Fictober 2016, such as it was, is technically over now, and guess who didn’t manage to make all the prompts:
This person.
I couldn’t have predicted the Flu.
Still, I made a fair few of them, so I thought, what the hell, let’s go over what I think of them:
Heart
This is actually the only fic so far where I’ve based it off a quirk of the phrase, most of the others I’ve taken fairly straight on. It wasn’t a very imaginative idea, where the obianidala ship a bigger tag there would be seven hundred of more or less the same fic, most of them with smut at the end.
Nonetheless I quite like how it turned out, I think it’s all more or less in character, maybe slightly more rushed than I’d have liked it ideally, but still within reason, part of the setup is that its before a bad battle. So there are excuses.
Cruel
I’m glad I wrote this, because Sith!Obi-Wan is a massive weakness of mine, but it is definitely not one of my strongest works. This is the only one of the fics I have two starts to, while I wanted to do a Sith!AU I was unsure of presicly where I wanted it to go. This turns out, in part, because I suck at writing Sith!AU. If I’d had more time I might have been able to polish it more, and it might be a little better, but what I’ve learnt from this one is: don’t. Also, I quite like writing Obianidala from their kids perspective. I might so that in the future.
Infinite
This one is entirely platonic, and post ROTJ, in force ghost form. I quite like how it turned out, but I don’t really have any strong feelings one way or the other for it. I do think I was right to keep it platonic though.
Domestic
Doing a domestic!Au for this prompt was very unoriginal, but I don’t really care. I like the utter mundane nature of the conflict in it, and I quite like the way it turned out. Partially my joke of turning the blue milk from Tatooine into blue capped milk you get in the supermarket. I like that joke.
Planetary
Aaarg! What made me think doing such a complicated AU for this was a good idea. I do remember being surprised by the fact that this turned out to not be a set piece of a ball, but that the more normal Star Wars level of violence intruded. That being said, I like the turn it took, and I think it resulted in a much better work than it would have been if I’d gone with the original plan.
Opal
This was where I started tearing my hair out at the prompts. And grouching to all my friends, mainly the grouching. I like my hair. My feelings on the fic on the other hand are distinctly meh. Were it someone elses, I would probably read it, kudos it, and then happily forget it ever existed. Was it the right choice to do a proposal fic? Probably not, but I still have no idea what else I could have done.
Righteous
Well mainly what I was surprised about in this fic was how people reacted to it. It is the odd one out in the series for a couple of reasons, namely that it was already a fic I wanted to write. I hadn’t done so, but the prompt seemed so right for it that I thought I’d give it a go. Apparently I did a good job, and I like how it turned out enough to write a sequel, so this is a pretty positive one.
 Apple
See Opal. Well, not really, I like how this turned out quite a bit better, but I’m still grumbling about the prompt. That being said, there were other things I could have done, it wasn’t as limited as I made it. I like the style of comedy here, but I think it would have worked better with a longer piece, with more plot.
I am going to write the rest of the prompts, but I have work to do, so that may take November. Who knows, I might do a reflection on those once I finish writing them.
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“It’s the most valuable Ethiopian opal ever mined,” Kasumi says dreamily, “mined in Wollo Province in 2067, 160 carats of black opal with excellent play of color.” Her eyes are unfocused, gazing into a distance only she can see. “Not quite as large as the Olympic Australis or Aurora Australis, the most valuable Australian opal. That one really is a beauty, pictures don’t do it justice.” Her fingers curl in, loosely, as if she’s holding something.
Leo’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “And did you steal that opal once, Kasumi?”
She keeps talking as if she hadn’t heard him. “Of course, neither of those can compare to the Galaxy Opal in size, but that is literally just a giant hunk of polished opal. It’s not exactly shaped. But that’s another matter entirely. This opal, though -- it’s going to be on display in New York for just a month, so…”
“Kasumi,” Leo says firmly. “Tell me you’re not planning to steal that opal.”
Kasumi blinks. Her eyes come back into focus. She wrinkles her nose and sighs. “Of course not. I’m retired.” She says this as if she doesn’t have a dozen paintings and curios scattered around her apartment that are probably worth millions. She also says it grudgingly.
“Right,” he says firmly.
“I always liked art theft better, anyway,” she says, as if that makes things better.
“Kasumi.”
She puts her feet up on the couch, knees bent. “I could go look, though. There’s no harm in looking.” She’s practically pouting.
“You certainly could,” he agrees.
She tilts her head to look up at him. “What if I really, really wanted it?”
