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five-rivers · 7 months

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By Storm, By Claw, By Sanguine Moon

Remember how I said stay tuned for a sequel to Stargazer, Moonweaver, Net? This is that sequel! You can also read it here.

This was conceived of for Phantasy Phest, but written for Ectoberhaunt 2023: Tabletop.

This fic was a collaboration! The authors are @akela-nakamura, @datawyrms, @seaglass-skies, @jackdaw-sprite, and myself.

“The sky goes dark, and a cold wind rises. In the distance- thunder, growing closer! The forest goes quiet, holding its breath.” A heavy pause, then, “Suddenly the wind howls! But you know you can’t seek shelter. There is something lurking in these ruins, and if you aren’t careful. It. Will. Find. You.”

A low whistle breaks the atmosphere sharply enough that not even the very real wind rattling the equally real windows can bring it back. Tucker shoots a glare Danny’s way, slowly lowering his hands from where they’d been wiggling dramatically in the air. All it gets him is a sheepish grin and an apologetic shrug. He pushes his glasses up his nose with a huff, ignoring Sam’s snickering, and turns his glare back to the screen in front of him.

“Anyway. Roll for perception.”

The rattle of dice was followed by a couple of groans and a soft yes! from Jazz.

"Okay, what did you guys get?" Tucker asked, peering at the dice on the table. "Oh."

"I think we can safely say I don't know what's happening," Danny said at his expression.

"Yeeah. Sam?"

"Twelve."

"Jazz?"

Jazz bounced a little in her seat. "Twenty one!" She knew playing a ranger was a good choice.

"Okay, okay.” Tucker took a deep breath and looked back at his laptop. “As the thunder rolls like great wheels in the sky, the wind whips at you. It flattens the grass around you in vicious ripples and grabs at your clothes. The ruins stay motionless around you, unmoved by the building storm.

“And yet, beneath the keening of the wind in your ears, you hear something else. It’s rhythmic, sharp. Repetitive. And it sounds like–

“Snap. Snap. Snap.”

Tucker smiled.

“Sam,” he said. “You see that it’s coming from a ragged banner, fluttering in the wind.”

Sam frowned in thought.

“You,” Tucker pointed at Jazz, “see a little head poking around one of the fallen pillars. It's got a beard, and its hair looks kind of weird."

"What do I see?" asked Danny.

"You're staring at the sun, I think." said Sam.

"You’re not the DM,” said Danny. “Tucker?”

“The sun is no longer visible,” said Tucker. Before Danny could gloat, he added, ”You’re staring at where it was.”

While Danny pouted in betrayal, Jazz was mentally rifling through the manuals she’d read as research before playing. Something small and bearded, and it had weird hair. Or something was wrong with the hair. Or something was in the hair?

But there weren’t that many short bearded races eccentric enough to do any of that.

She hazarded a guess. “Is it a gnome?”

Tucker raised an eyebrow. “Roll for knowledge nature.”

That was a yes! And Danny had said she didn’t need to read everything to be prepared.

It was not a gnome.

It was something smaller and weirder called a grig, and as Tucker described it escorting them from the (apparently cursed) ruins, Jazz looked out the window.

The rain was still pouring down outside, dense enough to make white cloud the farther houses on their street and gather in mist along the ground. Water streamed down the glass in rivulets, leaving the image of the street distorted.

The reflection of their room in the window was warm by comparison, all yellows and creams and scattered paper.

And a little bit of green.

Jazz smiled back at her brother in the windows’ reflection, not letting on that she'd seen the subtle iridescence of his eyes. He'd tell her when he was ready, and until then she'd just be supportive. And patient, even if she could feel a horde of questions burning in the back of her mind.

“The grig sits on a log and pulls a doll-sized fiddle from his pack,” said Tucker, and Jazz returned her attention to the game.

“He puts it to his chin,” and Tucker mimed holding a fiddle to his chin –

“I thought that was violins,” said Danny.

“Danny, I am going to commit some violins,” said Tucker.

“Never mind.”

“He puts it to his chin,” repeated Tucker, “And begins to play. And it’s beautiful.”

He consulted his laptop and fiddled with some keys. With a decisive tap on the spacebar, music began to play. Tucker spoke over it.

“The music fills the air like raindrops on leaves. Slowly, it grows to a musical crescendo and you find your spirits bolstered, your burdens lessened. It’s as though there’s air beneath your feet and you could –almost– begin to dance. But he stops after just a few more chords and chuckles under his breath.

“‘Nah,’ the grig says. ‘I won’t do that to ya.’”

“Do what?” asked Jazz before she could help herself.

“Ya don’t know, miss?” Tucker said, still in the grig’s voice.

Oh right. This was supposed to be in character. And Jazz was playing a ranger. “Maybe?” She reached for her dice, rolling them between her fingers. They were, she had quickly discovered, surprisingly fun to fidget with.

“Knowledge nature,” Tucker suggested in a stage whisper.

Jazz straightened in her seat and rolled the d20, watching as it settled. “Eighteen?”

“They’re good enough musicians to weave spells with their music like bards, and can trap people in dances for hours. They do it as a prank, sometimes.”

Jazz remembered the siren from a few months back and winced.

“Thank you for not doing that,” she said.

“It just didn’t seem like it’d be funny enough,” said Tucker, back in character.

“Wow, reassuring,” said Sam.

Tucker smiled.

“And that’s less reassuring,” Danny commented. “I roll diplomacy for him to not do that. Twenty five.”

“What do you say?” asked Tucker.

Danny thought before responding.

“That was some of the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard. You’re very talented. Where did you learn to play like that?”

“You’re right it’s a talent! Everyone in the clan’s got music in their bodies, right down to their feet,” Tucker said. And then he switched back out of the grig’s twang. “He puts his legs together and rubs, and they fill the air with a deep hum. His wings tremble from the effort and the sound.”

“That’s not a trick I’d ever manage,” said Danny. He sounded impressed.

“Not you! And not those lepre-cons,” said Tucker in the grig’s voice, snarling on the last word.

“Leprechauns?” asked Danny.

The start of whatever Tucker was going to say was cut off with a crash as the basement door was kicked open with a heavy thunk immediately followed by Jack Fenton’s booming voice. “Did somebody say leprechauns?!” He charged into the room, swinging some kind of… something vaguely resembling a gun, forcing Sam to duck and earning a yelp from Danny as he dove under the table.

Tucker was quick to pipe up, slapping a hand down over the monster manual in front of him. “Nope! No leprechauns! No, uh, sir. Not here!”

Maddie’s voice trailed into the room more slowly than her husband’s, followed by the woman herself. “Now, dear, you know the Fenton Fae Fryer isn’t ready to use yet!”

Danny’s hiss of “The what-” went ignored.

“But it will be! Soon! And those monsters won’t know what hit them!”

“That’s right dear! Now, kids, remember to stay inside after dark this week- I know, I know it’s raining, but the rain’ll let up eventually, and with the eclipse coming up you can’t be too careful!”

Sam looked like she wanted to say something, but stopped when she caught Tucker shaking his head at her. She sat back in her seat with a huff.

“Darn right!” Jack chimed in from where he’d finally set the huge weapon down on the kitchen counter. “This is a huge opportunity for hunting! All those monstrous meddlers will think they’re too strong to bother hiding like the foul fiendish felons that they are!”

“We’ll remind them why humans drove them into hiding in the first place!” Maddie chimed in. “Oh, I hope we can keep some captive specimens too, there’s so much to learn! The small ones just fall apart so easily, we can barely do even a single test…”

Jack squeezed his hand into a dramatic fist. “Of course we’re gonna capture ‘em! We’re gonna grab those ghastly goons or my name’s not Jack Fenton!”

With a whoop, he punched the air.

Jazz had been glaring at her parents, shoulders tense, but something twitched in the corner of her vision. When she looked, Danny’s reflection in the window was haunted. A pit formed in Jazz’s stomach, and her heart sparked with anger.

Danny was one of the ‘small ones’ in his other form. She didn’t think they’d managed to catch any like him. She didn’t think he would still be here if they had, but–

“Now, Jack. We’re not guaranteed to have success just yet,” her mother said, but she was smiling at Jack’s cheer. “We haven’t finished baiting everything. And without first-hand data to back up our research, it’s just that much harder to hunt efficiently, much less decide what bait is effective. Knowledge is power, of course!”

“And we’ll have plenty to work with soon, baby! We’ll catch one this time for sure! Maybe one of those ‘fairies’ that keep tricking the kids–”

Jazz shoved her chair back with a horrendous screech and slammed the fist still holding her dice down on the table, ignoring the one that went flying off across the room and the brilliant flare of lightning that had the overhead lights flickering. “No. No nono, no. You are not doing this tonight!

“Maybe, just maybe, for once in your life you should try to understand instead of just finding better ways to kill people who never did anything to you!”

"Jazz," said Maddie in a tone of forced patience, "they aren't people. These things are monsters, even the small, pretty ones."

Danny had sunk so low in his chair that his chin was level with the tabletop. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

"Especially the small pretty ones!" shouted Jack.

Danny flinched.

A bibliophile, Jazz had read the words ‘shaking with rage’ dozens of times. She’d always thought it was a turn of phrase. A metaphor. A literary device. But here she was, physically trembling. Not all of the static on her skin could be attributed to the lightning outside.

“Have you two even bothered to confirm that?” she asked. ”Or have you just gone around committing atrocities for the fun of it?”

“Don’t you take that tone with us, young lady! We’re just trying to keep you safe!”

“You’re not trying to keep anyone safe with your awful, deranged experiments! I don’t know how you even call yourselves scientists!”

Thunder crashed, as if it had only been waiting for her cue.

She looked between their shocked faces. Heaved one breath, two, and ran up the stairs towards her bedroom.

Maddie ran after her. “Jasmine Marie Fenton!”

Jazz whipped around and almost snarled at the look of indignation on her mother’s face. Static jumped to her hand from the doorknob as she reached for it, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she squeezed it so hard she was surprised it didn’t come off.

(She was fairly certain the few dice she still held in her other hand had fractured. It was too bad. She’d liked those.)

“Do you two even hear yourselves? ‘Especially the pretty ones?’ ‘The small ones just fall apart so easily?’ You want to see monsters? Take a look at your reflections!”

