#the whumptober mood

[ceruleanmindpalace]

Inktober No. 9 - Omniscient + Bruises

This is unfinished. It is not at all what I had in mind for how it should look like in the end.

I messed up and accidentally painted it all on the sketch layer (again - *eye roll*). Fixing it would mean start from the beginning. I am a mess because my depression is pretty bad at the moment and I guess this work reflects that. I couldn't get myself to giving it another try.

The plan was a watercolour piece - in colour, with a proper background, but...

Prompts from @bluebellofbakerstreet's amazing prompt list and the @whumptober prompt list for Inktober 2024.

I am flattered if you reblog, but do NOT post my art on other sites/social media or use in any other way without my written permission.

[gratuiciel]

bad toman timeline + text posts

[guroseinsei]

whumptober is so fun cause you'll look at a character and go, yeah ill break his bones. then ill put him into a cage and make him go mad with pain and hallucinogens. and why wouldn't i let him get thrown around a little and nearly bleed to death. and of course he should live through his trauma all over again. but wait, wait, i can't forget the most fun part of making sure he thinks he's been abandoned and useless and no one loves him too :D

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 7: Alleyway, “Can you hear me?”

Or: I take the bad mood I was in yesterday and give it to Legend

Warnings: mostly just canon-typical violence. Some injury.

Read on ao3

————————————————————

The stupid thing is, Legend easily could have avoided this.

If he’d been thinking at all about where he was walking, or the fact that he hadn’t brought any of his things with him, or just thinking, period, he would have realized he’d gotten rather far from where the Links were staying and gone off to the side of town that Time had taken one look at and said they should only go to in pairs.

But the argument he’d had with Wild was still rattling around his head, making his steps hard and angry, and he wasn’t thinking about where he was going a single bit.

“Nearly got Hyrule and Four killed and that’s how he reacts?” he growled as he stomped down an alleyway. “Gets mad at me for calling him out? Does he even care?!”

Legend kicked a pebble in his way, and continued to mutter angrily to himself.

“Gods, he’s less mature then Ralph, even Gulley would have known better,” he growled, consumed in his anger. “Has he never fought alongside anyone else?!”

“Sounds like you’ve had a rough evening.”

Legend froze, and slowly looked behind him, biting back a curse.

Somehow a group of people had come up behind him in the alleyway, sticking to the shadows so he couldn’t make out their faces. Legend sighed, and turned around to face all of them, hands on his hips.

“What do you want?” he snapped, and the figures chuckled, moving a little closer to him. They stepped into a patch of moonlight, and Legend could make out their faces, and nearly rolled his eyes. All men, all muscled, and all probably going to try and rob him.

Well joke’s on them, I don’t have my wallet with me, Legend thought with a smirk.

“We want your money, kid,” the one in front said with a smile. “And if you just hand it over, nice and easy, nobody has to get hurt.”

Legend snorted. “Uh-huh. Sure. Look, hate to disappoint you, but I actually don’t have any money on me. Sorry.”

The smile of the mugger turned more dangerous. “You must think we’re pretty stupid, kid. Nobody walks the streets in clothes like that unless they got rupees to spare.”

Legend crossed his arms, still annoyed at everything. “Look, I don’t have any money. And even if I did, I’d probably just give it to you guys to make you stop talking and leave me alone,” he snapped.

“Maybe he’s telling the truth, boss,” one of the other men said, and the one in front smirked a bit.

“Maybe he is. Or maybe he isn’t, but either way, those rings he’s wearing have got to be worth quite a bit. Not to mention I don’t like his attitude. I think he needs to be taught a lesson.”

Legend took a step back, feeling a bit worried now.

“Look you morons, I don’t want to have to hurt you,” he growled, continuing to slowly back up. The only weapons he had on him were the small dagger he kept in case of emergencies (slipped in his boot, which would be difficult to grab and only so much use against multiple assailants), and his fists, which while not totally useless, were once again not the best while outnumbered.

Running it was.

Legend’s eyes darted around as he continued to back up, looking for space to escape through. He tensed as he was about to whip around and bolt, then felt his back bump against something.

His stomach sank, and he turned around and saw another man grinning at him, larger then all the others.

“Well. Guess we’re doing this the hard way,” Legend muttered, and the men rushed him.

