#Whumpcember 2022

[serickswrites]

Walls

Warnings: referenced captivity, referenced torture, referenced restraints, panic attack, PTSD, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Whumpee could feel the shackles around their wrist. Could feel the pain of Whumper’s touch. Could smell them even. They were trapped. The walls were closing in and they couldn’t get out. 

Whumpee thrashed and screamed. They couldn’t be a prisoner again. They couldn’t! They had to get away. Had to get away from the feeling. From the pain. From the terror. 

But they couldn’t. They were trapped in a room. Restrained. Stuck. Their absolute worst nightmare. 

“Shhhh, shhh,” Caretaker’s voice came suddenly in Whumpee’s waking nightmare. “It’s ok. It’s ok. You’re ok.”

“T-t-trapped,” Whumpee managed to squeak out. 

Caretaker’s hand was suddenly in theirs. “Love, you have to stay in the bed. You’re too hurt. They need to help you.”

“C-c-can’t. Whumper,” Whumpee began, squeezing their eyes shut even tighter. 

“Whumper is gone. They can’t get you. Please, love, they need to treat your injuries. I...I almost lost you,” Caretaker’s voice broke suddenly. 

Whumpee wrenched their eyes open. “Caretaker?” They were in a hospital. There were no shackles on their wrists. Just soft padded restraints keeping them to the bed. They were hooked up to various machines and covered in bandages. They were safe. 

Caretaker squeezed Whumpee’s hand tightly. “I’m right here, love, I’m right here.”

Whumpee began to sob. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

Caretaker leaned in close to Whumpee, trying to wrap their body around Whumpee despite all of the medical machinery. “Don’t be love. I’m right here. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

RDR2 oc fan fic!!

First Red Dead Redemption fan fic I’ve written and it doesn’t even include Arthur 🙄

Whumpcember 2022 prompt fic: Malt and his brother, Paul, nearly die to a cougar because they can’t stop bickering about their mom dying of cancer.

[kayamark]

Whumpcember day 9 - sacrifice

Black bullet (2014)

S1e13

[em-writes-stuff]

whumpcember day 27

@whumpcember

prompt: crash landing

characters: villain, hero

warnings: falling off a cliff

271 words

---

Hero shoved Villain forward, the only thing holding him up was Hero’s grip on his collar. Villain stared at him, “Don’t do this.”

Hero scoffs. “We both know you’d make it. Somehow.” 

“Yeah. But it’d hurt like hell and you’d be bored waiting for me to get better. Just…pull me back up and walk away?” Villain suggests. 

His hands clawed at Hero’s arm, trying desperately to pull himself up, but Hero remained unmoving. 

“Sorry, not this time.” 

Hero let go of Villain’s collar and pushed him over the edge, leaning slightly over the ledge to watch Villain fall down, down, down. 

Villain’s eyes went wide and his arms grasped the air, as if it would let him take hold of it and pull himself up. When the air stayed illusive, Villain closed his eyes and pulled his arms close to his chest, wrapping them around himself. 

“Please,” he whispered. “Don’t let this be the way I die.” 

It felt like the air got thicker, Villain opened his eyes and he could count the layers in the rock as he fell. If he really paid attention, he could name the wildlife clinging to the side of the rock. He laughed, loud and joyous. 

“Thank you.” he shouted. 

He looked down and he had nearly reached the ground, he held his arms out and caught himself, slamming onto the hard earth beneath him. His arms folded in and he shouted out in pain. 

His shoulder dislocated and he swore he cracked a rib, but he was alive. 

Winded from the crash, Villain laid there for several days, skin blistering under the hot sun. 

[firealder2005]

Whumpcember 2022 Day 4. SHORTNESS OF BREATH

Featuring: ROTJ AU where the Emperor uses something different to torture Luke to death. 

kinda short but i like it <3

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43348098

Enjoy!

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

“You’ve failed, your highness,” Luke declared, taking a step towards the Emperor. He watched the sallow, sunken face slowly twist into a scowl at his words. “I am a Jedi,” the blonde man said. “Like my father before me.” Behind Luke, he could hear Vader struggling to his feet, but the young Jedi kept his eyes on the Emperor.

“So be it…” the withered old man softly replied. “Jedi.”

Luke instinctively tensed, feeling something crackle in the air, like electricity, but for a moment, nothing happened.

Then he felt his throat close up and he choked, hands flying to his neck, but felt nothing there.

Luke’s eyes widened as he saw a self-satisfied smirk on the Emperor’s face, and the Sith had one hand raised and tilted to the side. His thumb and pointer finger were slowly being pushed together as Luke’s knees gave out and he collapsed onto the ground, desperately trying to suck in any precious oxygen.

He had heard of this particular Force technique - everyone had, with his father’s proclivity to use it on officers who failed him.

But Luke had never thought it would be used on him.

“Only now, at the end, do you see…” The Emperor sounded gloating as Luke gasped and struggled to breathe. “Just like your mother.”

If Luke wasn’t already being choked to death, he would have choked at that.

His mother.

A flash of something came from Vader’s rising form, but Luke’s brain wasn’t working as fast as it normally would.

Asphyxiation does that to a person.

“And like your mother,” Palpatine continued, not giving any mind to Vader approaching his side. “You shall suffer the same fate.”

