#writertober

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Is there an inktober for authors???

[p4ttern]

2024 Promptober // Writertober

Was a bit unsatisfied with some of the promptobers I’ve seen posted up till now, so I thought I’d make my own, here it is if anyone wants to use it too :3

the two versions are the same, I just drew one for fun while the other one is so that if you can’t read my shit handwriting on the first, but the two ARE the same!!

[ulteriorm0tiv3s]

hey it’s october!! i’m gonna be trying to do writetober so stay tuned!! i’ll also be posting a late birthday fic for dark choco so stay tuned for that as well :}, also it’s technically october 2nd now but i started this on the 1st so it still counts + sorry if this isn’t the best, i kinda rushed on it (help me it’s 11:58 and i’m just now posting this crying rn)

🪴🎃🪴🎃🪴🎃🪴🎃🪴🎃🪴🎃🪴🎃🪴🎃

the dead leaves crunched on the ground as you wandered around the pumpkin patch, or…what seemed like a pumpkin patch? there weren’t any signs that stated it exactly was a pumpkin patch. but there were pumpkins everywhere, and you did walk like an hour to get here; so you weren’t leaving without a pumpkin. crouching down to get a better look at the pumpkins, you noticed how well the pumpkins were taken care of. they were pretty much the most perfect pumpkins you’ve ever seen. ‘who could’ve planted these?’ you thought to yourself. suddenly, you heard leaves crunching nearby. since it was night, your only instinct was to jump up and go hide somewhere. the crunching could’ve been an animal, but to stay safe, you just hid behind a tree.

“i hope clover cookie’s animal friends didn’t get into my pumpkins again…” you heard a voice sigh. you popped your head from behind the tree to see where the voice was coming from. you saw a stranger searching through the pumpkin patch, and he had a flashlight. you shuffled back to your original spot behind the tree, hoping the stranger wouldn’t find you. but alas, it was fall. so every time you moved, the leaves coating the grass would crunch. the flashlight that the stranger was holding shined in your direction. your heart started to beat at a really fast pace, you were scared and didn’t know what to do. you just froze and stood there. the footsteps of the stranger drew closer until…

“ah..hello…?” you looked down at the stranger, and he looked back at you. he was…a lot shorter than he looked from far away. however, you were still scared. you didn’t want to get your ass kicked for trespassing. you expected him to scold you for trespassing or something, but instead, he sounded a bit concerned, “are you alright? it’s chilly out here and you don’t have a sweater on.” you really weren’t expecting this stranger to have such concern for you. you cleared your throat before speaking, “uhm..i’m fine, thank you.”

“you can come inside my cottage for a bit, it’s late at night and chilly, no cookie should be out here,” the stranger offered. well, it was pretty chilly. and he was allowing you to come into his home, it felt cruel to decline such an offer. after thinking for a few seconds, you nod your head. “alright! follow me,” the stranger started to walk towards his cottage, beckoning you to follow. you noticed how careful the stranger was around any plant, he made sure not to step on anything, even a small flower. strange, he’s just very passionate about plants, you assume.

when you arrive at the cottage, you admire the structure of it; long strands of ivy creeped up the sides, and many small gardens were around the building. even potted plants sat on the large porch. there were also a few small ponds too. you and the stranger walked into the cottage. “wait here, i’ll bring you some tea,” the stranger excused himself into the kitchen. you sat down on one of the chairs in the living room, it was pretty comfy; you felt a lot warmer than you did outside. a few minutes later, the stranger came back with a small cup of tea, slowly handing it to you. “thank you,” you hummed as you accepted the cup. the stranger just smiles warmly at you as he sits in the chair next to yours.

“oh, i’ve yet to introduce myself. my name is herb cookie!” he grinned as he extended his hand towards you. “(y/n), and uh, sorry about trespassing,” you awkwardly reply, whilst shaking herb cookie’s hand. “no need to worry about it. how did you find my little pumpkin garden though? it’s not exactly a public area,” he asked you.

