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swhurtcomfort · 2 years

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Hey, if you're still taking whumptober asks (I know you're a busy person so if all your slots have been filled please feel free to ignore this) but I would humbly like to request Anakin Skywalker with either 21 with blood-matted hair or 27 with whatever you choose. Whatever you feel like writing, or if you feel like this at all, it's totally up to you^^ Thank you sweetness your writing is amazing!

So clearly I fell off the Whumptober wagon. but I still really appreciated & wanted to answer this very kind request 💕 Happy Star Wars Day, and May the Fourth be with you!

[Whumptober 2021 Day #21 theme was blood-matted hair | pressure | bleeding through bandages ]

In the end, Obi-Wan had nearly stepped on him.

“Come in, Rex,” he managed to mumble into his commlink. “Anakin’s here. Transmitting our coordinates.”

There was no time for honorifics and titles, and no time for details. Obi-Wan knelt by the form he had nearly tripped over, half-buried in the jungle underbrush. After he’d crash-landed his ship (again), Anakin had been missing for just under 16 hours. Clone crews had swept the entire area surrounding the wreck, but Anakin had seemingly wandered away from the site of the impact and found himself somewhere dark and cool (and damp and dirty) to collapse from his injuries.

That behavior alone made Obi-Wan wary about a head injury, and a quick examination confirmed this theory. There was a significant amount of blood soaking the back of Anakin’s head, some fresh, some long dried and matted into his hair.

“Anakin? Can you hear me?” he asked.

“Hmm,” Anakin responded.

Even small head wounds bleed more than you’d expect. This knowledge had been drilled into Obi-Wan over years of combat training, and he knew better than to judge the severity of the wound by the amount of blood. Unfortunately, it was hard to see where the bleeding was coming from. He held the penlight from his kit between his teeth as he carded his fingers through Anakin’s hair, searching, which drew a pitiful whine of protest.

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” said Obi-Wan softly. “Help is coming.”

He eased a folded spare cloak under Anakin’s head and rested his hand gingerly under the bend of Anakin’s jaw to feel the pulse there, sluggish and weak. He quietly reported his findings to Rex via commlink, hoping that Kix and the other medics on duty would be prepared for their arrival.

Obi-Wan continued to use the penlight to search for other injuries. There was a gash torn through Anakin’s upper left sleeve, but the abrasion underneath looked like it was only skin-deep. He’d bitten his lower lip badly as well, but it would heal with bacta. Although his breaths were shallow, there was no coughing or wheezing. Anakin’s head seemed like the only worrisome thing.

He didn’t think Anakin was awake until he felt a gloved hand grab his wrist.

“Hey,” Anakin mumbled.

“Hey.”

Obi-Wan shifted from crouching to kneeling by Anakin’s head and returned the grip on his hand.

“Crashed another ship.”

“So I see.”

“I thought–I wasn’t sure if–” Anakin’s bloodied lip made him slur his words. “Glad you’re here, Master.”

“Yes, well, I believe I owed you a debt after that business on Felucia.”

“Hmm,” Anakin snorted softly. “You’re like a father to me, Obi-Wan. I love you. Should’ve told you that more.”

Obi-Wan’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. For a moment, he couldn’t bear to reply. He quietly leaned over to his commlink and asked Rex for an ETA.

“Don’t get sappy,” Obi-Wan finally whispered. “You’ve lost a lot of blood–might be concussed too for all I know. But Kix will patch you up.”

“Okay,” Anakin mumbled.

