#whumptober wip

[m34gs]

My next word guess is... sweet! (Because you ask savoury so I shall ask the opposite!)

It's a hit! From my current Whumptober WIP for prompt 23: shadows, stalking:

“Goodnight!” he heard the voice call. A sweet voice, lively and kind. He’d loved that voice since he first heard it.

Funnily enough, it's not about food haha.

Thank you for the ask! (based on this ask game)

[tenderleavesbob]

Happy Whumptober!

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK Search Party | Panic Attack | “If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

Where was he?

Time was supposed to be the leader. He was, in multiple ways, the oldest, no matter what Wild might claim. The others looked up to him and needed him to be strong. He knew he needed to be strong.

But Warriors had never been in a dungeon before. Dungeons were different from battlefields.

And Warriors was missing.

His big brother was missing.

With Warriors’s absence, it felt like he had torn something loose from the rest of the chain. Their Vet stalked beside Time, a torch in his white-knuckled grip. Twilight had transformed into Wolfie and sniffed the ground in front of them, whining quietly at the lack of scent. Hyrule was hurriedly hissing advice to a pale Wild, the only other one who had never fought in a dungeon anymore. Sky held Wind’s hand: not to comfort a child but to keep a warrior from hunting for his big brother. Four murmured nonstop to himself, studying the walls and floors for any sign of their missing companion.

Their missing Warriors, who had vanished without a sound. Had he touched a wall? Had he stepped into a trap? Time didn’t even know for sure when he went missing. How did he not know when his brother went missing?

His chest was too tight, and it actually hurt to breathe normally. Time needed to remain calm. If he panicked, that made it clear to everyone that they could panic. He needed to be strong. He needed to remain focused.

Time needed to find his big brother.

Captain, where are you?

A hand bumped his. Time looked down to see that Wind had dragged Sky to his side. Sky looked pale and wan but smiled encouragingly at Time, anyway. Sky had let go of Wind’s hand. Instead of running off, Wind shifted to grab Time’s hand instead.

They would find Warriors.

They would find their big brother.

Time breathed in fully for the first time since Warriors went missing and squeezed Wind’s hand. Without a word, Wind squeezed back.

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[insertsomthinawesome]

art slow have a WIP askljdflKSJDLGJSDG -NO ROMANCE INCLUDED-

[merlyn-bane]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

Thank you for the tag @loverboy-havocboy 😘😘 Obi-Wan is still going through it 😇😇

Every biometric he has is carefully monitored to the point of near obsession, keeping him as healthy as possible. He tries not to think about why that would be.

No pressure tags to @frostbitebakery, @ferretrade, @dontbelasagnax, and @brigittttoo. also, im gonna reverse-uno @loverboy-havocboy. mwuah!

[opheliagreif]

Hallo Adam,

ich bin jetzt Polizist. Hier im Saarland. Ich schütze Menschen und ich stehe für Gerechtigkeit und Recht. Manchmal schon in ziemlichen Grauzonen und die Kolleginnen und Kollegen sind auch nicht so ganz das, was ich motiviert nennen möchte. Manche sind kurz vor der Pension und haben keinen Bock auf gar nichts.

Ich aber schon.

Heute haben wir eine Leiche gefunden. Fünfzehn, ein von zu Hause ausgerissener Junge. Er wurde erstochen und noch wissen wir nicht, von wem.

Du, Adam? Ich glaube, du lebst nicht mehr. Ich habe die Datenbanken nach dir durchsucht und nichts gefunden. Du bist weg und sie suchen nicht nach dir, weil du ja schon volljährig warst und damit jedes Recht hast, zu verschwinden.

Ich wünschte, dass ich noch mehr Zeit mit dir gehabt hätte, um dir alle Dinge sagen zu können, die ungesagt geblieben sind. Hätte ich vorher gewusst, dass du gehen willst, hätte ich dir noch dein Lieblingsessen gemacht und dir den Streuselkuchen vom Barbarossa gekauft. Ich hätte dir gesagt, dass ich dich liebe und dass du jederzeit wieder zurückkommen kannst, wenn du es willst.

