#prompt: precious

[daydreamingfoxglove]

Day Twenty-Two: Precious

@microficmay, words: 104, ship: drarry, rating: G, additional challenge: format challenge - dialogue 

_ _ _ 

It was Harry's second birthday since the end of the war. He was already three Butterbeers down, on his fourth Firewhiskey and had partied well into the fifth hour past midnight. He could barely hold himself up. 

Harry: Who is that?

Ron: Uh?

Harry: The beautiful, magnificent, most precious guy with the flowers in his hair!

Ron: Draco?  

Harry: Wow, even his name is pretty. Do you think he's single? 

Ron: Draco? 

Harry: [nods aggressively] 

Ron: You mean, Draco, your boyfriend? 

Harry: My boyfriend? 

Ron: [nods, exasperated]

Harry: Wow! Then what am I doing here with you? I must take him home at once.

_ _ _

Also on AO3 with previous parts

[microficmay]

Day 22: Precious

Prompt List

AO3 Collection

[mischievous-thunder]

It's a special skill set, Logan. Wade wants you to make good use of it over and over again!

[dindjarindiaries]

Clueless

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: “Are you flirting with me?” “Have been for years, but thanks for noticing.”

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You tapped around the usual controls you could reach from the chair behind Din's as the cockpit of the Razor Crest groaned to life around you. "How's the hyperdrive looking?"

Din kept moving his gloved hands along the main console as he answered. "It's online." He gave his helmet a quick tilt as he pushed one more button above his head. "For now."

Din exhaled a heavy breath and wrapped his hands around the joysticks, giving them a squeeze before he maneuvered the gunship off the ground. The breath you let out was one of relief; the two of you had certainly been trapped on worse planets before, but you were glad to see the sight of it fading below you.

"Glad you're confident in your work." You failed to hide your growing smile as you relaxed and let Din take care of the rest.

"This isn't a confidence problem." Din spared a look at you over his shoulder before he lifted his hands to grasp the hyperspace levers. "The Crest just manages to surprise me from time to time."

With that, Din pulled back, and the stars stretched out before you. They then burst into the familiar plethora of blue and white swirling lights, beginning yet another long journey through hyperspace.

Hopefully one that you wouldn't get forcefully pulled out of. Again.

But you were still stuck on what Din had said: This isn't a confidence problem. That drew a pleased hum from you, one that you didn't bother to keep hidden from him. It wasn't like he'd get it, anyway. Not if he hadn't the other countless times you'd done it.

"I like that."

Din, now leaning back in his chair, swiveled in his seat to face you. His helmet was tilted in genuine confusion. "Like what?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you instead gestured to him with your chin. "The confidence."

Din shrugged. "Comes from experience."

You smirked and kept your arms crossed over your chest. "I'd like to see what kind of experience."

Din didn't move, but his tone spelled out all the confusion you likely would have seen on his face if it wasn't covered by his helmet. "Was getting pulled out of hyperspace hours ago not enough experience for you?"

That time, you really did let yourself roll your eyes as you laughed and stood to your feet. Honestly, the tally of your advances versus Din's own cluelessness was getting difficult to keep track of. "Fair point."

You stepped over to Din and set a hand on his armored shoulder.

"It's been a long day. I'd say it's time for some beauty sleep, but you've already got the first part covered." You gave his pauldron a squeeze and turned around. "And no, rest isn't an option this time."

You could only get a few steps away, however, when you suddenly heard Din stand up behind you. "Wait."

You froze in place and looked at him over your shoulder, lifting your brow as you awaited him to retaliate with some kind of meaningless yet humorous joke.

Instead, you saw him nervously shifting his weight between his feet. Even his gloved hands were pulling tight into fists before he asked a question you never thought you'd hear.

"Are you flirting with me?"

As surprised as you were to hear the words, you didn't miss a beat with your response. "Have been for years, but thanks for noticing." You flashed him a wink and started walking forward again, letting your sudden adrenaline carry you. "See you in a few hours."

You had only just started to cross the cockpit's threshold when Din found his voice again. "What?"

