little late BUT here we go y'all! many thanks to everyone who recommended prompts!
Welcome to Whumpay 2025! Up above you will see the basic prompt list and down below the cut you will see it written out in a list as the rules
PUTS MY HEAD IN MY HANDS. Day 30 is supposed to be mistaken for dead. I put it in the list but not on the image properly. Will be fixed momentarily @whumpsmith-participates
Thanks for the tag!
I only noticed because I was copying the prompts from the images to my notes instead of looking at the list below the cut xD
Thanks for pointing it out; it's been fixed now!
little late BUT here we go y'all! many thanks to everyone who recommended prompts!
Welcome to Whumpay 2025! Up above you will see the basic prompt list and down below the cut you will see it written out in a list as the rules
PUTS MY HEAD IN MY HANDS. Day 30 is supposed to be mistaken for dead. I put it in the list but not on the image properly. Will be fixed momentarily @whumpsmith-participates
Helloooooo whumpers, it's that time of year again ! I'm accepting prompt suggestions for this year's whumpay, so if there's anything you'd like to see, throw it in!
Time to Completion: Approx. One Week.
[Image Description: In a similar format to a screenshot of a song, the song title of 'Midnight' sits above the artist name 'Coldplay'. Both are listed above a central image of the album cover for 'Ghost Stories'. The time bar at the bottom reads 1:46. /End ID]
We're still on track! Here's day 25, in the An Original Mother AU, and I had a hell of a time writing this. Here is your reminder that I live in New Zealand, specifically the North Island, where there is practically no snow unless you start climbing the really tall mountains.
So I've never been snowed in, never been in danger of being snowed in, and I've touched snow maybe 10 times max in my entire life. So yknow, if its inaccurate or something... Let me live in ignorance, I really don't know.
Still, hope you enjoy!
Here we go! Back to Supernatural for this one bc I had ideas, and a little au that I think fits in here nicely! This one is called In The Cage (What Secrets Are Hidden), and its a crossover with Good Omens bc I like that!
This is also referenced Lucifer/Michael, so if that's not your thing, just don't read! And again, like the last one, I maintain that angels are genderless without a vessel, so as there's no vessels here... Lucifer and Michael are both they/them, and the child is an it bc I found it easiest to write like that. And also I didn't think Lucifer would refer to the child by a gender until they were sure said child was going to survive, which seems smart to me.
Hope you enjoy!
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon), Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: CT-9904 | Crosshair & Clone Trooper Hunter, CT-9904 | Crosshair & Clone Trooper Wrecker, CT-9904 | Crosshair & Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), CT-9904 | Crosshair & Emerie Karr Characters: CT-9904 | Crosshair, Clone Trooper Tech (Star Wars) (minor), Clone Trooper Wrecker (Star Wars) (minor), CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo (minor), Clone Trooper Hunter (Star Wars), Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) (minor), Emerie Karr (minor), Batcher the Lurca Hound (Star Wars) (minor) Additional Tags: CT-9904 | Crosshair Needs a Hug, CT-9904 | Crosshair Angst, CT-9904 | Crosshair-centric, I Can’t Believe I Wrote This, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I am not joking when I say there’s no comfort here, Everyone Needs A Hug, Imperial Hunter (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Kinda maybe a little bit, this plot makes no sense, Whumpay 2024, whumpay, Prompt: Phantom Pains, Prompt: Seeking Revenge, Hunter is not evil I swear, There’s wayyyyy more to the plot
Summary:
He thought it was Hunter who came to him. He thought his long-lost brother was finally coming home. But whatever or whoever he is, he is not Crosshair’s brother. Hunter wouldn’t hurt him. He wouldn’t. So then why…?
Read on:
Blinding white light assaulted Whumpee’s eyes. It was followed almost instantly by the sharp scent of alcoholic cleaning supplies and medicine. They blinked rapidly to remove the sting, watching as a pale room materialized around them.
Feeling slowly returned to their limbs. First twitching in their fingers and toes, spreading into the palm of their hands and feet, then empowering their arms and legs. Along with this comes a deep ache in each of the appendages. They tried lifting up, but found themself to be restrained to a hard bed with scratchy sheets.
Instantly the shock and fear sets in and they fruitlessly pull at the leather straps. Muted whimpers and grunts tumble from their tongue as tubes around them are jostled. Panic rises further and their clawing more desperate until a soft voice calls out to them.
“Hey, hey, Whumpee. It’s okay.” A hand lands on their shoulder, keeping them down and hoping to provide comfort. “You’re in a hospital. You escaped from Whumper and we found you and brought you here. You’re safe now.”