“well, i was just walking through the forest. then i saw a few squirrels feasting on a fresh pumpkin, and decided to walk around until i found your patch,” you explained, slowly sipping your tea afterwards. herb cookie nodded, “i see…i guess clover cookie’s animal friends did get to the pumpkins after all.” hm, you didn’t see any cookies on your way here. so, out of curiosity, you ask, “who’s clover cookie?” “clover cookie is my brother! he lives here with me,” herb cookie replied. ‘huh, brother. i wonder if they look the same,’ you pondered to yourself.

you and herb cookie chatted for awhile. it was now around midnight, and you were getting a bit tired. herb cookie noticed this and let you stay in one of his guest rooms.

you ended up staying the night there, and honestly, you slept surprisingly well. and in the morning, herb cookie made biscuits for breakfast. plus you even got to meet clover cookie. you, herb cookie, and clover cookie chatted for a bit; until it was time for you to go home. before you left, herb cookie stopped you, “i know you came here to get a pumpkin, so you can have one of mine!” you looked at him, confused on why he’d let you have one. herb cookie obviously cared deeply about his plants. so why did he let you have one. “you’ve been an amazing guest, so you can have one! another gift from me,” he smiled cheerfully. you smile back, grateful for your new friend.

when you got home, you turned the pumpkin into a little plant pot, to symbolize your new friend.

[scalpel-mom-mori]

Writertober day 31: Halloween

Yukichi really doesn’t like Western clothes

Guys I took one look at that Mayoi card and kinda went “I want that one”

It was only after he was half-dressed already that Yukichi remembered why he didn’t usually bother with Western clothes. Well, half-dressed in the sense that he had about half the clothing piled on the bed on his body. Pants, two shirts (a plain shirt, and a button-down), socks and boots. “What’s taking so long?” Mori-sensei called from the other side of the door. “Is it the tie?”

Yukichi didn’t respond. He despised ties with a passion.

“It’s the tie,” Mori-sensei decided, and entered.

Mori-sensei, to be fair, wasn’t short. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he wasn’t short. But he was short enough that he came up to about Yukichi’s nose, which is to say, a very awkward height difference for Mori-sensei to be standing as close as he was.

It briefly crossed his mind that Mori-sensei might just try and strangle him, and that it probably wasn’t the best idea to let Mori-sensei adjust anything hanging from his neck, but if Mori-sensei truly meant to kill him, he’d wait at least till Yukichi was fully dressed.

That’s just the sort of petty, spiteful man Mori-sensei was.

But Mori-sensei didn’t try anything. He finished with the tie and stepped back. “You almost look normal.”

Yukichi frowned at him and began working at the belt, silently praying that Mori-sensei wouldn’t offer to help with that too. It was awkward enough to maneuver the sword without him.

Not for the first time, he silently cursed Mori-sensei and his practical jokes.

Mori-sensei sits on the bed, eyeing Yukichi like he was a slab of meat. Yukichi, however, refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s uncomfortable, and picked up the next piece. A vest, Victorian-style. He made a face and put it on. Then a jacket.

“Is all this really necessary if the jacket covers it all anyway?”

Mori-sensei’s face was a strange, indecisive mix of smug and offended. “Of course!”

Yukichi made a face and picked up the remaining jacket. A pair of gloves fell out of a pocket. He frowned at Mori-sensei, who only smiled smugly in return.

“The fur is atrocious.”

“And expensive,” Mori-sensei countered.

Yukichi shook his head, scowling, sticking an arm in. It was warm, he supposed. Heavy, though. “It feels like I can barely move,” he grumbled.

“I do it just fine,” Mori-sensei quipped as Yukichi tugged on the gloves.

“Your pants aren’t this tight,” Yukichi shot back, shaking a leg, half-testing his mobility. Somehow, he wouldn’t be surprised if this stupid stunt was another half-assed attempt to handicap him so an assassin might have half a chance.

Mori-sensei snickered. “Maybe not,” he allowed. “Don’t forget the hat.”

“Costume fetish,” Yukichi muttered under his breath, recalling how his counterpart would always be dressing Elise up.

“Hardly,” Mori-sensei replied, slightly miffed. “I just wanted to see you in an outfit that isn’t a crime against fashion.”