You laughed to yourself but didn't stop your stride as you stepped over the ladder towards the storage space you had claimed as your own private bunk. The door slid open for you, but before it could close, something—or someone—stood in the way.

"Hold on."

Din sounded out of breath, and when you turned around, you saw him leaning against the metal material of the storage room's threshold. His body was still rigid, the same way it looked when he was preparing to leap into battle.

"You can't just... after you..." Din gestured absently behind himself, to the open cockpit.

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest again as you fully faced him. "I know this incredibly obvious revelation is somehow news to you, but it's not to me, and I'd really like to get some sleep."

Din just shook his helmet in pure disbelief. His modulated voice was lower than usual when he spoke again. "All this time?"

You huffed and looked down at your boots. "What did you think I was doing?"

Din's tone with thick with embarrassment. "Being nice."

You laughed again. You couldn't help it. "Of course you did." You reached forward and tapped your knuckles against his helmet. "Your skull must be as thick as your beskar."

You stood back where you were before and watched Din carefully. His visor was focused on the floor, and his gloved fingertips were fluttering thoughtfully on the hand he had propped up by his head.

You closed your eyes and sighed. His cluelessness was even worse than you thought it was.

"Listen, Din, you clearly need some rest. Just... go to sleep and we can talk about this later. Okay?"

Din's helmet snapped back up to you at that. "No. I'm sorry, let me just..."

He leaned off the threshold but continued to stand in it, keeping the door open for himself. His gloved hand palmed his helmet as his chest rose and fell with a frustrated breath.

"Kriff."

You chuckled and shook your head at him. "Din, it's really not that big of a deal."

Din stared at you before his armored shoulders deflated. "It isn't?"

You let out a softer breath as your chest squeezed. "I didn't mean..." Now you were the one palming your face. "Not like that. I just meant that I'm not offended or anything."

Din tilted his helmet. "Offended by what?"

You shrugged, too overcome by your newfound embarrassment to look at him as your stare returned to your boots. "You not reciprocating."

Din let out a sigh so heavy that you had no choice but to look up at him again. He had changed his position so that his hands were set on his hips as he shook his helmet.

"That's the thing." His visor found your gaze before he nodded. "I've been trying to."

Now, it was really your turn to be shocked. You blinked at him a few times as your heart somersaulted in your chest. All this time, you thought your flirting was just a vain effort to get the attention of a man who would never be open to you or what you had to offer. You were starting to wonder if you had somehow managed to miss something.

You found your voice, but it was only a squeak. "What?"

Din gestured with a gloved hand behind you. "I'm not good with words, so I tried to do things. Like helping you set up this room. And cleaning your weapons." The next part was a mumble you nearly missed. "And making you that blanket."

You whipped around, spotting the blanket—your favorite, by the way—that had just shown up one day on your makeshift bunk. You huffed in disbelief and turned back around to face him. "That was you?"

"Who else?"

It was Din's turn to laugh, though it was only a raspy chuckle for him. He even turned your own question back on you.

"What did you think I was doing?"

And your answer was nothing different. "Being nice."

Din let out the biggest sigh you'd ever heard from him, and you couldn't even blame him.

Oh, the irony of it all. Maybe you were actually the clueless one.

"So..." You clasped your hands behind your back and rocked on your heels. " What now?"

Din shrugged. "Hell if I know." He gestured with his helmet behind him. "I think I just proved I'm not the most qualified in this area."

You spared another glance at the blanket. "Clearly, I'm not much better."

Din looked off to the side the way he always did when he was planning something. After a few heartbeats, he nodded to himself and looked at you again. "I might have an idea."

You lifted your brow. "Yeah?"

Din nodded again. "We should switch."

"Switch what?"

Din shifted his weight and used his finger to gesture between the two of you. "Techniques?" The suggestion came out as a question. "I'll try words, and you try actions."

You hummed in consideration before ultimately nodding. "Okay, yeah. I like that idea." You smirked at him. "You first."

Din, for once in his life, stammered. "What? I—Well, I can't just..."

"You can." You took a step closer to him. "You have something to say to me. I know you do."

