#“Say goodbye.”

[dotcolorful]

No. 3 A HAIR’S BREADTH FROM DEATH Gun to Temple | “Say goodbye.” | Impaled

Read it on AO3 here!

“I’ve waited for this moment for a very long time.”

Standing above him with his blaster trained at Luke’s forehead, the Imperial officer grinned. His dark uniform, still splattered with Luke’s blood, was a stark contrast to the white snowy landscape of Hoth. Luke hated the snow - hated how it wet the fabric of his pants and made him shiver in cold, and how vibrant his blood looked against its crisp whiteness. 

And he was bleeding a lot. 

He shouldn’t have come here, shouldn’t have volunteered for the mission to come back to Hoth and collect all the remaining equipment the Rebellion had left behind when evacuating the base months ago. The Force had sent warnings from the very beginning, had whispered its cautionary advice not to go. Something wrong was going to happen, it said, and Luke had ignored it. 

It’s not like he blamed himself, though. It’d be strange for him to heed the Force’s warning now when it had been screaming danger at him constantly ever since Bespin anyway. 

As if Luke didn’t know what a messed up situation he was in already. 

As if he didn’t know how dangerous it was to be the son of a Sith Lord.

His ship had crashed during the landing. How , Luke couldn’t tell - he’d lost control of his X-Wing so suddenly that he didn’t even have the time to realize what was happening before the craft plummeted towards the ground, rendering him unconscious.

His next memories were blurry, overshadowed by the constant pain that had overwhelmed his body. He remembered waking up, hanging limp in his ship’s crash webbing. He remembered opening his eyes to the smell of smoke and the sight of blood. He remembered feeling absolute agony in his side, remembered bringing a shaking hand to it and realizing a metal shrapnel had embedded itself in his flesh.

He fell unconscious again before he could do anything about it. 

His next flashes of awareness had been even shorter as his life slowly left him with each drop of his blood flowing from the wound. There were the sounds of engines at some point, the sight of Imperial shuttles landing next to the crash site, the smell of burned metal and plastic as a metallic saw started cutting through the hull of his ship.

There had been pain as rough hands had dragged him out of his ship, mindless of the wound in his side, before throwing him on the snowy ground. He’d screamed - he remembered that well, remembered the absolute agony of landing on his right side, the side where he’d been impaled, and feeling the metal shard pushing itself into his flesh even further, embedding itself in so deeply that only a small part now stuck outside of his skin. 

He had cried out in pain, but had been offered no help, no respite. They hadn't bandaged the wound, hadn't done anything to stop the bleeding. He’d been hopeful, for a moment, when one of the Imperials had approached him with a hypo in his hand, that they were at least going to inject him with a painkiller. It wouldn’t do much, he knew, but maybe he wouldn’t have to die in as much agony as he was feeling now.

He’d been foolish to hope for that.

It hadn’t been a painkiller. 

It had been a stim shot.

He’d thought it was impossible to be in more pain than he’d already been in; he was wrong. For the moment the needle pierced his skin and awareness spread through his body like a cool tide, all his body's attempts at dulling the pain evaporated in an instant. 

He started screaming and he couldn’t stop. 

He was limp as they had pushed him up, brought him to his knees. The blood dripped from his side and fell onto the snow, turning it pale pink and then red. He watched it, finding the regularity of the falling drops somewhat calming; it was better to look at that than at the two troopers pressing down on his shoulders to keep him down, or the Imperial officer slowly approaching him with a sinister smile. 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time,” he’d said, training his blaster at Luke’s forehead, and Luke knew he was fucked. 

“ B-bastard ,” he grunt out, his agonized brain unable to come up with anything else. 

“Tut, tut,” the officer said, smacking his tongue disapprovingly. “That wasn’t very nice. And why ruin this moment when I’m having such a good time?”

Luke inhaled sharply, wanting to spit out another curse; but his breath hitched in his throat and he realized it was becoming difficult to get oxygen into his lungs.

Damn, he was losing a lot of blood. 

“Ah, having difficulty breathing, are we? Do not worry, it won’t last long. I admit, when I imagined killing you, it was always a more painful death that I’d had in mind… but I’m afraid our time is running out. Lord Vader had already been informed of your capture; he’ll be here any minute. And my opportunity to take your life will be lost. Now, we don’t want that, do we?”

We certainly do, actually, a part of Luke’s brain thought hysterically, eyeing the blaster still trained at his head. Maybe it was the pain that was messing with his thinking, but in his fear and agony, he actually wished his father was here. 

He wished his father would save him. 

That thought, foolish and hysterical as it was, didn’t occur to him for too long, though. His mind was, instead, preoccupied with something entirely else, something far more dangerous:

The realization that he was about to be killed.

That this time, he was really going to die. 

And not in battle, or a glorious sacrifice, or even on his two feet.