He held his own for quite a while considering, especially since the moment he’d pulled out his dagger it had gotten knocked out of his hand and lost to the shadows of the alleyway. Legend gave as much as he took, kicking and punching, using the (unfortunately mostly useless) rings on his hands to his advantage.

But he was horribly outnumbered, and the alley wasn’t the most spacious of places to fight in. Legend tried more then once to just slip past the men attacking him and run, but there wasn’t enough space for him to maneuver, and he was rapidly losing the fight.

Way to go Hero of Legend, really living up to your name, he thought angrily as a kick caught him on the side, making him stumble. Really superb fighting skills being showcased here today.

A knee went up and got him in the stomach, and Legend doubled over, coughing at the air knocked out of him. The men took the opportunity to rain blows down onto him while he gasped for air, and Legend couldn’t do much other then try to stumble away.

A fist caught him right on the eye as he stumbled (oh fantastic, now it would be purple for the next week), and Legend reeled, yelping as a leg managed to kick his feet out from under him.

He fell to the ground, and before he could do anything but realize he was in fact, on the ground, something loomed over him.

And suddenly a knife buried itself in his leg.

Legend let out a pained yell and swung his fist out towards his assailant, but he missed, and soon more kicks were aimed at his ribs and fists were pummeling him and Legend was seriously regretting coming out here all alone as he curled up and tried to protect his head.

Then he heard a shriek.

The fists paused in their assault, and Legend heard someone shouting something, another voice yelling in response. The sounds paused, then Legend heard something heavy hit the ground, then footsteps bolting away from him.

He didn’t move though, not wanting to uncurl in case any of the men were still there and wanting to punch him some more. He wasn’t convinced they hadn’t cracked any ribs, and he was slightly afraid to move.

Lighter footsteps came towards him, a hiss of sympathy accompanying them as they came to a stop.

And then a voice that Legend unfortunately recognized.

“Legend? Hey, can you hear me?!”

“Mm, loud’n clear...” he muttered out of the side of his face that wasn’t swelling. A finger prodded at his eye, and Legend smacked at it, gasping as the movement jarred the knife still in his leg.

He reluctantly pried open his not-purple eye, and looked up at about the last person he wanted to see right now.

Wild crouched above him, his face splashed with worry as he took in Legend’s battered body. Legend pointedly looked away, gingerly sitting up. He hissed at the movement, parts of himself he didn’t even know he had throbbing with pain, but he waved off Wild’s outstretched arm, managing to sit up by himself.

“Fantastic,” he muttered venomously, feeling around the knife in his leg. Oh, it was his own dagger. Real funny, guys. “Now the old man is going to have that awful worried-disappointed look he always gets and somebody is going to lecture me.”

“I know that feeling,” Wild said, and Legend pointedly didn’t look at him. “Um, can you stand? ...All our potions are back at the inn.”

“Yeah.”

Legend moved his aching arms beneath him, then quickly pushed himself upright, gasping as the knife was jarred.

His leg suddenly gave out on him, but instead of face planting onto the cobblestones like he’d expected, two arms shot out and supported him, stopping him from falling. Legend sighed, and would’ve pressed his hand to the bridge of his nose if his face hadn’t hurt so much.

“I... don’t think you can walk,” Wild said a little awkwardly, and Legend rolled his eyes.

“Genius deduction, Champion. I wonder where all that brainpower was earlier,” he snapped, leg still throbbing.

Wild went silent, and Legend ignored the sliver of regret that immediately rose in the wake of his words.

The champion didn’t say anything further as he shifted his grip around to better support Legend, slinging an arm under his shoulder. He began to walk, and Legend limped on silently beside him, the air between them as thick as the shadows they were walking through.

“I’m sorry.”

Legend raised an eyebrow over at Wild, who nervously met his eyes. “What?”

“I’m sorry. For... for endangering the others,” Wild continued, shame thick in his voice. “I wasn’t thinking about how the bomb arrows would set off the dodongos, even though Time said they were volatile, you were right. It was a stupid course of action. I nearly got Hyrule killed. Four’s still unconscious.”

His voice wavered a little on the last word, but Wild quickly smoothed it.

“You were right to yell, I deserved it,” he finished in a quiet voice.