Luke closed his eyes, desperately trying to connect with his father’s mind, to beg, to plead with him to help him, but any grip he had on the Force slipped away as black spots entered his vision and any and all sound suddenly became very faint.

His eyes fluttered shut - then he sucked in a miraculous breath of air.

Coughing, Luke’s eyes shot open, and he saw Vader, grabbing the Emperor with his one hand, and tossing him down the nearby reactor shaft.

Still gasping for breath, Luke felt a little bemused.

Vader killed the Emperor.

His father had saved his life.

The lumbering form of Vader staggered over to where Luke laid on the floor, and the blonde man shakily got to his feet, swaying a bit as his vision blurred and he began to tip over.

A strong hand grabbed his right shoulder and steadied him. Luke looked up, gave a bemused smile to his father’s mask, and promptly passed out.

[buckyismybicycle]

ROBBED: “name your price” - Chapter 1 of 2

Pairing: Bucky/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (eventually) Tags: Enemies, Biker Bucky Barnes, like some emo sexy robinhood with Found Family, Warlord Tony Stark (who is actually just very lonely), sacrifice, bargaining with freedom,  Summary: A small group of practiced individuals, headed by the “Winter Soldier” keep fucking with Tony’s shipments and he’s had enough of it. 

For @buckybarnesbingo Y1: "Thief" For @starkbucksbingo I3: "Robbed" For @whumpcember 2022: "Sacrifice"

It’s always a clean job, Tony can admit that much. They’re fast and practiced, without a single error in their actions.

Tony watches the footage a dozen times, his eyes tracking their movements. Two motorcycles — a redheaded woman on one, and one the other, a blonde woman behind a man clad in black — the Winter Soldier, people call him. Their leader.

They follow behind a heavily modded, matte black muscle car before swerving and surrounding the transport truck. The blonde woman stands up on the back of the bike like she has a death wish, hands on the shoulders of the man driving.

They kick up speed to the driver side door, and the Soldier fires before slowing down, avoiding the following detonation that takes the door right off the vehicle. In the next second, they’ve caught up again and he hauls the driver out with a grappling hook while the blonde one jumps in smoothly to take over the vehicle, opening the back hatch, the small ramp dropping down and sending sparks flying as it drags across the road. The second motorcycle roars as she runs up the ramp.

The shipment is emptied in under five minutes, and four fucking assholes just took off with $210,000. Robbed. Again.

It’s been happening for months, and nobody’s been close to handing the Winter Soldier and his little gang over.

“Happy,” Tony barks with a snap. “Up the reward to $500,000. To anyone who brings me this motherfucker.”

—-

“Really? This is the guy?” Tony asks Happy with an incredulous look. When he had demanded the head of one Winter Soldier, he wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t for the man to look so…

Aesthetically pleasing.

He’s never seen the Winter Soldier without the mask and goggles, without a gun or motorcycle. Standing in front of him, though? He looks like just a man, simple as that. How can one man create so much chaos, he wonders.

“You’ve been causing me problems,” Tony states plainly, looking right at his — prisoner? Hostage? He hasn’t decided yet.

“You’re the problem,” comes the retort.

Tony has to remember not to laugh. The guy’s got some snarkiness, which was also unexpected. Not entirely unwelcome, either — it’s a nice change of pace.

“S’that so?” Tony asks rhetorically, pursing his lips as he uncrosses his legs. He’s not particularly thrown by the comment considering he gets at least a dozen death threats a day.

His chair — and it’s really more of a throne — sits atop a small set of stairs, which Tony walks down slowly. He’s not afraid of the Winter Soldier, but he is annoyed that this guy keeps hijacking Tony’s shipments.

“Tell me, what kind of a name is the Winter Soldier, anyway? Sounds like a made up superhero that you desperately wanted to be when you were seven.”

“When I was seven, I was praying your father would keel over and die.”

Tony pauses then. He didn’t think that someone would be so brazen with comments like this. Instantly, Happy has his gun drawn, and to the Soldier’s credit, he doesn’t even blink.

“Cute,” Tony replies. “Guess what? So was I.”

Tony’s grin grows, making him look a little insane, he’s sure. His father may have conquered and ruled, but he had no ambition. Not like Tony did. When his father died and Zen-Whoberi was up for grabs, Tony had wasted no time. This world was his for the taking, and take it he did.

“Funny, because now I’m almost thirty-seven and I find myself praying you end up the same.”

“Watch your mouth, thief,” Happy spits. It’s followed by the click as he takes the safety off of his gun.

“Easy, Hap,” Tony soothes with one hand waving the gun down. The other remains curled behind his back, the rest of him open to the crook that kneels before him. “I’ll give it to you, you’re an honest one.”

The Soldier snorts. “Look, if you brought me here to behead me or whatever medieval shit you wanna do, let’s get it over with. Otherwise you might lose your chance ‘cause I’ll die of boredom.”

This time, Tony does let out a bark of laughter. “Beheading? Come on, that seems messy. Do I look like someone who likes messy?”

For the first time, his captive is quiet, so Tony turns around to see the Soldier wearing a lopsided smirk. “Yeah, actually. Y’look like someone who likes it pretty filthy.”

Tony only just manages to talk Happy down from pistol-whipping the guy. He doesn’t like the way desire flares up and through his body at just a simple, insinuative line.