No, he was going to die kneeling, in a puddle of his own blood no less, with a blaster shot to his head. He’d die too weak to even defend himself, too injured to fight the Imperials holding him down. 

Luke Skywalker, the Hero of the Rebellion, was going to get the death of rebel scum.

It was ironic, really, how he’d thought he was destined for greatness. 

How he thought he could be a Jedi but couldn’t even fight off three Imperials. 

“You’re unwise,” he whispered, noticing that his teeth had started to chatter. Was it from the pain? From the cold? He didn’t know. “Lord Vader will be most displeased if you kill me.”

“I don’t care!” The Imperial shouted, jerking his blaster so hard that the riffle hit Luke’s forehead and he bent forward in pain, only to be brought back up by the troopers. “I’m willing to die if it’s what it takes to take you out!”

He took a step forward, then kneeled and leaned his face forward until he was on eye-level with Luke.

“Because,” he whispered sinisterly, his face so close it was almost touching Luke’s, “my brother was on the Death Star.”

There was a short click as the man toggled the safety off his blaster before pressing the barrel directly onto his face.

“And I ,” the man continued, “have promised myself that I would be the one to kill you.”

He smiled as he finished those words, beginning to slowly trail the blaster over Luke’s face. The cold barrel slid over his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, and chin, before traveling to his ear to, finally, rest at his temple. It caused him to shiver even more than he already was, made his heart beat even faster in fear, and he could feel his blood pumping out of the wound even faster as a result.

He didn’t even have it in himself to beg for mercy. 

How could he, after what he’d done?

It’d taken him long to finally accept his actions during the Battle of Yavin. He knew it’d been necessary - that it was the Empire or the Rebellion - but still, that didn’t make it any easier. And, after the initial joy of his victory and the pride that he, a mere farmer from backwater Tatooine, had accomplished what the Alliance had thought was impossible, the full scale of what he’d done had dawned on him. 

He’d killed people. Millions of them, with a single shot. 

He, a boy who had never before even won a fight with his friends, had suddenly become a murderer.

He had blood on his hands. 

“I’m s-sorry,” he whispered, closing his eyes against the man’s face, his guilt, his fast-approaching death. T here isn’t a day I don’t mourn the lives I have taken, he wanted to say as well, but found he couldn’t get enough air past his throat. 

The snow beneath him was now deep red. 

“I doubt that you're sorry,” the officer spat. “But you’re sure as hell about to be.”

He glanced at the troopers forcing Luke down. “Hold him still.”

And then, his gaze turned back to Luke. “This is it, Skywalker,” he said, pressing the blaster even harder against his forehead. “ Say goodbye. ”

It happened fast.  

There was a yell as the officer pressed the trigger, followed by a gasp as all three Imperials were suddenly snatched by an invisible force and thrown forward. No longer held by the troopers, Luke toppled forward, face-first into the bloodied snow. The movement tore at his wound, causing blood to gush out of it like a river, and Luke cringed. 

It was bright red. 

The shrapnel must have torn at an artery.

Though, he supposed, that didn’t matter. He was already dying anyway. 

He lay in the snow shivering and gasping in pain, waiting for it all to end. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the sound of choking, of screams of pain and bodies hitting the snow. There was a baritone voice as well, growling in anger and rage, and for a moment, Luke thought he could make out something that sounded a lot like how dare you touch what is mine.

Everything felt muffled as if someone had put him underwater and had held him there. All he could feel was the coldness of the snow beneath him and the warmth of his blood. 

More screams, more shrieks, more choking sounds, and then, suddenly, everything stopped. Quiet.

“Luke.” The voice was as muffled, as unclear as all other sounds, but Luke understood it anyway. Knew that the deep, baritone voice could only belong to one person in this galaxy. 

“ Fa..father.”

Gloved hands caught his arms and slowly turned him onto his back. He cried out as the movement tore at his wound even further, then howled as something pressed hard against his side. 

“I know it hurts,” the deep voice said. “But I must stop the bleeding.”

Luke understood, but it did not stop him from crying out in pain when the pressure on his wound increased and he felt as if his insides were on fire. 

“P…p…plea…se…” he whimpered, not even knowing what he was pleading for, only knowing that he couldn’t handle this pain, couldn’t possibly manage the agony that was upon him. 

Something that sounded a lot like a Hutesse curse - though that was impossible - escaped the vocoder and Luke felt a gloved hand settle on his forehead. The leather was sticky with blood, but he didn’t mind; there was something comforting about the gesture, about being touched without malice where the barrel of the blaster had dug into his skin only moments ago. 

“Shhh. Stay with me,” his father spoke, swiping the hair from his forehead gently. “The medics will be here soon. Just stay awake.”

He nodded against the gloved hand, suddenly unable to say anything else. He didn’t even have the strength to whimper as Vader removed his hand from his wound, only to press it again, this time with fabric in his hand. 