It was then that something overcame Din, and you could see it in the way his posture relaxed into something much more familiar and comfortable. His visor gave you a steady once-over as he took a smaller step closer to you.

"I have a lot of things I want to say to you."

You let yourself embrace the flustered feeling even as you let out an impressed whistle. "That was good, Djarin! You're learning." You gave his armored shoulder a pat.

Din gave his helmet a soft tilt. "Your turn."

You grinned, letting your hand fall from his shoulder to instead grasp his arm. You other hand rose to meet it, and gently, you pulled him further into the room, causing the door to slide shut behind him. Din looked back at it in surprise, but when he looked at you again, he didn't seem displeased.

"I'm offering you my bunk." You gestured back towards it. "Because I want you here, but also because I don't want you sleeping on that sorry excuse for a bed down in the hold anymore."

Din chuckled at that, the sound thick with both amusement and admiration as he nodded. "Fair enough."

You helped him get settled into the bunk with you, draping the blanket he had apparently made over both of you as the final touch. Your face was the closest it had ever been to his visor as you laid beside him. Surprisingly, he was the one to break the brief silence.

"This is a good start."

You smiled, humming once more before getting close enough to rest your face against his cowl. "I agree."

The gloved hand you felt on your back was enough evidence of the fact that he was just as comfortable, now, and not as clueless as you had thought him to be.

[noxcheshire]

I just think

It’d be really neat if Danny looked more like Martha Wayne than Thomas Wayne.

LIKE

I love the Danny Fenton looks like Thomas Wayne or Danny Fenton is Thomas Wayne reincarnated — but the BEAUTY of Martha??

Of Alfred interacting for under five minutes with Danny, dabbing his eyes and going, “That is indeed Martha,” I WANT IT. I want Martha who was spunky and sassy and wanted to do good for her town the same way Danny wants to do good for Amity Park.

I want Martha who loved to take Bruce and the family out to star gaze because her baby had never seen the stars before, and the way his eyes light up like a mini galaxy takes her breathe away the same way that Danny feels when he turns his head up to the sky yearning for something he knew loved but doesn’t know what.

I want Martha who would literally find trouble in a paper bag because she can’t help her curiosity the same way Danny can’t help tripping over his own ghostly tail and making a mess of things before he figures things out.

I want Martha who would fight men who thought they held power, going absolutely feral from stress the same way Danny does when he’s tired of not being able to do his homework or pick up a vacuum against the wall to clean because ghosts.

I want Martha who loved the pearl necklace that Bruce had picked out for her birthday, and Danny reaches towards his neck and startles when his fingers only touch skin when he is certain there was something supposed to be there. I want Danny whose eyes linger on whites and pearls when he passes by open window stores in the mall, fingers itching to flick a nail against the smooth surfaces.

I want Martha who died bleeding underneath the hand of a gun, hoping to everything above that her boy would be safe, and Danny whose body burns at merely looking at the makeshift guns his parents create in the lab, his heart pounding desperately with a yearning to save there was someone she wanted to save the ghosts.

[methoughtsphantom]

Danny fake guardian angel au

You know how sometimes it’s highlighted how you have to be very careful on what you say in the presence of a spirit because they can twist your words and end up bidding yourself to it?? well uno-reverse-card the spirit also has to be careful on what he says because when Danny had said he owed the dude one for coming to his rescue in a gala Vlad had dragged him to, he didn’t expect that to be taken literally.

danny: wait seriously?? i literally say that all the time!

cw: not after being crowned ghost king, you haven’t

danny: but—but I was also human when I said it. doesn’t that protect me or smth

cw: *shakes his head*

danny:

danny: omg this is a nightmare

cue timmy’s brucequest period (cuz he’s the guy) being so high strung and tired, he just wants some company, which is a so low stakes thing to want the deal Danny unintentionally goes sure we can do that and pulls him towards the guy, despite Timmy never outright saying he wants company. (tim always speaks in the sanctity of his own mind, not out loud)

So. random spirit manifesting. Tim going all who the fuck are u

and Danny panicking and saying your guardian angel

Tim not being impressed while Danny promptly blushes like a moron because that did not come off as he wanted it to.