#whumptober2021 #blood matted hair #hurt anakin #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #tcw era #this is a happy ending if anyone is wondering #head injury #@bloodyfeverdreams

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mckiwi · 1 year

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Whumptober 2021 Fics

Day 1: All Trussed Up and Still Nowhere To Go (Barbed Wire)

Day 2: Talking is Overrated (Gagged)

Day 3: Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones (Taunting)

Day 4: Trust Fall (Pushed)

Day 5: I've Got Red in My Ledger (Betrayal)

Day 6: Touch and Go (Touch-Starved)

Day 7: Blind to the Consequences (Blindness)

Day 8: Coughing Up a Lung (Exotic Illness)

Day 9: Rumors of my Death have been Greatly Exaggerated (Presumed Dead)

Day 10: Oops, I Did It Again (Hospital)

Day 11: Just Keep Swimming (Drowning)

#whumptober2021 #doctor strange #dr strange #stephen strange #doctor strange fanfic #dr strange fanfic #stephen strange fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #fanfic #mckiwiwrites

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depizan · 2 years

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Payment

Kaliyo asked Kyrian to help her rescue a friend, but rescue was not entirely what Kaliyo had in mind, as she explained after the rescue part of her plan was complete. She then left Kyrian to guard her friend. Or to warn her and wait for the fallout.

Whumptober 2021, prompt #23: You break it, you buy it

(slight divergence from an in-game mission, though not in any way that's advantageous to Kyrian)

32.7.10, 11pm

Kyrian rested his hip on the back of the bench Anspi’shel had vacated and waited for Kaliyo to return. The bounty hunter would likely accept a few unmarked credit chits in lieu of their target and Kaliyo… well, it was Nar Shaddaa, it wouldn’t be difficult to find something that would appease her. Whatever she chose, it would be an improvement over delivering her friend to the bounty hunter’s client.

Perhaps that was what Kaliyo wanted all along: a bit of fun on Nar Shaddaa at his expense. It made more sense than freeing her friend from the Exchange only to sell her to a different enemy, or her telling him her plans before leaving him to guard Anspi’shel. She couldn’t have expected him to actually do that.

Her expression when she sauntered into the spaceport waiting area, trailed by a trio of obvious bounty hunters, suggested that she had.

“You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

“I can explain.” Kyrian instinctively dropped into an outer rim drawl. His natural accent had a tendency to put people in Hutt Space on edge.

“You dragged us down here without securing the target?” The lead bounty hunter, a tall man whose face was obscured by a scarf and goggles, demanded. His partners looked as irritated as he sounded. The Zabrak cracked his knuckles and the Duros rested a hand on her hip, just above her blaster.

“He was supposed to watch her,” Kaliyo snapped. “What’d she do, make doe eyes at you? Tell you she had to use the ‘fresher?”

“I’m sorry.” Kyrian spread his hands in appeasement. “It was my fault. I can make it up to you, pay the bounty hunters for their trouble.”

“You bet you will.”

“Don’t think you’ve got enough credits,” the lead hunter said. “She’s wanted back on Ylesia for quite the pile.”

“So go after her,” Kaliyo said. “She can’t have gone far.”

“If she was ever here,” the Duros said. “Kinda funny you holoed us with a bounty we couldn’t ignore, and now she’s evaporated.”

“Harik put you up to this?” the lead hunter asked.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Kyrian said, “but she really was here. It’s my fault that she isn’t. I may not have the credits to make up for her bounty, but I can at least pay you for your time.”

“Oh, you’ll do that,” the lead hunter agreed. “And give Harik a message for us.”

The Duros unclipped a shock stick from her belt. “Next time we won’t be so nice.”

“This is just a misunderstanding.” Kyrian took a step back, away from the advancing bounty hunters. None of them were wearing anything heavier than armorweave, if that. The Zabrak’s leather vest barely covered his broad chest, and the leader’s scarf was clearly just cloth. But none of them had drawn a lethal weapon.

The leader had produced his own shock stick, and the Zabrak adjusted his gloves, his grin more feral than amused. Weighted? Electrified? Merely to protect his hands? Kyrian preferred not to find out.

He took another step back, and to the side. If he could put a little distance between them, there was a chance he could run for the more populated parts of the spaceport and make it before they caught him. “A mistake.”

“Your mistake,” the lead hunter said.

