Snow's Library

Whumpril Masterlist

Lora Masterlist

Lora Skywalker Disclaimer

Hi guys! This is my very first time writing Star Wars fanfiction so PLEASE go easy on me if there are discrepancies or inaccuracies. This is also my first snippet featuring my oc Lora! If you like this snippet and want more content of her, let me know so I can try to make that happen! This story takes place when Lora is about, ehhh, 14-15 I would say. Also, I kind of took some creative liberty with the prompt. This is mainly emotional whump. Anyway I'm gonna stop now before my notes are longer than the story.

Last thing! The snippet is long, so it's going under the cut!

The dark, empty hallways of the old palace amplified Lora’s every step. Her lightsaber rested on her belt; there was no need for it. Yet.

After doing a perimeter check that came out negative, she decided to go to the heart of the building. A rogue jedi should be easy enough to find, and yet there hadn’t been so much as a whisper of the criminal anywhere.

A strange feeling washed over her. She whipped her head to the side, her hand drifting to her saber’s hilt. A shadow stretched behind a pillar. She could sense its owner’s fear.

She approached slowly, igniting her weapon. The Kyber crystal forced the plasma out in bold red.

Welcome to Whumptober 2025 — The Eighth Year!

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation CHALLENGE (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are four prompts for each day of the month, giving 124 for you to play with! There is also a list of 18 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.

All prompts are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!

You can produce work in any media you choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). You can participate as much or as little as you want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

Information on how to TAG is here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

This year’s playlist can be found here.

The ‘Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt’ post can be found here.

And our 'Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics’ post is here.

We’re very excited to see the community come together for yet another year of Whumptober! Go ham with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the best of luck, but most importantly: HAVE FUN!

Happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

Text versions of the prompts, including a google doc format, are posted below the cut!

Instinctively, the villain raised their hands and tried to duck as soon as a plate followed.

“Please,” the villain tried.

“Get out.” The hero’s voice was breaking and the villain could tell they were close to tears.

“No. Please hear me out.” They stood up behind the kitchen island, walked around it, their hands still raised.

“No. Leave.” The hero took a bowl this time but the villain was quicker without even trying. It was heartbreaking. The villain grabbed the hero’s wrists, pulled them close. The hero fought against it bravely but there was only so much they could do with sprained wrists and a recovering body.

“I’m sorry,” the villain whispered. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“The injuries?” the hero asked. They were crying. Oh God, they were crying. “Or your identity being revealed?”

“I wanted to tell you but you would have left me and…” The villain loosened their grip around the hero’s wrists. And what? The villain was selfish, they knew that now. Selfish for wanting the hero to themselves. The hero was more or less public property as soon as they put the suit on.

And the villain wanted that hero to themselves. But they also wanted the civilian version of the hero. They wanted to fall asleep and wake up in the same bed as them. They wanted to use the same couch, the same shower.

They wanted to eat the same meals with the hero, come home to see the hero, randomly meet the hero on the street.

They wanted all of this again, now that they had had a taste for it. Nine months. They’d been together for nine months now and the villain wanted more.

“I was honest with you from the very beginning,” the hero said with a shaking voice. “But you used me, you…”

“No, I wanted you, I still want you. It wasn’t for information or pleasure or entertainment.”

“…and when you got sloppy and I found out…” The hero took in a trembling breath and looked away.

“No.” The villain touched the hero’s jawline and brought their gaze back to theirs. “Please, I love you. I never wanted you to get hurt. I tried to avoid fighting you. I tried to be normal. I wanted a normal life with you.”

“Please, leave,” the hero whispered.

“I can’t leave you alone. Not when you’re injured.” They softly rubbed their thumb over the nasty blue and purple spot on the hero’s wrist and the hero hissed.

“You did this, don’t you remember?” the hero asked.

“I didn’t hit you,” the villain answered. The villain was stronger than the hero, both of them knew that by now. Which probably frustrated the hero even more, considering that the villain had held back immensely and that nearly all of the hero’s injuries were made due to mistakes on their part.

Punching into walls, tripping over their own feet, falling. That fight had been more than messy. It had been emotional, blinding the hero with rage.