WHAM.

Jazz looked at the darkness in surprise. She hadn’t expected the door to slam shut quite like that. It had rattled the windows with a force she’d felt in her chest. And then there was the darkness.

Oh. It was a power outage.

In the sudden quiet, Jazz heard her mother’s footsteps returning down the stairs, and then muted conversation. The front door opened, then shut.

She took the three steps to her window, and peered out. Her parents were standing on the front stairs, headlamps strapped over their hazmat hoods and their arms full of pre-loaded net-launchers.

They were still going hunting, then. After all that.

Jazz turned from the window before either of them could look up at her watching them and get ideas about whether she regretted her words. She didn’t.

As she followed Jack out onto the street, Maddie sighed. “That girl, I swear. I don’t know where she gets these ideas in her head…”

Jack sighed. “I think it’s just a phase, Mads. Kids and the internet these days, you know?”

“Maybe,” Maddie said. She looked up at Jazz’s window before she turned her attention back to her husband. “Either way, I’m not thrilled with her tone. We’ll have to have a talk.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jack bellowed, grinning wide. “She’ll see that we were right, soon enough. Everyone will, after we catch one of those dastardly fae! Or a hobgoblin! Or a vampire! Or a sidewinder! Or a dragon!”

“Yes, dear. But first we need to figure out what took out the power, and…” Maddie narrowed her eyes at the still-dark Fentonworks building behind them. “That’s strange. The generator should have brought everything back online by now.”

“I bet it was those dastardly gremlins! Well, if they think they’re gonna stop us from wrapping them all up in triple-strand hemp braid reinforced by silver-iron alloy, pinning them down with steel-jawed monster-chompers, or canning them up tight with the Fenton Thermos, then they’ve got another think coming!”

Lightning continued to flash overhead, bright enough to see color, and for the puddles and windows around them to flare brightly with reflected light. The ozone and charge in the air, combined with the strange lighting and lack of normal city noises conspired to give a magical cast to the night.

Magical meaning dangerous, in Maddie’s vocabulary.

Usually, she wouldn’t leave the children home alone with the power off, but lightning alone wouldn’t knock out the electricity at Fentonworks, and they’d monster-proofed the backup generator to within an inch of its lifetime warranty. Whatever was out here was their responsibility to deal with, as monster hunters. Jazz, Danny, and his friends would be safe, behind the wards of Fentonworks. This was for everyone else. For all the citizens of Amity Park and the wider world who had been convinced that the supernatural didn’t exist, who were vulnerable, unprotected, unaware of the dangers they faced constantly.

Even if Jazz couldn’t appreciate that.

“This way!” cried Jack, shaking her from her partial reverie.

She shook her head before following him. That was a bad habit to get into while on a hunt. But then, fighting with her children had always unsettled her.

She followed Jack across the half-flooded road. It would take days for things to dry, even if the rain let up.

But the rain would let up sooner or later. This storm may or may not be natural in origin, but they had good evidence that there was at least one creature that could manipulate the weather in the region. No such creature would allow clouds to reduce the amount of power it could gain from basking under a Blood Moon, much less a Blood Moon that was both a supermoon and a blue moon.

That only made it more important to catch whatever this was. As excited as she and Jack were about the opportunity presented by the carelessness of monsters and the loss of their illusions, the lunar eclipse would be a dangerous time indeed. Reducing the number of monsters present even by one would make everyone much safer.

Jack skidded to a stop and fired one of his nets. Its weighted edges wrapped around the glass sides of a bus shelter.

“I think I really got it this time!” said Jack, bounding forward as Maddie covered him. Nothing was going to sneak up on her husband on her watch.

On the other hand…

“Jack, sweetie, I don’t think there’s anything in the bus stop.” Her goggles, which had been treated with their Fenton Paranormal Peeper Powder (not for direct use on eyes) (patent pending), weren’t picking up so much as a glimmer.

“Not in the bus stop! Down there!” Jack pointed at a storm drain just under the overhang of the bus stop shelter.

Gun ready, Maddie approached it.

The shadows between the grate bars gave way to the pale glare from her headlamp, throwing the inside into stark relief. The light sliced across water-stained concrete walls, reaching down until it met light.

The water at the bottom of the drain was stagnant, the drain so full of rotten leaves that they piled above the water in places, outlined in the brilliant white of her headlamp and bright enough to leave scribbled lines dancing in her vision.

The only motion Maddie could see in it was in her own face.

“Nothing,” she sighed. Chasing mirages again. And wasn’t that a metaphor for life?

“Oh,” said Jack. His face appeared alongside hers in the water. “Sorry, Mads, I really did think I saw something.”

Maddie patted him on the shoulder and surveyed the surrounding street. The light from her headlamp bounced off of the mirrors of parked cars and the windows of nearby businesses. All dark.

But a few streets over, there was still light, still power.

“Maybe you did, but something interested in electricity is going to go that way.” She pointed. “Let’s sweep these streets.”

Jazz didn’t sleep until her parents made their way home, defeated.

She didn’t know if it was worry for them, as they ran around in a lightning storm, or if it was fear for everything else that could be out there that kept her awake.

But if she had to guess, it’d be the latter.

Omake:

“Well, uh. I guess game night’s over?” Danny asked. He was still under the table, having hidden when Jazz started yelling.

With a thunk, Tucker’s head met the table next to his laptop. It was followed by a swish, a rustle, and the clatter of dice falling to the floor. The room was still pitch black, only the occasional flicker of lightning casting any light.

“Well,” Sam sighed. “At least your house is never boring.” Danny let out a dry laugh, missing most of its humor.

“I could use a little more boring.”

“Good luck with that,” Tucker said, his voiced muffled by the table. Danny sighed, having not yet moved.

Good luck, indeed.

Stay tuned for more!

#ectoberhaunt #23 day 6 #23 prompt tabletop #eh23 #ectoberhaunt 2023 #ectoberhaunt23 #phantasy phest #Alternate Universe - Modern Fantasy #fairies #moth!danny #fae & fairies #fairytale curses #mentioned unethical experiments

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kybercrystals94 · 2 months

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Merriest Days Ahead (Part 1)

Read here on Ao3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 23 | Alternative Prompt 6: Immortality

Rated: G | Words: 3,343 | Summary: Pabu has a month long holiday honoring the cultures and traditions of its citizens…Omega wants to contribute.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

This is within the same timeline as my other two stories “Scars & Toothpicks” & “Stay”. Probably takes place after both of these stories, but can absolutely be read as a stand alone!

OMEGA

Omega knows she has the best room in the entire house. While it is the smallest room, she prefers the term “cozy”. The ceiling is slanted so that she can only stand fully upright in half of it, but that just gives the room personality. The best part, the most amazing part, is the window. It is round with a bright pink, airy curtain that allows the sunlight to seep through. During the day, when she pushes it aside, she can see the ocean stretch to where it touches the sky in a nice, crisp line. When the sun sets, she can see it melt into the water, painting the sky and the sea with swatches of indescribable color. And when it is dark, the lights of the city sparkle like stars, winking up at her, reminding her that she and her brothers are not alone anymore. They have friends, people, community. The citizens of Pabu treat them like natborns. They aren’t clone soldiers here. They are the family that lives in the little house near the very top of the island.

And Omega loves it, and she knows her brothers do too…even if they don’t say it in words. She sees it in their actions, their smiles, their eyes. Clones were bred to survive, not live. But here they are, her brave brothers, living. She is so happy for them. For all of them.

Tonight, Omega fell asleep on the Marauder only an hour before they arrived back in Pabu after a supply run. She wakes a little when she feels the landing mechanisms activate, the pitched whine of the ship making a gentle descent on the landing pad. She scrunches her eyes shut, knowing that if she’s asleep, one of her brothers will carry her home.

Home. She loves that word.

“Omega?” Hunter’s voice, then his footsteps approach the seat Omega is curled in. Her brother chuckles, and Omega knows that Hunter knows she’s awake, but she keeps her eyes closed and tries to hide her smile in her arms.

“Just leave her,” Crosshair says. “If she wakes up with a crick in her neck, it's her own fault.”

Omega knows he doesn’t mean it.

“Tempting,” Hunter agrees softly, amusement evident.

“Then again,” Crosshair continues with a sigh, “hearing her whine about it tomorrow would make all of us suffer.”

Arms scoop her up and cradle her against the hard plastoid of a chestplate. The Batch doesn’t wear much of their armor anymore, but when they do, it’s under loose-fitting civvies to keep it hidden. Omega’s cheek rests against the coarse woolen material of Crosshair’s favorite sweater. Wrecker jokes that Crosshair likes the abrasive fabric because it matches his personality, but Omega knows it is because Crosshair likes the color: black with accents of red woven throughout.

Omega peeks up at her waspish brother’s face. He catches her. “If I find out you’re awake, you’re walking,” Crosshair murmurs. Omega snaps her eyes shut. “That’s what I thought.”

She must’ve fallen back asleep, because the next thing Omega is aware of is being deposited into her bed, Crosshair dropping her on the mattress with a soft thump. “Get ready for bed, you little womp rat.”

“I’m already asleep,” Omega whines, stretching out her arms. She accidentally knocks Lula off the bed.

Crosshair picks up the stuffed tooka and tosses it at Omega’s face. “Teeth brushed. Night clothes on,” he orders, pointing at her. “Then sleep.”

“Ugh!” Omega laments, but she rolls out of her bed with reluctant obedience.

Crosshair grins triumphantly around a toothpick before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Omega quickly changes into night clothes and then goes to the fresher to brush her teeth. She can hear her brothers talking in the common room, and the bitter scent of caff being brewed. Omega doesn’t know how they can stand the stuff. She tries it, but usually only with a healthy splash of cream and a heaping spoon of sugar. Even then, her brother’s laugh at the array of facial expressions she goes through as she sips at it with early meal.

Breakfast, Omega reminds herself, It’s called breakfast.

Once Omega has scrubbed her teeth clean, she bounds down the stairs with renewed energy. Her second wind, as Hunter calls it, disperses any tiredness she felt before.

“I thought you were already asleep,” Crosshair grumbles over his mug.