“Funny,” he responds flatly. “You know what I do like? I like when people pay me back for all the shit they’ve stolen from me. So, when can I expect my $3,744,000 back? Give or take a few dollars.”

“Tch,” the Soldier scoffs. “You don’t need it. Look around, fancy pants. You already have everything you’ve ever wanted while some people don’t even have what they need.”

Not everything, Tony thinks privately to himself. It’s true, he does have a lot of things that most people want — the lavish house, the luxurious clothes, the personal staff to guard him, cook and clean for him. He spoils himself because his father never did — his father never gave him anything. Not so much as an ounce of affection, not a minute of his time.

From a young age, his father had taught him one lesson, and one lesson only: Money is power, and nothing can be more important than that.

“If you’re not going to repay me, then you’ll have to give up your little gang, because I’m tired of your meddling,” Tony says at last. “You’re costing me a lot of money, here.”

“Good. And I don’t have a gang, no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the crap, tin man,” Tony snaps. “We see you rollin’ with the same crew day in and day out. Give them up, I might even let you live.”

“No chance in hell,” the Soldier replies, steadfast and without hesitation.

It makes him burn with fury, like a spark has been thrown into kindling inside his body that makes him want to snap. How is it that this man — this fugitive has such loyalty wearing nothing but rags while Tony has no one?

“Hap? Give us the room,” Tony orders.

At first, his guard looks unsure. The Soldier, even though his arms are tied behind his back, is still an imposing figure. He’s broader than Tony, packed with muscle, and one of the most dangerous men in the world.

“Go on,” Tony encourages with a shooing motion. “I’ll take your gun, though.”

Silently, Happy hands it over and leaves the room with one last look.

“Gonna shoot me yourself? Color me impressed, I didn’t think you’d have it in you.”

“You don’t know me,” Tony says simply, twirling the gun in his finger like it isn’t a loaded weapon. Neither of them flinch.

“I don’t want to,” the Soldier snarls. “You know what I do know, though? I know that you’re killing your people and I know that you’re a selfish shithead who probably hasn’t stepped outside this palace in years, because if you did, you’d see that people are dying on the streets because they can’t get by, while you sit on your hoard of wealth.”

Tony’s used to the ire, the insults, the accusations and assumptions. He doesn’t blink during the little rant, but there is something different about the Soldier’s tone when he speaks of “the people”. He’s a little too heated, too invested.

Not people — subjects, his dad had called them.

“You care a lot about people you don’t know,” Tony ventures. He catches a small squint on the Soldier’s face, which more or less confirms his suspicions that someone the Soldier cares — or cared — about likely is or was in a poor state. “Who is it?”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” His tone is flat again as he stares ahead, face stoic once more.

“What’s wrong with them?” He asks, genuinely curious what ailment would make someone rob over a million dollars. After pointed silence, he sighs dramatically. “Look, tell me what their problem is, and maybe — maybe — there’s something that can be done.”

The Soldier narrows his eyes. “I don’t trust you.”

“Fine, let them continue to suffer, or whatever,” Tony says with a roll of his eyes. He walks nonchalantly back to his seat, looking down at the thief, swirling his drink.

“Everything,” the Soldier whispers at last. “Bad asthma that makes him wheeze… Fevers all the time, sinusitis, heart problems and his bones grew in wrong. He can’t — his back ain’t straight. It’s got his nerves all pinched.”

Tony’s rendered speechless for a moment. One or two issues? Common. Three or four? Highly unlikely. This list? Doesn’t even sound real.

“No Mecha-Gear?” Tony asks, bewildered. Usually anyone showing such dire signs of physical detriment would be enhanced with Gear. Much like Tony’s own arc reactor. Much like the arm that the Soldier wears, though Tony doesn’t recognize the design.

“His body can’t handle it,” the Soldier manages through gritted teeth.

At first, Tony saw nothing but a criminal, a shit-disturbing, meddlesome culprit that existed only to make Tony’s life more difficult. Now, he sees a desperate man trying to save a life that isn’t his.

“What would you give for a cure?” He asks. He doesn’t know why, it’s not like he has a solution, but he wants to see how much his friend’s life is worth.

“There isn’t one.” The Soldier’s voice is barely more than a growl as he remains steadfast.

“That you know of,” Tony counters. “Or that you have access to.”

The Soldier’s eyes are hard, unwavering, and astonishingly blue. He’s got the look of someone who’s about to surrender begrudgingly, someone who’s about to sacrifice his own freedom.

Tony waits as the man weighs his options before finally speaking, even if Tony knows the answer even before he does. “Guarantee it, first. I wanna see it work… Then you can name your price.”

Tony’s smile grows. “And if my price is you?”

There’s a pause, and a click as the Soldier’s jaw works, no doubt grinding his teeth. “Then so be it.”

[fanfictasia]

Whumpcember Day 1

Alt. “I Would Die For You.”

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Smoke and Debris

“Master?” Anakin asks, leaning closer, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. He doesn’t know if his former master would want that – occasionally Obi-Wan will touch him, but it’s rare and Anakin rarely initiates anymore. Not since he was younger. He just… can’t.

Obi-Wan blinks, looking around. “Where –” he starts to ask. At least he sounds a little better.