They’d made so many mistakes during the fight, it had shattered the villain’s heart like the dishware.

“Please,” the villain whispered. “Your injuries are pretty bad. I doubt you can make dinner for yourself.”

The hero stared at them. Puffy eyes. Angry. Sad.

“Let me help you with your injuries. Just for a week. After that, you…” Now it was the villain’s turn to take in a trembling breath. It felt like they were signing their own death warrant. “…after that you decide what happens. I will accept your decision, no matter what.”

“…did you know that death as a result of surgical intervention is the third leading cause of death worldwide?”

“Please,” the hero said. They took the villain’s hand. “Please, don’t say that.”

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” the villain said. “It’s pretty common. I’m not exempt from that.”

They stared at each other.

The villain was covered in bandages. Bruises everywhere. They looked tired, they looked sick.

Although the hero knew them waking up was enough of a miracle, they couldn’t bear the thought of parting with the villain this quickly again. They were here. They were in front of them. They had survived a surgery most had doubted to be successful.

“You’ll be fine,” the hero said. “You’ll be okay.”

“I don’t think my body can handle this anymore. I’m in so much pain and I…I feel so weak. There are so many wounds, I cannot walk, I can’t eat…I…I’m sorry, but I don’t think I will make it.” The villain’s eyes looked sunken in, sad, devastated.

And once again, once again, the hero had to swallow their tears.

“No,” they whispered. “Please. You said you’d stay with me.”

“I’m sorry,” the villain said.

When the hero had heard the news, they had jumped out of bed - despite their own broken leg - to stumble into the room where the villain was recovering, just to catch a glimpse of them. To see them, to touch them. To know they were here and not under the concrete. Several nurses had to drag the hero back to their own room.

And now, the villain was saying this. They were saying all these horrible things. The hero clenched their fists, their bottom lip was trembling.

“If I had—”

“None of that, please.” The villain took in a weak raspy breath. Their eyes found the hero’s and their gaze softened, softened like the world did when spring came. “Oh, dear. You are so wonderful.”

The hero forced themselves to maintain eye contact, but the tears blurred their vision.

“I want you to find some peace, okay?” The villain took the hero’s hand, but there was no strength in their grip. Not even the tiniest bit. “Whatever it is, I would like you to find peace in what you do.”

“I-”

“I’ll admit, my heart is a very delicate thing. I knew I would fall for you from the very beginning, I didn’t really have a say in it — after all, you are so easy to love. I kept it to myself because I knew I had no right to impose and I didn’t think i was worthy of your attention, at least of all your affection.” The villain smiled, as if they were going to share a gentle secret with the hero. “I was ready for vulnerability, but I wouldn’t dare to expect the same from you, I couldn’t bring myself to burden you with the heaviness of my feelings.”

“Please…” The hero closed their eyes, but opened them quickly again to look at their dear villain. Their dear saviour.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t leave much of a choice to you back then,” the villain said. “But I would choose this path again. Every single time, even if it meant I had died right there, even if it meant I could have never said this to you. No matter the outcome, you being alright is everything that matters to me.”

“I am not okay, though,” the hero whispered. Their voice was breaking. “I am really not okay. Don’t you know I like you, too? Don’t you know I…”

“I’m sorry,” the villain said again. “I suppose I am taking the easy way out. I didn’t mean to put all this sorrow onto you.”

They paused and all that echoed in the room were those shattering sobs the hero made.

How on earth were they supposed to move on? Just like that? This was going to haunt them for the rest of their life. They’d never be the same, they would never be able to love again.

They had made a grave mistake by watching the villain from the sidelines, letting life happen to them, not daring to say a word, not being honest about their feelings.

They could have been together. For an entire year, they could have made so many memories, they could have done so much.

“Please, don’t be afraid to love again,” the villain said. Now, their grip had a little bit more strength in it. “Please, don’t be afraid of love. Promise me to love every single breath you take. Promise me to fall in love with rainy days. To love the sound of birds. The way you cook your favourite meal. Please, do not hesitate to love…to love another person. To fall in love with someone, please don’t be afraid of that. Do not abandon what I cherish about you so much. Don’t abandon the love you hold.”

