Thank you everyone for participating in Whumpcember! It would greatly help me if you all filled out these forms for the masterlist and feedback! See you all in a year!
alchemistsarego asked:
I just wanted to say thank you so much for running this event! Some other these prompts really helped me get through a bad writing slump and I really enjoyed seeing what other people made! Thank you!
Thank you so much! I really appreciate your kind words!
21: Bruises
Whumpee laid down gingerly on the hot ground, careful to not jostle their injured leg on the rocks beneath them. Whumpee's assailants were long since gone over the horizon, so they closed their eyes and tried to drift off, even with their leg still throbbing in pain from their attacks.
Day 24 @whumpcember - Walking on injuries.
The entire team are injured, running on fumes, but they cant stop.
Set between the breaking point and the city.
CW: injuries, burns, gunshot wounds, living weapons.
I've never tried a 1st person inner monologue before... it was interesting to do.
Life or death, truth or lies, and an impossible choice….
When Amajiki is viciously attacked by an unknown villain, events begin to spiral out that could break the public's trust in heroes permanently. Heroes and students rush to find the ones responsible for the attack and stop the spread of misinformation before it's too late.
Then Todoroki goes missing…
Then Kaminari is attacked by the same villain that attacked Amajiki…
And someone's been watching everything and leaking every move the heroes make to the public. Can Aizawa rescue his students and put a stop to this…or will he be forced to choose between the kids he cares about and the rest of the world?
...
(@whumpcember Day Nineteen: Panic Attack -- Help is on the way…but will it be too late for Kaminari?)
His chest caught when he tried to breathe, and Denki had to blink rapidly as tears began to fill his eyes. “Am I gonna die?” he managed to whisper.
“No.” Aizawa’s voice was steady and firm. He left one hand on Denki’s chest and leaned in to rest the other on top of his head. “They already have medicines to counteract this. You might be sick for a little while, but you’ll make a full recovery.”
“You can’t promise that,” he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek. His arms and legs wouldn’t move, and every breath was a struggle.
Aizawa leaned in until his head and shoulders were filling Denki’s field of vision. “I can, and I will,” he said. “I promise you, Denki Kaminari: you are not going to die.”
Summary:
“He doesn’t mean what he’s saying, you know. He's not in his right mind right now.”
Midoriya sniffled and rubbed a hand across his eyes, “I know. And I would never hold it against him. I know it’s not his fault, it’s just...”
Bakugou allowed him time to finish, but realized Midoriya simply didn’t have the words. Or maybe he was just too tired to continue speaking.
Bakugou understood.
“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Bakugou said lowly.
❄️ Whumpcember 2024 ❄️
Day 3: Begging; Day 7: Kidnapping
Day 21 @whumpcember - brusies
Ash is injured again.
CW. Injuries, living weapon.
Let's hurt Ash some more and have Paul struggle to be in a caretaker role while simultaneously defending the complex 27 system 🤣
---
The door to Ash’s quarters slid open with a soft hiss, and Paul’s eyes immediately locked onto the familiar sight of his friend sprawled across the cot. Ash was lying flat on his back, one arm resting across his eyes as if trying to block out the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. His body was tense, as though bracing for something, though there was no immediate threat.
“What happened this time?” Paul’s voice was steady, though it carried an edge of frustration that he couldn’t entirely suppress. His gaze moved over Ash’s battered form - dark bruises blooming under his skin, some faint cuts along his jaw, and the unmistakable stiffness in his posture. It was the kind of sight Paul had seen countless times before, but it always stirred something deeper within him. Something he didn’t want to acknowledge.
Ash didn’t move, his breathing slow and shallow. The silence stretched on longer than it should have, the weight of the room pressing down on Paul. Finally, Ash spoke, his voice thin and tired. “I’m fine,” he muttered dismissively, sounding drained. “Just another mission, another complication.”
Paul’s brow furrowed, frustration bubbling under the surface. He took a few steps closer, studying Ash carefully. The bruises on his face were bad, but it was the stiffness in his posture—like he was holding himself together with sheer will—that made something twist in Paul’s gut.
Paul’s brow furrowed as he took a few steps closer, his gaze narrowing on Ash’s still form. “I’ve seen that look before,” he said, his words clipped. “What the hell did you do, Ash?”
Ash exhaled slowly, his arm shifting only enough to rest against his chest, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, distant. “78 pushed me off a fucking roof,” he muttered, as if the words themselves left a bad taste in his mouth.
Paul’s expression immediately darkened. His mind flashed to John—Asset 78. A sadistic, merciless bastard. But even for John, this seemed too brazen, too reckless.
"No he didn’t," Paul said sharply, his voice harder than he intended. "John’s a sadistic bastard, but even he wouldn’t have gotten away with tossing you off a roof. What happened, Ash?"
Ash’s arm finally moved away from his face, but his eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Paul watched as the faintest of winces twisted Ash’s features, the kind of subtle pain someone tries to hide but can’t quite manage.