Yes accidental dead tired where the dynamic goes from Tim trying to shake this probably demon that somehow latched to him being all like ??? dude leave me alone, and Danny being there like bitch i’m trying

to

huh. im actually being protected by a spirit like he said he would. he’s strangely an idiot but also he’s overpowered and just never leaves my side which he says it’s an angel obligation but I think it’s bullshit but also hoping it’s not because it appeals to my crippling fear of abandonment (anyways he really seems to take after those little cartoon angels that poof into your shoulder to keep from me doing wrong decisions) translate into my future boyfriend seems increasingly appalled to what i am up to

meanwhile danny

Bitch you better thank your god I’m dead because otherwise I would already been killed. I did not sign up for a assassins what the fuck I thought you were a normal civilian not a literal superhero and omg that is a fruitloop. no no back off you wrinkly raisin this is my emotional support idiot you can’t have him and what do you mean you’re messing with time whatever this way I can get back to clockwork—

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Instead of going for Tim, Jason goes for the easiest way to utterly destroy his Replacement and kidnaps his civilian boyfriend to demonstrate just how easy it is to lose something (or someone) you love in this line of work.

And while the whole “make the Replacement beg” part of the plan is going amazing…. Jason really didn’t plan the whole “keeping a conspiracy theorist teenager hostage” through to the end.

Bernard just wants to know what the new crime lord’s deal with Robin is. And why— and how— exactly he’s supposed to be a bargaining chip when he can count the times he met Robin on one hand. oh! and could someone maybe tell his boyfriend, Tim, that he’ll be late for their coffee date on Tuesday?

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 296

Through a series of miscommunication, the League is now under the impression that Batman, strange cryptid that he is, may or may not have given birth to the other vigilantes running around in Gotham. This was not helped by Bruce referring to all of his children, no matter how big they get, as his babies. Nor was it helped by Red Robin, in the middle of a narcolepsy-fueled imminent crash, mentioned how he had no mother. 

It also doesn’t help that no one is aware that they are in fact completely normal people, and not aspects of Gotham itself brought to life. Though really that’s on the bats themselves, because at this point they should at least count as undead. 

[pintrestgrl]

remember when i said precious always cryin and barry gotta console her ..

ok this is real footage of that. she sits exactly like that for hours in his lap just cryin and cryin! the most common reasons are bc of her dad , bc she wants a cat , bc her hairs fucked up , bc she’s on her period , or bc she simply feels like it and wants his attention.

sometimes if she really feels like it she makes up random stuff when he asks why she’s sobbing her eyes out. barry also keeps the knives and guns on a very high shelf for the sole purpose of that she really would do something like that just to get his attention.

and it’s not like he doesn’t give her any he does but shes literally just an attention whore n she thrives on it. she literally went unnoticed her whole life n now he’s all she got lol

[jesuistrestriste]

i will never get over them i fear

[escespace]

Merlin and Arthur in the part 3 of this:

Arthur hasn't let anyone treat his wound. It's not serious but he can't bandage it on his own either and, as always, the risk of infection (in an era where even minimal hygiene did not exist) is present.

Not that it matters because he basically feels nothing. He doesn't feel the voices of his knights moving around him as they tie up the rebel knights (remember we agreed to call them haters); he does not feel the damp earthen floor on which he is lying; he does not feel Leon hovering around him waiting for the right moment to pounce on him and bandage him like a spoiled child. And, above all, he doesn't feel as if his chest is compressing as if it wants to fold in on itself like a disposable scroll.

Isn't that on that scroll where all of his story is written? Oh, that story that includes Merlin, the Merlin he thought he knew better than anyone else, to whom he has told things he hasn't told anyone else, the one whom he believed that would be there for him even when no one else was. Was this his Merlin? His Merlin had no magic, his Merlin would know him and remember him...

But this Merlin has been in the farthest corner of the room since he tried to get close to Arthur and Arthur drove him away by attacking him with his sword. He was not the only one, really in his frustration and pain Arthur did not want anyone near him so he kept them all a sword's length away.