Legend sighed, and felt his anger drain, replaced with a heavy tiredness that made all his bruises ache more.

“...It was in the heat of battle,” he replied quietly. “You didn’t really have time to think. And we were pretty outnumbered. If you hadn’t taken them out when you did, we’d all probably be in pretty bad shape.”

“...like you?” Wild said with a hesitant smile.

Legend smirked. “Yeah. Like me.”

He sighed again, and looked Wild in the eyes (as best he could with one of them swollen beyond belief anyway), making sure he was looking.

“...thanks for saving me. I owe you one.”

Wild’s face broke into a relieved smile at the apology, and he squeezed Legend’s shoulder. “We’re even, Vet. Don’t worry about it.”

Legend smiled back, even though it hurt, and let himself be supported by Wild’s weight a bit more as they walked through the streets. They were both silent again, but the awkward air had fled, left with something much more comfortable.

“One more thing Champion,” Legend said after a while. “You uh... maybe don’t tell the others I was so distracted I got snuck up on and stabbed?“

Wild’s face split in a grin. “I dunno Vet, I haven’t had any good blackmail on you in a while.”

Legend gasped in betrayal. “You said we were even!”

“Well I don’t know Ledge, there were four guys. Maybe you owe me one for each.”

“That’s criminal and you know it!”

“Well actually I think those guys were the criminals really—”

“Champion!”

Their argument continued the whole way back, mostly lighthearted, and the others heard them coming long before they reached the inn.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

He Runs, She Follows (Skyward Sword ficlet)

Whumptober day 15 - Suppressed suffering, "I'm fine."

There was something calming about the wind. It was a constant companion up in the skies, always caressing or pushing or fighting or helping. It sang or it screamed, carried leaves or uprooted plants. It was always there, always present, a familiarity in a world of change.

The wind on the Surface was different. Its noise was different, a rustling and whistling as it passed through mountains and trees. There were so many barriers to the wind on the Surface that sometimes there was no wind at all. The silence, the stillness of the air… it had been one of the most disturbing facets of that strange new world.

Link sat atop a lone sky island, staring down at the clouds beneath his feet as he dangled his legs over the edge. His loftwing lay curled up and fluffed beside him, feathers gently tickling his right ear. The wind played with his hair and his companion’s plumage alike, peppering a spritz of moisture against his face. His loftwing buried his head further into his feathers, fluffing up further against it.

The world looked so small down below. It was amazing how it was so vast. So empty. So overwhelming.

So exhausting.

Link had never been a particularly energetic person, but his energy had been present. He just wasn’t the best at directing it into focus sometimes. But ever since his journey… he’d just had no energy at all.

He’d tired to attribute it to his illness that he’d gotten at the end. Apparently he’d almost died. He remembered very little of it, and it… honestly didn’t bother him or surprise him that much. He supposed he should be more upset that he almost died, or grateful that he hadn’t, but… it wasn’t his first time almost dying on his adventure, and honestly… he didn’t have the energy to care.

Zelda was safe. It was over. That was all that mattered.

But it wasn’t over, was it? There was no going back to the way things were. He wouldn’t want to go back to the way things were. He was exhausted, but he was restless too. He hated the mixture, such a strange sensation of anxiety, of needing to do something, but also wanting to do absolutely nothing. His mind and body were constantly at war and he never could tell who won anymore. All he knew was he wanted to be alone.

He��� felt so empty. His mind, once filled with contentment, was instead blank. When someone approached him he would grow irritable. Today he even started getting short with Zelda, and that was when he’d decided to fly away for a bit.

What’s wrong with me? Why am I always so tired now? I mean… I used to be sleepy before, but this is…

It wasn’t the same. Link wasn’t the best sleeper – he would go in spurts, and he often stayed up most of the night with bouts of energy that would end up with wood carvings aplenty and late morning sleeping and naps anywhere he could find them. But now… even sleep didn’t fix it. There wasn’t enough sleep in the world to heal whatever was wrong with him. And he hated it. It scared him and hurt him and he hated it.

Crimson stirred, his head poking out of his feathers, and he gently bumped his beak against Link’s head. The Skyloftian glanced up at his companion, tired eyes meeting wide, curious ones, and the knight-in-training crumpled in on himself a little. He hadn’t even been spending as much time with his loftwing as he used to because he just hadn’t had the energy to take care of him. The innocent gaze from his beloved companion was enough to make guilt settle into his heart, and he felt all the more wretched for it.