[novelisnova]

Mari kita tutup kembali dengan rapat. . . . . Aku pernah berusaha percaya untuk kembali membuka sesuatu yang selama ini ku tutup rapat. . . . Cinta. . . . Untuk beberapa waktu hal yang terkunci itu perlahan kubuka. Berusaha untuk bisa kembali percaya perihal cinta itu sungguhlah tak mudah. Terlebih bagiku yang kenyang dengan kepahitan bernama kekecewaan. . . Aku membukanya. Bahkan dengan lebar. Ketika perkenalan denganmu dimulai. Entah apa sebabnya, mencintaimu, aku ingin mencobanya. . . Tak ada lagi kompromi. Bahkan kepada mereka yang dengan lantang bicara padaku, "jangan dulu pakai hati". Aku merasa terlanjur terjebak dalam pusaran yang disebut jatuh cinta. . . Percakapan-percakapan kita yang sebenarnya biasa saja, terasa begitu indah bagiku. Lalu ketika kau bilang ingin bertemu denganku, aku berusaha mempercayai keputusanku mencintaimu adalah benar. Padahal saat itu kau mungkin saja sedang membuat permainan yang disebut mempermainkan perasaan. . . Dan bodohnya aku terjebak dengan permainan konyol itu. Permainan yang selalu berhasil menyeret lukaku semakin dalam. . . Ah tidak, tidak usah minta maaf, kurasa kamu tak salah dalam hal ini. Yang salah disini adalah aku; terlalu cepat mengambil keputusan untuk memberikan hatiku kepadamu. . . Kali ini dengan sangat tertata kukemasi semua perasaanku padamu. Kutarik kembali cinta ini. Aku berniat menutupnya kembali di sudut yang seharusnya dia ada. Biar kubenahi lagi. Biar kusembuhkan lagi dia. Lalu ketika saat yang tepat menurut Tuhan untukku membukanya kembali. Kuharap itu kuberikan kepada dia yang tepat. . . . #random #tulisan #instagramXtumblr #novelisnova #fromheart #writertobe #sajakpelangisenjadanhujan #lewatsemesta #mariberkarya #maribercerita #gambarbercerita . (di West Java)

[altan-ndut]

My story is your story as well... 📖 ⠀ . . . . . ⠀ #mysolestory#mydailylife#mymotivationalwriter#writertobe#writerpreneur#mykindofstory#entrepreneur#blessingindisguise#countyourblessings#penulisbaik#penulisbercerita#hanyabocahbiasa#hanyabocahpenuhmimpi ⠀ (at Bintaro Pdk Aren Tangsel) https://www.instagram.com/p/B6-jfY7laeg/?igshid=6o2gb0hq8hko

[arora77-blog]

Story Of My Life My Lips. He assumed like petting me for hours. After all the day we confronted our words, from then I'm all yours I might not stop, 'He Said' Well, I never want you to stop touching those numbed lips. You stay so far that if I try to reach you today, I might not reach you in person, But my emotions have tasted you already. I could sense you here, Spilling the Red Wine and granting me a Blunt Well, I wouldn't deny that Red Wine does turn me on. Moreover your one-touch have slain me, Gracefully, I can slay myself that night when I 'll share a glass of wine with the men I always admire, Because your absence is burning my inner heat, Though it's a sweet fire which is keeping me more wanting you. I know I've started loving my world full of gray. Because I found a hope of a ray. Meeting you was not meant to be, It was destined. Hence, Not every man or a storm or a rain have sounded so loud till you encountered me with your words.  I loved you in your absence,  Moreover, I could felt your words whispering near my ears. Let us explore the hidden heat, Well I merely cannot stop considering when I'll be in. My All Time Faded Love _Priyanka Aro (ART WORK BY @flowsofly ) _______________________ #priyanka_aro #poeticlife #typewriter #love #likeforlike #followforfollow #tag #writersofig #love #preserve #hope #companion #readers #writertobe #bymepoetryamerica #bymepoetry #wordsofwisdom #powertowords #writingspook #writersden #writersofinstagram #writersblock #poetry #poetofinstagram #poetics

[zazaliberty-blog]

I was so afraid to lose you that I didn't see you weren't.

