the top of the fountain and falling on him. His head , wings and tail were hanging outside the fountain.

"He has some business to attend in the Land of the Dead. Something with Shiki if I remembered correctly." Answered Raja while he was watching a little bird making a nest in the tree.

"So he is busy with that old crow?"

"Yes." Monotonely said Saoli then yelled to Kyosuke "Throw some water here or I'll die of a heatstroke!"

After he used his wings to throw some of the water in her detection , he added. "Actually Shiki is a raven. Different species."

Hayopi sat down and cuddled in top of Saoli. She lifted her head in confusion. "Um.. No? They? Are? Not? They are a crow."

"I thought Shiki uses he , him pronouns?!" Asked Saoli surprised.

Raja started laughing. "They changed them two centuries ago!"

"Well in my defence I haven't talked to Shiki in 4 centuries! That old crow doesn't talk to me anymore for a reason or another..." Mumbled she while getting up and making Hayopi fall. She got to the nearest tree and started scratching her back again the trunk.

"That old raven." Added Raja in a singing voice.

"Crow." The sister said at once.

"Raven." The lovers said at once.

They keep arguing like that and they only stopped when Qalbo made an appearance. He landed and curled like a giant snake under the tree Raja was hanging from.

"Why are you all arguing without me?" Asked he curious. He also turned to Kyosuke. "Why did you took my spot?"

"Finders keepers, losers weepers."

"And we are arguing because these two think Shiki is a crow!"

"Because it is a crow!" Said Hayopi as she started dust bathing.

"Actually Shiki is a raven." Said Qalbo if a slightly surprise voice.

"HA! Told you so!!" Raja was so excited he almost fall from the tree.

"Whatever.. They are both the same thing."

"Hayopi you're the protector of animals!! You should know the difference!!" Qalbo was faking his shock so poorly everyone knew he wasn't serious.

"In my defence , I didn't create ravens. Raja did it." Said Hayopi pouting.

Notes: most of the stuff I would write for writober are gonna be posted with one day delay due to editing and time difference.

[cityveinlights]

“Bubbles in a vast expanse of oil...”

Trying to say those words was like screaming underwater,

It chilled me to the bone and tied a weight to my feet.

I couldn’t see, was I upside-down or horizontal?

I was swimming in a pool of my own exhaustion.

They say treading water is the best exercise,

No wonder I found it so easy to fall asleep at night;

Keeping secrets from you sucked the air from my lungs, left lead in the back of my head.

I float in an ocean between serenity and a hurricane,

Wondering which direction to wade towards;

Hope is a heavy chain to burden, and my legs are weak.

Do I drown myself to die a happy son, in your eyes;

Do I face the currents of my reality?

Breaching the surface is a breath of fresh air,

I rise in the eye of the storm,

Coming out to the soft embrace of the shore.

day 11: underwater @hiddendreamer67

[pe-ersona]

Crows

Taglist: @thenightofthelivingwriters @sunshineomeara

Sitting on the ledge like a murder of crows, the assassins slide on their masks and tighten the strap to their swords. Their eyes piercing the night sky, watch over the rooftops. With a quick flick of a wrist, they descend into the shadows. They move like wings are attached to their backs, giving them speed and flight. Soft, quiet as feathers, their footsteps barely touched one spot for a second. Light too slow to catch their black bodies. 

[henscom]

When Ben had asked, “Why Bowser?  Why Peach with Bowser?” and gotten a response of, “Well, think about it,” (Ben thought about it, for a second, but Henry wasn’t done) “if she didn’t want him to take her, she probably would have stopped him by now,” he could only stare blankly at his partner His friend His more than that. “Henry. That perpetuates rape culture.” Henry didn’t get it. He never did. “What- what the hell does that even mean!” “It means it sounds like you’re saying she was responsible because she let it happen, that she wanted it to happen.” “Yeah. And?” “And that’s kind of a form of victim blaming. People say that a lot when they want to take the blame off the guy.” “Oh. No, wait, that’s not what I’m saying, I’m saying with them, in their case, see, Peach is strong enough. Like she’s not some damn damsel in distress. I’m saying like, it takes two, y’know? Sayin’ they probably fuck like rabbits.” Ben’s nose wrinkled at that word. Fuck. It felt so incorrect for an act that was supposed to be of love. It wasn’t like he himself never used it, but in this context it was both funny and jarring. Henry liked it. The way his nose wrinkled. It made him smile, unabashed. And it made Ben’s shoulders rise with the heat in his cheeks, because Henry had told him as such many times. “I think I’ll just go as Mario. Wearing a dress sounds…” He didn’t like to admit this, that he was uncomfortable wearing dresses. He was perfectly fine seeing other men in them, but as for himself… It was like being called Tits for however long he wore the dress. And then some. “Cold.” he half lied. An omission, really, not a lie. But Henry could tell when Ben lied. Henry could tell when anyone lied. Everyone had some tic. Ben’s was a swallow. “Cold?” “Sorry, I- I shouldn’t have lied. I just…” “Embarrassing?” Ben said something like “Yeah, exactly,” and so on and so forth. On the night of Halloween, they did not walk hand in hand like they’d so wanted to, but they got a shitload of candy, and did sneak kisses to one another's cheeks when no one was looking.