“Maybe I pissed him off,” Ash finally muttered, his voice thick with something Paul couldn’t place. “Doesn’t take much for him to take it too far.” His weight shifted slightly, and he grimaced, a sharp inhale escaping him as he shifted again, clearly trying to mask the pain. "Not that I was in the best state before," he added bitterly.
Something had definitely happened, he could see the evidence - bruises, cuts, tye subtle winces. But Ash was an asset, a living weapon. If he got hurt in the process, it was just part of the game, right?
He tried to ignore the tightening in his chest. "Let me see," Paul said, his voice lower now, the authority more firm. He needed to know the extent of the damage - not just for Ash’s sake, but for his own. If Ash wasn’t functioning, it reflected badly on them both. At least that’s what he told himself.
Ash hesitated, the moment stretching long between them. His eyes flicked to Paul’s face, unreadable. Then, with a soft curse under his breath, he slowly pushed himself up. The movement looked agonising, Ash’s breath caught in his chest, as if every inch of him was protesting the motion. But Paul didn’t move to help him - he knew better. Ash wouldn’t take it. Not unless he had to.
Ash’s gaze dropped to the edge of his shirt, and after a long, shaky breath, he lifted it just enough to reveal his ribs and side. A mottled patterns of purple and black, swollen and angry. Some marks were fresh, others older. The worst of them were along his ribs and side, where something heavy had clearly slammed into him. The sight of it made Paul’s chest tighten, but he quickly masked his reaction.
“Kerr know?” Paul asked quietly, as he moved to sit on the edge of the cot and inspected the damage to his friends torso, though the question felt almost pointless. He already knew the answer.
Ash shook his head slightly, not looking at Paul. “Do you really think Kerr would care?” his voice was thick, like he was trying to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth. “He’d just laugh. Might even throw me into A Block for being ‘weak.’” His body flinched as Paul’s hand brushed against his side, making him inhale sharply, though he did his best to conceal it.
Paul’s jaw clenched. He wanted to argue, wanted to say something—anything—that would make Ash feel like there was a chance of this being acknowledged, even by Kerr. But he couldn’t. The words felt hollow. He knew better. The Facility didn’t care about their well-being unless it interfered with their role.
“You should report it,” Paul said, the suggestion coming out more like an afterthought than anything else. He knew how pointless it was. Reporting it would only make Ash a bigger target. It would make things worse.
Ash let out a low, bitter laugh, his head sinking back onto the cot. “Report it? That’s a joke, Paul. Nothing would change. Kerr wouldn’t care, and neither would anyone else. The only time they care is when I’m no longer 'functional.'”
Paul fell silent, his gaze tracing the bruises, his mind in turmoil. Ash was right, but it still hurt to hear it out loud. The game, the system, it was all just about efficiency and obedience. If Ash couldn’t do his job, they’d throw him away. It was a bitter truth, and Paul hated that it was the reality they both lived in.
Maybe he should report it? John had killed assets before—at least, that was the rumor. If John was escalating his violence, targeting Ash… surely the handlers would want to know? But... would that be seen as Ash being unable to fight his own battles? The Facility didn’t want weak assets. Assets weren’t supposed to care about each other. Weren't meant to firm friendships. It was a liability, a risk.
The room fell quiet, the silence stretching until it felt suffocating. Paul’s chest tightened again, anger and helplessness mixing in a bitter knot. Ash had been hurt. Badly. Again. And neither of them could do a damn thing about it.
Finally, Paul spoke, his voice quieter, but firm. “You’re not just a fucking tool, Ash. I don’t care what the Facility thinks.”
Ash’s eyes flicked to him, a spark of something there—a flicker of gratitude or something more complicated—but then it was gone, replaced by that familiar weariness. He turned his gaze back to the ceiling. “Then you’re an idiot,” he muttered, "But... thanks. For what it's worth neither are you."
Paul didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The words wouldn’t fix anything. Nothing would. He knew that. They were trapped in the game, just like everyone else. The only thing left to do was play it and survive.
Life or death, truth or lies, and an impossible choice….
When Amajiki is viciously attacked by an unknown villain, events begin to spiral out that could break the public's trust in heroes permanently. Heroes and students rush to find the ones responsible for the attack and stop the spread of misinformation before it's too late.
Then Todoroki goes missing…
Then Kaminari is attacked by the same villain that attacked Amajiki…
And someone's been watching everything and leaking every move the heroes make to the public. Can Aizawa rescue his students and put a stop to this…or will he be forced to choose between the kids he cares about and the rest of the world?
...
(@whumpcember Day Twenty, Alt 5: "You're Allowed to Fall Apart" -- With Dabi's identity revealed, Todoroki fights to keep himself together while Bakugou tries to get them both to safety.)
Bright orange fabric struck Shouto in the face. He pulled it away, eyes going wide as he stared at the bright orange hoodie. “It’s a hoodie.”
“The hood’ll cover your hair. Patchface might still be looking for ya.”
He frowned, staring at the broad shoulders and long hem. “It’s too big for me.”
“That’s to disguise your build.”
“There’s a tiger on the back.”
“So? People’ll remember the tiger. Not you.”