“I was until you made me change and brush my teeth,” Omega shoots back, climbing up on the couch between Hunter and Wrecker. There isn’t really enough room, but she makes herself fit, snugly squished between them. Wrecker laughs and moves his arm to the couch back to make more space.

“Forgive me for being responsible,” Crosshair says, rolling his eyes.

“Wanna taste of my caf?” Wrecker booms, “No cream or sugar, just like you like it.”

Omega scrunches her nose and sticks out her tongue. “Blech! Gross. I like Tech’s caff better.”

“Tech’s caff is ninety-five percent sugar,” Hunter says, hiding a smile behind his mug.

“Now wait a minute,” Tech starts indignantly.

“That’s why little girls like it,” Crosshair chortles gleefully.

Omega soaks in the lighthearted teasing, the warm feeling of safety and stability she hadn’t ever realized was missing until it was gifted to them on Pabu. It had been stolen for a moment when she was kidnapped by Hemlock, when she thought Tech was dead, and Crosshair imprisoned…but now, they have it back. And she never wants to let it go again.

Hunter nudges her, and Omega opens her eyes. She can’t remember when she closed them. “Off to bed, little one,” he says gently.

She nods, and wiggles her way off the couch. “G’night,” she mutters sleepily, waving vaguely, to no one in particular. A chorus of answering goodnights follow her up the staircase. Omega creeps into her little room and climbs into bed. She pushes aside her curtain to look out at the winking village lights. She gasps.

Amongst the usual street lamps and lit windows are thousands of colorful pinpricks of light, strung along the streets and around posts and rooftops. They look like luminous manifestations of pure joy, dazzling sparkles of happiness glittering across the place she didn’t think she could possibly love more.

“Hunter!” she calls, the first name she thinks of.

Omega has her nose pressed against the window pane Hunter comes in. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks. Maybe Omega had sounded a little frantic when she called for him in her excitement.

“Look! It’s beautiful!” Omega pulls away from the window enough for Hunter to lean over the bed and look out for himself. “What are those lights? What do they mean?”

Hunter smiles. “I forgot you didn’t see the lights when we were coming down from the ship. Tech said they’re decorative lights for the holidays.”

“What kind of holidays?” Omega asks.

“I’m not sure…we can ask tomorrow.” Hunter pulls back Omega’s quilt and pats her pillow. Omega looks out the window one more time before laying down and letting Hunter tuck the quilt around her shoulders. He smooths back her hair. “Don’t let that busy mind of yours keep you up,” he warns with a smile. “We’ll solve the mystery in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” Omega sighs.

Hunter clicks off her lamp, whispering one last goodnight over his shoulder as he leaves the room.

Omega’s busy mind keeps her awake a few minutes more, noticing that the colorful lights cast a faint rainbow glow on the slanted ceiling. “Holidays,” Omega breathes dreamily, “I’ve never celebrated holidays before…” The lull of sleep claims her with wistful dreams.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“They’re called Merry Days,” Lyana tells Omega the next morning. “It’s a whole month to honor all the most important holidays from all the cultures represented on Pabu.”

Omega breathes. “A whole month? What do you do for a whole month?”

“All sorts of things! We decorate and eat special food and play games. There are shows and parades, and remembrances. And on the middle day of the month, families exchange gifts with one another. We call that day Merriest Day, because the gift of family is the merriest of all.”

“I’ve never gotten anyone a gift before,” Omega says quietly.

Lyana lights up. “I can help you get gifts for your brothers! We could make them gifts, or even earn some credits to buy gifts from the market.”

“You would really help me do that?” Omega asks, hope swelling in her heart.

“Of course! You’re my friend. That’s what friends do,” Lyana says, as if it is the most obvious thing in the galaxy.

Omega smiles. “When can we start?”

“Right now, obviously.” Lyana laughs. “C’mon!”

Omega chases her friend out the door and into the sunshine of their island home.

TECH

“There’s going to be a parade of lights tonight,” Omega chatters excitedly, accepting the stack of plates from Tech to set around the table. “And the whole island is going to be there.”

Tech hums thoughtfully at the information. “It would be interesting to study the local traditions,” he says, giving Omega a handful of utensils when she bounds back to his side. He turns to the cuts of meat he is cooking on the stovetop.

“We wouldn’t be going to study, Tech,” Omega sighs. “We’d be going because it’s our tradition too! We are citizens of Pabu now, so we should celebrate with them!”

Tech goes still, Omega’s words, so assured, registering in his mind. “Well, I suppose…”

“Lyana asked what traditions clones have to add to Merry Days, and I told her I wasn’t sure, but that I’d ask you, since you know practically everything,” Omega continues fondly, going to the cupboard to collect cups.

“Traditions clones have,” Tech echoes, unsure he understands.

“Yeah,” Omega says, “You know…like other cultures have traditions and holidays. Lyana said they’re always adding new traditions to the month to incorporate all the cultures represented.”

“I’m not sure you would call our history a culture,” Tech counters gently. “Our…kind has only been in existence for an extraordinary short time. And as for traditions worthy of being called a holiday, I’m not sure that there are any by natborn standards.”

He turns to look at his sister in time to see her joyous expression crumble. She isn’t looking at him, but at the cup in her hand, half extended to its place at the table. “Oh,” she whispers. “That makes sense.” She sets the cup down with a soft clunk.

Tech’s voice catches in his throat as he searches for something remotely comforting to say, but his typically brilliant mind comes up short.

Omega looks up at him with a small, brave smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “That’s okay. We can start new traditions. Our own traditions.” She nods, more to herself than to Tech. “I’ll go tell the others it’s almost time for late meal…I mean, dinner.” She rushes from the room, but there is no longer any bounce in her steps.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Omega’s mood improves considerably during late meal. Wrecker hounds her for information about the parade, as if she has any personal experience with it, and she gives him every minute detail she gleaned from Lyana. Even Hunter and Crosshair have a part to play in her lifted spirits, bickering lightly about where the best place to view the parade might be. Omega ultimately sides with Crosshair, to the sniper’s delight, the emotion only displayed in a triumphant smirk at Hunter and a gentle tug on a lock of Omega’s hair.

Once the meal is completed, Hunter sends Omega to make preparations for the evening activity while he offers to assist Tech cleaning up.

“It is not your turn,” Tech argues, unwilling to admit that he had hoped to take advantage of the opportunity to think uninterrupted.

Hunter shrugs, stacking plates and utensils. “I don’t mind.”

Tech minds, but he only nods and mutters a word of thanks.

“You’ve been quiet this evening,” Hunter says after a few minutes of silence between them, the only sound being the clatter of dishes and disturbance of water.

“I’ve been thinking,” Tech admits, handing Hunter a scrubbed dish to dry.

Hunter chuckles. “You usually think out loud.” This earns Hunter an eyeroll, which makes the former sergeant laugh outright and knock his shoulder into Tech’s. “Something’s bothering you.”

“Omega asked me about our culture, what we might contribute to the festivities of Pabu,” Tech says, taking another dirty plate to scrub at.

“Echo’s talked about some traditions the regs had,” Hunter says, the lightness of his tone vanished. “Maybe he’d have some ideas.”

“But we never participated in them,” Tech says, “and aside from that, it is troubling that Omega doesn’t have a history beyond the laboratories of Kamino. No clone does.”

“All histories and cultures have to start somewhere,” Hunter says.

This makes Tech pause. “This is true.”

“I suppose we have an opportunity to make our own culture, our own legacy,” Hunter continues. “Something for Omega to carry with her.”

After we’re gone remains unsaid.

“Omega said something similar,” Tech admits.

Hunter takes the stack of dried plates to put in the cupboard. “We can still ask Echo for ideas. I’m sure he would love to have input.”

“And Rex as well,” Tech adds, feeling lighter now that he has shared the burden. “I will contact them tonight. Hopefully we will have something to offer Omega as suggestions in the morning.”

Hunter shakes his head and smiles. “Tech, we don’t have our entire legacy figured out in one night.”

“But that would be ideal.”

CROSSHAIR

As soldiers, they have seen many celebrations on many worlds, but always in the capacity of disinterested observers. Watching for threats and protecting citizens made the distraction of festivities bothersome rather than engaging.

Now, Crosshair sees it all from a new perspective.

Omega is perched on Wrecker’s shoulders, high above the crowd. Crosshair doesn’t like the press of the horde on the streets, almost wishing he could find his own perch to observe the chaotic festivities from; however, his desire for open space does not win out over his yearning to be close to his little sister and brothers. So, instead, he situates himself between Wrecker’s bulk and Hunter’s solid presence. It also puts him within Omega’s reach, resulting in her tapping him on the head to draw his attention to anything and everything that catches her attention.

He pretends to be bothered, but Omega only giggles, seeing through his act as if it were a wide open window.

“Look, Crosshair!” she cries, a pat of little fingers in his hair. “Isn’t it cute!”

“We’re watching the same parade,” he tells her. “I see everything you see.”

“But are you looking at the little moonyo in the tree?”

“I saw it before you did.”

Omega huffs. “You did not.”

Crosshair smirks.

When the parade finally ends, Omega slides down from Wrecker’s shoulders and latches herself to Crosshair’s hand for the walk back home, even after he tells her she’ll have to keep up with his pace if she wants to stay there.

“That’s why I’m walking with you,” Omega tells him. “Hunter and Tech walk too slow.”

“That’s because it isn’t a race,” Tech says.

“You only say that because you wouldn’t win,” Crosshair replies.

“Yeah!” Wrecker declares. “I could beat all of you!”

Omega drops Crosshair’s hand. “Last one home has to do dishes for a week!” She takes off, followed quickly by a whooping Wrecker.

Crosshair exchanges a look with Tech and Hunter before he says, “Well, I’m not doing dishes for a week.”

“You don’t seriously mean…” Tech starts, but Crosshair is already gone, civilian boots pounding into the cobblestone streets.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“I don’t think it’s fair that Hunter chose to participate in the race only after we had nearly reached the house,” Tech is still grousing when Crosshair returns to the common area from tucking Omega in for the night.

“You’re just upset you didn’t think of it first,” Hunter says smugly, taking a slow drink of his caf.

Tech continues to grumble from behind his data pad.

Crosshair goes to pour himself a cup of caf, adding just a touch of cream and sweetener. He would be loath to admit he used either, trying to keep the beverage deceptively dark. When he returns to the common room, he finds that the conversation has shifted from their evening race.