“We’re at the Temple,” Anakin assures him.

His master seems momentarily unsure what to say, as he… glances down at himself.

Anakin doesn’t think he can bring himself to even answer right now if he commented on it – which he doesn’t. “How… are you feeling?”

“How did you find me?” he asks instead of answering.

“You should thank Quinlan Vos for that.” A smile tugs at his lips despite the severity of the situation – it’s funny to see how Obi-Wan reacts every time Vos is brought into the picture.

“Thank him,” Obi-Wan huffs. “Why should I thank him?”

“He helped me find you. I went in alone.”

“Alone,” he repeats incredulously.

“Yes. Alone. Everyone thought you were dead.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t seem coherent enough to respond to that. Anakin stays quiet a moment longer, wishing he would just… say something. Anything.

He doesn’t know what to say.

Just… something. All he can think about is the thing he wanted to tell Obi-Wan most throughout all this time. “I love you.” The I would die for you is unspoken – he would never say it, because his master already knows. Everyone already knows.

Obi-Wan blinks at him, and Anakin doesn’t think he’s going to respond for a moment. Instead, he says a quiet “that’s not the Jedi way.”

He expected something like that, just not when his master was mostly out of it, and it hurts more than he thought it would. 

Anakin doesn’t say anything else, just sitting there and watching him. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He probably never will. All he knows is that he can only hope that whatever this curse is, it won’t hurt Obi-Wan, and that his master will be… alright. Even if it takes a long time.

[aziraphalesbookkeeper]

There are three things Eugene Fitzherbert really, really hates: snow, watching Varian almost die in his arms, and running into one of his exes. Not necessarily in that order.

OR, my Whumpcember fic fill of the prompts:

hypothermia | storm | shortness of breath | broken bone | icy deep | self-hate | crash landing | nightmares

[mel-the-pirate-writeblr]

A Monster of His Own Making (M(T)PJ: Ditto Defect)

Whumpcember 2022 Day 10

Whumpcember Prompt Masterlist

Prompt: "I won't leave you."

Word Count: Four scenes of ~250 words each, 1k total

This is a part of a personal Pokémon Fanfiction series, My (Twisted) Pokémon Journey, and is looking at a part of a story that I haven't gotten to and put out there yet, Ditto Defect, but have MANY ideas for. This is a short little overview through a secondary POV character, N. It's set in Unova with Team Plasma as the antagonists, though I have a nice little OC antagonist so I don't have to struggle with too many canon characters. 

My (Twisted) Pokémon Journey Masterlist

This short is from N’s POV, multiple moments in the story that went wrong as he’s trying to do what he thinks is right and best, actively being ruined by Team Plasma and concerning the main POV character, Crystal. Enjoy!

🙞 🙟 🙝 ���

N sat with Crystal in Nimbasa City's Rondez-View Ferris wheel. He recognized her eyes – the defensive, scared look. Even as she pushed it down, he almost could see it all the more clearly. What makes you so afraid?

He knew that nearly having her Luxray stolen must be weighing on her mind, but that wasn't all. Her Pokémon knew it, too, he could see how protective of their trainer they were. He had noticed their distrusting stares, their silence and rigidity when he was around.

He just wanted to promise that he wouldn't leave her to her fear. Revealing his role as King of Team Plasma was meant to be comforting, reassuring, something positive and beneficial. He could tell that her Pokémon cared deeply for her, and her for them. This wasn't an example of a bad trainer. Maybe he could help her, and she could help him free abused Pokémon. If she loves them so much, surely—

But she only distrusted him more, once he revealed his secret and learned of hers. Their brief time wandering around Castelia City and Nimbasa City didn't matter. She saw him as a threat to her safety, saw Team Plasma as a threat to her Pokémon. You’re so concerned with what happens to everyone else after you're caught by them. But not about what happens to you. After Team Plasma's actions at the Castelia City Pokémon Center, N couldn't really blame her. But he wished that she wouldn't compare him to them. 

🙞 🙟 🙝 🙜 

Per last order. P2 Lab.

N could only think about the message. He'd wanted to help her, but instead all this turned out to be his fault... Them finding her was his fault, and his failure to put an end to the P2 Laboratory. 

He sat in his room at N Castle. He thought of the Pokémon he had been given to care for throughout his childhood and adolescence. In another time, he could almost imagine Crystal here. He wasn't sure what form she had, or what age she could have come here as, but he could almost imagine hearing a conversation between her and Ghetsis, or maybe the Shadow Triad, or soothing a scared Pokémon, all just out of sight. In another, better time, she could have learned of his purpose, their purpose, and they could free Pokémon from people forever.

But in reality, she was the one he had to free.

N let the anger come. He felt it, then took a breath to compose himself. He wouldn't just let them use her. He promised he wouldn't let them use her as a weapon, he wouldn't leave her to that fate that the Genesect had. It was time to make good on that promise. He would go to the P2 Laboratory himself.

He would burn it to the ground if he had to.

🙞 🙟 🙝 🙜

N watched, through his own eyes, as the Team Plasma members detained the paralyzed amalgamation of an Alolan Ninetales and Vaporeon – That's Crystal, not some creature – and he couldn't do a thing about it. All he could do, as the king of Team Plasma, was promise her, I won't leave you to this fate, and hope that he could keep the promise.