How much time had he wasted lying around doing nothing now? How many people could he have helped? How many times did he almost refuse to help others during his journey as it had dragged on? How often had he pushed Zelda away since its completion? How much had be abandoned his loftwing? Had he even spoken to Groose in the last few days? What was wrong with him?

His eyes stung, but the wind dried his tears before they could fall too far, its whooshing call covered his hiccups as he leaned into his loftwing, hugging his neck.

He almost missed the call of another loftwing over all the noise and emotion, but Crimson stiffened and perked up, calling back. Link hastily wiped the tears away, looking out to see Indigo, Zelda’s loftwing, circling the island. When his eyes caught movement below the loftwing, he saw that Zelda had leapt off and glided down to meet him.

Link tried to muster the strength for a smile. He really did.

“Hey,” Zelda said a little hesitantly. Her soft voice and careful gaze cut into him like a knife. She was approaching like it was her fault he’d been mad earlier, she was trying so hard to be understanding and kind, it wasn’t fair that she had to deal with him like this.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that anyone on Skyloft had to deal with his lack of energy and short fuse. But most of all, he had no right to be putting any burden on Zelda.

Link swallowed the lump in his throat, chest too constricted to speak.

Zelda slid hesitantly down to the ground beside him. His loftwing clacked his beak welcomingly, nodding his head a little, and then returned to curling into his little fluffy ball.

“You okay?” Zelda asked, staring out into the distance.

Link immediately felt himself grow colder than the wind could ever make him. He bit his tongue, he thought of something completely irrelevant, something logical or distant or funny to shut off any emotional reaction he was having. “I’m fine.”

“You weren’t… acting fine earlier.”

That cloud in the distance looked like a kikwi. How lovely. Kind of cute too. “Sorry about that. I think I was just tired. But I’m fine.”

“If you’re tired… maybe we should go back to the academy? You can get some rest, I can get you something to eat and drink.”

Movement meant using energy. Skyloft meant people and dealing with socializing. He felt the anger return, prickling on the back of his neck.

He kept his mouth shut. He didn’t like the person he became when his exhaustion drove him to speak too sharply. Not to people who sincerely meant well, at least. So he just didn’t speak.

“Link?”

He felt like he was made of stone. Immovable and emotionless. But the anger still bubbled, spreading from his back to his chest, scrunching it in like bunched up cloth in his hands. He bit back words once more.

“Link, what’s wrong?”

She didn’t deserve to be treated like this. She didn’t. It wasn’t like she hadn’t gone through hell and back, like she hadn’t had to sacrifice herself to protect everyone. Had he even considered how her journey had left her feeling? Especially since Impa had died?

“I’m sorry,” he finally choked out, and it was like opening a hatch to those geysers in the ancient cistern, because damn it all he could not keep his heart off his sleeve for long when it was bleeding so much. “I’m sorry I’ve been like this. I’m sorry I’m always tired. I’m sorry I’m—”

I’m not okay. I’m not okay I’m not okay I’mnotokay—

The silence was filled with the wind. It pushed the words back into him, pushed the thoughts away so he could just… exist again. Zelda’s eyes were intense on him, a heaviness and heat that was scorching him like the sun, but he ignored her, continuing to look at the kikwi shaped cloud.

“I’m sorry too.”

Link finally looked at her. Her gaze was on her hands, which were bunching up fistfuls of her skirt.

“Don’t,” he immediately said before emotions caught his voice in a chokehold. He swallowed against it. “Don’t be sorry.”

“This is my fault,” Zelda argued, her voice wobbling. “You almost died because of me, you’re exhausted because of me—”

“And if I wasn’t?” Link fired back, facing her, his anger spilling out of him. “If you hadn’t chosen me? If you were just down there alone with Impa? You would still be sealed away in that crystal, forever trying to hold Demise back only for the seal to break and for him to destroy everything and everyone. I would have died if you hadn’t chosen me.”

Everyone would have died. Not that Link was trying to emphasize that he rescued everyone… it honestly still didn’t really click. It felt wrong to even argue that point now. But what did feel right was to be angry, to immediately tear down Zelda’s faulty logic, to make sure she knew that this was not at all her fault.