The hero couldn’t do this. They couldn’t take this pain any longer. This was a nightmare they needed to wake up from. This wasn’t true, this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

“Promise me. You have to promise me, will you?”

The hero blinked the tears out of their eyes.

“I do,” the hero said. They stood up and leaned over the bed. They touched the villain’s cheeks with the utmost care. “But only if you promise me to fight. Please, don’t leave me again.”

“I will,” the villain said.

“Alright,” the hero whispered. They leaned over the villain’s broken form even further and kissed them as gently as they could. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The hero stayed with them, even as the villain’s condition worsened. Even as their organs started to fail and as they passed away a week later.

"It will get better."

"You matter."

"You are loved."

Because, no. Sometimes it doesn't feel like it gets better. Sometimes you don't feel like you matter. Sometimes you don't feel loved. And who the hell do those people think they are, those who know nothing about the situation you are in, those who do not even come close to comprehending what you feel? Those who make empty promises, like "it will get better"?

Despite their good intentions, sometimes the comfort you crave doesn't reach you.

Which means you need to find comfort on you own: you need to find comfort in the way your friend does her make up, you need to find comfort in the way the sun hits your window, you need to find comfort in the softness of a blanket, you need to find comfort in the taste of lemonade on your tongue, you need to find comfort in wind shaking trees, you need to find comfort on the pages of the book you are reading, you need to find comfort between the frames of the movie you are watching, you need to find comfort in a stranger's kindness, you need to find comfort in the mirrored version staring back at you at 1 in the morning.

It is easy to lose your way, but most importantly, you need to find your way again with little steps. You need to move forward at your own pace, in your own time.

If you choose to move forward you will inevitably find your way again. It will be a different, foreign path, but it will be your path. Yours alone.

Imaging thinking actual human writers are Not Real because they use... professional writing in their works.

Imagine thinking millions of people who have been using em dash way before AI becomes a thing are all robots.

So, the time has (unfortunately) come and I have decided to create a Ko-fi account. So, uh yeah. That obviously doesn't mean that I will be neglecting this blog!

But you have the option to request writing from me - that includes snippets of your OCs or self-inserts, whatever you like! I would also post some more personal writing, that's not just hero x villain, but you can also request hero x villain / other pairings from me that I will definitely write. (Sorry to the 632 asks in my inbox, I will still write your stuff on here, I promise. It will just take a lot of time.)

I'd also offer writing fanfiction for you, but unfortunately, I could get into legal trouble for that so ehhh, sorry, I cannot offer that.

Please don't feel obligated to tip or spend money on my writing! I just wanted to try this out as first step towards making some money with what I love.

I hope all of you have a wonderful weekend!

──────── ⵌ NEUTRALS ...

──────── ⵌ RAINBOW ...

hehe ! return of the dainty chains 👏. I quite like this one (although it took a while to figure out the pattern so it didn’t look weird) :e

patterns : 001 / 002 / 003 / 004

feel free to use; please like, reblog, and credit〜

Whumpril 2025 approaches!

Rules:

Anyone can participate.

Any media form is allowed (art, fic, gifs, music, whatever).

AI-generated content is NOT permitted.

You can participate however much or as little as you want, no pressure to complete every single day.

You can post your work anywhere on the internet, Tumblr, Ao3, etc.

Tag potential triggers and NSFW accordingly.

If you want to be counted as an official participant and have the chance to be featured on the blog, post your content during the month of April. You can still use the prompt list after April ends.

I can’t guarantee that every single work will be featured but I’ll try to reblog as many as I can.

To increase your chances of being featured here, tag your post with the event name and the prompt of the day that you used (For example: #whumpril2025, #whumprilday1, #hug) 

You can also @ the blog, @whumpril.

Full write-up of the prompts can be found under the cut!

The henchman was right.

The villain looked horrible.

Admittedly, the hero feared they’d be thrown out of the lair. It was a little sheepish of the henchman to call them out of all people, but the hero understood the necessity quickly. Although the villain didn’t seem to be injured, it was pretty clear that something was wrong.