“You will live,” he said quietly, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. Luke didn’t blame him - he wasn’t so sure he was going to survive, even with the medics coming soon.

But he could feel the comforting hand on his forehead, and the gentle whispers directed at him in the Force, and he couldn’t help but think… 

…he wanted to live. He didn’t want this to be the last time he felt that comforting gloved hand.

And, most of all, he didn’t want to die like this - to be executed, pushed to his knees, or to bleed out on the cold, snowy ground. 

“You will not,” his father growled in response to his thoughts. Was he shielding? Probably not… It was so hard to stay awake…

“No,” Vader rumbled, lightly slapping a hand against his cheek. “No, stay with me. Stay with me, son. I won’t leave you, I will stay by your side, but you need to stay with me!”

“...s-so…h-hard…”

His father’s thumb brushed against a tear that had slid down his cheek. 

“That never stopped you before, my son,” he said. Luke could swear he felt a sad smile on his father’s lips. “You’ve faced many challenges, no matter how difficult or hard. Just do this, one more time. Just stay awake. Just breathe. For me .”

And Luke tried. He pushed past his pain, past the hold death had on him, and breathed. Breathed until he had no strength left and still, he kept going, still kept pushing air into his damaged throat. 

Because each breath meant one more second of life, of the feeling of his father’s hand on his forehead. 

And Luke was willing to survive for that. 

[tiamat-zx]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Yasha/Zuala (Critical Role), Beauregard Lionett/Yasha Characters: Yasha Nydoorin, The Skyspear (Critical Role), Zuala (Critical Role), Beauregard Lionett Additional Tags: Whumptober 2022, Whump, no. 3, ”Say goodbye.”, Impaled, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Past Character Death, Matricide, Suicide, YEAH this is a heavy one!, Warning: Obann (Critical Role), Because of COURSE he’d pull this crap!, Not Beta Read Series: Part 3 of Adam’s Whumptober 2022 Stories Summary:

What if THAT scene in the Chantry happened differently, and in an even crueler manner? — Whumptober 2022 Day 3: “Say goodbye.” / Impaled — “If I’d killed Beau, I’d have just killed myself.” Ashley’s words to BWF, verbatim.

After what had happened with her wife, and all the lives she’s taken, that would have been the last straw.

So… what if that straw was grasped?

(I am so sorry…)

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[ionomycin]

temple at the end of the road

[evercelle]

brother, i'll set us both free

[genericpuff]

starting 2024 off on a good fucking note

snoozing tumblr live PERMANENTLY 👏👏👏

[ot3]

network tv writing bi women like: ok when shes spiraling and being self destructive shes gonna have sex with random one off women. but when she's finally deciding to try and stop running from life she can develop a romantic connection with a man on the main cast.

[ariazou]

“Well? Don’t you want to save your friends?”

Iconic moment with Iguin and Coco 🪄 So excited to see how that storyline goes

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Soup solves everything.

[supernatural-case]

“You know, it was like this flashback. You know they say that, when you're about to die, your life flashes before you. In my mind, I was flashing back to Lazarus Rising and seeing him walk through the barn with the sparks flying, and all of the sudden, all of these clips in my mind of Castiel and walking into the lake, and all of these things that are ingrained in my memory.”

Jensen - and by extension, Dean - was remembering the first time he said hello to Castiel, and the first time he had to say goodbye.

[pansexualnoodle5]

[comfymoth]

i’m mad this is my most liked post right now so look at my cat instead lol

[yourangle-yuordevil]

what if we flirted at the gentlemen club 😳 (and we were both flirting) 😞❤️😞Discreet Gentlemen's Club

[roseworth]

goodbye brazilian twitter you will be missed dearly 😔

[pretzelgotze]

something something night changes

[strawberryjamsara]

Invader Zim was an unparalleled media experience. Some alien nearly destroys his planet so he’s banished to be a fast food worker. He decides to stop being banished when he hears he can destroy more stuff so they send him to the far reaches of space on a false mission so he dies but earth is there. He decides to collect information on the planet to collect its weaknesses by going to public school. The only people who can see through his disguise are a neglected rich kid 12 year old obsessed with Mothman and his gamer girl sister. Both the siblings are goth. The Mothman kid is the only one interested in stopping the alien but not out of any moral obligation or anything but for that sweet sweet daddy’s love. One time the Mothman kid got a therapist who killed the previous therapist and took his place, and this is a d-plot within the episode at best. The flagship brand of soda in the universe is called poop cola. There was an episode about how Zims entire alien race is more machine than human, and their entire being is contained in the little metal backpacks that are attached to them at all times, and their bodies are more things to carry these PAKS around and if they were to detach they would die while the PAK would attach to the nearest creature, overwrite their mind and kill them. This episode was cancelled to make the Christmas special. Gir is there.