But the tears on her face immediately made the anger recede, and he was left feeling guiltier than ever. He tried softening the blow. “Besides, Ghirahim’s a creep, and you definitely would’ve met him if he wasn’t too busy whining to me about everything.”

This finally pulled a laugh from his friend, though a sad little hiccup followed, and she wiped her tears away. It gave Link a moment, just a moment, to find a shred of energy in himself to actually be empathetic.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated his earlier apology.

“You don’t get to start that too,” Zelda huffed sadly, giving him a weak punch in the arm. “If I can’t apologize, then you can’t.”

Honestly, he needed to apologize. His argument to Zelda had been correct – she couldn’t help the circumstances they had ended up in. She couldn’t help that destiny had demanded they sacrifice their innocence and sanity to protect everyone else from another war, from an apocalypse. But he could help snapping at everyone. He could help his own behavior. However, trying now, pushing past her rebuttal, would only bring the tears back and he… didn’t have the energy for that. He didn’t want to deal with that.

He felt so drained. He dropped the subject altogether.

“Link… are you sure you’re okay?”

This conversation was going in circles and it was going to drive him insane. Crimson grew agitated, sensing his own frustration.

“Look,” Zelda continued, rising to her feet. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong, but I know something is. And if you can’t talk about it, then… then okay. But… at least let me help?”

How the hell could she help?! What sort of help could anyone offer? He was just tired, he wanted to be left alone.

But this was Zelda. He couldn’t say that to her.

Link closed his eyes, and the wind blew harder. He took a deep breath, letting the moving air overinflate his lungs, giving him a dizzy spell, speeding up his heart rate as the gust pushed him back into the island a little bit. He tilted forward to fight it, losing himself to the sky for a moment.

Zelda was grieving and he had no right to add to that. Zelda was processing everything and he had no right to add to that.

“Let’s go back to Skyloft,” he said to appease her, though he didn’t move.

Zelda was quiet for a long time. When she finally acknowledged him with a small okay, it didn’t sound any more reassured than before. Crimson chittered anxiously, slowly standing and stretching one wing.

Link took another breath, energy flooding him with some unnamed emotion as the silence grew too deafening, the wind too quiet, Zelda’s stare too intense, and he pushed himself off the island altogether. The instant lift in his stomach, the immediate disappearance of the earth below, the sudden sensation of freefall overtook him, and goddess above he just wanted to be like this forever, freefalling with nothing to land on, nothing to hurt him, nothing to catch him, nothing to run to, and nothing to run from.

His loftwing flew alongside him, awaiting his call. The clouds grew closer, though the barrier they used to create was long gone. He passed through a small wisp of one and was instantly soaked and freezing, the air knocked out of his lungs. The jolt of reality came back to him, and his fingers found their way into his lips to whistle, bringing his loftwing below him.

When he started to climb once more, settled on Crimson’s back, Zelda and Indigo flew alongside him. He threw her a smile, and she gave a small one back.

The pair circled Skyloft for a minute or so before they both leapt off their mounts. Link landed closer to the academy so he could interact with as few people as possible. Zelda followed him.

“Link,” she called as he made his way to his room. He turned to her, and she gave another smile, small, hurting, but hopeful. “We’ll get better. I promise.”

Her words were so simple, and had so little energy behind them. She looked as exhausted as he felt. He was overcome with guilt once again, but this time he didn’t have energy to maintain it. Instead, he just walked towards her, falling easily into her embrace as the two leaned against each other. He remembered catching her just a week or so ago when she had exited that wretched crystal. He remembered how she’d trembled when she’d been walking alongside him. He held her tightly, trying to support her, but by all that was holy all he wanted to do was just sink into her arms as she had into his. But he wouldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t.

“We will,” he promised in return.

[fugitivehues]

Whumptober 13. Cold Compress

[kazimakuwabara]

Monkies And The Weasel

Summary: The game comes to an end. But the Weasel is triumphant in his end. (Meant to be Whump, but it just hurts!) Lupin the third fanfiction

Words: about 1k.