“Echo has already responded to my message,” Tech is saying to Hunter.

Wrecker poses the question before Crosshair can. “What message?”

“About clone traditions,” Tech says absently, still reading over the message in question.

“Clone traditions,” Crosshair mutters. “You mean, reg traditions.”

“It isn’t like we have any ourselves,” Tech says.

“Sure we do!” Wrecker cries. “We have traditions.”

“Such as?” Tech asks skeptically.

“Well, after a successful mission, Omega and I would get Mantell Mix,” Wrecker begins happily, but then he freezes, glancing at Crosshair.

In fact, Crosshair can feel three sets of eyes on him. He decidedly does not meet their gaze, focusing on the caf in his cup. This post mission Mantel Mix tradition was one established during his separation from the squad, when they ran jobs for the trandoshan that would later betray them to the Empire. They must’ve called them missions, their little mercenary gigs. While he knows their lives didn’t stop while he was gone, it doesn’t make the ache any less sharp.

Crosshair takes a drink of his caf, even though it is still too hot. “Well,” he says, “sounds like you’ve got a tradition right there.”

“Omega did mention that food does play a role in the month’s festivities,” Tech acknowledges, taking Crosshair’s words as permission to step away from the awkwardness of the conversation. “Perhaps we could borrow the concept of Mantell Mix and make our own rendition.”

Hunter makes a face. “Mantell Mix wasn’t even good.”

“Take that back!” cries Wrecker.

“Hunter has a point,” Tech says, ignoring Wrecker’s indignant gasp, “It was…subpar at best.”

“And that’s coming from the man who drinks caf with his milk and sugar,” Crosshair puts in helpfully, earning a guffaw from Wrecker.

Hunter interjects, bringing the derailed conversation back on course. “What did Echo have to say?”

“He mentioned name days, the day a clone received or chose their name. They would celebrate the day annually. Its natborn equivalent would probably be a birthday.”

“How are we supposed to remember when we chose our names?” Crosshair asks, rolling his eyes.

“I actually kept a record,” Tech admits. “I thought it was important.”

“Of course you did.”

Tech sighs. “I am adding it to the list of traditions we show to Omega in the morning. That gives us a grand total of two traditions we might contribute to Merry Days.”

“A nasty snack and the day a clone decides they don’t want to go by a CT number anymore?” Crosshair grumbles. “Do you think they’d give us a parade for those?”

Hunter frowns at him. “We are open to suggestions, Cross.”

Crosshair argues, “Why do we need to contribute any traditions? Can’t our tradition be that we adopt whatever traditions we want? Seems the month is full of them without us adding our petty creations.”

“Omega would be disappointed,” Tech says after a moment.

Crosshair sighs. “The truth is disappointing sometimes. And the truth here is, we’re clones. We were experiments and soldiers most of our lives…which wasn’t living. It was surviving.”

“But we still have our memories and experiences that have made us individuals, no matter what the Kaminoans hoped to achieve. We are more than just survivors,” Tech says.

“We have our history that made us,” Hunter says, softly, into his mug, “and now we have our history ahead of us. To do more than just survive.”

Tech chuckles. “I guess you were right afterall, Hunter. A legacy cannot be built in a night.”

“But it can be built in our lifetimes,” Hunter says.

TBC

I had to break this story into at least 2 parts…but the next part will come!!

This story was originally for the holidays, but I got in a car accident on Christmas Eve, so that put a damper on the plan 😅

But I finally get to post this bittersweet fluff!

✨Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!✨

Taglist: @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista @followthepurrgil @arctrooper69 @mooncommlink @nagyanna424 @groguandthebadbatch @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @the-little-moment @merkitty49

#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday23 #alternate prompt 6: immortality #star wars #the bad batch #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #tbb wrecker #soft whump #siblings #probably canon divergent #emotional whump

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motherofplatypus · 10 months

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Someone please write a fic for Miraculous Season 6, but Adrien's bodyguard is the new Hawkmoth.

#and he managed to convince everyone to make the deal #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #mlb #miraculous season 6 #ml season 6 #miraculous au #ml au idea #ml au #ml prompt #miraculous prompt #miraculous alternate ending

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blizzardfluffykpop · 1 year

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12 days of Winter Year #6

Groups you can request for are MONSTA X, PENTAGON, GOT7, SEVENTEEN, and Xdinary Heroes.

To request, pick a prompt and a member from one of the groups listed above, and the specific reader you want it for (if not specified, I’ll make it gender neutral). Also, I do not write smut.

Prompts that are strikethrough have been requested. I’ll be doing these throughout December.

Update: All prompts have been written so they are no longer strikethrough!

Please request!!!

“It’s freezing out– and you want ice cream?” “Yeah.” “Let’s go get some!”

“I’ll have a blue Christmas without you.”

Kissing under the mistletoe

“Well, pull up an ice block and lend an ear” [Parent/Grandparent/Family Friend au]

“Do you want to watch the snow fall with me?”

Wrapping presents together

“Christmas lights can’t compare to how bright you shine.”

Visiting a Christmas light display together

“Do you want to spend the holidays with me?” “You would do that?”

“You want to watch sappy hallmark movies together?” “Eh, why not?”

“Would you be my date to the Christmas Ball?”

Make Your Own Prompt!

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kalevalakryze · 7 months

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Giggledust

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Ahsoka Series Pairings: Sabine Wren/Shin Hati, Sabine Wren & Ahsoka Tano & Ezra Bridger & Shin Hati & Hera Syndulla & Jacen Syndulla Characters: Sabine Wren, Shin Hati, Ahsoka Tano, Ezra Bridger, Hera Syndulla, Jacen Syndulla, Chopper Warnings: Non-Consensual Drug Use, NSFW themes (Non-explicit), Ideology of Death, Addiction, Child Trafficking Notes: For Whumptober Day 6, Alternative Prompt, Prompt: Drugging (Alternate Prompt) Word Count: 2,970 AO3 Link: Here!

“I guess there’s a rumor about some kind of ‘First Order’ trying to rise from the ashes of the Empire,” Sabine explained as Shin, Ezra, and herself made their way through the streets of Mon Gazza’s underworld, past old pod-racing tracks and through overcrowded markets.

“I thought this was a New Republic allied world?” Ezra butted in, tripping over a Gungan’s outstretched foot as he caught up to Sabine and the silent wolf at her side.

Shin only turned to raise an eyebrow at the Jedi as he finally caught up, walking a beat behind Sabine, level with Shin. “Right…” Scratching the back of his neck, Ezra immediately perked up upon seeing one of the vendor’s stalls. “Hey, maybe it’ll be best to split up? Meet back in half an hour if no one finds the contact?”

Both Shin and Sabine shared a look at the suggestion, though Sabine pinching the bridge of her nose sealed the deal. “Just don’t forget the-” He was gone before she could finish speaking.

Sharing one last look with Sabine, Shin brushed off down a seemingly random alley, leaving the Mandalorian with her comms, and a well overused callsign.

Half an hour passed and she hadn’t had any luck, on her way back to the rendezvous, however, she managed to get a hit. The man was covered up well enough that she couldn’t make out any identifiers, but the twisting in her gut told her this stranger was something. “Hey, It’s a long way to Hosnian,”

Sabine wanted to sigh in relief at the curt nod of their head, watching as his hand disappeared into his robes; presumably for the data-tape, though she was met with a face full of powder. It was an absurd amount, finding its way into her system in her first breath, falling into the cracks of her armor and sticking to her suit. “Here! They’re here! The Smuggler!” He barked out, calling for New Republic security, who despite never patrolling these sections, just so happened to have a full squad standing by as Sabine was framed.

“Karabast,” She’d know the feeling of giggledust in her veins any day, had spent a good deal of time working with Ketsu handling all kinds of spice, under the guise of ‘building an immunity’. This was at a concentration and abundance that the two Mandalorians had never even had in one place at the same time.

The world around her came into such a razor sharp focus, she felt as if the world around her was pixelating. “Stop it right there!” A voice shouted, bringing a muffled giggle from the Mandalorian as he approached.

“What am I holding?” Her hands squeezed into fists, lucidity failing her as the drug fast-tracked into her system. A stun shot moved towards her, seemingly in slow motion, allowing her to jump out of the way and bring it to hit a civilian. “Oh! Stormtrooper Academy, huh?”

Scrambling to get up, The Mandalorian took off, tripping and stumbling, yet still managing to keep several paces ahead. “Ah fuck fuck fuck!” Sabine breathed, brushing past people as she ran, unrestrained laughter bringing a wheeze to her breathing as her lungs constricted.

An invisible force yanked the Mandalorian from the side street, a tall, lithe body trapping her between the bricks as the stranger’s hand came to press into her mouth, muffling the giggling as Republic troopers rushed past.

In the dim lighting, Sabine could make out the dyed purple of Shin’s Padawan braid, and the little glint of beskar around their throat. “Kurs’kaded!” Her voice was muffled, until she dragged the flat of her tongue across the palm of their glove, earning her a crinkled nose and a grossed out expression.

“You don’t know where that’s been,” Shin deadpanned, wiping Sabine’s slobber off onto her cape. “You were not at the rendezvous, and then we watch you run from the Republic, what’s going on?” Pressing her hands into Shin’s hips and tugging the woman closer, Sabine busied herself with trailing her lips along their throat.

“Dunno,” She hummed against their pulse point, delighting in the way they shivered as she pressed a toothy smile against warm skin. “But there’s better stuff that could be going on,” Shin’s hand pressed into Sabine’s chest the moment the Mandalorian’s thigh slotted between their legs.

Silver met gold in a moment of terse understanding. “You were drugged,” She stated, wiping the sandy looking powder from the paint on Sabine’s armor.

“Fulcrum, Spectre five is compromised,”

“Copy Wolf One, moving in for pickup. Did you find the contact?”

“Bridger is engaging now,”

Comms went silent as Sabine blinked dreamily up at Shin, lips pulling at the corners as she fisted her hands in their tunic against their hips. “Hey, Shin, psst-” She whispered, struggling to lean up with the hand on her chest. “I know what they meant when they told me to hold on,” This time, the pull of Shin’s hips was halted with the other woman’s tensing form, pressing her back into the wall harder to stop herself from giving in, and turning Sabine’s smile into a dramatic pout.

