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"I'm gonna getcha!"

"You'll have to catch me first!"

"That's the whole point, stupid!"

Two girls went sprinting down the street, giggling and waving sticks at each other. From a distance, they could have been mistaken for twins, with identical long brown hair tied up in matching ribbons by request to their respective mothers.

"Stupefy! You're dead!" the girl in front yelled.

"Nuh-uh!" the girl chasing after her yelled back. "You said that one only stuns people!"

"Well, now you're dead! So there!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Caitlyn! Faolan!" Mrs. Rosenberger appeared in her front door, drying her hands on a towel and giving the two girls a disapproving look. "Come inside, you're causing a ruckus."

Caitlyn sighed and trudged back to her mother, but Faolan happily skipped after her, sticking her arm through her friend's.

"Caitlyn, you know I told you to stop pretending magic was real," Mrs. Rosenberger said, putting a hand on her daughter's back and steering the girls inside. "You'll give Fwai the wrong ideas."

"Yes, Mummy," Caitlyn said. She and Faolan shared an impish smile, and they giggled. "Hey, wanna go play dolls?"

"Sure! Race you!" With a rush of pounding footsteps, the two girls disappeared upstairs and slammed the door shut.

Mrs. Rosenberger shook her head. Hopefully, when Caitlyn went to Hogwarts and she and Faolan inevitably grew apart, the Muggle girl would just imagine her friend's stories were just childish games.

There was a loud crack in the kitchen and Mrs. Rosenberger hurried in to see her husband hanging up his traveling cloak. "Faolan is over, so wands away," she warned. "And you'll need to change into Muggle things so—" She got a good look at his face, she felt her stomach drop. "What happened?"

"Fenrir Greyback," Mr. Rosenberger said darkly. He was shaking, she realized, and she put her hands on his shoulders, hoping to steady him somehow. "My team ran into him and some of his goons today. We took down two of them, but he escaped, and..." He ran a hand over his haggard face. "You know what he's like, Kelly..."

Mrs. Rosenberger's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh no..."

"I won't let it happen, I swear," her husband said. "I'll be setting up wards as soon as I get changed." He gave her a gentle kiss and went to do just that.

At the top of the stairs, the two girls scrambled back into Caitlyn's bedroom and quietly closed the door.

They looked at each other.

"Who's Fenrir Greyback?" Faolan whispered.

Caitlyn just shrugged.


"Fwai?"

Ix looked up from her arms, startled. "Hm?"

"You looked like you were zoning out there." Charlotte plunked herself down on the sofa next to Ix, swinging a foot idly. "Thinking hard about something?"

"Oh, no," Ix said, tugging her jacket's sleeves down a little further to hide the scars on her wrists. "Just dress measurements, that's all."

IIRC, regular chocolate uses Dutch-processed cocoa, whereas the chocolate in red velvet does not. Unless it's the other way around. But, one method results in cocoa that is lighter and more reddish than the other. This is then heightened with food coloring.

Whether or not this makes much of a difference to the flavor, I don't know.

~Neshomeh doesn't have time to look up the details right now, sorry.

And actually, the ramble was fine. I dunno why that story in particular got to me... :-(

Also, I think I'm glad you bucked the stereotypes? As a rule, that tends to be a good thing.

But anyways, yeah. ALL THE HYPE for your next prompt.

Errant responses:

- Thoth, go to bed, you clearly need more sleep. {= P

- Yep, V'ranen is gay. I decided to buck other stereotypes with him. He didn't really exist as more than a name before this (that I can remember), so I had some fun. In particular, I'd like to highlight that the greenrider is the one taking charge of the slightly younger, somewhat vulnerable bronzerider, the roles/ranks of their dragons notwithstanding.

Incidentally, if anyone thought Derik was on top, think again—nobody was. That's a terrible idea. ... Unless you know your dragon's cycles well enough to prepare, I guess, which is not something I ever intended to think about but there it is. Gah, logic, why you do this to me?

- ... That ramble probably didn't help, did it? {= (

- I am intrigued and a little frightened to know that naked racing might appear in future entries.

- My next one will involve Henry and Ilraen getting into shenanigans and being bros!