Zaza

[ulteriorm0tiv3s]

lmao i suck at keeping up with stuff like this so expect me to post like 3 more times today ,, anyways writetober day 2 but i kinda gave up halfway :’) also sorry for the weird spacing, mobile sucks </3

☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃

latte cookie walked around the academy, watching all the students scurry about. it was almost time for them to go home, so the hallways were a bit chaotic. latte cookie let out a lighthearted sigh, continuing on her way. she was looking for a certain office, yours to be exact. since it was october, latte cookie had something planned for the two of you. after finding your little office within the academy, she knocked on the door, making sure you weren’t in there. thankfully you weren’t, so she stepped inside. she placed a small letter on your desk, and left quickly.

☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃

letting out a tired groan, you dragged yourself into your office. it had been a long day, dealing with kids was extremely exhausting. while you were packing up your stuff, you noticed a letter on your desk..

“hi (y/n)! i hope you’re doing well today! remember to take care of yourself! stay hydrated and have confidence! but anyways to the main part of this letter; if you’re available, come over to my place! i planned something for us. you know where to find me! -latte cookie 🤍!”

ah, latte cookie. one of the cookies you were closest to. what could she have planned now? you sighed as you gathered your things and made your way to latte cookie’s house.

☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃

“hey latte cookie, i’m here,” you mumbled, knocking on the door. the door creaked open as her cat nudged it with her nose, almost as if she was welcoming you inside. you gave the cat a little stroke on the head before walking inside. “ah, you made it!” latte cookie cheered as she walked over to you. she gave you a big bear hug, making sure to be extra welcoming, as she always does. “hey hey, what did you have planned for us?” you asked, hugging her back. “oh! i wanted to make pumpkin spice lattes with you! since it’s october!” she exclaimed, you could hear the excitement in her voice. “and we’re going late night shopping because i forgot to get the ingredients!”

“latte, it’s almost 11 at night, what stores would be open?” “cookiemart! they’re open 24/7!” that was true. ’i guess she knows what she’s doing,’ you thought to yourself.

☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃

you sighed as you sat in the cart, latte cookie was pushing you around the store. you enjoyed sitting in the middle of the cart, but you had your own legs. as latte cookie pushed the cart, you grabbed the items you needed and shoveled them into the cart with you. this was kind of fun to you, to be honest; it was like a game. latte cookie drove the cart, and you had to pick the right items, or else you’d have to turn around.

“and the last thing we need is the pumpkin purée!” latte cookie cheered once again, excitement in her voice. she pushed the cart into the isle, and you glanced around. “ah, there it is,” you hummed, grabbing a small can of pumpkin purée. and with that, latte cookie nyoom’d over to the self checkout.

☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃

after dealing with some annoying, late night karens, you and latte cookie managed to get back home. the both of you set the ingredients on the counter and got started. this wasn’t a hard task, latte invited you to make drinks with her often. but you’ve never made pumpkin spice lattes before.

“step one, combine the milk, pumpkin puree, sugar, pumpkin pie spice and vanilla in a microwave safe bowl; cover the bowl with plastic wrap and vent with a small hole. microwave until the milk is hot, 1 to 2 minutes. then whisk until the milk mixture is foamy,” latte cookie read aloud. “seems easy enough,” you muttered, putting the paper down.

latte added all the ingredients to the bowl, and you took turns mixing the milky concoction. you lightly dipped a finger into the mixture, and booped your finger against latte cookie’s nose. she giggled and did the same to you. the both of you had a short laughing fit before continuing your work.

☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃☕️🎃

after heating up the coffee, you split the foam and add it on top of your cups. “i rented the nightmare before christmas, you up for a movie?” latte cookie smiled as she nudged your arm with her elbow. you chuckled and clinked your glass against hers.

“movie night it is then.”

[scalpel-mom-mori]

POV you’re Sigma and you have no idea what the hell is happening, why you’re a terrorist, or why your associate wants to kill your other associate

[scalpel-mom-mori]

Writertober Day 14: Alone

A lavish kingdom of despair, and its king

Or, Sigma, and Fyodor shows up to hit on him.

For the record, I did not ask Fyodor to show up and hit on Sigma. He just did.

Manga spoilers, no warnings

Sigma was well-acquainted with despair. He’s known nothing but the Sky Casino, and by extension, human despair. Casinos, for all their luxury, all their decadence tended to be sinkholes of despair. His office was little more than a throne room exalted by the crushing of the human spirit.