“Shin,” A whine halted only by giggles at the sound of her own voice, somewhere in the haze that her brain had quickly turned into, Sabine had enough humility to cringe at herself. “C’mon, ‘Soka’s gonna be a minute, and you look really good-” Their brows furrowed as the Mandalorian slid back against the wall, dropping her body to her knees until her nose was brushing against the taller woman’s knee. “I’d never ask you for anything again, swear on my grave- oh! Swear on the graves of my buire!” The smile slipped from her lips as the arousal and giddiness were swept away as the pendulum swung.

“Though, they didn’t really get graves- They were probably hett’la , into nothing.” Tears stung at her eyes as the blonde gaped downwards at her, trying to process their best course of action with the wild change to Sabine’s mood. “Poof,” Her voice cracked, hands grasping at the blonde’s shins to ground herself to them.

“They died with family though- that’s good.” A sniffle as the fabric of Shin’s pants became wet with heavy tears. “The whole family, except me; that’s fine; I didn’t want to die with them anyways. They didn’t want me for so long- why should I?”

“Ahsoka,” Shin’s voice was equal parts relieved and strained as a figure joined them in the alley. “She’s been hit with spice- a decent amount of it,” Their nose crinkled again as Ahsoka joined Sabine’s position, kneeling at Shin’s feet, putting herself close enough to be in Sabine’s line of sight the next time watery golden eyes blinked open.

“Sabine, can I pick you up?” Ahsoka’s voice was gentle, reaching out her hand to the woman’s shoulder at the same time as their force bond.

“Yes please,” She whispered, though she refused to release her hold on the backs of Shin’s calves, still pressing her face into their knee as Ahsoka tried to work her hands away.

“Ad’ika,” Ahsoka soothed, reaching to brush her fingers through sweat and spice infused hair, nose crinkling as she caught the smell of the drug in the air. That wasn’t going to be fun for her immune system to fight through later. “I need you to let go, Padawan,”

With continued coaxing, Sabine’s hands were finally guided from Shin’s legs to Ahsoka’s neck, allowing the Mandalorian to wrap around her just as tight as she wanted. “Shin, clear us a path that won’t trigger the patrols,” Turning her head to talk into the comm on her wrist, she addressed Ezra. “Spectre six, meet us back home, do not bring the package straight home, I need you to make a pit stop,”

“Fulcrum, I think I read your mind already,” Ezra chimed in on the other end, a smile clear in his voice. “I’ll meet everyone back home, can’t wait!”

The push back to the ship was long and treacherous, with Sabine’s moods switching from laughing at the happenings around them, to hiding her face in Ahsoka’s neck and crying, to seeming perfectly normal the next moment, enough that she would often voice how much she hated this, until seeing something that made her laugh all over again.

Inside the T-6, Ahsoka managed to set Sabine on a risen bench, helping the Mandalorian as she fell back. “ ‘soka? My head hurts,”

“I bet, what did you take?” Ahsoka started pulling the woman’s armor away, holding out her hand to stop Shin when the wolf moved to help. “If she got on you, you need to change, you’ll be more sensitive to it,” They looked like they wanted to argue, looking down at the tunic, covered in the dusty brown substance. Nodding once, Shin slipped away to the crew quarters.

“Huyang, we’ll need to clean everything, they’ll all be at risk if this gets in the vents.”

“Of course, Lady Tano. I’ll get filter upgrades on the to-do list as well.”

“Thank you,” Ahsoka sighed, working on setting Sabine’s armor to the side, nose crinkling from the acidic smell of the spice. “That’s been cut,”

“Mmhmm,” Sabine grumbled below her, trying to shove her arm out of her flight suit without unzipping it. “Giggledust, can’t recognize the other one,” A harsh bark of laughter as the Mandalorian shook her head. “Should be able to, can’t. Hilarious,”

“Let’s go down the list, then.” Ahsoka helped ease the top of her flight suit off, stopping the spice from falling onto her underclothes. “Grab my shoulders,” Ahsoka helped Sabine stand, keeping the younger woman from spreading more of the spice as the human’s fingers dug into her shoulders. “Ryll?”

“Master, your shoulders are so-” Sabine snorted, almost doubling over were it not for the Togruta helping her out of her contaminated flight suit. A bout of giggles had the woman covering her mouth and turning her head, holding on to Ahsoka to keep herself stable. “No, I don’t think it’s any Prime Kessel strains; can’t mix them, or… I’d probably be dead.” Laughter died as quickly as it started.

“Fuck, Ahsoka,” The hands on her shoulders trembled until Ahsoka was rising back to her full height, steadying Sabine through another swing. “I hate this,”

“It’s glitterstim,” Shin called out as she exited the crew quarters, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. “That is why she’s swinging so wildly, though there is another I cannot figure out…” The blonde moved to settle onto the other end of the bench, brows pulled in concentration.

“Felucian?” Ahsoka suggested, helping Sabine back into the bench.

“No, I remember everything… too much,” Her elbows fell heavily onto the table, hands weaving into her hair to pull on short violet strands. “Spice is expensive and risky, why would they waste it on me if it wasn’t going to kill me?”

“If they got you addicted, then you, a key player, would be out of the game; they’re hoping you’ll try to chase this to your own demise.” Shin’s shoulders shrugged nonchalantly as Sabine groaned.

“Great, this is great,” Laughter, once again bubbled past her lips like glass in a hydraulic press. Ahsoka settled herself on Sabine’s other side, guiding the Mandalorian’s fingers from her hair before she could pull on it. “Fuck!” She shouted again, knuckles white as she grabbed Ahsoka’s hands with her own, squeezing as she tried to fight her way through the next swing as it burned in her veins.

“Engspice, fuck, fuck, and hey, guess what? Fuck!” Sabine’s legs bounced as she forced herself to focus through the painful mix of sharp and blurry of her distorted vision. “Engspice fucks a person, they get hooked until they die, and I can’t… Ahsoka if that’s what kills me? I’ll never see them again,”

Shin’s hand rested on the center of her back as her Moon swung, frowning at the sweat dampening her undershirt. “We won’t let that happen, me’suum’ika” “How many people get over a spice addiction on the other side?” Sabine spat hotly, resting her forehead against the table to avoid looking at either force-sensitive on her side.

Shin’s muscles tensed unexpectedly as the woman shrugged her shoulders. “Unimportant,” their legs crossed under the table, fingertips pressing into Sabine’s back before smoothing her undershirt out again. “But you aren’t alone in it,”

“First, however, we need to remove all traces from the ship, and get you sobered up,” Ahsoka chimed in, gently squeezing Sabine’s hands before letting go and rising to grab the Mandalorian’s armor.

Dramatically, Sabine let herself fall into Shin’s side, pushing her way up and under their arm to be in their personal space as Ahsoka and Huyang worked on getting the contaminated clothing out of the ship and cleaned up.

“What do you remember about the person who dusted you?” Shin questioned, begrudgingly allowing Sabine to press up into her side as another bout of unrestrained giggles passed tired lips.

“Kinda like you, when we first met; just a lot less pretty.” Sabine’s nose crinkled for a moment as she pressed the side of her feverish face into Shin’s shirt. “You smelled a lot better too, once I got past the burning insides thing-”

“What did he smell like?” Shin’s fingers brushed through the hair on the back of Sabine’s head, nails scratching against her scalp soothingly as the Mandalorian’s hand moved under the table to rest on the blonde’s thigh, the other supporting her head with an elbow on the table.

“Jealous?” The tensing of their leg under her hand had the purple haired woman laughing, massaging away the flexing muscle as she examined the new fabric beneath her fingers. “Your new pants are nice; would be nice on the ground though,”

“Sabine,” There was a warning in their tone, a sharp eyebrow raised as the hand carding through her hair tightened, pulling lightly on short hair and stopping only when the Mandalorian offered a lopsided smile in response. “It may help identify him, you know.”

“Of course I know that; there’s just some more important things on my mind, like me, you, my bevagol; no one else is in the ship right now,” Her hand pressed up higher along Shin’s leg, The hand in her hair tightened again, guiding Sabine’s head back enough until she was forced to let out a soft gasp, following the direction of the pull on her head.

“You will tell me what you recognized about this person’s smell first, then we will discuss.”

Groaning, Sabine shook her head free from Shin’s claws, slumping into their side like an angry toddler as she crossed her arms over her chest. “They smelled like sweat, like they really needed a shower. Like the sewers on Coruscant, that specific kinda acid they’ve got down there, but dusty enough that he could have come from one of the spice mines on planet? Or was that just the dust in my nose-”

“Unless the Imperials are employing the miners, now that the New Republic has control over the trade again.”

“The Imperial’s can’t employ anyone, the First Order can.” Sabine snorted, shaking her head as she forced her way into Shin’s lap, looping her arms around their neck and waiting until the blonde shifted to hold her Mandalorian close.

“Sabine-” Shin grumbled unenthusiastically, arms wrapping under Sabine’s thighs and around her back as she tucked herself into them. “Yes, The First Order,” A scoff as her chin came to rest upon the crown of Sabine’s head. “Though I would put it closer to an outsider, Imperials and the like have a distinct odor, no matter how long they’ve been in the system, if you did not pick up on it, it was either someone disconnected from the mission, or a mercenary.”

“And what does my ver’verd’ika think about it?” Sabine pressed her face into their throat, smiling as she felt more than heard the heavy swallow from her teeth so close to the pulse point.

“They’ll be connected somehow; The Empire cracked down on the spice trade to control it, and if your mark was willing to waste such an extensive amount to hit you with, they’ll have more, or the promise of another shipment.”

Ezra’s head poked into the ship as the sluggish gears in Sabine’s head started to move. “Hey guys? We’ve got a hit, black robes, vial of dust; they picked him up trying to nab a kid; Ahsoka’s running damage control, but Shin, we should keep an ear out in case he slips Republic custody,”

Sabine snorted as Ezra stepped into the ship the rest of the way, pulling off the cloak from around his shoulders as he dropped into the seat Sabine had once occupied, allowing the Mandalorian to push her legs out across his lap. “Aaand ‘soka thought you’d be hungry,” From the bag strapped to his leg, the Jedi retrieved three neatly wrapped crupa breast sandwiches. “Close to not being like, safe; but we’ve had worse,”

“Damn right,” Sabine grumbled, snatching a wrapped parcel from the table. As the Mandalorian and Jedi dug in, Shin reached out in the force, feeling for Ahsoka and any update she could get on the mission status.