Only Lancelot has come close to Merlin. They have been whispering or, rather, Lance has been whispering to him while Merlin has limited himself to a couple of nods or grimaces that seem to be a language that only Lance knows

Before, he would have thought it was a language he knew too. Merlin is always expressive and his opinions, even if they don't come out through his lips, are expressed in his features. Now he doesn't know how to read him because probably never could before.

Hours pass, Leon finally manages to bandage Arthur when he became too apathetic to continue threatening with his sword.

They began to question the haters when they woke up, none of them spoke. While the fear of the Camelot crown was evident, it seemed that there was something they were more afraid of. That is until one of them, the one who had completed the most violently during the fight and who since they had awakened had been the most contemptuous, began to vociferate, spitting on the tomb of the already dead magical people or cursing those who remain alive.

He spat and thrashed around to such an extent that the knights of the round table had to stop trying to hold him back because he broke Elyan's nose. To the point that perhaps they saw some foam at the mouth like a rabid animal.

They understood something among the fanatical babbling he was throwing out.These haters served someone with power apparently and in return this person with power helps them go unnoticed in their rounds of clandestine executions. His tirade also included a lot of "monsters," "corruption," "abomination," "injustice," "imbalance," and other words that Arthur would never admit he had heard from his own father's mouth. (Nor would he admit that in a brief flash of thought it occurred to him that his father probably sounded just like that nutcase)

Merlin, at the end of his patience, ends up slamming his palms against the table, everyone's attention on him and it's as if they were seeing him for the first time. Squared shoulders, deadly gaze, even showing some teeth when speaking. It's like watching the biggest animal walk into the room without even having to make a move.

«Monsters you call us. Imbalance you scream and point your dirty finger at our abilities. But it's us those who heal the ancestors who have not yet understood which plants helped or how to treat conditions" and with that his eyes lit up and Elyan's nose was healed as well as the scratches from the previous fight In all of them except Arthur.

«And you, those born among silks and banquets, are the only ones with the right to learn to defend yourself»

«Say again, who is what »

Gwaine takes the initiative to gag the haters and the rest prepare to approach to plan their next move when Arthur interrupts the silence again

«After all that magic has done to Camelot, what it has done to me! You cannot deny that magic is, in fact, a power that disadvantages, takes from the defenseless, corrupts! Merlin, How could you learn magic after all?»

«You said it, prince, magic is a power, but it is not the only power and it is not what corrupts. Is magic what increases the tax to the point of not allowing the people to survive the winter? Is it magic that decides when to start a war that devastates the lands and innocent lives? Or is the one who wields with impunity the sword that has murdered so many people without trial, just because of false accusations? »

«Power is holding something above the heads of others, put them at a disadvantage, and decide what to do with it. Not many do anything good with it. Magic doesn't corrupt, the power it gives you maybe does, but the power has more than just one way. You have power, and Your lords and knights... Tell me, Arthur Pendragon, are these not your knights? Have they not exercised their power in a corrupt way?»

«That's not... We're not... I asked a question! How did you fall so low to learn magic?! »

«If you think I learned magic, then maybe we were never as close as you've been leading me to believe until now»

.

.

.

.

.

Continuation

[mischievous-thunder]

Bonus:

Makes perfect sense why Wade not only chose the sluttiest of all the Logans to kidnap but also asked the man to move in with him

[sindar-princeling]

it fucks me up by the way that EVEN as gollum literally attacks Sam and Frodo at the Crack of Doom, the music that plays for him is his Gollum's Pity theme, also called Sméagol's Theme, rather than Gollum's Menace (Gollum's Theme). the score itself still feels pity and mercy for him even when he's at his worst

[tarisilmarwen]

Hellos 👉🏼👈🏼 I was hoping to send an ask for the “bad things happen bingo (if you are still taking them! No worries if you aren’t anymore and wanted to ask uwu)

For the prompt:

Ship: Sabezra

Victim: Ezra

Prompt: Brainwashing? (If that doesn’t work then Hypothermia ;;w;;)

No worries if you can’t just wanted to try! Your BTHB fics are so interesting and really well written! Just love feeling the anguish and whump 🥲 haha (love your art and fanfics! :3)

@badthingshappenbingo

Title: “Compelled”

Prompt: Brainwashing

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Character(s): Sabine Wren, Ezra Bridger, Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla, Darth Maul, Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios, AP-5

AO3, FFNet, Request a prompt/character

Oh ho, I was hoping someone would request "Brainwashed" with Ezra because I had the perfect idea for it. *grins*

Hope you enjoy!

---

She waited anxiously in the Ghost's main hallway for Ezra to emerge.

The others had already gone ahead, but Sabine lingered behind, straining her ears for any sound from behind the door.

After a moment the shuffle of his footsteps sounded, before the door hissed open to reveal him.

His eyes were bleary and he rubbed the back of his neck slowly, working out the stiff kinks.

"Hey Sabine," he said, wearily. "Has the briefing already started?"

"Not yet," she told him. "But Hera would have waited for you anyway." She leaned back a bit, to take in his full haggard appearance. "Are you okay?" she asked.

He gave her a grim smile. "Tired," he confessed. "Haven't been sleeping well."

"I can imagine," Sabine muttered under her breath, as he moved past her.

She watched his back with tight anxiety, biting her lip as she followed him. Trying not to bring it up since she knew Ezra was very much trying to move past the whole matter.

Said matter being that Ezra had gone missing on a mission recently. Not for very long, thankfully, three or four days at most, and fortunately he hadn't been too far away from his last reported location. But the creepy empty Old Republic era medical laboratory on Balmorra they had found him in, dark and dimly-lit except for that one specific room where he was located, the groggy near-unconscious state he was found in, how he'd been strapped down to some kind of medical table, how when he was coherent again he couldn't remember any details about what had led up to his imprisoned condition or how he'd gotten there, or what had happened to the rest of his team...

...Well it had been downright unnerving for everyone involved. Especially her.

She couldn't blame Ezra for not being able to sleep.

She'd barely left his side since his retrieval, terrified of letting him out of her sight again. Ezra hadn't seemed to mind, clearly and often visibly shook up from the whole ordeal. Especially since they still hadn't gotten the toxicology report back for what had been running through his system, or even found out who had taken him. There had been nothing in the facility's databanks, and no one else present on the premises when they'd found him.

They had already found the bodies of Ezra's squad, scattered about the plain at Ezra's last location, lacerated and bisected like they had gone down fighting trying to protect both him and each other. The corpses were still being examined but it had looked to Sabine uncomfortably like the wounds had been dealt by a lightsaber.

Others on the base whispered rumors of Inquisitors, or maybe the same black spectre of death that had confronted them on Lothal, followed them back to the fleet and almost decimated Phoenix Group before they'd even begun to move against the Empire.

Sabine didn't want to think about that theory. She still remembered how effortlessly the hulking mechanical shadow had deflected her own blaster bolts back at her. If she hadn't been wearing her helmet...

No. Better to think it had been pirates or bounty hunters of some kind. Ahsoka had given her life to get Vader off their trail. She didn't want to think that had all been for nothing.

The hot Atollon sun burned down on them as they both emerged from the Ghost. The sky was a brilliant rouge, signifying the turn of the hour towards evening. Sand skittered across the ground, blown by faint gusts and flurries at their feet.

She trotted to catch up with him, and walked in place by his side until they were at the briefing area.

Hera already had the holotable set up with wire diagrams of their mission tomorrow; a gnarly-looking starfighter with vaguely familiar solar wings and curled shape. She nodded at the two of them as they joined the circle around the table.

Ezra's eyes were immediately drawn to the odd starfighter. "Woah, what is that?" he asked.

Sabine shared the bewilderment that was in his voice. "Looks like someone took a TIE fighter and hit it with the ugly stick."

"Plural times," Ezra agreed.