“Yes,” Kyrian agreed. “Mine.”

Kaliyo had disappeared while their attention was on him. He didn’t have to worry about her. Only his own escape.

Still backing away, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of credit chits. “You really don’t need to do this. I have credits.”

“Take it up with Harik,” the Duros said.

He flung the credit chits at them, and ran.

#whumptober2021 #no.23 #you break it you buy it #fic #swtor #I write #Kyrian Nessar

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lizzyverydizzyyo · 11 months

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One more of D.E.A.N chapter left!!!!!

#whump #whumptober2021 #whumptober2022 #whump community #nsfwhump #D.E.A.N #me #me write

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ask-aurachnid · 1 year

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Misunderstandings

Read on AO3

The thing is, Frankie hadn’t even realized something was wrong. They had been dating Nicky for a couple of months, and things had been going pretty well. Frankie will admit that they’re a little out of practice when it comes to relationships; it’s been years since Paige died, and every attempt up until Nicky had failed before the third date. Still, Frankie thought they had been doing a solid job of showing Nicky that they really like her. Turns out, that is not the case.

Two hours ago, Frankie had gotten a text from her, the dreaded “can we talk?” and now they’re here.

“Do you actually want to be in a relationship with me?” Nicky asks, arms crossed.

The question makes Frankie blanch. They’ve heard it before, in some form or another. They’d never been able to bring themself to answer, and when they had, it wasn’t convincing in any sense of the word. That was usually followed by a tight smile and grim acceptance from the other party, leaving Frankie on their own again.

Do you even want to be with me?

You don’t really want this, do you?

It feels like you’re not ready for this.

Be honest, Frankie. Why are you doing this?

Be honest…

Frankie desperately wishes it was that easy. That they knew what the right words were. That they could fix this without blowing it to pieces. Everyone told them that being a vigilante would be messy, but they hoped that this part of their life would have the fortune of being easy. The Stevens Curse strikes again.

“Yes,” Frankie says, and unlike other times they’ve said it, this time they mean it. “Yes, Nicky. I really do.”

“Well, forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“Nicky—” Frankie doesn’t know what they’re going to say, but it doesn’t matter because Nicky cuts them off before they can get that far.

“You’re late for everything. Classes. Our dates. You didn’t show up at MARCs until after my boat has crossed the finish line, and you make the lousiest excuses I’ve ever fucking heard. You bitch about traffic, and you don’t even have a license. Am I supposed to believe that you’re telling me the truth?”

Frankie hangs their head, face hot. Nicky only swears when she’s genuinely upset, and to be fair, they deserve this.

“You think I don’t know that you’re lying, but I do. You’re constantly injured, and you have the worst explanations for how it happened. Not everything can be explained as a parkour accident, Frankie.”

No. No this can’t be happening. No one is supposed to know. They trust Nicky, but years of watching other mutants be fucked over and hurt has made them more than a little cautious about who can know.

“Nicky, I— It’s not what you think it is,” Frankie sputters.

“And what do I think it is?” Nicky snaps. “That you’re keeping secrets? That I barely know anything about the person I’ve known for a year? That I’m not as important to you as I thought I was?” her voice goes tight and Frankie feels like a coward for the way they continue to stare at their own hands, unable to look her in the eyes. “That, maybe— I don’t know. Shit, maybe I’m not even the only girl in your life.”

Frankie’s heart drops into their stomach, sitting in their gut like a ball of lead.

That… That hurts.

And the worst part is, the accusation isn’t without merit, at least from Nicky’s perspective, without the knowledge of how Frankie spends their nights. It hurts. It makes their face feel hot. It makes bile crawl into the back of their mouth. It makes Frankie angry.

“I would never.” The words are ground out between clenched teeth, paired with clenched fists and their heart aches to see their own hurt-angry-sad expression mirrored on Nicky’s face.

“Then what aren’t you telling me?”