The gray apprentice’s eyes opened at the tap of bread and meat against her lips. “I have a bad feeling about this,” they managed, before Sabine was urging them to take a bite.

“It’s not that expired, Kurs’kaded,”

Shin only hummed their response, there was no use in clarifying; Ahsoka would confirm for them if this new ‘First Order’ was dabbling on their attempts of forced child enlistment into their hidden forces; They’d have to trust that whatever was brewing, the force would see them through it.

Translations: Kurs'kaded - Wolf Me'suum'ika - Moon Bevagol - Dick

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evilwriter37 · 2 years

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Toothcup Week Day 6

@toothcup-week

Alternate prompt: books

Rated: general

Warnings: none

Pairings: Hiccup & Toothless

Word Count: 457

Summary: Toothless doesn't completely understand books, but he enjoys Hiccup reading to him anyway.

#toothcup week 2022 #day 6 #alternate prompt #hictooth #hiccup haddock #toothless #httyd #how to train your dragon #fluff #fanfiction

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bokatanweek · 2 years

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Prompt Voting is now Open!

Thanks again to everyone who made suggestions!

The top 6 prompts will become the official list for BKW 2022! The runners-up will also be listed as alternate prompts that can be used in place of any of the main ones.

There will be at least 5 alternate prompts, but there may be more; the final number will be based on popularity. For example, last year a whole bunch of prompts came in at 6 votes each. If that's the case again, rather than having to narrow down all those prompts, whatever got 7+ votes will be used as alternates instead, whether that is just the minimum 5 prompts or 10!

As always, if you have any questions at all, please don't hesitate to ask!

Voting will close about two weeks from now, on June 5th!

#bo katan #bo katan kryze #bo katan week #bkw 2022 #prompt voting #(in case you were wondering some of those 6 vote prompts did get used for alternates last year)#(i ran them through a random picker to meet the goal of 8 alt prompts)

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flowerslut · 2 years

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six sentence sunday pt. 2 🤠

from another upcoming whumptober one-shot

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

No one was supposed to have gotten hurt.

Two minutes and twelve seconds later he drove his fist through the side of a man’s abdomen. Arguably the hardest one of these newborns to kill, Jasper had been trying to take the giant man down for the better half of the last minute and finally, an opening—and even with the final bite that the dying newborn bestowed him with (a dangerously close call)—he barely flinched from the pain as he ripped him apart. The back of Jasper's neck burned with foreign venom but he didn’t blink twice.

There were five newborns left. Stragglers. Not a threat to the patchwork defense he’d stapled together over the past several weeks.

Turning his back on the dying battle he sprinted across the clearing.

#twilight fanfiction #jalice #this is more than 6 sentences but fuckin sue me #this is a different prompt than the last two snippets #eclipse-era alternate battle take #two snippets??? in ONE 24 hour period?#yes can you tell i'm excited to post them????#16k between 4 prompts coming at yall soon

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indigostars · 2 years

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disaster trio appreciation week, alternative prompt one: wish

•

If someone were to ask Ahsoka what the worst part of the war is, she’d answer that it would be the silence that comes after all the fighting stops. The way the world stops as people — soldiers and civilians alike — wordlessly wander around as if they have no idea what happened or what to do next.

It’s the high-pitched vibrations that echo in her head as her body moves without conscious thought as all the screaming fades but never truly goes away.

Even years after, even as she moves from one fight to another, seemingly battling a war where her side is slowly losing — a war that’ll never truly end.

Ahsoka slinks into the shadows, pulling her hood up as a new batch of stormtroopers march down the streets.

She misses the comforting weight of her lightsabers. She misses having the Force swirl around her with the touch of a comforting friend.

But most importantly, she misses her family. It was a prominent feeling she’d had when she first left the Order — but even then, Ahsoka found solace in the thought that the Jedi Order would always be around if she ever needed anything.

That Anakin and Obi-Wan would always be around.

Growing up in a war, Ahsoka knew that they weren’t indestructible — they were living beings, after all, and could die just as quickly as others. Still, Anakin and Obi-Wan always seemed like they were untouchable. Even through the darkest times, they were beacons of light that convinced Ahsoka that they could somehow make it out alive.

She stares up at the sky. It’s cloudy, but she can spot a few rays of sunlight filtering through, glistening as it always does after rain.

Ahsoka can almost hear Anakin’s laugh. “Take a minute to breathe in the fresh air, Snips! Throw your head back and—”

“—and let the sunlight hit your skin,” Ahsoka murmurs with the memory.

“At least come back inside and dry off first!” Obi-Wan had called afterward. “Otherwise you’ll catch a cold!”

Ahsoka’s lips twitch upward as she hears Anakin’s response as clearly as if she was still with him: “I don’t get sick, Obi-Wan!”

But they’d obliged anyway — arguing and laughing and teasing the entire time back to their quarters.

Ahsoka remembers how Anakin did get a cold, how she succumbed to it shortly after, and how Obi-Wan made tea, only to find the two of them squished together on the couch half-asleep.

“What am I going to do with you two?” Obi-Wan had mourned, though Ahsoka remembers seeing the fond look on his face.

Ahsoka finds herself smiling softly.

“What indeed?” she says quietly, tearing her gaze away from the clouds and the memories — because no amount of reminiscing and wishing for the quiet moments will bring Anakin and Obi-Wan back.

#disaster trio appreciation week 2022 #day 6 #alternative prompt #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #i’ve been trying so hard to make this week fun and fluffy #but the kenobi show has aired today so today is only angst and safness!!#my fic

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jomilky · 2 years

Note

I noticed you kept mentioning one-shot prompt so I guess there’re also multi-chapters prompts? So excited!!!

yeah I have a multi-chapters au prompt that I’m working on but it’s still a rough draft so sjdhdgddhdhd

#it’s send by 🪠anon #also I kept mentioning one-shot bc I don’t want 🪠 anon to think that I’ve forgotten about their prompt #l just don’t like to make anyone feel neglected sjdhdfhdhd #I originally planned on 6 chapters #like 3 non-smut and 3 smut alternately #but it seemed that shit jumped too fast in this way #so it might be longer #anyways it’s still VERY ROUGH #and I want to post it only after it’s all done

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aaronnaphiliou · 7 months

Text

Avatar the Last Airbender Whumptober 2023 Day 6

No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”

Recording | Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

Katara was forced to bloodbend and someone dies. Iroh watches his nephew attempt to break him out and someone dies

#whumptober 2023 #no. 6 #dialogue prompt #lyric prompt #Recording #made to watch #avatar: tla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #fanfic #death tw #blood and injuries tw #alternate universe

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febuwhump · 4 months

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FEBUWHUMP 2024 PROMPT LIST

this year's prompts were chosen through a suggestion poll (in which we recevied 2,281 prompts) and a subsequent vote, where over 1,000 people voted for their favourites. the top 29 make up the core prompts, and a mixture of the next most popular - and this blog's personal favourites - have become the alternates

i’m so excited to see what you all create with these prompts, and hope they’re inspiring enough to trigger a whole month’s worth of creativity for you! if you have any questions, please check out the blog's faq before sending an ask, or check out the previously asked questions on the blog!

please note: this year, notifying the blog of completionist status will happen through a google form that will be released closer to the end of febuwhump.

full write-up of prompts and rules under the cut:

FEBUWHUMP 2024 PROMPTS:

DAY 1: helpless

DAY 2: solitary confinement

DAY 3: "bite down on this"

DAY 4: obedience

DAY 5: rope burns

DAY 6: "you lied to me"

DAY 7: suffering in silence

DAY 8: "why won't it stop?"

DAY 9: bees

DAY 10: killing in self defence

DAY 11: time loop

DAY 12: semi-conscious

DAY 13: "you weren't supposed to get hurt"

DAY 14: blood-stained tiles

DAY 15: "who did this to you?"

DAY 16: came back wrong

DAY 17: hostage situation

DAY 18: too weak to move

DAY 19: "please don't"

DAY 20: truth serum

DAY 21: unresponsive

DAY 22: "you weren't meant to be there"

DAY 23: presumed dead

DAY 24: "i'm doing this because i care about you"

DAY 25: waterboarding

DAY 26: "help them"

DAY 27: left for dead

DAY 28: "no... not like this"

DAY 29: not allowed to die

ALTERNATE PROMPTS:

is there a specific day’s prompt you don’t want to fill? here are ten alternatives you can switch them out for!

ALT 1: human shield

ALT 2: "i love you"

ALT 3: found footage

ALT 4: human weapon

ALT 5: cpr

ALT 6: immortality

ALT 7: last words

ALT 8: killing game

ALT 9: lightning strike

ALT 10: last man standing

RULES:

SOFT RULES:

prompts should be answered in the form of whump

creators can produce whatever kind of media they want

you don’t have to complete all the prompts! you can create however much you want to

you can use the prompts after the event ends and can complete them in tandem with any other event

you can post on any platform you want, however this blog will only be sharing those posted on tumblr

if you want to be featured on the hall of fame then you have until the 3rd of March to inform this blog that you completed all the days

if you have questions consult the faq before asking

HARD RULES: (specifically for being featured on the blog)

when uploading febuwhump content to tumblr, please use the tags:

febuwhump (i’ll also be checking febuwhump2024)

the relevant day’s tag e.g. febuwhumpday1, febuwhumpday2…

nsfw (if relevant)

and any trigger warnings that may be important!

you can also tag the blog, @febuwhump

i cannot guarantee your work will be archived on the blog because I have no idea how many participants there will be. a random selection of works tagged in accordance to the rules above will be reblogged every day of february.