~Neshomeh

"The [player of the] female chooses" is how we did things in Pern RPs on Neopets, back when I was heavily involved with that. OTOH, in Dragonflight, there's a wonderful line from R'gul, IIRC, explaining to Lessa that the strongest male doesn't always win—sometimes it's whoever the Weyr most wants to win. And sometimes it's who the dragon's rider wants to win. Also, FYI, in Dragonseye a.k.a. Red Star Rising, there's a conversation between women greenriders about what happens if a blue whose rider is not at all interested in women catches their green, and the answer is that both parties can have their preferred partner standing by, so everyone wins. We fans of a more progressive mindset make the most of that sort of thing. {= )

But I also like the idea that dragonriders, when properly acclimated to Weyr life, just aren't generally as fussed about sexuality and the expression thereof as we are in our woefully backward society. Really, why should they be? Holders are because they have to worry about bloodlines and succession, and because the population has been decimated a couple times due to Thread and plague, so reproduction is considered a vital duty to keep the human population from dying out. Dragonriders, on the other hand, have to be more concerned with the draconic population, so they're exempt from obligations about breeding themselves. Plus, they have to fight Thread, so being pregnant all the time isn't really an option for lady dragonriders. They can have kids if they want to—werybred kids are always valued—but they can take a short ride between if they don't.

It's also worth bearing in mind that, the weird ideas of the author aside, everything is extremely effed up at the start of the Ninth Pass. Nobody is doing anything the way they were really intended.

... Oh look, I've accidentally written an essay about Pern in response to a four-sentence post. You'd think I was deeply immersed in this fandom for years or something. >.>

Ahem. Anyway. Trust me, the angst is deliberate. I'm evil enough that the narrative irony of then vs. now makes writing these backstory pieces more fun. (And resurrecting some of my horde of Pern OCs is nice, too.)

And thanks!

~Neshomeh

My entire family, on my mom's side, who are well over 40, learned this Christmas that Red Velvet, is not in fact, a new flavor, but simply chocolate with red food coloring.

I will never say no to more Derik. Love him.

As is now traditional, my errant observations:

-I somehow missed that Cheladoth was green on my first reading. Cue double-take later in the story.

-It's also always nice to see Derik happy. Rare though it may be.

-Is V'ranen gay? Wait, I think he is. Normally, I wouldn't ask, but I know your stance here. And I agree, the canonical explanation is really stupid.

-My occasional discomfort with human sexuality made itself known while reading this. Yaaaaay... /sarcasm.

Yes, that's really a thing I have sometimes. Discord folks, or... uh... anyone here who's conversed with me for any length of time, feel free to laugh it up. I know I do.

-I've talked to some other people about what they may do for this prompt. Counting this, "Naked people and racing" has come up more than once. Strange.

-Yay for good handling of mating flights like this and for all that stuff! Woo!

-Ooh, more responses. Fun.

Stop telling people to write, and stop telling them how to write.

You actually found a logical explanation. Skarm, if you're reading, The Big Mac replacement of Sweet Apple Massacre should be the first to die with this method.

Now, this here—this is how I wish the mating flights had been handled in the books. (Maybe they were in the later ones; I'm mostly just familiar with the ones about Lessa and F'lar.)

Seeing Derik before he lost his dragon was nice, and it... makes how he is now kind of more painful, actually. Kudos for activating my angst sensors in a fluff piece. :P

Cheladoth screamed at them one more time over her drained wherry, then launched into the air. In a flurry of blue, brown, and bronze wings, they followed.

Skepnadth thrilled to the power of his wings. It had been too long since he’d flown, really flown, and he roared out his joy at regaining his supremacy in the sky. Each wingbeat sent a delicious rush of wind over his body, hot with the blood of the herdbeast he’d killed racing through his veins; hot with the southern sun on his glossy, dark bronze hide; hot with desire for his pretty green wingmate.

Usually the lambent shade of the sea after a storm, Cheladoth now gleamed enticingly jade as she darted away from her suitors. She was two Turns older, more experienced, and fast. In the time it had taken Skepnadth to get off the ground, she had already climbed over the treetops. The blues, only a little larger than she, were close behind, but she was too clever for them. When one got too near, she turned on a tailtip and changed course, weaving sinuously through the air like a dolphin through water. She, too, reveled in her prowess, and did not intend for her flight to be arrested so easily.