Leo considers, and then leans down to kiss her on the forehead. “Do not steal the opal,” he says fondly. “Or any gems at all.”
a fill for fictober, one i rewrote 6 fucking times for f u c ks sake
Characters: Thranduil, Idhrenil bc who expects anything different at this point
AO3
Thranduil had to remember to breathe, simply here in her presence. Standing tall and elegant, Idhrenil looked every bit the queen that she was. The sight of her like this, still relatively new to him, made his heartbeat increase and his hands unsteady.
Idhrenil stood on the king's dais, looking up at the throne that was the main focal point of the grand open room. Her dress was a dark ivory, with fabric falling over the shoulders to give the illusion of a cape, and jewels across her torso shimmered occasionally when the light hit them just so. However, the thing that caught Thranduil's attention undeniably, was the crown of flowers that rested on her golden head. It gave her an air of authority that was as ethereal, as it was powerful.
Thranduil paused at the top of the steps leading to the dais. Idhrenil was turned mostly away from him, but he could tell by her shoulders, she was tense.
“This is an odd place to be lost in your thoughts, bereth nin.” Thranduil spoke quietly, coming to stand beside her.
Idhrenil tilted her head slightly, but remained silent; eyes transfixed on the throne. Thranduil placed a hand on her lower back, trying to gain her attention.
“I know,” she started slowly, leaning into his touch, “I just started walking and ended up...here.”
“It's not like you to wander aimlessly, Idhrenil. What's wrong?”
The outstanding queenly image that stood before him just a moment ago seemed to crumble and Idhrenil visibly deflated. Thranduil's brows furrowed in confusion and he quickly pulled her against his body, feeling her tense muscles loosen considerably.
“I-I don't know. I have a lot on my mind, recently, and it seems like I'm unable to process my thoughts.” She made a face and shrugged. “It sounds silly.”
Thranduil shook his head, “no, it doesn't. Idhrenil, I'm here for you, if you need to talk about anything. Perhaps I can help you with your thoughts, we could go to the forest and-”
“King Thranduil, Queen Idhrenil!”
Idhrenil pulled away when Thranduil straightened, her shoulders tensing again. A guard stood at the base of the stairs to the king's dais, attempting to cover his discomfort at interrupting them with a blank look, but failing miserably.
“My-my lord, my lady. Lord Lamaenor has requested to see you.” The guard stammered, bowing his head.
Opening his mouth to question who Lamaenor thought he was, Thranduil was quickly cut off by Idhrenil - who shifted away from her husband and started down the stairs. As if nothing more than a second thought, she took to being a queen again, her uncertain expression morphing back into a mask of kind warmth and subtle authority. She smiled at the guard, and spoke to him softly, “thank you for informing us. Can you please tell Lamaenor that we will receive him in the council room as soon as we are able?”
“Of course, my lady.”
Idhrenil thanked him again as he bowed and left. Her husband scoffed as he joined her stride towards the council room. As irritated as he was at Lamaenor to think he could summon the king and queen whenever he liked, Thranduil was far more upset that Idhrenil appeared ready to ignore how she felt. As if sensing his thoughts, she looked up at him, her smile looking more sad than reassuring.
“If I promise to talk to you later, can you at least attempt to remove that scowl from your handsome face?” Idhrenil asked, taking his arm as they walked. Their pace was slow, the lord could wait. Â
“I'm not scowling,” Thranduil complained, before tucking her a bit closer, “and perhaps, only if you truly mean to.”
“Well, if it will make your beautiful face relax...” Idhrenil's smile seemed a bit more genuine now. “Meleth nin, I promise to have a deeper discussion about how I feel, later. Right now we have to attend to one of our council members.”
Rolling his eyes, Thranduil attempted to relax the scowl he swore he wasn't wearing. “Fine, bereth vell nin, whatever you command.”
Her smile shifted into a knowing smirk, “indeed and don’t you forget it, aran nin.”
All three Asturian princesses maintained journals. Each one was fond of keeping a record of her memories but the manner in which they did so differed as much as their personalities did.
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Having been somewhat waylaid at the actual date, on their way back home Anakin and Obi-Wan look for a last minute present for Padme, the only place they can: A Garden Center. Of course it doesn't exactly go to plan.
Ao3
 Apple- the round fruit of a tree of the rose family, which typically has thin green or red skin and crisp flesh.
Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker walked into a garden centre. That in itself was an unusual, indeed unprecedented, event. The fact Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi followed him in? That, at least in comparison, would have been of no surprise to anyone. Â
“You were the one who forgot her birthday.”
“You forgot it too.” Anakin pointed out. “At least I have an excuse.” He looked around the foyer of the garden centre. “Do you think she’d like a traditional Naboo Plant, or something more romantic?”