Gambling was like that. It was interesting, to leave someone like him in charge of this lavish hell. But then again, maybe it wasn’t.

He was the King of chance, a product of fair fortune, wasn’t he? To be found as he was, and given a place to exist. A place to care for.

Though, yes. This kingdom was bittersweet. Lovely and lavish, luxurious and elite, home, one that Sigma loved, but for all he served this beautiful place, he nurtured in equal part despair.

How many people had Sigma watched gamble their lives away? More than he knew. More than he could count.

Despair kept the books balanced and the casino aloft.

Was he, then, at fault- in part or in whole- for the lives wasted here? For the souls wasting away in these red-velvet halls?

There was only one sinner he knew to hold a candle to himself if this is the case. A sinner, a god. A god of sin? Perhaps the devil himself. At any rate, he appeared today, in the doorway to Sigma’s throne room. “Doing well, then? I knew you would.”

He wore, as he always did, his usual furs, despite the comparatively climate moderate in Japan. “Fine, thanks to you,” Sigma replied, putting aside his pen, waved him to the seat across the desk. “Tea?”

“If you would kindly.”

Dostoyevsky, as he always did, gave Sigma the distinct impression that the former knew something and wasn’t telling. And that he was very smug over the fact. Still, Sigma paged the wait staff. Dostoyevsky was only half a stranger, and only because he never played the tables.

Dostoyevsky gave Sigma a half smile through a veil of steam. “You’re so good to me.”

[scalpel-mom-mori]

Writertober Day 17: Dream

The Aimless Dreamer and their dream

I have given up on writing these in order, so they’ll come sporadically over the next couple of weeks, sorry.

No Warnings

Mori could hear the headache coming on. Literally. Q’s voice was unmistakable, and they were furious. He could also hear Chuuya doing his best to calm down the child. “Do you want me to go in with you?”

Q paused their tantrum. “Would you?” they asked.

“Of course.” It was times like this where Mori remembered why his office wasn’t soundproofed. Chuuya was so soft on the kids, Mori thought with amusement, despite having been one of them.

But, it occurred to him for maybe the first time, because he had been one of them. Chuuya was just that sort, loyal to a fault, and empathetic, sympathetic in a strange way. Kind, in a roundabout sort of way.

It’s Chuuya that knocked, firm unwavering, just like the rest of him. Mori envied him sometimes. “Come in,” Mori called, and Chuuya appeared, holding Q on one hip.

Mori’s mouth quirked into a teasing smile. “What does Okaa-san need of me?”

Chuuya made a face and set down the child, who marched past Elise- she had been oddly quiet this whole time- and right up to Mori’s desk with a strangely intimidating expression. “Why?”

Mori was caught off-guard. Q, while a member of the Port Mafia, did not observe the usual standards, “Don’t question the Boss” among them.

“What do you mean, Q?” Mori asked, smiling. Despite the destructive potential contained in this child, they were quite cute.

“Yumeno,” they corrected. “My name is Kyuusaku Yumeno.”

Mori couldn’t help the spark of admiration. This sort of insubordination was something he very rarely dealt with. It was thrilling. “Very well then, Yumeno-kun, what can I do for you?”

“Why did you let him do it?”

Mori grinned wider. “Not all of us are children,” he replied. “Not even when we wear the faces of children, Yumeno-kun. I don’t expect you to understand.”

Q narrowed their eyes.

“Is there something else, Yumeno-kun?” Mori asked.

They tilted their head, considering. “I want you to let Chuuya-san take me to ride the trains more often.”

[scalpel-mom-mori]

Writertober Day 5: Music

A pair of guards watch the masters compose.

Or, Fyodor and Dazai confusing the hell out of people with their stupid jail dates

Manga spoilers, but can be read as a what-if

Takeshi frowned, watching the two monsters converse in a language that was purely their own.

The foreigner’s hands moved, contorting into what looked like a claw at first, till the guard noticed the right hand mimicking the motions of a bow across strings.

A pair of freaks those two are.

The bandaged one began humming.

“What the…” The sound of office-chair wheels on the floor momentarily drowned out the sound from the inmate, as Rio rolled over to listen. “How did we end up watching these two?” he sighed.

Takeshi shrugged.