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump2024 #prompts #whump #whump prompts

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melonn-soda · 4 months

Text

❝ PERSONAL STREAM (A Little Too Personal..) ❞

word count: 1.9k

warnings: subbot! cis male reader, domtop! cis male kamo choso, camboy! choso, slight dumbification?, praise kink, reader referred to as a size queen (term is used for a man), mention of edging (choso), mentions/descriptions of manhandling

prompt: congratulations! you just won a solo fan call with your favorite camboy! hope you have fun watching him getting off to you being just the goodest boy ever :)

notes: a gift for and and idea from @sooniebby I jus made it into a choso fic. I've been holding it off for a while now, I think. this isn't as good as had wanted it to be but it's fine regardless. not beta read, sorry not sorry

fem aligned dni

you can’t believe it.

you actually can’t believe what you’re reading right now.

in your email inbox, something you barely ever check unless needed to, had a message from the user of a porn website (not your proudest moment) that you signed up on just to watch his videos, telling you that you won this month’s drawing. you had to stand up, walk around, eat breakfast, and come back to your computer to see if it was still there. if it was still real. you swore you’ve never felt so excited yet so scared in your life.

to know that, somehow, you won that solo fan call, to know that he’ll be jerking off for you, to know that no one else can see him but you, talking to you, and- shit. you were getting hard. you looked back at your computer screen. the email is still there. you’re not crazy. you feel like you are though.

the roll of the cheap gaming chair you bought from amazon sounded muffled in your ears as you backed away from your computer, getting up to get ready for the day with that email still lingering like an itch on your scalp that you can’t seem to satisfy. you need to get to work.

your co-workers noticed the blank stare in your eyes as you slipped on your chef coat and pants, hands on autopilot as you tucked hair into your hat and tied the apron around your waist. it smelled of fresh detergent since they just washed your uniform. your friend had to even point out that you cut your finger when dicing onions because you were too out of it to even notice. or was it that working in the food industry made your fingers numb to the sensation since it happens so many times? ... huh.

when you got back home, you opened up the email again. it’s still there. it’s still real. did you want it to be fake? part of you says yes but the majority of you hoped not. i mean, you’ve been following this guy for.. what, months now? lord knows how much money you’ve sent to him. he wants to start the call at 7pm on discord.

you thought he might use something else other than that app but he was probably just using an alternative account and he most likely changes his user after every raffle. if you were him, you would do the same thing.

...

you should probably take a shower.

it was 6:40 and your hair was still damp with water, towel resting on your shoulders to catch any stray droplets from getting your shirt wet. you kind of wanted to back out. the fear of being one to one with the camboy you’ve been fantasizing about for a long while now was scaring you a bit.

fingers fidgeting with the paper stars littering your desk and your foot rapidly tapping against the floor, you watched the seconds go by on your desktop. your dominant hand reaches for your mouse and highlights his username to copy it and paste it onto the add user section, sending the friend request to see that he accepts it not even 2 minutes later. ...was he getting ready?

your webcam was sitting on your desk, not properly hooked onto the top of your computer. it was plugged in but you hardly ever use it so it just sits where it is. should you set it up? ..no, you didn’t feel like it. your mic was completely ready though, as always. you and your friends would always play together on call, so it was your most used piece of equipment.

4 minutes.

your stomach twisted in anxiety.

choso sighed as he applied lotion all over his torso, all too used to the way he prepared everything during streams and bonus videos locked behind an even bigger paywall. this sidegig he was doing felt like a chore sometimes but money was money, and by god did this account make him a lot of it.

lots of women flocked to his account, entranced by the way his voice stuttered whenever he close, his hips that instinctively jerked because his hand wasn’t able to move any faster, and the whimpers that teared into the mic when he came all over his hands and milked himself for all that he’s worth. they mostly talked about how perfect his dick looked but that was an average comment in his chat.

he saw the friend request notification pop up on his computer and figured he’d at least get his cock hard before the call even started. he put on some random porno in the background, stroking himself with little care and when he got half-hard, he figured that would’ve been enough. he accepted the friend request and close the tab with the video playing, looking over to see that he had 4 minutes until he would start the call.

fingers moving expertisley across the keyboard, he made sure to tell you that the first 30 minutes of this session was free, any longer and you would have to start paying up. you replied with a very short, “got it.” and left it at that. you seemed to type out something more before it quickly went away, causing choso to raise an eyebrow. were you scared?

35 seconds.

choso was getting tired of waiting, so he began the call. unbeknownst to him, you freaked out when you heard the ringtone rumble through your speakers, hesitating to accept the call. in the end, you did anyway because you didn’t have to pay for this private session for 30 whole minutes.

the half-curse’s hand went back to his dick, stroking it with barely any passion behind his movements. however, he wasn’t expecting to see the face of the winner from the drawing within 5 minutes of the call, teeth biting into his fist as his other hand’s fingers worked himself open. choso swore he was no longer half-hard, dick twitching to life in his hands, pre already leaking from the tip of his cock.

he was used to mostly knowing that women were behind the screen and heavily suspected that you might’ve been one- but fuck, to know that another man was getting off to his voice, his cock, drove him wild.

maybe he’ll get rid of that 30 minute rule.

you didn’t mean to turn your webcam on.

you could feel your stomach sink when you could see yourself on full display for the camboy in the discord call. it was too late to turn it off now. whatever. you only live once.

“aren’t you just the cutest?” you aren’t sure why you flinched but the way his voice carried those words certainly got you feeling things, “how about you turn your mic on too, yeah? wanna hear your pretty voice.”

shakily, the hand you were biting on reaches for your mouse and you click unmute. your fingers that were inside you accidentally pressed against your prostate, causing a loud moan to fall from your lips, immediately slapping your hand over your mouth to silence yourself. you don’t want to get a noise complaint from the neighbors... again. the first time having to explain that to an officer was embarrassing enough.

“good boy,” he grunts into the mic, bucking his hips up with a loud smack coming from his end of the call, “jus’ the sweetest little thing, aren’t ya? betcha’d be just absolutely adorable if i were to fuck you stupid. it hasn’t even been 15 minutes and you’re drooling all over your pretty fingers.”

you didn’t even notice that you’ve been panting so much that spit began to run down your chin, too absorbed in the way the camboy’s dick spilled even more pre over his massive hands. fuck, just how strong could he be? could he manhandle you? yank your head back using your hair as a handle while blowing your back out? shove you down on his cock because you simply weren’t riding him fast enough?

“you got a dildo on you, baby?” he asks you, his hand slowing down to a stop. his words pulled you out of your abundance of fantasies to shift your focus back into reality, vision a little blurry from the tears resting on your eyelids.

you managed to fumble out a small, “mhmm..” just loud enough for him to hear and he tells you to grab it. in a slight daze, you reach into one of your many desk drawers to pull out the toy that sat in its box, already cleaned from its prior use.

“do a favor for me, yeah? put it in nice and slow, imagine it’s my cock stuffing you full. how big ‘s your toy? five- six inches?” he sure likes to ask a lot of stuff, you notice.

“‘s seven..” you mutter, wincing when you push the toy inside your hole, stretching you full and your mind goes numb.

he chuckles, deep and breathy and shit- “so you’re a size queen? that’s what they call it, right?” he starts pumping his fist around his cock again, albeit slower than before. you would take a bet that he was edging himself, “that’s it. such a good boy f’me.”

legs quaking in place, you managed to get it all inside you. sitting on it was much harder on your chair than you anticipated, the current position you were holding getting uncomfortable. cautiously, you lifted your hips, wrapping your hand around your own dick and giving it a few strokes while breathy moans left your lips, slamming yourself back down on the dildo. your eyes widened in surprise as the tip of it pressed against your prostate, a loud whimper echoing throughout your room.

“fuck-! you’re so cute, mmph- k-keep going, baby. i’m getting close- ah!” you could see that his hand was moving much faster than when you last looked up at your camera, quick breaths and filthy pleas paired with the desperate thrusts of his hips.

stumbled cries left your lips when you began to keep up with his pace, fingers getting sticky with pre as you continue to stimulate yourself. through blurred tears, you could see his hips rut one last time before a stifled moan left his throat and his fist was coated with his cum, dripping onto his pants.

he winces at the overstimulation from just shifting his hand to let go of his softening cock, grabbing a tissue to clean himself up while watching you bounce up and down your toy. you could even say he was jealous. even so, he could tell you were pathetically chasing your own orgasm, breathy sighs escaping from the confines of your lips. eyes closed in slight shame yet concentration, your thumb came up to the tip of your dick and rubbed, causing a yelp to slip through and your eyes opened once more.

however, you weren’t expecting to see the gorgeous face behind the creator of all those inappropriate streams you’ve watched the second your hips slammed back down on the dildo.

“[name]..”

ropes of your own release spilling out of your dick, it finally registered in your head that the camboy was willingly letting you see this. your thighs quaked not only in nervousness but also in fear that you might get a boner again just from how handsome he was. his face was pale although dusted with a bright hue of red covering his cheeks, eyebags signaling a lack of sleep, he had some sort of black line going over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, and slightly messy black hair tied up into short ponytails. if he wasn't attractive to anyone, he was at least attractive to you.

his pretty and slightly plump lips opened to speak once more, “do you.. wanna meet up in person..?”

“h-huh...?”

#x bottom male reader #bottom male reader #male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #dom male character #top male character #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #choso x reader #choso x male reader #jjk choso x reader #jjk choso x male reader #gay #mlm #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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whumptober · 8 months

Text

Whumptober 2023

Welcome to Whumptober 2023 — the sixth year running!

COMPLETIONISTS/PARTICIPANT BADGES CAN BE FOUND HERE

To those of you who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone joining this year, welcome!

Please make sure to read the Event Info carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

And this years playlist can be found here.

There are 139 prompt options in total this year - this is including the alternatives list! A special thanks goes out to those who took part in our trope vote back in July. From the 1526 responses to our list of 223 tropes, we looked through the popularity results, as well as your honourable mentions, and were able to produce this years prompts list. Stay tuned, as we will be posting some of the results at a later date!

We’re very excited to see the community come together once more and be a wild, chaotic bunch of creators and consumers of whump. Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2023 Prompt List

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”

Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Cattle Prod | Shock | “You in there?”

No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.”

Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.”

No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”

Recording | Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

No. 7: " “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”

Alleyway | Radio Silence | “Can you hear me?”

No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”

No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.”

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”

No. 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

Broken Phone | Stranded | “You said you'd never leave.”

No. 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Animal trap | Captivity | “No one will find you.”