Ich hoffe, dir geht es gut, wo du jetzt bist. Die Vorstellung, dass du im Himmel auf mich heruntersiehst, während ich das hier schreibe und auf mich wartest, ist irgendwie kindlich, aber auch schon tröstlich, weil ich jetzt ahne, dass ich mein ganzes Leben ohne dich nur mit den Erinnerungen an dich leben werde. Es geht, aber du fehlst. Auch nach all den Jahren noch.

Dein Leo

[cartwrong]

For the @ficwip word of the week: party (first chapter now posted on ao3)

“Keep the fucking oxygen mask on you idiot,” Lamb says, sidestepping the question as his hands secure the mask back to River’s face. 

The relief is immediate, but it doesn't stop River from painfully lifting his arm and trying to remove it again. His hand isn't cooperating, and he grunts as he finally gets it close enough to the mask, but Lamb swats at his hand. The sting sharp, but gone as quickly as it manifested, but it’s nothing compared to the agony of his side and hip. Lamb inspects his hand and then wipes it on his coat. River registers the blood, but it takes a beat before his brain comprehends it as his own. 

“Don’t expect a fucking party anytime soon, but–” Lamb says, crossing his arms, looking like he’s in as much pain as River is. “Yes, you muppet, you did good. Now leave the oxygen mask on unless you want to waste all the trouble I went through saving your arse. As is, the paperwork is going to be a bloody nightmare.”

[skyward-floored]

Why’d they capture swamp link??? Is it cuz he’s the hero? Or some other reason?

Yeah I'm thinking so. I'm still figuring out what exactly happens y'know, but I like the idea that this group is like, really devoted to Farore/the golden goddesses, and so are kind of obsessed with the hero... in a bad way.

I was thinking maybe they've been looking for the hero for a while, but since Swamp Link has been in the swamp his whole life they never found him. But now that he's moving around Hyrule a little more they go "blond man with triangles!!! named LINK!!!"

But again, I'm still thinking about it. I messed with the idea a little but didn't get very far:

"Whoa whoa whoa wait I'm no hero!" Link yelped, pulling against the ropes binding him to the pillar. "I'm just-- I'm just a guy!"

"Yes, a 'guy' with all of the markings of the Hero," the woman said, taking his face in her hand. "We've waited many years for your return."

"But I'm not a hero!" Link yelled, glaring at her.

The woman gave him a flat look. "Your name is Link, is it not?"

"So? Everybody names their kids Link! I have a cousin named Link! It doesn't mean anything!"

"On the contrary," the woman said with a smile, one that made Link's stomach twist. "It means everything."

[detta-pica]

He makes Satoru stand on a blanket spread by the hearth and grabs a fresh washcloth. At the first touch of the cold, wet fabric, Satoru jumps like a startled cat. “Let me,” Suguru asks belatedly. He starts with Satoru’s shoulders and nape, gently washing away the evidence of their night together. Suguru squeezes the cloth just for the pleasure of watching thin rivulets of water racing each other down Satoru’s back. There isn’t another body in the world as beautiful as this one, no matter how many scars it accumulates, how it changes with the passage of time. Suguru washes him like Satoru’s made of precious porcelain—slowly, admiring his work as he goes. Engraving it all into his memory: the shape of Satoru’s shoulders, his strong arms and elegant hands, the angle of his collar bones. The soft skin on the inside of his wrists, the suppressed laughter Suguru elicits when he gets to Satoru’s ticklish belly, the white hair leading down to his cock, which, notably, remains soft. “Do you think you’re done for the night?” Suguru asks, kneeling for better access to Satoru’s long legs. Satoru hums thoughtfully. He lifts a foot when Suguru runs his fingers along the arch, easily keeping his balance. Suguru smiles, and can’t resist pressing his lips to Satoru’s knee. “And you accuse me of being sentimental,” Satoru mutters. “I dunno. It’s a little hard—haha, laugh it up, asshole—getting into the mood when I know it’ll be morning soon.” “Hm.” Suguru runs the cloth over the back of Satoru’s knee, then up towards his inner thigh. The skin there is covered in marks, some pretty painful-looking. Suguru presses on one, and is rewarded by Satoru’s hiss, a hand coming down to tug on Suguru’s bangs in warning. “I don’t require anything from you for what I have planned. You just need to stand here and look pretty.” “Guess I’m already doing it.” Satoru pushes his own hair out of his face, smiling cheekily. Suguru takes advantage. He throws the washcloth aside, stands, and tugs Satoru down low enough to kiss his forehead. “Sit down for a moment. I need to prepare.” “Ooh. How involved is this going to be?” “Very.”