Her eyes found him, as someone with a syringe approached her, and he saw the snarl start on her face �� before it laxed, and then her eyes closed. She had tried fighting to keep them open, but even a shape-shifter like her couldn't fight poison and sedatives.

He kept his composure as they entered the underground portion of the P2 Laboratory. He played his part, acted as they expected him to, but he was stuck on how Crystal was taking the repercussions for his mistakes. I really meant it. I meant to protect you. But I didn't think I had to protect you from my own people. He watched them, detached, as they dragged her soaking and unconscious body away, tangled in the net and the blue Frillish that clung to her, the heavy and limp Vaporeon tail leaving a streak of water behind them.

He couldn't follow them then, but he knew that he'd find her in the observation laboratory. He had to make his presence known, and make them believe he was willing to help them – whatever their goals were for using Crystal. For the greater good of Pokémon, he thought bitterly. 

🙞 🙟 🙝 🙜

He stared, blankly, in shock at the creature that had once been a friend. The distrust that he had accepted was replaced by hostility and snarling. Her dark fur, no longer snow-white, couldn't have been a choice of her own. Even the Vaporeon leg and tail had a strange, ash-like hue.

Something glowed a molten orange in her mane. Some kind of crystal, or stone. He could see a collar of sorts under the chains that didn't let her venture far from the back wall.

"I guess I have to fix this before it gets worse," N told her, guilty. "What are they doing to you?"

Crystal just snarled at him, as if she were feral. More feral than anything he had seen, since—

Those Pokémon, he realized. Fifteen years ago. Those dark Pokémon. It took so long for them to return to normal... He didn't remember how they were calmed, he just remembered that they had been cured.

"How do I help you? How do I sooth you?" N asked Crystal, not expecting an answer. He could see the pain in her angry eyes.

Then he remembered. She mentioned going to sleep to some music she collected from her travels. They never said that they had her stuff. But why would they?

"I'm going to find your music, and then you'll start recovering. I'll be back. I won't leave you here."

[rain-candles-jazz]

whumpcember day 13: fear of the unknown tw: domestic abuse

Deego sat in his bathroom, holding a thick rag to his head.  He took it off too look at it, frowning when it was soaking with fresh blood.  Deego glanced out the door to the phone on the wall and wondered if he should head to the hospital... if the cut was still bleeding this badly, perhaps it would need stitches...

A drop of blood landed on his arm, and Deego hastily refolded the rag and placed it back over the wound.

He thought about going to the hospital, having to explain that he'd gotten hit in the head by a broken wine glass thrown by his demented mother...  He shook his head to himself.  They would ask too many questions, try to take him away her, or worse - take her away from him.  She hadn't meant to hurt him... she was just sick - he remembered her tender hugs when he was younger and vowed to himself, once again, that no one would take her way from him.

He would take care of his own injury.  Deego stood up and fell sideways against the wall.  The dizziness subsided after a minute or two.  Deego wondered if he had gotten a concussion as well, or if the blood loss was simply getting to him. Once somewhat stable on his feet, he leaned over the bathroom sink and opened the cabinet behind the mirror.  He dug out an almost empty bottle of peroxide and a box of band-aids.

After dabbing peroxide on the still bleeding wound, making him suck air through his teeth at the stinging pain adding to the dull throb, Deego fingered through the bandages, until he happened upon a pair of butterfly bandages, seemingly included as a sample.

Deego looked in the mirror.  His eyes were dim and tired, with dark circles ringed under them.  His hair seemed mussed and ill-kept...  And now there was a gash on his temple, ringed in red from the peroxide, and it was already developing some impressive swelling... And it was still dripping the odd drop of blood into the sink basin.

While looking in the mirror to line up the bandages, Deego placed both of them, trying to pull the two sections of skin back together as much as possible.

Once finished, he looked at his face again.  He still looked tired and hurt.  Deego sighed at his reflection and walked unsteadily out of the bathroom.  All he could think of now, was heading to bed.  At least he wouldn't feel the pain in his sleep.

[serickswrites]

Strong Word

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, defiant whumpee

Villain pulled at the restraints keeping them tied to the post in the center of the interrogation room. “Let me go, Superhero. I don’t know anything about Supervillain.”

Superhero leaned on the door. They knew Villain was lying. Villain was always lying. And they needed Supervillain’s plan. And they were going to get it out of Villain one way or another. 

After hours of being punched, kicked, and beaten with all sorts of things. Villain knelt at the base of the post, arms pulled tight over their head. Their face was swollen and battered, the rest of their body faring no better. “I know nothing.” They spat at Superhero’s feet. 

“You’re lying,” Superhero replied cooly. 

“I hate you!” Villain glared up at Superhero. 

“Hate is a very strong word, Villain. Surely you don’t hate your old mentor.”

“You better hope you kill me. Because if you don’t finish me off, I will make sure I get my due in full from your hide.”

[findmeinthefallair]

Whumpcember, Day 3: Storm

♫ All this screaming isn’t who we are When we die If it’s the end Will we be forceless again? ♫ — “We Who Lament” by Earthside (ft. Keturah)

[kayamark]

Whumpcember day 1 - hypothermia

9-1-1: lone star (2020)

S03e02

[pigeonwhumps]

In Memoriam

Sanctuary masterlist

Whumpcember day 8: faked death

And

AMOW day 3: getting a letter in the mail

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @whumpcember @amonthofwhump

Finn calls his sister after she gets a leaflet through her door.