Hera smiled at that. "You're looking at the TIE Breacher," she explained. "An experimental prototype blockade buster our sources in Seinar just found out about." She leaned back on her hip, folding her arms. "It's still in the concept phase thus far but our sources tell us they're almost ready to build a working prototype."

From their left, Zeb gave a chuckle. "Would be a real shame if the Empire randomly lost all the data related to the project, eh?"

"Good assumption," Hera said. "That's exactly what we're going to be doing. Making that data disappear." She pressed something on the holotable to change up the display. "They're keeping the plans in an offsite satellite facility on the far end of the Mid Rim. It's going to be easier to penetrate than a main factory but security is still pretty tight so—"

Static suddenly flickered across the display, distorting it, accompanied by a painful burst of feedback.

The whole gathered company startled. Kanan stepped significantly back from the table, uncrossing his arms and twitching them towards his ears, as if he wanted to cover them.

"What the—?" said Hera, peering down and fiddling with the buttons on the side of the holotable. "Incoming transmission? Chopper, who's calling us?"

Chopper warbled out a clueless reply but the answer came moments later when the glitching display steadied, resolving itself into the image of an unfamiliar Zabrak.

Sabine stiffened, eyes widening in disbelief, as the vivid pattern of tattoos sparked some recognition deep in her memory.

The man's cold eyes were simmering with aloof disdain.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said dryly.

Yelps came from other Rebels behind her, who had been present for the briefing, and Ezra paled, face going white with terror.

"You..." she heard Kanan breathe in a stunned gasp. His shoulders tightened, hands stiffening and curling into fists. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"Kanan...?" Hera questioned, bewildered.

"It's Maul," Ezra said, voice thin.

The spark of recognition swelled into a flame inside Sabine. Memories from history lessons with her tutors. Of course. Him. Dutchess Satine's killer.

Notes of dread and fear beat rapidly through her.

Why was he calling them?

"You have something that belongs to me."

The man's tone was casually demanding. The icy gaze was pinned on Ezra.

Sabine felt prickly protectiveness rising up in her.

Hera inserted herself back into the conversation then, taking charge of it. "We don't have anything you want," she snapped. "How did you get this frequency?"

An amused smile faintly touched the black lips. "Ask the boy," he said, tilting his head Ezra's direction. "He was ever so helpful."

Ezra met Hera's probing gaze, horrified. "Hera, I would never—" he defended. "I don't know what he's talking about. I—"

"I believe you," Hera interrupted, nodding, eyes soft.

"You took Ezra!" Sabine said in realization. She angled forward, taking both of Ezra's shoulders and inserting herself protectively between the projection of the Zabrak and him. She looked back angrily over her shoulder. "What did you do to him?" she demanded.

The chilling eyes passed over her. "I had been in the middle of... persuading him to another viewpoint," he said. "Before you so rudely removed him from my custody." The horned head leaned back a bit, as the Zabrak straightened and clasped hands behind himself. "I will overlook that, however, provided it is rectified immediately."

Kanan lunged forward, gripping the edges of the holotable with a snarl. "We are not giving him back to you!" he growled.

"You misunderstand. All you have to do is stay out of the way." He turned his attention on Ezra again. "Apprentice."

Ezra gave a little flinch, shying back, stepping away from Sabine.

There was no waver in the yellow-eyed stare. "Swallowtail," Maul said. "You will return to me. You will bring me the Jedi holocron. And you will kill anyone who tries to stop you."

Sabine watched his eyes widen with a flash of utter terror and then—

His expression snapped completely blank. Like all emotion had been sucked out of him.

The shift was so sudden and unnatural that it took her aback. Against her better instincts screaming at her that something was very wrong and she needed to stay away, she reached for his shoulders again, this time in concern.

"Ezra?"

"Sabine, don't!" Kanan yelled in horror.

Several things happened very quickly:

With clinical precision, Ezra reached for the lightsaber at his left hip and ignited the blade while sweeping the hilt.

Sabine registered the heat of the deadly green blade and jerked back like she'd touched hot iron but it wasn't enough.

Just before the lightsaber could make contact she felt a heavy, handless, invisible push that shoved her over into the dirt.