Frankie opens their mouth, but they don’t know what to say. Rather, they know what to say, but they can’t. They’re not ready.

“I— I gotta go,” Frankie says instead, edging around Nicky and swiping their backpack off the floor. They glance back at Nicky one more time before leaving the room. She hasn’t moved.

Frankie shuts the door behind them.

ØØ

They weren’t really thinking, when they left Nicky in their own apartment, only grabbing their backpack. For a while, they just ride the subway, stewing in their thoughts and blasting their angst playlist. After an hour, they remember that their suit is in their bag, and they get off the train somewhere in Manhattan to change and take to the skies.

“JUDOS, tell me you got something for me. I need to blow off some steam.”

“There are reports of Golden Tiger activity three blocks east.”

Frankie huffs, “Danny’s gonna get territorial about it, but whatever. I’ll take it.”

Turns out JUDOS’s sources were good, and the Golden Tigers are not hard to find. Frankie barely has to look thirty feet to see them shaking up some poor restaurant owner for her protection racket. There’s five of them in total. Two of them are shaking the old lady around, and another three standing to the side with their arms crossed.

“Heya, boys. Hate to interrupt, but I’m gonna have to ask you to let the nice lady go,” Aurachnid quips, hanging upside down from the awning.

“Aurachnid, you’re a little far from your turf,” one of them says.

“Dude. Chinatown is like fifty blocks. It’s smaller than Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Tch, whatever,” another says. The two holding the woman push her down, but thankfully she doesn’t look any worse for wear. Another pulls out a knife.

“Yikes, I think that’s a little too long to be legal my dude,” Aurachnid comments, snatching it from his hand with some well-aimed webbing. They paste it to the wall, just out of reach, for the cops to pick up later.

“You’ll pay for that!” he shouts, taking a running swing at the vigilante. They dodge it easily.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Frankie laughs, hopping down to the ground and waving their hands around their face mockingly. If they could, they’d stick their tongue out for good measure. Then, they turn tail and run.

It’s a pretty useful trick, the mocking before running. Goons like these nearly always give chase, maybe because running makes them think they have more of a chance, and it gives Frankie a chance to get somewhere they have an advantage. It lets them bolt into some alley where they can attack from above.

With these guys, it works exactly as planned. After just a few yards, Aurachnid makes a sharp left into an alley and jumps on top of a dumpster as the rest of the men come barreling in from the street. Frankie could just web them all up and be on their way. None of them seem to be mutants or have any enhancements. This could be child’s play, but where’s the fun in that?

By all means, the fight still should have been easy. Frankie’s strength and reflexes are far beyond that of a normal person. Even if their combat skills are lacking, they can more than compensate with their mutations. Aurachnid is a decent fighter, and they should have been fine.

If you held a gun to Frankie’s head, they might be able to say what exactly happened, but they don’t want to think about it. They can’t.

They lose control.

Frankie’s already knocked one of the goons to the side and webbed him to the ground when it all goes wrong. Someone takes a swing at them, aiming for the back of their head. Frankie’s spider-sense buzzes, and before they can think it through, they grab the man’s arm. There’s a sickening ‘crunch!’ and the man screams in pain.

Frankie lets go like the man is red-hot, stumbling backwards and gagging on the horrified guilt taking root in their abdomen. Arms aren’t supposed to bend like that. Frankie broke his arm.

One particularly opportunistic gangster takes advantage of Aurachnid’s lapse, aiming a brass-knuckled punch for their face. Frankie’s freaking out too much to duck out of the way, and the metal hits the bridge of their nose with a ‘crack!’ and stars bloom across their vision. Their back meets the pavement, and more blows follow. Kicks to their stomach and ribs, punches to their head.

Aurachnid curls into themself, just to get a little reprieve. They can’t think through the pain in their face, but if they can just get a second to catch their breath and sort themself out, they’ll be fine. They can deal with the remaining three gangsters, no problem. Just one moment.