695 words + art

CWs: presumed dead, mentioned kidnapping, whumper pov, non-con, creepy whumper

Finn scowls at the picture of a flyer his sister's sent him. In memory of Samantha Young. Well, that's one way of ruining his appetite. He presses call.

"Do you like the photo?"

"What the fuck, Ashley?"

"It's your little Romantic. Isn't she cute?"

"I know what it is. I want to know why you sent it to me. And how the hell you have it."

"A rather upset young man put it through my letterbox. Apparently it would've been her thirtieth birthday on the 27th of July. I thought you could add it to your scrapbook of her."

"I have far better photos now. You remember the Christmas ones."

"Oh I do." She pauses, clearly thinking about it. "You know, I'd quite like that young man as a pet. Any chance you could..."

"No, Ashley. You know I don't go for men. Anyway, they wouldn't let you buy a pet who used to live in your city, you know that. Not unless it's a special order, with lots of money."

"Spoilsport. I bet he's related to your Romantic. Oh! Or he might be a boyfriend." She sniggers. "Imagine that little Romantic having a boyfriend."

He sighs impatiently. "Ashley. The girl on that flyer, Samantha whatever, is dead. Dead. She has been for over nine years. The Romantic I'm training now might look like her, but she's not. She's a pet. She doesn't have any friends or family, certainly not a boyfriend, and she's going to her new owner next week. She doesn't even have a brain anymore, her head's just full of obedience and ways to fuck well. Are we clear?"

"So that's why you're so grumpy. You're losing your favourite acquisition."

"Ash..."

"Fine, fine. I wasn't calling her a person."

"I know that. But better safe than sorry." He doesn't want anything to happen to his sister, after all.

"Hmm. Who's your Romantic's new owner?"

"A young Sri Lankan girl. The one who owns 065."

"Ohhh that's gotta be fun. Owning a bonded pair when one's forgotten the other. She must be some kinda sadist."

"What I don't get is why you'd give your Romantic another pet to possibly bond with. I mean, you'd think she'd want 643 entirely focused on her. I certainly would if I was her owner."

"I imagine there's plenty of fun to be had with multiple pets."

"Mm." There is, to be sure, but it's usually not as good as a pet's sole focus being you. "Anyway, I need to actually eat before I go to 643."

"Yeah, right. Enjoy."

"Oh, I will."

He cuts off and peels back the foil covering his limp ham sandwich. It looks... distinctly unappealing. He's not even hungry, really, not for this.

He knows what would be appealing though.

Finn shoves the sandwich back in his bag and jumps to his feet, a smile already spreading. Oh, he knows exactly what he's hungry for.

He strides down the corridors until he reaches 643's room and holds his keycard against the lock.

643 is kneeling beside the bed, wrists crossed behind her back, and she looks up at him demurely through her lashes as he enters. He hasn't seen her today, too busy with paperwork, and blood rushes to his cock at the sight.

"Good to see you can hold a position, 643. As you know, it's final checks this week. I need to ensure you're ready for your prospective owner. Position 22."

643 sits on her heels and tilts her head up, opening her mouth.

Finn nods approvingly. Technically this isn't a position she's likely to need with a female owner, but... maybe this Miss Anita Ranjit has a boyfriend. Or maybe she'll like to watch her pets fuck. Finn's job is to prepare 643 for anything her owner might give her, and that certainly includes a cock.

Finn unzips himself and inserts his cock into 643's gaping mouth. She's like a little bird, so eager for something to fill her up.

"Go on, suck it. Show me what a good girl you are."

643 starts working on him, and oh yes. This is a much better lunch than his ham sandwich.

[em-writes-stuff]

whumpcember day 25

@whumpcember

prompt: “shouldn’t you be happy?”

warnings: character death, failed CPR, blood

characters: hero, sidekick, medic, villain

235 words

---

“We won!” Sidekick cheers, shaking Hero’s shoulders.

Hero stares down at the bloodied and bruised body of Villain. He watches their chest for any movement, but sees none. Without thinking, Hero falls to his knees and rolls Villain onto their back. He starts CPR, ignoring the rest of his team shouting at him to stop. 

He continues on, even when he feels Villain’s ribs break underneath his hands, even when blood dribbles out of the corner of Villain’s mouth. 

Even when Sidekick tries to pull him away from the corpse, Hero fights against her. She manages to rip him away, arms around his chest and her chin resting on his shoulder as they fall back against a wall. 

She holds him tightly, her arms surrounding him in something that could be seen as a hug, but they both knew it wasn’t. “What’s going on?” she whispers to him, low enough so that none of the others can hear. “Shouldn’t you be happy? I mean, we finally beat them after years of fighting.” 

Hero doesn’t respond. He watches Medic as he checks Hero for any wounds, eyes following him lazily until he pulls away and nods to Sidekick. 

She sighs and loosens her grip on Hero, still keeping him in her arms. 

Hero lets the team stand him on his feet and walk him out of the abandoned warehouse, leaving Villain behind for the last time. 