This time, I am so prepared for WIP Wednesday. Here's a scene from the final chapter of my spooky season fic. The update will happen on Friday, because of reasons.

[snowywinterevenings]

Last Line Challenge

I was tagged by @bluemaskedkarma and @brokenphoenix99. Have a little bit from a severely sleep deprived Cody whumptober fic featuring Hallucination Fox being not very nice.

“You could have investigated. You could have put an end to things much earlier. You suspected something was wrong with the Guard, knew that none of us were ourselves, but you did nothing. And now you’re here doing what? Trying to save the galaxy? You’re a joke, Cody. You’ll never manage, and you’ll never redeem yourself. Darkness has already swallowed nearly everything, and it’s going to swallow you too.” It was Fox again, and Cody shook his head violently, trying anything to banish the ghost of his dead brother.

“We have plans. We’re not going to let the Empire win.”

“If you had proper plans you’d have already defeated them, but then again, you did always think very highly of your strategies. You and Kenobi, such an arrogant pair. How many died executing your plans? I read all of the reports as they came in, you know. I saw the lists of casualties, hundreds and thousands of numbers. Do you even remember their names?”

No pressure tags to @brokenphoenix99 @bluemaskedkarma @lttrsfrmlnrrgby @dontbelasagnax @tapemonkey21 @cj-kenobi @frostbitebakery and anyone else who wants to play!

[musewrangler]

Firmus Piett teaming up with Shmi Skywalker is a duo I never knew I needed. Her mom energy meets his protective instincts. You agree.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

So I was just having a conversation with @blue-aconite about one of my whumptober fics and I think I just summed up 90% of my masterlist.

[bobcross1010]

He's a whumptober sneak peak since tumblr is cool

[lbibliophile-sw]

Taking the Bait

Also on AO3 [415w] @ailesswhumptober - day 13, whumpee using themself as bait, alt 8: kidnapping @clonefandomevents - 212th bingo: rescue mission

This is part of an AU where Sidious was revealed by the Jedi but fled, and they are trying to track him down before he works out a way to keep controlling both sides of the war from the shadows. Sidious decides to smoke out the Jedi in turn.

He’s not unconscious, and not pretending to be, but between the probable-concussion, the aftershocks from the Sith lightning, and the binders around his wrists and ankles, he’s about as much of a threat as if he were. Everything aches, despite the protection of his armour, but he knows with the voice of experience that he has gotten off lightly; the Sith more toying with him than actually trying to elicit a reaction. After all, he is just the bait.

From his place slumped slumped on the floor, he watches his gold-visored helmet staring down at him. A blinking red light shows that the camera inside is streaming his image to the holotable, where the hooded Sith finishes hacking his comms to contact his General. 

“Cody, what-? Sidious.”

“Ah, General Kenobi, you are a surprisingly difficult man to get a hold of. Thankfully your Commander here was rather more accessible and has been kind enough to provide both contact details and, shall we say, incentive. You have been quite the thorn in my side lately, and I believe it is about time we discussed the situation in person. If you cooperate, I may even let your precious Commander return to his troopers. Now, swear on the Force that you will come alone, and without your lightsaber.”