Before they can get that far, the blows stop, replaced by the sounds of a fight and grunts of pain that aren’t their own. By the time Aurachnid peels themself off the pavement, only one Golden Tiger is still standing, trading blows with Iron Fist. Frankie hangs their head with a sigh, not bothering to watch as Rand throws the last man to the ground with a dull thud.

“You gonna lay there all day, or do you want me to reset that nose?” Danny asks, stepping closer. He holds out a hand to help Frankie off the ground. They take it.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” they groan, stumbling a few steps. They’re a little dizzy, and they hope they don’t have a concussion. If they do, they hope it’s not a bad one.

Their face throbs as they follow Rand back to his apartment. Frankie crawls up the fire escape while Rand takes off his mask and goes in the front door. They tumble through the window just a minute before there’s the sound of a key in the lock. Once the curtain is closed, Frankie pulls off their mask.

Their nose is still dripping steadily, and their mask is absolutely soaked. They’d love to stop it, but they don’t even want to think about touching their still-crooked nose. They lift themself onto the counter while Rand fetches the first-aid kit from the bathroom.

“So, what’s wrong?” Danny asks, dropping the bag down on the counter.

“Other than the clearly broken nose? Nah, just bruises.”

“Helpful,” he replies, tilting his head and digging through the kit. “but not what I meant. Something’s bothering you.”

“How would you know?” Frankie snaps, defensive.

“Because you broke a man’s arm, and now you’re glaring at my teapot,” Danny answers. “So, you want to talk about it?”

“Set my nose, and I’ll think about it.”

“Alright, brace yourself.”

Frankie’s nose snaps back into place with a thoroughly gross crunching noise, and white-hot pain. Danny splints it and gives them a bag of frozen peas to ice it. They’re going to have some really killer black eyes in a few hours. They need to buy more concealer.

“I got in a fight with my girlfriend,” Frankie says, before Danny can ask again.

“That’s a rough one. She doesn’t approve of your night job?”

“She doesn’t know about it,” they sigh. They take a second to debate how much they want to share before they speak again. “She accused me of cheating.”

“Ouch.”

“So, I went out to blow off some steam. It makes sense she’d assume that. I just don’t want to say something I’ll regret.”

Danny busies himself making a pot of green tea. “Can I offer you some advice?”

“Can I stop you?”

He chuckles, but his voice is serious. “I know how easy it is to get caught up in everything, but you can’t go out there angry. Either people get hurt because you took out your anger on the wrong person, or you get hurt because your anger made you careless.”

“Or both, in my case.” Frankie frowns before they remember their still-broken nose. “I’ve always been an over-achiever, I guess.”

“And you should talk to your girlfriend. You shouldn’t let negative emotions fester, or they’ll rot your relationship from the inside.”

They heave a sigh and take the tea Danny offers them. “You’re right. I just don’t know what I’m going to tell her. I’m not exactly ready to tell her the truth.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

ØØ

After Frankie finishes the tea, and clean themself up the best they can, they leave Danny’s apartment and head back to their own. Nicky’s long gone, and they have no new messages. So, Frankie changes clothes, and leaves their apartment again, picking up flowers at the corner store.

Frankie has only been to Nicky’s apartment once before, mostly because she only got it a few months ago to avoid living with her parents for the summer, but they can remember where it is well enough. There’s no doorman, and even without using their spidery abilities, Frankie can just walk in. Their own apartment’s security isn’t any better, but at least they can protect themself. They table that issue for another day. They’re on a mission.

Frankie stands in front of Nicky’s door for a good few minutes before they work up the nerve to knock. Their palms are sweaty where they clutch the flowers, waiting for her to answer.

A lot of emotions cross Nicky’s face when she opens the door. Confusion, followed by shock and anger. Then concern and worry, probably because of the condition of their face. Frankie just shoves the bouquet at her, awkward as anything, and doesn’t meet her eyes.

“I wanted to apologize,” they blurt.