[firealder2005]

Whumpcember 2022 Day. 30 THE END IS NIGH

Part 4 of my ANH AU!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43752286

Enjoy!

```

Leia wondered if Tarkin had forgotten about her.

She didn’t know if that would be a good or bad thing.

Good, since she wouldn’t have to see the smug-faced bastard, but bad since whatever had taken his attention could not have been good.

It must be doubly bad since it seemed to have occupied Darth Vader’s time too - he wouldn’t have let her execution go off schedule.

He certainly had no problem with senseless slaughter…

Alderaan’s beautiful green and blue coloring from space drifted into her mind’s eyes, and she squeezed her eyes shut and pushed the feeling of despair away.

She couldn’t mourn her planet, people, and parents now.

Leia had to stay strong, to show she was undaunted, untamed still by the Empire’s mercilessness.

Darth Vader himself had tortured her.

Grand Moff Tarkin had obliterated her home.

But she would not break, she would not give in.

Because that was not who she was.

As long as she had hope, the Rebellion would live on. They would live to bring justice to her people, and all the other planets suffering under the Empire’s regime.

She had often heard Cassian Andor (may he rest in peace) say that Rebellions were built on hope, and she agreed whole-heartedly.

She jolted and fixed a stern glare on her face as the door to her cell opened, revealing a rather short stormtrooper.

“Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?” she snarked.

“Huh?” the trooper said. “Oh, right, the helmet…” surprisingly, the trooper took the helmet off and revealed the face of a boy around her age, with shaggy, sun-bleached blonde hair and startling blue eyes.

“Princess Leia?” he asked.

Leia raised a brow, and nodded.

“I’m Luke Skywalker, I’m here to rescue you,” the boy quickly said, glancing behind him. “I came with Ben Kenobi-”

“General Kenobi’s here?” Leia asked, startled and pleased as she shot up onto her feet. Ben had gotten her message! R2 did it!

“Yes,” Luke replied. “We have to move fast, because the pilots who were taking us to Alderaan have been imprisoned too.”

“Then let’s get moving,” Leia ordered, smartly adjusting the folds of her dress and marched out of the cell. Luke followed her out, and nearly crashed into her back as she froze - in joy and horror.

The former emotion came from the sight of the still tired-looking Obi-Wan Kenobi (did he ever take that nap she told him to do?), and the latter from the arms-crossed form of Darth Vader, who looked rather sulky(?) at the moment.

“Hello Leia,” Ben sighed as he turned his back on Darth Vader . “It’s good to see you again.”

Leia’s mouth had opened from the shock of this sight, and Luke rocked back and forth on his heels.

“Um,” he said. “You know Ben too, huh?”

Leia nodded faintly, the phantom pains of fire running through her veins as she stared warily at Vader.

What. Was. Going. On.

“Leia, I hate to drop this on you like this,” Ben winced. “But may I introduce you to your twin brother?” he vaguely waved a hand at Luke, and Leia swiveled her head around to meet the blonde’s sheepish and nervous expression.

She had…a brother?

She hadn’t lost all her family after all?

She suddenly gasped, whipping around on Ben, and exclaimed; “Was he who you’ve been with for all these years?”

Ben had a soft smile on his face. “Yes, I have been protecting Luke all his life - minus the days I spent saving your life.” the smile turned genuine. “I seem to be doomed to prevent Skywalkers from killing themselves.”

Leia’s brain froze.

Skywalker.

That’s right - that’s Luke’s last name.

Which meant her birth father was…Anakin Skywalker.

Wow.

She would always call Bail and Breha Organa her parents, and she loved them fiercely, and she had never really been all that interested in her biological parents, but there was a sense of connection to hear her birth father’s name.

“If we’re all done ,” Vader’s impatient voice made Leia tense, and she blinked as Luke’s hand rubbed her arm. She glanced at him, curious, and he seemed to be avoiding looking at Vader as much as she was. “I thought Luke had some “friends” he wanted to rescue.”

Leia glanced inquiring at Ben. Why was Vader helping them?

“I’ll explain later,” Ben promised quietly as Vader turned on his heels and quickly walked off. Leia warily followed, sticking close to Luke’s side, as Vader savagely punched in a code into two other cells and stepped aside before the doors opened.

Luke ran into the closest one to them, and Leia heard his light laugh and a happy, warm growl from inside. Her brother (brother!) came back out with the lumbering form of a Wookie.

She blinked. Her brother sure had a variety of friends.

In the second cell, a human male basically threw himself out, fist aloft as he gave a challenging yell - before pausing at Luke being hugged by the Wookie, Ben’s amused, tired expression, and her unimpressed one.

The man opened his mouth, looking briefly confused, before blurting out; “What the kriff’s going on?”

“You are being rescued,” Vader said from behind him, and the man yelped and spun around, stumbling backwards and nearly toppling into Ben in the process. “Why I am aiding your escape is none of your concern, and I advise you to take it .”

“Hi Han!” Luke called as the Wookie gently set him down. “You okay?”

The man, Han, slowly tore his gaze from Vader and looked disbelievingly at Luke. “Okay, if this is some big plot to get me to believe in the Force, you may have convinced me because how in the nine Corellian hells did you get him to help you?” he gestured wildly to Vader’s immovable form that seemed just as unimpressed as Leia did.