Skepnadth knew he could catch her. She was fast, but he was strong: he could outlast her and outstrip the lesser males in her train. His only real competition was the other bronze, Arnoth. He flew wingsecond, and not for nothing: he was smart, his conformation excellent with a bright, brassy hide, and he was brave and tireless in Threadfall. Skepnadth’s race was against him.

The two kept an eye on each other as they beat their way past the flagging blues and sought to gain the edge on the trio of browns who were still keeping up. Cheladoth was showing off now, pretending to fall back only to twist away and put on another burst of speed when one of them fell for it. Skepnadth saw that she couldn’t keep it up much longer, though, and he knew Arnoth knew it, too. Her color was less bright, her turns less sharp. It was just a matter of time before she’d have to choose or let the competition choose for her.

The young bronze wanted her to choose him. He’d show her he was the best dragon here—the best on Pern!

He filled his lungs to their limit and let out a great bugle that would have shaken leaves off the trees if they weren’t so high aloft. The others answered with startled challenges of their own. In that moment, just when everyone’s eyes were on him, he pumped his wings as hard as he could and shot out ahead of the pack. He was right below Cheladoth. She tilted her head down toward him with a flirtatious call, then climbed up, away. He followed.

Arnoth was right behind him, and gaining. Skepnadth cut across his path, blocking him, but losing momentum. The other bronze turned, almost as nimbly as a green, and the two spiraled around one another. Skepnadth couldn’t get past him; any way he turned, Arnoth turned, too, the perfect mirror. He hissed in frustration. Cheladoth had stooped down to loop them, taunting them with her nearness, and one of the browns was making a bid to catch up while the bronzes kept each other trapped.

Skepnadth couldn’t allow it. There would be one chance: one moment when Cheladoth was nearer to him than to Arnoth, and he could break away. He just had to see it coming.

It came! There she was, just beneath him. He folded his wings, dropped like a stone, and threw out his claws. Cheladoth squawked in surprise and tried to roll out of reach, but too slow: her claws rotated into range, and he snagged them in his own. Their necks twined together. Skepnadth opened his wings with a leathery snap, and together, they glided.

---

When it was over, the two riders put their pants back on and sat side by side on the edge of the shelter’s bed, regaining their bearings. It was warm, since privacy wouldn’t allow for the wide open windows generally required in the South, but the wind had changed, and a welcome breeze off the ocean blew in through narrow slats below the roof.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” V’ranen asked. The dark-skinned Istan gently turned E’rik’s head toward him with two fingers beneath his chin and examined the shiny, white and red Threadscars on the right side of his face. “I tried to go easy on you, but you know how it is . . . ”

E’rik shrugged. “Well, you didn’t make it all better—but you could hardly make it worse.” He tried to smile without looking like he was leering. In fact, he’d lost sensation in that side of his face, and with it, mobility.

V’ranen looked dubious, so E’rik added, “We’ve been cleared for between flight for a sevenday. If I’m healed enough for that, I’m healed enough for this. And it was good timing. Skepnadth needed the boost to his confidence.”

V’ranen was kind enough not to comment on the blatant falsehood beyond a skeptical “Uh-huh.”

Of course, in the manner of dragonkind, Skepnadth barely remembered the accident anymore. It was his rider who suffered the worst of it, both physically and emotionally, and was still reeling from the blow to his self-assurance. After all, it was E’rik’s lapse in judgement that had resulted in them both being scored. After letting his dragon down so badly, it was he who needed to renew his faith in the strength of their bond. The exultant merging of their psyches in a successful mating flight had been just the antidote.

Currently, he felt Skepnadth’s replete satisfaction with himself as he curled more snugly around Cheladoth in the wallow outside. I never doubted us, he murmured sleepily.

In V’ranen’s weyr, E’rik chuckled. “Anyway, thanks,” he said, giving the greenrider a companionable clap on his bare shoulder. “I hope I wasn’t . . . you know . . . terrible to be with.”

“Oh, no worries. Anything for a wingmate in need, and Cheladoth likes Skepnadth.” V’ranen smiled, his teeth standing out brilliantly in his dark face. “In fact, if you find you have green fancies after all, feel free to seek me out again.”