“Oooh-kay…” Nicky says slowly, taking the flowers and stepping aside so Frankie can enter the apartment.

“You were right, I have been lying to you,” Frankie says, before they can think better of it or chicken out. “About where I disappear to, and how I get injured, and why I’m always late, and there is a reason, but that reason has never been because I don’t care about you.”

Nicky just raises an eyebrow, daring them to put their foot in their mouth.

“I like you so much that it scares me sometimes. Like my feelings are too big to fit inside my body and one day they’re just gonna ‘fwoom!’” Frankie makes an explosive gesture with their hands, “like an overfilled aerosol can. And I look forward to it!”

They’re pacing now, not really looking at Nicky, lest they lose their nerve. “I like you more than I’ve liked anyone in a long time, but this thing that I’ve been lying about has been going on a lot longer than we’ve known each other. I never even told my dads, and only like five other people know, and two got Vanished. But I want to tell you… I just don’t think I’m ready yet.”

Nicky sighs and Frankie rushes to continue.

“It sounds cliché, but it’s genuinely not you. It’s me, and it’s something I have to work through before I’m ready, but I will tell you. I want you to know me the way you want to know me. It’s just, I dunno, sensitive?” they scratch the back of their neck sheepishly. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s that I don’t trust anyone, and—”

“Frankie,” Nicky interrupts.

“Yeah?” they reply, meeting her eyes for the first time since they arrived.

“I get it,” she says sincerely. “I’m sorry too. Not for being upset, but for what I said. I never thought you were cheating, and I shouldn’t have implied that you might be.”

The assurance makes Frankie’s shoulders slump in relief.

“I’m still pissed about MARCs, but you can tell me what’s going on with you when you’re ready. For now, I’ll just settle for you being less shady about it.”

“I’ll do my best, and I’m sorry about MARCs. I know it was important to you, and I wish I had tried harder to be there.”

Nicky sighs with a shrug, “It’s in the past, now. So, are you going to tell me what happened to your face, or does it have something to do with the Big Secret?”

Frankie laughs, careful not to move their face too much. “A magician can’t reveal all their tricks, can they?”

#story post #Nicky Briggs #whumptober2021

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bi-demon-ium · 2 years

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8700 words or so of pain and comfort.

day 21: bleeding through bandages/blood-matted curls

+ bonus: nightmares and intense found family galore

#whumptober2021 #whumptober #no.21 #bleeding #the mysterious benedict society #nightmares #mbs disney #nicholas benedict #rhonda kazembe #milligan wetherall #number two #milligan #mr. benedict #kate wetherall #constance contraire #my writing

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snowywinterevenings · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 6

No. 6: Alternate Prompt - Touch Starved

Summary: Just a little whump focused around what would happen if Obi-Wan had been held prisoner by the Empire for a lengthy period of time before being rescued by the rebellion. Vague mentions of torture and the physical/mental aftermath.

#codywan #my fics #whumptober2021 #whumptober #whump

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angstashes · 2 years

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Whumptober (Day Five) - I've Got Red in my Ledger

Trigger Warning: Character death and knife Characters: Yancy and Actor Summary: Yancy didn't want to escape, so he made a deal with Actor to stay in prison if he did whatever Actor asked when he needed him. Yancy's end of the deal didn't bother him until he was taken to the manor in the middle of the night. Word Count: 714 Was supposed to be posted on 05/10/21 but is it posted on 09/07/22 (because I forgor about posting daily + got busy with family stuff). __

Yancy awoke to a dark hardwood floor instead of the comfort of his beloved prison bed. He yawned before glancing around this unfamiliar room. He couldn't help but think that he was being watched, and he didn't know if it was because there were cameras in the prison or paranoia. Too bad he didn't find anything that gave him the slightest of ideas that he was, which earned an frustrated sigh from him.