The General’s gaze shifts, and he knows the Jedi is scanning his image for injuries, the worry barely held behind his blank expression.

“I… I understand. Only myself and Commander Cody, and I leave my lightsaber behind. This I swear, by my soul, by my crystal, by my blade.”

“Excellent. I have sent the coordinates; and remember, if you deviate from our agreement, poor Commander Cody here will pay the cost.”

The call ends, and he drifts for a while, thankfully ignored by the Sith. He is scared – of course he is – but there is nothing he can do but wait and trust that his General will come for him.

He pictures how the confrontation will play out. General Kenobi will show up, unarmed as promised, and the Sith will think that he has won. Then Commander Cody will show up, also as promised, fully armed and with his general’s saber on its custom clip. And the Sith will discover that he has lost.

Boil shifts carefully, resettling his borrowed armour as best he can while bound, trying to relieve the ache in his chest. He won’t be much use in the fight, but then his role is already complete: he was just the bait.

[merlyn-bane]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

Thank you for the tag, @loverboy-havocboy 😘😘 Have some ominous vibes 😌😌

Whumptober is right around the corner...

But he’s on Coruscant. He’s home. He was just supposed to be attending a meeting. A smack on the wrist, he’d assured them when he left, blue eyes sparking with a little bit of amusement. The meeting could have just gone late, or he could’ve gotten distracted researching something in the archives and lost track of time—Force knew either of those things were likely. Maybe he was even finally getting some rest without having to be prodded to do so. Point being, there could be any number of reasons for Obi-Wan missing a check-in, and he’d only missed two.  Only, Obi-Wan doesn’t miss check-ins, not unless shit’s gone sideways. Especially not now. He knows that they worry, about him and about the [redacted], and for all that he still takes risks they wish he wouldn’t, he does try not to scare them if he thinks he can help it. Even if he can’t comm. them, he’s been good lately about at least sending a message.  It’s now been twenty-four hours of radio silence.

No pressure tags to: @bluemaskedkarma, @ferretrade, @lttrsfrmlnrrgby, @raphaerolo, and @lothcatthree <3

[uniasus]

So my whumptober fic is truly leaning into body horror and I'm having such a delightful time writing it

As Sam scrambled for the lid, fingers covered in ecto, Tucker titled Danny’s head back. He ignored the give of Danny’s jaw, how it felt like sponges under his skin instead of bone, and pried Danny’s mouth open. 

[cartwrong]

for the @ficwip word of the week: wednesday.

River wasn’t even supposed to be here. 

It was supposed to be Marcus with Shirley doing the drop, but River needed to take the OB to a doctor’s appointment last Wednesday, so Marcus had covered one of Lamb’s assignments in his place. But he had only agreed if River owed him a favour. The favour somehow ended with River tied back to back to a chair with Shirley Dander, his wrists already aching from the restraints and his cheek stinging where one of the men had hit him with his gun. 

“You’re gonna regret this,” Shirley seethed from behind him, and River could only imagine the fury on her features. 

There was an oomph as the man punched her in the stomach that made River wince in sympathy and try to hold his legs together as much as he could. Shirley had taken a harder hit to the head than he had, and if she kept this up, then River knew their captors were going to do everything they could to silence her. The realisation settled in his stomach like a stone, then exited his mouth before he could think better of it. 

“Hey fuck face,” River said, attempting to get the man’s attention. He could see him move out of the corner of his eye, straightening up to listen. “No, the other fuck face, yes, you, you fucking prick.”

When the man was close enough, River took his chance and spit in his face, or as close to it as he could. A punch to the ribs answered his act of defiance, but at least the man had left Shirley alone. River only began to question his plan when, after a second attempt to piss him off, the man picked up a wrench.