The person smiles at them. Whumpee says nothing. They should probably thank him, but nothing comes out. Their gaze slowly falls to the bandages covering their skin, and the man seemingly understands their question.
“Don’t worry. We patched up all the cuts and burns… and other injuries. The doc says it’ll be fine in a few weeks.” His voice is slightly strained. “That’s great, right?”
They nod. What else can they do? They don’t recognize the name he said before or remember how they got the injuries. But it is nice to have a stranger so worried about them. Though it also is a bit weird if they think about it more. He must’ve been the one to find them.
“W- Wha…” Their throat is incredibly dry and the man is quick to hand them a cup of water. Whumpee takes it gratefully and chugs the cooling liquid. They cough a few times, salivating their throat and begin to try to speak again. “What’s your n- name?”
He looks at them in shock. “W- What?” He asks, flabbergasted. “I- It’s me, Caretaker.” The man takes a step back. “Whumpee. It’s me?”
Uh oh. That was not the right question.
Whumpee shifts uncomfortably as they watch him flop down into one of the hospital chairs, head in his hands. “Of course…” he mumbles to himself, “of course he wouldn’t leave you with nothing. The scars weren’t enough, he had to take your mind too…” They can do nothing but watch as the man sobs quietly to himself. Nothing Whumpee could say could make him feel better, because he had to be right.
Whoever he was talking about, whatever had happened, they had lost it, and it took Whumpee with it.
TW: Solitary Confinement
Whumpee was thrown roughly onto the ground. Disoriented from the sudden shift in gravity, they could not stop the door slamming closed.
A garbled voice speaks through the small window in the solid metal. “Two days locked in the cell should learn you some manners.” They start to respond but are cut off by the small yellow light sliding off. Whumpee is now stuck in the pitch black room.
Understanding Whumper came with the knowledge that they were serious in their threat. Two days would be spent in the dark room, no food or water, until the punishment was over. Whumpee sighed, readying themself for the long haul, eyes slowly adjusting to their temporary prison.
It was a typical square room, a few metres by a few metres, made of concrete. Nothing else, not even a bed or a toilet. No stimulation. Whumpee tsked to themself as they realized that the days would be a bit harder than expected.
They stood up, feeling against the walls and floor– the ceiling was too high for them to reach– for anything interesting or useful. Again, nothing. Not a stray nail or unique bump anywhere. Just dust-covered smoothness. Even the door, with only a small seam that was impossible to see and only barely felt.
Whumpee slumped against the wall in a huff.
They aren’t sure how long they sit there, inhaling the dank air and stewing in their anger before they feel a familiar press against their chest. Instantly, they begin to panic.
How had they not noticed all the particles flowing in the air, how had they not taken any precaution for all the dust they felt?
They try to slow their breathing, but an itch starts in the back of their throat, growing more persistent with each second. Despite their efforts to hold them off, Whumpee lets out a dry cough, which is followed by another and another, until they are full on wheezing. Their lungs have tightened to the point of no entry, trachea preventing any air from fueling their system.
Whumpee crumples into themselves, eyes tearing up, and clawing uselessly at their own neck. The sounds that echo in the room are unpleasant, which only sets Whumpee off further. Their attempts at breathing pick up, but no matter how hard they try they can not catch their own breath.
Thoughts of their own imminent demise fill their head, supplying more ammo to their panic. Sure, they weren’t that afraid of death– they had become ready for it in a way– but if this was how they had to go, curled on the floor of a dusty square dark room gasping for a breath that will never come, Whumpee was going to have a word with whatever force was running things. Because, frankly, this was not as fun or interesting of a death they believed they deserved.
As their eyes began to close, the effort of their body trying to save itself only killing them quicker, Whumpee only wished they could rub their unintentional demise in Whumper’s face– a final ‘fuck you.’
But even that would not be permitted.
Whumper slammed the door open, the loud clang of metal colliding against stone echoing in the room. Very unhelpful.
They crouched down to Whumpee’s prone, breathless form, lifting their head and shoving plastic between their lips. It took them a moment to understand what it was, until their tongue traced the familiar outline of their inhaler.
They tried slowing their breaths and inhaled the medicine from the canister. Instantaneously their throat relaxed, muscles finally allowing for the intake of air. Their heart rate relaxed and they shakily took the puffer from Whumper.
They gave Whumpee a few minutes to come down from the attack before ripping the item out of their hands again. Whumpee stared up at them, unabashedly glaring at Whumper.
Whumpee didn’t care for ‘learning their manners’. They lost their fear a long time ago; they knew they would see Whumper in hell. So, they felt no apprehension talking down to their captor.
“Maybe put me in a closet instead, next time.”