Slowly, the prisoner stood up. Maybe he should look for a door or something to get him out of there because he certainly wasn't leaving the jail for freedom. He searched the room for a way to escape; Even finding something that would cause damage would be fine for Yancy. Upon finding nothing useful once more, he groaned. "Where am I?"

"My manor, of course," A male disembodied voice answered, causing Yancy to panic. "Do you not remember it? After an encounter with.... Our "friend", you met with me, and I brought you here to discuss terms on a deal." His voice was rather.... Mischievous, and the prisoner felt scared.

The prisoner quickly looked around, trying to find the source of this voice. "Who are youse? Where are youse," Yancy asked, panic rising with each second he was stuck with some guy he didn't know, or at least he didn't from what he could recall. As soon as he asked those questions, a cold hand touched his shoulder, making him jump.

"I am your friend, do you not remember," The disembodied voice asked him, now behind him. "I'm saddened that you don't remember me, I am your friend after all." Whatever body it used to grab him let go, and that caused Yancy to turn around, seeing a man in a red-suit. Almost instantly, the idea of who the man was clicked.

"Actor, nice to see youse again," The prisoner choked out with a bit of strain and fear present in his voice. "I didn't know youse called me here, can I ask why?" Yancy backed away slightly, fear in his eyes. He let out a nervous laugh, trying to ease his stress over this situation.

"Oh you know, I need you to do your end of the deal.... You do remember it, right?" Actor stared at the male, and his eyes seemed to go right through Yancy, seeing every ounce of life the prisoner had left. "But, of course, if you don't remember, I can help remind you of it." A glint of evil was present in his kidnapper's eyes, and that made Yancy flinch. The prisoner knew better than to trust him now.

The prisoner hesitantly nodded, looking at the other with fear clear in his eyes. "I know, I s-said if youse would keep in the prison, I'll do whatever youse ask me too whenever," Yancy recalled as he gulped. This felt like an.... Odd situation, and it was a situation that he wasn't going to escape from.

The red-themed ego nodded. "Great, my partner. I need to do something with you," He told the other as he slowly pulled a knife from his pocket. "I'm sorry, but I need to send a message to Dark." Actor smirked; A clear and obvious sign he wasn't sorry about what he's going to do.

Yancy's eyes widened as he started to run, hoping maybe then an exit would just appear. Too bad a simple tug on the arm prevented him from finding out. "Actor! Please," Yancy screamed as he was forced to look at the one who once protected him.

"There's nothing else I can do; You must understand," Actor told the human before he pressed the blade to Yancy's neck. "For what it's worth, you'll help me with a plan." Without anything else being said, the red-suited ego cut open the prisoner's neck. Blood flowed out of the cut as Yancy's eyes became completely drained of life.

The only alive male let out a sigh as he laid Yancy's body down. He noticed one of his sleeves became stained with blood and rolled his eyes. "Try not to bleed on my sleeves next time, thank you," Actor stated. It was like to him, Yancy was still alive when he was, in fact, very dead.

Then again, did Actor care?

#whumptober2021 #tw knife #tw character death #markiplier egos #actor mark #yancy #ahwm #a heist with markiplier #wkm #who killed markiplier

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exomal · 2 years

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Chapters: 13/31 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sheev Palpatine & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker & Tru Veld Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Darth Maul, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ahsoka Tano, Tru Veld, Bant Eerin Additional Tags: Whumptober 2021, Hurt Anakin Skywalker, Torture, Palpatine Adopts Anakin, Child Abuse, How Anakin Got His Scar, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Sick Anakin Skywalker Summary:

and so is blood. Short story collection for Whumptober 2021. Focused mostly on Anakin. Ranging from the pre-prequel time to the prequels and the clone wars time.

[no.1: cauterization,“This is gonna suck”- When Anakin crashes his ship, Rex has to use uncomfortable measures to keep him from bleeding out.]

“It’s one of ours.” A soldier next to him said, his eyes behind binoculars as the ship crashed half a klick next to them.