They’re barely eating anything. They’re not sleeping. The hero supposed it was their duty as a protector of the people to help whenever they’d been asked to help. And, hell, something in the henchman’s voice had really punched them in the throat this time.

Of course, they had noticed the villain’s decreasing activities. But they had never thought it was this bad.

“Hey,” the hero tried softly. The villain was still sitting there on the couch, staring at nothing. They didn’t acknowledge the hero in the slightest.

The hero looked around. The lair was relatively clean, but they supposed the villain wasn’t the one behind maintaining it.

Usually, their nemesis was rather playful and chaotic. Flirting, taunting, smirking - it was almost part of their strategy and now that there was nothing, the hero wasn’t quite sure if their nemesis was even sitting in front of them.

“I am starting to miss you,” the hero said. Still nothing.

Eventually, the hero decided to let themselves drop next to the villain and they leaned back, resting against the designer furniture.

“What are you doing?” the villain asked. Their voice was raspy.

“I think you need someone next to you right now,” the hero said.

“Because someone else told you so?” They still didn’t look at the hero, but the hero stared at them.

“You know I make my own decisions,” the hero said. They looked down at their own hands. Why were they feeling anxious? The villain was by no means a threat right now.

They closed their eyes, concentrating on the villain instead of their own conflicting feelings.

This was definitely serious. People didn’t stop eating for no reason.

“I’m fine,” the villain said, as if they had read the hero’s mind.

“I beg to differ.”

“I-” The villain turned towards them and the hero truly saw how terribly lifeless their eyes looked.

“If your guys start calling me, it’s pretty bad,” the hero said. “And I want to be honest…it looks pretty bad. If talking is not an option, that’s fine. But I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

They stared at each other. And the hero couldn’t help but stare at those red eyes, those dark circles under them. Where was that annoying smirk? Those stupid comments?

Why was the hero’s heart sinking so rapidly?

A month ago, everything had been fine. Then, the hero had left for a mission and when they’d come back, they hadn’t seen the villain anymore. Up until now.

The villain reached for the hero and gently pushed a loose stray out of their sight.

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

“I…” the hero stared at the ground, suddenly embarrassed. They supposed they had felt lonely without fighting the villain. They had thought they’d come back eventually. But the villain looked like they needed weeks to recover, maybe even months. Their voice was quiet. “…you know I care. You know that.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t really get a say in that, I suppose,” the hero said. Sometimes they wished they didn’t care. It would make their job certainly easier.

Both of them were quiet now and the hero folded their hands in their lap.

Why was it, that the hero had instantly reached for their jacket when the henchman had called? Why was it that they had sprinted to the door?

Was it truly because of the henchman’s broken voice? Or was it because of what they had said. They’re barely eating anything. They’re not sleeping.

Why did the hero care that much?

The hero was so worried they felt like throwing up. They took in a deep breath, ready to say something, but the villain was quicker.

“My mother died two weeks ago,” they said.

Oh.

The hero swallowed.

“The funeral was a few days ago and, I…yeah, I don’t think I’m taking it that well.” They looked at the hero again. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“I’m sorry,” the hero whispered. “I know what that feels like.”

“Does it ever get better?” the villain asked. “Or is it just this continuous cycle of pain and sorrow?”

The hero bit the inside of their cheek, thinking briefly.

“…you know, grief isn’t really an emotion. There’s a lot in there. Anger. Frustration. Guilt. Anxiety. That’s like 50% of it, I’d say,” the hero said.

“And the other half?” the villain asked.

“Unfortunately, the other half is love. So, technically, you never really stop grieving when someone you love dies.” They paused, digging fingernails into their own skin. “With time grief will start to look different, though. It’ll get easier because those 50% of all the other emotions will be slowly replaced by the love part.”

The hero looked at their nemesis.

“Being loved is the closest thing we have to immortality. As long as someone loves you, you’re never really gone. So, I think you should let all those emotions happen to you. You should talk about her, remember her. But I don’t think you should be alone, I don’t think you should allow yourself to decay.”

The villain’s eyes were still on them. The hero couldn’t read their mood, but they felt like their words had some weight.

And then, suddenly-

“Can we hug?”

“Absolutely.” The hero hadn’t hesitated.