“I was imprisoned by pirates,” Obi-Wan pointed out mildly, grabbing a basket. “And she’s your wife, shouldn’t you know when her birthday is?”
“Excuses,” Anakin teased. “Besides, I was rescuing you.” Then he added, “And she’s your girlfriend. Shouldn’t you?”
Obi-Wan sighed, and cast his eyes around for ideas. Well that was a promising sign. Literally.  “Shall we go and see what the Naboo section has?”
“Well,” Anakin considered. “It’s a place to start.” He looked around, hoping for a signal, or a hint as to which way was the right way. “Providing we can find it.”
“Sign’s behind you.” Obi-Wan pointed out, steering his boyfriend around. “I was perfectly capable of rescuing myself by the way.”
“You always say that.” Anakin said as they passed the petunias. “You never are.”
“I always am,” Obi-Wan objected. “I just never have a chance to because someone-“ he looked pointedly at Anakin, “always charges in with no plan and skews all of mine to the point where they’re unusable.”
“Well,” Anakin declared, “If I always do it, then you should know to plan for it by now.” He then strode on ahead.
Obi-Wan couldn’t really react to that. And not just because Anakin had disappeared. Again.
“Okay,” Obi-Wan sighed, finding Anakin two hours later, “How did you manage to find the last remnants of the separatist army at a garden centre?”
Anakin shrugged. “I think you mean how did you?”
“You were the one who disappeared.” Obi-Wan muttered in a low whisper. A clanker walked past the cupboard they were hiding in.
“And you were the one who opened the door and found them.” Anakin hissed back. The clanker turned back in their direction. “Remind me why we’re not out there fighting them?”
“Because we don’t know how many of them there are.” Obi-Wan whispered back. “Wait and see.”
“New strategy for you.” Anakin commented.
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes in the darkness.
A moment later Anakin whispered again. “What are we putting on the label?”
“Love from Anakin and Obi-Wan,” Â
Anakin frowned. “But that puts me first, and it’s your idea. It should be Obi-Wan and Anakin.”
“Anakin and Obi-Wan is alphabetical, and easier to say.” Obi-Wan argued. A different clanker tore the door open. Obi-Wan sliced its head off.
“Now we have to deal with that lot.” Anakin said, igniting his lightsabre.
“Yep.” Obi-Wan agreed as half the droids in the garden centre began converging on them. “Do we at least have a deal on the label?”
“No!” Anakin insisted. “You should be first.”
“Anakin!” Obi-Wan yelled, then relaxed once his partner dispatched the droid that had just hit his hand. “Will you watch your flank?”
“Relax,” Anakin rolled his eyes. “I had it,”
“Sure,” Obi-Wan said, sarcastically. “Just like you have writing a label.”
“It’s for Padme okay,” Anakin justified before cutting a hole in the ceiling for no reason Obi-Wan could see and jumping through it. Once again stopping Obi-Wan from responding. Â
He just sighed instead, reflecting the blaster bolts back at the last few droids on this floor. Now where had his partner gotten to?
“62,” Anakin said when he finally saw him again, kicking a head over towards Obi-Wan. “You?”
“59,” Obi-Wan sighed, then gestured to Anakin’s arm. “But unlike you I don’t have a bloody limb.”
“No,” Anakin sighed, “For once you don’t seem to.” He stepped over the small pile of droids separating them and kissed him. “Luckily for you.” Â
“Why are we putting a label on the present?” Obi-Wan asked. “Padme will know who it’s from, it’s us giving it to her.” Â
Anakin considered it for a moment, forgetting about his arm. “Huh.”
Neither of them had considered that.
“That’d work.” Anakin admitteded eventually. “What are we doing with these anyway?”
Obi-Wan looked around and shrugged. “Don’t know. Do you want to see about the plant first?”
“Sure,” Anakin agreed.
Obi-Wan looked around at the beds of small yellow flowers. “What were you thinking in terms of plants?”
“I don’t know.” Anakin shrugged, looking around at the rather dazzling display of plants. Ignoring the droid corpses now they were no longer relevant. “This was your idea in the first place. Shouldn’t you have done some research?”
“When I was captured by the pirates, or the few hours I was in medical?” Obi-Wan asked, also rather lost by all the choice. Also ignoring the dead droids.
“And when was I supposed to do it, when I was rescuing you, or when I was reporting into the Council?”
“Oh,” Obi-Wan was genuinely surprised, if playing it up. “You reported into the council.”
Anakin paused, then swatted Obi-Wan on the head.
Obi-Wan grinned, then handed him the basket. “Here. I’m going to go and see if I can see anyone who knows anything about Naboo gardens.”
“Right.” Anakin found himself with arms full of a metal basket, and nothing else to do. He started looking at the shelves.