The piece Dazai was attempting to recreate wasn’t one Takeshi recognized, but he didn’t hesitate over the strange melody.

The foreigner wore a faint smile as he pantomimed the instrument that wasn’t there.

Those two were absolutely mad.

Dazai didn’t have a bad voice, Takeshi supposed, leaning back in his chair, but God only knows what goes on in that head. He wanted Sakaguchi to hurry up and return. Sakaguchi was the only one that ever had half a clue about Dazai.

The foreigner, greasy as he was, was rather enchanting, in his own monstrous way. Graceful, unbothered, confident. Almost without realizing it, Takeshi turned up the mic monitoring Dazai’s cell so that the strange, unearthly song filled the little observation room. Rio gave him a strange look, but relaxed and nodded after a few bars.

Dazai bounced a knee, keeping time.

“Those two are so strange,” Rio said, leaning back as well, folding his hands behind his head.

“Don’t be falling asleep now,” Takeshi scolded, in part to keep himself awake.

“Mhm,” Rio hummed, amused at the way Takeshi’s eyelids slid half-shut.

The door banged open, and Takeshi and Rio both leapt a foot in the air. “Update- what are you two doing?”

Well, Takeshi supposed, he had wanted Sakaguchi to come back, hadn’t he? But, Sakaguchi didn’t scold them further, instead reaching past Takeshi to turn the volume back down. “Those two,” Sakaguchi muttered. “Damn him.”

“Do you know what they’re doing?”

“Playing,” Sakaguchi replied like the word tasted bad.

“What does that mean?”

Sakaguchi sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Dazai’s setting the rhythm, and Dostoyevsky’s composing the melody that you’re hearing.” He adjusted his round glasses. “Those two,” he sighed again. “Stay awake. Your shift’s almost up.”

[scalpel-mom-mori]

Writertober Day 7: Books

Candy-red ink

Just some soul-healing Ranpoe because good god Shadow was so depressing.

No warnings

Edgar’s study has started smelling like cherry-flavored candy recently.

He’d been finding plastic wrappers in his trash more often, too, when there had only been half-written manuscripts, rejected before they ever saw a publisher’s desk.

Once, he’d caught Ranpo in the act, feet on the desk, which was littered candy wrappers and chip bags.

The real mystery, however, was what Ranpo was doing in here.

Today, Ranpo had fallen asleep on the couch that Edgar had bought specifically for this purpose. Edgar sat to his desk, picked up his nearly-finished manuscript.

He blinked. Once, twice.

Ranpo’s cramped scrawl filled every available space and more in red. A few sticky notes poked out from between the pages.

After spending some time deciphering Ranpo’s handwriting, Edgar came to the sudden realization that every note Ranpo had made was purely professional, lacking the usual tease Ranpo addressed Edgar with.

On top of that, Ranpo had taken the time to go through and make line edits.

Edgar looked back up at Ranpo, who he suspected was suffering the aftereffects of a sugar crash. Perhaps that was part of the reason his notes were nearly illegible.

Edgar’s mouth twitched into a slight smile at the memory of… erm, recent events, where Ranpo- in a sugar-fueled fit of near madness- had devised a scheme to be in three or four places at once.

There was one thing for sure, though, Edgar thought as he started the revision. Ranpo sure made things interesting.

Unfortunately, when he got to work, Edgar tended to be completely unaware of the passage of time. He nearly fell out of his chair in shock when someone draped themselves across his shoulders, something akin to a human blanket. “You got my notes,” Ranpo murmured, still mostly asleep, warm from his nap.

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Edgar asked.

Ranpo huffed a soft laugh. “Don’t mind me.”

Of course. What had he been expecting? Ranpo was that sort of impossible. He’d never admit being kind to someone.

[scalpel-mom-mori]

Writertober Day 3: Lily

Kyouka sends her regards.

Ack, sorry for not updating this oof I had a bunch of homework. Hopefully 4-7 are going to be done by tomorrow oops

This is a little experiment with sentient manifestation abilities, told from Demon Snow POV. Beware Kyouka’s parents angst.

Kyouka looked grave today, holding two bouquets of white lilies, one tied off with a thin branch spotted with plum blossoms, the other mixed with white carnations.