“I don’t think you can use that expression anymore,” E’rik said, flattered and a little embarrassed. “More girls are Impressing greens all the time.”

V’ranen shrugged. “I’m sure the girls won’t turn you away, either. Seriously, if you’re worried about this . . . ” he touched the back of his fingers to E’rik’s scarred cheek, “don’t be. Anyone who can’t see past it isn’t worth it.”

E’rik hadn’t allowed himself to dwell much on his drastically altered appearance—he was lucky to be alive, and wallowing in depression wasn’t fair to Skepnadth—but he hadn’t completely accepted it, either. The other man’s reassurance buoyed his spirits, and he nodded.

“Thank you, V’ranen. For everything.”

---

I don't have a proper title for this yet, but the subtitle is "How Derik Got His Groove Back." The first time, anyway. {= )

I don't like using his original name, because doing dragonrider names that way is stupid and irritates me, but I didn't feel right changing it, either, so "E'rik" it is. Sigh.

As he points out, I could easily have had a female greenrider in V'ranen's place due to when this is set, but I preferred to show a healthy example of what happens when a straight guy ends up in this situation, because if you think about it, it obviously happens a lot. And it doesn't have to be OMG awkward and horrible for him if everyone understands about these things and nobody is judging anyone for it. So there.

I've got another fill for this prompt in mind, so hopefully, with doctorlit's help, I'll get it up before the next one rolls around!

~Neshomeh

there has been and still is a very obvious bat infestation. If you are there at the school pursuing an extracurricular activity during the dark hours, you will probably see one.

I used to go to a school that was some sort of hexagon on the inside of a triangle. It is rumored to have been designed by a prison architect. Every day, I would gather my supplies, walk down a hallway, suddenly arrive at a wing of the school I could have sworn was in the opposite direction, and after minutes of aimless meandering, I would wind up right back where I started. I ended up having to grab hold of a good friend's backpack, with whom I shared the next class, in order to navigate the place - either that or bury my nose in a map and hope for the best.

I am the first one to accuse myself of having no sense of direction, but even my navigationally-gifted friends were not able to consistently arrive in the place they intended to arrive until a year or more had passed. Department of Geographic Aberrations, please send someone to investigate.

Hang on, I'm getting another report through... apparently the weather report says 'Wetter', so they're hunting for their umbrellas now...

hS, who did in fact once wonder why all the exits pointed to Ausfahrt...

I know they used to be (Balrog, Aragog, about a million different dragons), but I admit I've not kept up with the recent OFUs and mini-creations. I feel the Lotus fits very nicely into the traditional mode, and I'm an old-fashioned sort of person so I like that; but if the more recent ones have been of the fuzzy animal variety then the flying sheep would work fine.

(I'm also, generally speaking, against minis which look different 'depending on'. Mini-Balrogs all looked the same and liked it! See previous 'old-fashioned curmudgeon' comment.)

hS

>swords were mostly a sidearm and not a main weapon historically.

I didn't know that. So it looks like my number's up.

Anycase, yeah. If you've got uncommon and weird facts, share those too! Who am I to complain about cool stuff?

Especially because most badfics for this fandom were written before A Wizard of Mars came out. Maybe mini-Takath for post-AWOM fics (yes, those are the scorpions; they were modeled off of real animals the "Martians" had, though!), mini-whatever-those-fluffy-flying-sheep-things-in-Wizards-Holiday-were for the others?

... Because the nature of the Lucky 10,000 is that you don't think it's noteworthy until you encounter someone who doesn't know it. Following the idea of the Lucky 10,000 will just lead to a thread full of common facts like how swords were mostly a sidearm and not a main weapon historically.

So, here's an uncommon fun fact in case people want to talk about those instead: Water doesn't conduct electricity. The stuff dissolved in water does; if you have a circuit to power a light bulb, cut one of the wires into two pieces, and dip both pieces in distilled water, the light bulb won't turn on. Try it with tap water and it will light up.

Lots Of Trouble, Usually Serious. =]

Everyone knows umlauts are afraid of light. :-P

...Ooh! A Zorkmid. I'll pass it off to Tom. He's got quite the collection, as they seem to be leaking into HQ.