The pink ones were pretty, but Padme wasn’t that fond of pink. And Anakin had never seen them around any of Padme’s houses or ships, so he doubted she was fond of them. He wondered up the aisle, they were all so unfamiliar.
What would she like? It had to be perfect.
“Anakin?” Obi-Wan send through their bond. “Where have you gone?”
Anakin sighed, then went to find his partner. “Any luck?”
“No-one who knew anything about Naboo in particular, but a lovely lady recommended roses for romantic apologies.”
“Any particular reason?” Anakin asked, while looking around for any label that said roses.
“Tradition?” Obi-Wan shrugged. “I know the flower, they’re pretty.”
Anakin looked along at some of the large bushes. “Hey, here’s one!”
Obi-Wan hurried over.
It was quite an attractive plant with lots of leafage in a deep green colour. There were a few white buds just showing. Sure enough Obi-Wan bent down and looked at the label.
Honeycrisp Trees, a member of the rose family.
It was pretty, it was a rose, and it was within their, more limited than it should be, budget.
Right.
Anakin picked one of them up and put it in his basket, before passing the basket back to Obi-Wan.
“I’m expected to carry this am I?” Obi-Wan called after Anakin set off.
“Hey, moisture’s bad for my hand!” Anakin yelled back over his shoulder.
Obi-Wan pointed out that he should have thought of that before he jumped into half a dozen lakes. Although, in fairness, Obi-Wan has ended up falling into at least half of those as well.
Anakin had crashed the ships.
Mostly.
Two, reasonably uneventful weeks later they presented the tree to Padme, to her delight and amusement. She, at least, knew which particular subgroup of the rose family the Honeycrisp was part of. She was appreciative anyway.
After all, the flowers were indeed pretty, on the occasion they bloomed. The fruit was nicer, especially given it was fresh. Fresh Nabooian apples on Coruscant, it might have been an accident, but Obi-Wan and Anakin could hardly have got her a better present.
Simon blinks. He has been watching Dorian play with the dying fire, making the flames rise and fall in a gentle rhythm. It’s hypnotically soothing, and at the end of a long day, he’d been half asleep already. “Does what bother me? You being Tevinter? Or ridiculously pretty? Because…”
“Me being a mage,” Dorian says.
He sounds pensive, and he did not even fend off the charge of being ridiculously pretty by saying there is no such thing, or anything else clever. Dorian gets this way sometimes, after a few glasses of wine: slightly melancholy, and prone to talking about things he wouldn’t otherwise bring up.
Simon decides to play along. “No. Why should it?”
Dorian’s quiet for a moment. The flames dance, flickering high, and then low. “With what they teach you in the south… It’s different in Tevinter, you know. Oh, people are afraid of powerful mages, and they should be, of course, but nobody thinks twice about displaying their magic. Quite a lot of people flaunt it. There’s magic in the stage shows, and people come out to the Circle to see the enchanters compete with each other. Here in the south, everyone’s so fearful.” He says it with distaste. “I thought at first everyone was afraid of the sinister Tevinter, but it’s not just that. Your mages hesitate, or flinch at their own magic. Even people like Vivienne, sometimes. It truly doesn’t bother you?”
Simon thinks about it, reaching out with one hand to rumple Dorian’s hair and getting a half-hearted grumble for his pains. “No. I should probably be more afraid of magic than I am, to tell the truth.”
The flames in the fireplace twist together, like a rope, spinning in place. “Why aren’t you?”
“Probably because I’m not terribly smart,” Simon says, and twists away when Dorian tries to elbow him in the ribs. “No, now that I think about it… Rory’s magic came in when we were quite young. It should have frightened me, I suppose, the stables caught fire and everything. But I was more curious than anything else. And after that Rory went to the Circle, and everyone told me how dangerous magic was. I’m sure I’d been told that before, but I never was good at listening to our Chantry lessons. They were frightfully dull, I always wanted to know more about Andraste leading a rebellion, and they always wanted to go on about her singing to the Maker. So they told me magic was terrible, but I knew Rory, and I knew Rory hadn’t ever hurt anyone, so magic didn’t seem so bad.” He shrugged.
“You have such faith in people,” Dorian says, wonderingly. A tone like that makes Simon squirm. He’s nothing that special, really.
The fire crackles madly now, the flames nearly as high as the hearth. Simon says, “Just so long as you don’t set the rug on fire again.”
Dorian makes an indignant noise, but the flames fall to normal levels. “That was one time!”
“It was a memorable occasion,” Simon says, grinning, because it was memorable for more reasons than one. He steals a kiss while Dorian is still grumbling.