She offered them both to the phantom of a bone-pale swordswoman. “Take the one with the plum blossoms to Kouyou-san. You know where to take the other one.”

Shirayuki bowed her head, dutifully accepting the flowers.

The graveyard came first. Shirayuki knelt and bowed deeply to the headstones, nearly pressing her forehead to the dirt, though careful not to crush Kouyou-san’s flowers.

Suzu, you impossible woman.

And Seiji, who would have followed her anywhere, despite Shirayuki’s near-constant presence. She was surprised that Seiji never seemed to bear her a grudge, despite her being an inescapable third wheel.

They would have liked Fukuzawa Yukichi.

Shirayuki straightened, picked up Kouyou-san’s bouquet again. Time to face Konijiki, isn’t it? She would have been perfectly happy to never see him again, but if Kyouka wanted to send Kouyou-san flowers, then it couldn’t be helped, could it?

No one in the Mori Corps building bothered Shirayuki as she made for Kouyou-san’s office. There were, coincidentally, only three abilities remaining in the Port Mafia that would ever give her any trouble. Elise didn’t really count, since the Boss was too soft on her to put her in that sort of danger unless the Port Mafia was under attack, and Rashoumon was off with Akutagawa in search of something to kill.

Konijiki didn’t hesitate to attack, only pausing when Shirayuki dodged without countering. He tilted his head in a way that was almost inquisitive, but Konijiki was never inquisitive. She imagined that had he a proper face, he would be frowning.

Konijiki’s apparent gender was always a point of interest for Shirayuki, but if Kyouka didn’t know, neither did Shirayuki.

Konijiki looked at the bouquet tucked in Shirayuki’s arms then at the door that led into Kouyou-san’s office. She bowed her head a little, though it irritated her to do such a thing. He lifted his chin in imitation of turning up his nose and went in, leaving the door ajar for Shirayuki.

Kouyou-san looked up at Shirayuki with that same neutral disgust she always did, despite Shirayuki’s being her beloved Kyouka’s ability, before noticing the flowers she’d brought.

“Give those here.”

Commanding as always, but less hostile. She cradled the flowers in her arms, as though afraid to crush them. Kouyou-san looked directly at Shirayuki with damp, unreadable eyes. Shirayuki bowed to her. Some things didn’t need words to say.

[scalpel-mom-mori]

Writertober Day 11: Bond

There is only one argument that Chuuya can win.

Or, I wanted to write angst so have some angst. Also, finally no spoilers!!!!

Trigger Warning: Implied abuse

They were dead silent for once.

They weren’t arguing.

They weren’t trying to kill each other.

They weren’t exchanging insults.

They were just standing there, staring at each other. Chuuya was about to leave, when Dazai spun and called out a half-serious “Thanks for the cake, Chibikko,” over a shoulder.

Chuuya waved him off, turning on his heel. “Wasn’t my idea. You’d better treat your new boy well, Mackerel. I saw what you did to the last one.”

Dazai turned slowly, menacingly. Despite the ways he’d grown since he left the Mafia, anyone watching would have recognized sixteen-year-old Dazai making a reappearance. “Say it again,” he ordered.

Chuuya shrugged, turning back to face him with a leisurely grace. “I saw what you did to your last boy,” he repeated, calm, confident but not smug. The king he’d been when they’d met. “I may not be human, but I’m not a monster.”

An unreadable expression passed over Dazai’s face. There were two people in the whole world that could make him genuinely angry. “I’m not anymore,” he said shortly.

“Are you really?” Chuuya asked, carefully neutral. “If I recall Akutagawa was following your orders on the Moby Dick.”

“You of all people should know about recovery,” Dazai jabbed.

Chuuya shrugged. “Sure, but you’re more like the Boss-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, or I’m letting Arahabaki kill you,” Dazai interrupted.

Chuuya sneered. “How many enemies have I faced where I needed Corruption? Anyway. You got your taste for sweet, young kids with powerful abilities from the Boss, didn’t you? I saw what the weretiger kid can do.”

Dazai found himself at a loss for what to do. This was the only argument Chuuya could win.

“Like I said,” Chuuya continued. “Treat him well, or I’m taking him.” He turned sharply on his heel and walked off without another word.

He may have been promoted later, but he was more popular by far.