No. 12: “I haven't slept in days but who's counting?”

Red | Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”

No. 13: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”

Cold Compress | Infection | “I don’t feel so good.”

No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.”

Flare | Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”

No. 15: “I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.”

Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

No. 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

No. 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.”

Collar | Touch Aversion | “Leave me alone.”

No. 18: “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened.”

Blindfold | Tortured For Information | “Hit them harder.”

No. 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

Floral Bouquet | Psychological | “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

No. 20: “People don’t change people, time does.”

Blanket | Found Family | “You will regret touching them.”

No. 21: “See the chains around my feet.”

Vows | Restraints | “Don't move.”

No. 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.”

Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”

No. 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.”

Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?”

No. 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”

Goodbye Note | Neglect | “I thought they were with you.”

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Storm | Buried Alive | “They’re not breathing!”

No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”

No. 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.”

Matches | Scars | “Let me see”

No. 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”

Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | “You'll have to go through me.”

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

No. 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.”

Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry | “Not much longer...”

No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”

Alternatives List:

Betrayal

Aftermath of Failure

Brass Knuckles

Decoy

Body Modification

Playing Cards

Examination

Hunting

Drugging

Shaking

Panic

Broken

Miscommunication

Lab Rat

Reluctant Whumper

Event Info & Rules

~ Please read our extensive event info posts before sending us an ask ~

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. The 'theme' of each day is the line of lyrics.

The prompts are merely to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is "flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be related to the 'spark' of a relationship. It's truly up to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day: there's lyrics, an object, a trope and a line of dialogue to choose from. We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2023 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(day number)

#lyric, #bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #gore tw, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Add "tw" AFTER the trigger/content warning. )

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed the event. You do not need to post anything you have created, we rely on trust and we will not check this.

Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. How does this year’s prompt list work? What do I have to choose?

You can create something based on:

The overall theme/lyric of the day

Prompt 1, 2 or 3

One or several of the alternative prompts

A combination of the above

Q. Is [specific anything] allowed?

When in doubt: JUST DO IT!

Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?

Participate as much or little as you like! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.7, #radio silence). If you create works for 31 total theme days you will become a completionist. But apart from that, there are no repercussions if you don’t fill prompts for each day.

Q. Can I post early/late?

Yes, you can post whenever you want. We will only reblog posts during October, but you can use our prompts all year round. The day you post will only affect your probability of being reblogged.

Q. Will you reblog my post?

Due to the sheer number of content posted during Whumptober we can’t promise to reblog every single post. We will make a random selection trying to capture a wide variety of content. The following will increase your chances at being reblogged:

tag your post properly

post within 2-3 days of the theme you want to fill: if you fill the prompt for Day 1 your chances of being reblogged during October 1st to 3rd are highest and will go towards zero afterwards.

Q. What if I don’t understand a prompt/theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help with wild, unhelpful clarifications or brainstorming. That being said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation. Don’t take them too literally. For example: You can be choking on a cherry, someone else can choke you or you could be choked up on emotions, etc.

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gifset or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe.

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

Q. Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! You can post your own content wherever you like (or you can opt to not publish it at all). Additionally we’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. It can be accessed here. The tumblr blog @whumptober-archive is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle.

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes.

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the Whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If you’ve previously posted something that checks the boxes, we ask that you not include it retroactively for this current year. You can, however, add new chapters relating to one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, RPF, whoever you like. You can use the generic “whumpee” character or have specific ones.

Q. Does it have to take place in a specific fandom?

No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes, but it only counts once towards being a completionist.

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day’s prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

No, you can’t exchange prompts for different days. However, if all four prompts of a specific day make you uncomfortable, we have created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from. You can exchange any prompt with these, but please make sure not to use them twice.

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t have to (cross)post it to Tumblr or at all. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you.

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine. The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit.

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst/emotional whump focus ok?

Of course! We are not going to establish a threshold for whumpiness. If you think it’s whumpy enough, then it’s whumpy enough. It can be physical, psychological, emotional, or any combination of the three.

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What is whump?

Typically the genre includes situations where a fictional character is hurt, be it emotionally, psychologically, or physically. Fanlore provides information here.

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn’t whumpy at all, does that count?

If you don’t think your interpretation is whumpy, then it doesn’t count for Whumptober. Remember that whump comes in many forms, though, and that we don’t have a whump-checker or a threshold for how much whump needs to be included. If you think your interpretation contains enough whump to count, then it does.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we post the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time” so feel free to start creating early!

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. #gore tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want.

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the #whumptober2023 tag.

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, but please make sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies for whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord or come into our ask box.

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, use clear and descriptive tags.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

#whumptober2023 #whumptober 2023 prompts list #whumptober #prompts list #long post

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saetoru · 1 year

Note

Rich boy! gojo getting all pouty because some guy hits on you at an event he takes you to and now you have a 6 foot GIANT leaning all his weight over you as he whines about not getting attention

[ WOUNDED PRIDE ] GOJO SATORU.

“satoru, you’re still pouting,” you hum, poking his cheek as he huffs.

“‘m not,” gojo mumbles, bitterly turning his head away from you. you can hear geto’s amused chuckle from the distance, making your boyfriend growl out a shut up, suguru under his breath, and because you’re supportive, you hide your own laugh.

“baby, he’s gone,” you cup his cheeks, grinning as he stubbornly refuses to meet your eyes, “you don’t have to be jealous anymore.”

“jealous?” he pulls away from you like you’ve insulted him—like the idea is simply too crazy to hear out loud, “me? jealous? what gives you that idea?”

“toru,” you snort, “you couldn’t be anymore obvious.”

“neither could you,” he accuses, narrowing his eyes at you, “you were trying to make me mad.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say with faux innocence, making his arms cross.

and now his lips are even further jutted in a pout, though you know saying something will only make him more upset, so you choose to keep your mouth shut for now. but gojo can still sense your amusement, glaring at you before turning his head away with a petulant hmph.

“flirting with other men is considered cheating, you know.”

“i wasn’t flirting,” you giggle, “i was just making friends. like you told me to.”

“making friends doesn’t include zenin naoya,” gojo glares at you, prompting out a supportive yeah, he sucks from geto. gojo nods, pointing a thumb at geto in agreement, making you roll your eyes.

“you never told me you hated him,” you defend, “but i wasn’t trying to make you mad,” you add softly, cupping his cheeks again.

“yeah you were,” he mumbles bitterly. his cheeks are squeezed together by your palms, and his voice is slightly whiny—and suddenly, you think you fall in love all over again.

“i’m sorry, toru,” you smile gently, “i just thought you looked cute all pouty. i didn’t wanna make you mad.”

“i wasn’t pouting,” he grumbles, “i don’t pout. i’m a man.”

“you cry during movies,” geto points out—and you’re glad there’s no wine in your vicinity, otherwise you think gojo might splash it on his best friend’s crisp, white button down. and you don’t think his father would take kindly to the scene—which would only further complicate things.

“i’m a man with a heart,” gojo scowls, “that’s why i’m not single.”

“okay,” you break up the bickering, distracting gojo with a kiss to his cheek—he grins at the gesture, giving you one in return even though he’s still slightly upset with you (though he won’t admit it.)

satoru gojo is not a jealous man.

that’s what he’ll tell you, at least—but you know better. you can see it in the way his lips alternate back and forth from a tiny pout to an irritated scowl, in the way his eyebrows furrow with irritation, in the way he huffs and tries to act like he doesn’t care when suguru elbows him in amusement.

and it’s not as though you enjoy attention from…whoever it was you were talking to (apparently zenin naoya according to gojo), but there’s just a small part of you that’s lightly amused. gojo is like a magnet—the girls flock to him left and right like a slice of bread left out for the crows to fight for. you’re used to it by now, have learned to ignore the slight creep of doubt and simply ignore the jealous glares sent your way as you take his hand.

but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy the change of pace every once in a while—the rare turn of tables that have him irritated instead of you.

naoya is a little too entitled for your taste. there’s too much expensive cologne sprayed on and you’re sure if he could without seeming tacky, he’d have left the tag on his suit to show its brand new. that’s the case with all rich people, you think, too busy watering the roots to pull for the weeds.

you don’t particularly enjoy talking to him—but you amuse yourself all the same. he’s far too cocky when he asks are you an intern for the gojo’s? i haven’t seen you before—

and before you can answer, you hear a familiar voice spit: actually, they’re my date. you don’t even hear gojo come up behind you, and you know as soon as his arm wraps around your waist, your stuck to his side for the rest of the night whether you like it or not.

“don’t talk to naoya he sucks,” gojo mutters. you nod, agreeing with him to console the bitterly wounded pride he seems to be sporting.

“he’s the worst,” you agree, “and his cologne smells gross.”

“i have that cologne,” he gasps, “it’s my favorite. you hate it?”

“no,” you say quickly, “it smells nice on you. everything smells nice on you.” geto snorts, and you shoot him a warning glance before he can make the situation worse.

gojo doesn’t look convinced—eyes narrowed and lips curled in that soft pout of his when he doesn’t get his way. it’s a bit spoiled, just a little bratty in its own right, but makes you melt all the same, pinching his cheek gently as you chuckle.

“if i were you,” geto turns to you, “i’d talk to naoya more. it might humble satoru just a little—”

“if i were you, i’d shut up before getting punched—”

“you wouldn’t land a punch on me if you tried—”

“you don’t know that—”

“actually i do because you can’t fight for shit—”

“i’m an excellent fighter—”

“alright,” you hiss, glancing at the few heads that have turned to watch the bickering between gojo and geto, making you glare at them in slight embarrassment.

“baby,” gojo whines, “tell him i can fight.”

and because his ego has been wounded one too many times tonight, you let him slump onto you, ignoring the heavy weight as you sigh and wrap your arms around him. you’re sure quite a few people are staring by now—but you suppose people always stare when you date someone like gojo.

“you could totally fight naoya,” you agree. you think you’ve finally said something right—because he seems to brighten at your words.

“i could, couldn’t i?”

“yes,” you nod, “and you smell better. and you have better hair.”

“and i’m cuter.”

“of course,” you sigh, eyeing geto for help. but he grins, sends you a small wave with mischief in his expression as he wanders off—leaving you all alone to nurse gojo’s ego back to full health.

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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