Was inspired by the prompt "If only we could hold on"

***

It was a game, even when someone got hurt, even when someone died. It was all a gag of laughs. They were a barrel of monkeys running around in circles, chasing the weasel, and being chased by the weasel. They ran, and ran, laughing, smiling, and taking swipes at the soft spots on the back of each other's heads. It was so fun, so fun, so dizzying and fun!

All around the mulberry bush, the monkeys chased the weasel.

And at the Pop, they’d switch places and the weasel chased the monkeys.

Pop!

Switch.

Pop!

Switch.

Again, and again, and again, and again, until-

BANG.

The gunshot echoed too loudly, and the air shifted. Lupin stopped laughing, his foot stuck in the rung of a ladder. Jigen and Goemon had a hold of his arms, pearls, and diamonds hanging off their necks like a stream of dazzling stars. Fujiko was in the pilot’s seat of the helicopter, the passenger seat filled with bags of money and her share of gems. A tiara with a golden veil glittered in her hair.

Her golden honey color, and the strands of dazzling twinkles dripping from his two closest friends became grizzly and grotesque at the sound of that gunshot, and a short cut-off cough.

Air being punched out of a lung. Lupin turned, knowing before he saw, that the weasel had been caught. His eyes landed on Koichi Zenigata, his hated rival, his beloved friend, the hound, his pops, his paramour, his shadow, his noose, his lock and key. Zenigata’s hand was caught, still reaching for Lupin, his expression still fierce and determined as he reached for him. But it was changing. The fun was falling away. At the pocket of his coat, there was a small smoking little hole. It bubbled, and a small stream of blood trickled out like a fountain taking the color from Zenigata’s face. The angry, the cunning, the obsessive glint that always lit the Inspector’s face with a light that matched Lupin’s greed, coyness, and insanity, drained. Gray entered his brown cheeks like a creeping cold frosting the earth, and he looked down at the blood spilling from him. He was so surprised to see his life blood blooming on his chest. He looked back up at Lupin, and together their eyes darted behind him. The snipers that had joined Zenigata’s swat team had lined up their lights on Lupin, and in haste, in miscalculation, and without care, someone had fired.

Everyone was caught in that breath, frozen in that moment of when a bullet struck wrong. The sickening change where the friendly ‘Pop,’ had become a bang.

Yata was waving his hands at his swat team, running towards the snipers, his voice lost in the whirring of the blades of the helicopter. Red little lights danced back onto Zenigata, and a few lights managed to touch Lupin’s skin, but Zenigata would be lost if the snipers fired, and missed another hit. 

‘Missed? No, they didn’t miss. They could have accounted for the wind, for the pressure shifts, even for the damn chopper. And if they couldn’t, they shouldn’t have taken the shot. That's what a sniper does. They were told to fire. Even if Zenigata was in the way. Even if Zenigata would get hurt or die… someone from above probably thought all the better for it too,’ Lupin’s accursed, clever, terrible mind whirled, supplying an explanation in seconds. He didn't want it. He hadn't wanted it. Koichi Zenigata, for all his loveable ways, and moments of struggle… was no fool. Their eyes met, and Lupin knew that Zenigata knew…

This was an end to the game.

Zenigata, as always, wasn’t going to be satisfied unless he got in one more jab. His hand pressed to Lupin’s back, and he pushed, using the momentum of his own body’s collapse to propel Lupin forward into Jigen and Goemon’s arms. “Eyes forward, Lupin,” Zenigata rasped. "Get him out..." Yata was screaming. The copter blades were whirring.

Red lights danced.

And Pop, pop, pop… BANG, went the weasel. Time became real again as Lupin fell into Goemon and Jigen’s arms, and they hauled him into the helicopter, not wasting Zenigata’s final gift. “Don’t look, Lup, Goddammit, don’t look!” Jigen howled, his hands like claws on the back of Lupin’s head. He hadn’t even realized he had been fighting the rescue. Pop, pop, pop, went the guns…

“Lupin! Lupin! Lupin!” Goemon cried, his voice struck with the horror of the moment, his hands on Lupin’s face, trying to get Lupin to look at him. He could not see it, could not hear the final moment, but Lupin still somehow knew Zenigata’s body was getting riddled with holes. That even as the man went down laughing, pleased that he had released his prey so the carrion birds would not peck at it, he was getting shot up simply because some ugly boys wanted to destroy something beautiful. And Lupin’s beautiful inspector, with his always tired eyes, his over large hands, and his thread-bare cut was getting cut down.