She shuddered at that comparison.

Luke exchanged a look with Ben, and shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

Han seemed to be struck speechless, but at the Wookie’s growl, he shook himself out of it. “Okay, okay, right,” he muttered. “I’m not gonna look a gift bantha in the mouth. We gotta find our weapons and get to my ship.”

“Down the corridor, and in the safe.” Vader emotionlessly answered, sticking his thumb over his shoulder. “Luke’s lightsaber, the Wookie’s bowcaster, and your assortment of blasters and vibroblades are in it. Don’t procrastinate.”

Han slowly raised his hands up. “Alright, alright, come on Chewie, Luke. Time to get our stuff back!”

Luke gave Leia a smile before handing his stormtrooper helmet to Ben and rushing off after Han. Leia furrowed her brows when she saw there were no Imperial officers or stormtroopers present.

Huh.

She crossed her arms and stalked past Vader, training herself to not respond to his presence. She was still suspicious about his help, and would treat what he said like she would a loaded blaster, but she wasn’t stupid to use what help she could.

Luke had discarded the stormtrooper armor and was fiddling with an object she recognized as a lightsaber. He turned it on, and a blade as vividly blue as Ben’s fizzled into existence. Luke had a small smile on his face, but it seemed to be tinged with sadness.

“Nice lightsaber,” she told her brother, bumping her shoulder into his.

“Thanks,” he replied. “It was my - our - dad’s.” his eyes darted nervously over to Vader.

“Really?” she asked. “Anakin Skywalker’s?” Luke hummed, and disengaged the blade before clipping it to his belt.

“Ben gave it to me before we left Tatooine,” he explained as everyone crowded into the turbolift.

“That’s nice,” Leia wistfully said. She wished she had a memento of her parents, like her mother’s amethyst earrings, or her father’s long, blue Senatorial cloak.

Anything to remember them by.

But it was all destroyed on Alderaan.

Luke once more glanced at Vader, and that’s when Leia noticed the rising tension in the turbolift. But Ben and the Sith were stiff, facing forward, while Han and poor Chewie were stuck in between them.

“Did you even have a plan?” Ben tersely asked.

“Yes.” Vader bit back sharply - almost defensively, Leia noticed with a raised brow. She exchanged a look with Luke as Vader continued; “I will go on ahead and demand another meeting with Tarkin for Luke’s custody - he will deny it, and you will all use that time to get to the smuggler’s garbage bin of a ship.”

Han’s offended “Hey!” was drowned out by Ben’s annoyed sigh.

“It’s always by halves with you, isn’t it?” he muttered. “You don’t think Tarkin or the Emperor will be suspicious of Luke, Leia, Captain Solo, and Chewbacca’s miraculous escape?”

“I will blame it on you.” Vader shot back with zero hesitation.

“Even in my prime I wouldn’t have been able to do such a thing.”

“You sell yourself short - you have been escaping my grasp for nearly two decades. It’s not much of a stretch to believe you could do it again along with many others.”

“You think too highly of me, Darth.”

Leia shot a disbelieving look with her companions. What was going on ?

“Okay!” Han then shouted with a wave of his hand. “Let’s just do his Sithyness’s plan since it’s the only one we got!”

“ Sithyness ?” Vader scowled as Leia snickered. Luke had a smile while Chewie gaffled with laughter. “You won’t call me that again, Solo , unless you want your windpipe crushed.”

Han stared at Vader. “I’ll remember to write that down.”

Chewie rumbled something, and Han scoffed. “I do not! ”

“If he asked if you have a death wish,” Leia deadpanned. “I think he’s right.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion , Your Worshipfulness!” the smuggler shot back.

“Announcing it to the entire turbolift is an invitation, nerf-herder .”

Han scowled before turning to Luke, who seemed to be trying to hide in Chewie’s shaggy, brown fur. “I really hope that reward’s gonna be worth it, kid.”

“If money’s all you care about,” Leia tartly butted in. “Then money is what you’ll get. I doubt you even care about anything but yourself.”

Han opened his mouth to argue back, but Ben slapped his hand over it as the turbolift doors opened and Vader stepped out, towering in the doorway as he scanned to hallways.

“It’s clear,” he rumbled. “Make your way back to the hangar. Leave Tarkin to me.”

Han wasted no time to leave the turbolift, with Chewie bending over to accommodate his gargantuan height. Ben exited next, and Vader snapped his mask to him and lowly hissed; “You better keep them safe, Kenobi. If not…” he clenched his hand. “There is nowhere you can hide that’ll keep you safe from me.”

Ben gazed sadly at Vader. “Believe me,” he murmured. “I would punish myself if I ever let anything happen to them.”

Leia and Luke exited last, and Leia curiously glanced at Vader and Ben.

They seemed to have struck an agreement that resulted in Vader helping them.

Luke seemed to hesitate, looking back over his shoulder at Vader, who was staring intently at both him and Leia.

Leia grabbed Luke’s hand and gently pulled him along, and saw Vader slowly turn away to go confront Tarkin.

Whatever the reason on why Vader had helped them, she wasn’t going to waste this opportunity.

They had the plans for the abomination they were on, and they were going to destroy it.

For Alderaan.

For the Rebellion.

The destruction of the Empire was near.

She could feel it.