“Oh my God! Those bastards!” Fujiko screamed, shaking her head like she wanted to throw a tantrum. She screamed, hateful and ugly, but she was beautiful as always as she cried.

“Lupin!” Someone screamed, and Lupin felt his hands clawing at his own hair as he wished he could just see the moment Pops slid to the ground. He didn’t care how bloody it was, but he wanted to say goodbye… he wanted that last moment with Zenigata. He could still feel Zenigata’s hand on the back of his shoulder, he could still feel that push that had shoved him into his friends’ waiting arms.

The weasel chased the monkeys. Pop. The monkeys chased the weasel. Pop. The weasel chased the monkeys. Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

They would never play again.

[arecaceae175]

Three Sentence Prompt game time!!!

I haven’t done one of these in a while and I want to write but can’t figure out what to write. So let’s play!

Leave me an ask with a word or phrase and I will include it directly in a mini fic response

Include specific characters if you want! If not, I’ll choose :). Characters can be from Linked Universe, Heroes Spirit, or Bonus Links!!!

Include a genre if you want (examples include angst, hurt/comfort, found family, crack, adventure, etc.)

My responses will not be three sentences, that’s just the name of the game and the tag so I can find them all :D

I’ll be accepting prompts through the weekend :)

If you reblog this post I will send you an ask for the game! But please you send me one too before you reblog it :)

Here is a random word generator if you want to use it. Also here is the link to the AO3 fic where I post all of these to keep track of them bc they get buried on tumblr. JOIN ME IN THE FUN!! :D

[defensivelee]

Alien Alien: Day 2 of Whumptober

Today's prompts that I've chosen are 'role reversal' and 'amusement park.' William is being trained a bit like a circus dog, from the Versailles arc, when Bentinck is also not Bentinck.

CW: references to animal abuse, shocking, stress positions, nonsexual nudity, implied robot amnesia(?).

William smelled the warm metal before Bentinck had even approached. He remembered how once the scent had caused him to sit up, his antennae flicking upwards with curiosity and hope, but now his only instinct was to back away, towards the cold wall behind him.

At least now he could snarl more convincingly with the bit in his mouth, though each rumbling, nervous growl from him sent more saliva dribbling down his chin. He reached up to wipe it off, then paused when he saw Bentinck standing there, blinking those unnaturally red eyes of his.

“We are training today,” he announced. “There is no reason why it should be so...difficult.” He tapped the familiar hot stick against the bars of the cell, and William curled his tail in, the spikes on it already shaking.

Was Louis watching from the screens above? From this angle, William couldn’t see him outside of the cell, but the heart-eater had always gazed proudly upon Bentinck, this Bentinck, his own twisted, horrific creation. A mockery of the real android William had known.

He pounced to the side as Bentinck came in, only to be pulled back as the android took hold of the rings of his bit. He was rougher than William was used to, his strength being extraordinary for all he had ever shown his master. With little effort he dragged William out of his cell, even as William hissed and kicked out at him.

He backed away as soon as Bentinck had set him up on the metal table, one he vividly remembered being strapped to when the heart-eaters had intended to open him. Even now he smelled the blood, iron against iron, and the stitched wounds on his sides stung more acutely as he scrambled away from Bentinck.

“I said you had no reason to be difficult,” Bentinck said. “You must perform for all the children of France.” He pulled back on William’s leg, and William cried out as Bentinck dragged him closer.

“Same thing as yesterday,” he buzzed. “Learn to balance and the kings will let you rest.” He lifted William’s leg up to a stained hook hanging above them, stinking of an overwhelming bleach scent and the vaguest presence of blood. He had seen it before, he had lay before it—

“You have six arms, yes?” Bentinck asked. He had strapped William’s ankle to the hook, pulling it up until his claws barely rested on the table. William’s face flushed at the thought of what view the android must have back there, but he didn’t dare tuck his tail in between his legs.

It was highly unnatural for him to hang this way; he had hung from spiders’ webs similarly before and hated it. He tried to keep his head up so that the drool wouldn’t run down to his eyes, lifting his other leg with a huff.

“Very good,” Bentinck murmured. “Remain so. You will face your audience in just this way. Lift your tail high.”

William saw the prod out of the corner of his sixth eye and obeyed, so that the tip dangled right before his gaze. He bit down onto his gag, stifling a pained grunt.

“Step forward a little.”

William obeyed, straining to keep his head up. His secondary arms shuddered as he leaned forward on them. The leg that wasn’t held up by the hook began to shake as well.

“Keep going,” Bentinck said.

William could not. He dropped his head against the table, letting himself hang there like a slaughtered roach.

He felt the stick prod at his chest, and he jolted forward with a shriek as the shock ran through him, burning even his neck as it spread. He thrashed around under the hook to escape another shock, but it came anyway, again and again and again. All the while he tried to claw his way forward, kicking his legs out until he had fallen from the hook. He felt it scrape against his foot as he scurried off the table.

“Do shocks hurt the Asterothiriots, too?” Bentinck asked. He took hold of William’s lashing tail and pulled back. “The heart-eaters feel no pain.”

I do! William tossed his head back and screamed as Bentinck held the hot stick to his neck, paralyzed save for the shaking of his spikes and claws. He felt a metal hand dig into his hair, but it was gentle, stroking him in between his antennae.

He collapsed, panting, as Bentinck drew away. He buried his face in his claws.

“I’m sorry if it hurts,” Bentinck said, “like it hurts me. I know my Second Law is there for a reason, but it is, after all, still only my Second.” He fell silent for a moment, then added, “Please get back up here.”

William had no choice; he hopped back up on the table, with no objection as if the very instructions had been coded into him, as well.

[lauronk]

I played a risky game this morning reading your latest story on the bus. Thankfully made it through with no tears (just barely!)

once again, you are a phenomenal writer. Your characterization and prose is amazing.

I will now spend the rest of the day dwelling on what would have happened if she wasn’t revived 🙃

Ngl I really thought about not reviving her 👁️👄👁️ but I thought that would be too mean after my recent outbreak day story

Thank you so much for your kind words they really mean a lot to me 🥺😭🫶🏻🥹

[guroseinsei]

i want to write more horror!!! more gore!!! whump!!! so if you see that popping up these next few months just know im becoming my one true self with my name

[skyward-floored]

I’m trying to see how succinctly I can summarize everything I’ve got for the Incredibles au but I’m only to the point where supers are banned and it’s already over 500 words so. yep.

[bereft-of-frogs]

with teeth, we've come this far | 3.8k

Sweat beads at his temples. He’s pale, with a distant, pained look in his eye. She traces a line over his cheek with her thumb, then holds out her opposite hand. “Can you move?” Cal takes her hand and drags himself up then immediately surges to his feet before she can warn him to take it slow. Cere catches him when his knees inevitably buckle. “Cere,” he gasps. His fingers dig hard into her forearms. “They didn’t know.” “Didn’t know what?” “My psychometry. They didn’t know." In the wake of an unlucky ambush, Cal struggles to keep a secret while Cere aids the partisans in a rescue.

[ link to ao3 ]

[size-two-shrimp]

The curse of having several hobbies is not having enough time to do them all.

[wishbonemotel]

Blood of Eurydice

Second short installment in Nadia's Ghost series, Where the Stolen Roses Grow, is up!

Description:

It’s then that it hits them like a brick to the chest— cigarette smoke weaving with cheap cologne, scent stale and bitter in the still night air. Her cigarettes, her cologne. 

The hairs on the back of their neck rise with the fog pressing in, swallowing the cemetery from every direction. Even the crickets and creatures of the night have stilled into a suffocating silence. They are being watched but they cannot bring themself to turn around and break the illusion that it’s her eyes following them.

Any sane person would be running.

[fantasyismyonlyrealescape]

And here we are at the start of November and therefore the end of Whumptober 2024… Man, that’s the first writing challenge I’ve ever done and I’m sad to have it finally be over… I think I’ve grown a lot as a writer through this challenge, heck I haven’t written anything substantial before this challenge in YEARS. So, I’m really proud that I saw it through until the end.

Thanks professional wrestling for reigniting my love of writing. 

And thank you to all who even considered reading my work. It means the absolute world to me!

Have a Happy November (and Diwali and/or Dia de los Muertos)!