***

Kanan panted hard, his hand still outstretched after tossing Sabine back, knocking her to the ground just a hair ahead of Ezra completing his swing.

His ears rang with the cries of alarm and outrage from the others and his own heart pounded loud inside his head. Sabine grunted as she banged her chin and head, and the hum of the lightsaber idled, waiting.

"I suggest you clear a path for him," came the final withering comment from Maul, before a little fizzle and blip indicated that he'd cut off his end of the holoprojection.

Kanan was reeling, panic threatening to overtake him from the moment Ezra's mind had shuttered, snapping closed like a blast door, muting their bond so much that for a split second he'd feared the boy was dead. Then the Force had been screaming danger at him and leaving him almost no time to react to save Sabine.

The danger was still tingling, still vibrating on his neck and the back of his arms. A stern, cold warning echoing all around the space, bouncing off objects and individuals.

There was a beat of bewildered silence.

Then, light footsteps scraped the sand and began to head off, away from the holotable. The hum of Ezra's lightsaber went with the footsteps.

Now that the initial shock was wearing off Kanan realized he could still feel Ezra. The relief was only momentary, as Kanan got a clearer impression of his Force signature. That wall between them, the block in their bond, was still definitely there. Something dark swirled around his retreating form. Somewhere inside that dark void Ezra was awake and terrified, fully aware and conscious of his actions but not, seemingly, able to stop himself.

What had that bastard done to his kid?!

"Commander Bridger, where are you—?" one brave pilot or technician started to say.

The lightsaber hum got louder as the blade was raised warningly.

"Don't touch him!" Kanan ordered frantically. "Ezra's not in control!"

There was a murmur of alarm as people scrambled back, getting out of the way. Kanan heard Sabine begin to pick herself up from the ground.

"Kanan, what do you mean?" she cried.

Kanan tried to probe the blockage around his padawan, but it was solid, organic like an entirely different presence had been grafted onto Ezra's and was overshadowing him. He'd never sensed anything like it before.

"I don't know..." he said, helplessly. "I think... I think he's being compelled somehow. He's in there but he's freaking out, I don't think... I don't think he has any control of what he's doing."

"He's heading for the Ghost!" Zeb called.

Hera hands were suddenly grabbing at his clothes and he felt the tips of her lekku bounce against his front.

"Kanan, we can't let him leave!" she implored.

"I know!" he roared, pushing her to the side as he ran to intercept. "Sabine, be careful!"

Sabine was on her feet, he could already hear her scuffling with Ezra, grappling with him. Shouts rang in his ears; he quickened his pace to close the distance.

He reached the struggle just as Ezra managed to push Sabine off, once again bringing the lightsaber to bear. Both pieces of his own lightsaber were clapped together in an instant and Kanan's blade intercepted the strike, the loud clash and sizzle close in his ears.

Kanan grit his teeth and pushed back against the vigorous force.

"Come on, Ezra," he growled. "Whatever this is, fight it!"

The boy just responded by disengaging and then striking several times more, swings fast and agile, blade popping and crackling against Kanan's as he defended. Faintly Kanan could sense a trickle of despair leaking out through the massive blank that was Ezra's presence in the Force.

Ezra attacked with a ferocity that was unlike him, uncharacteristically aggressive and forceful. Despite Kanan's greater experience he found himself forced back. Hard-pressed, he gave ground, stepping backwards before the onslaught.

Low to heavy swing, blocked.

A quick uppercut following right on its heels, dodged.

He retreated, and retreated, until whatever was controlling Ezra determined he was no longer the most active threat and paused a moment in the attack, waiting to see what Kanan would do.

And that was when the others jumped in.

There was a joint cry as something pulled his padawan backwards.

"Got him!" Zeb yelled.

Growling from Ezra, empty-aired kicks as Zeb held him off the ground, both arms around his chest it sounded like.

Ezra thrashed like a cornered animal in the hold; only by virtue of the fact that Zeb was a big adult Lasat and Ezra was still a scrawny seventeen-year-old did Zeb manage to avoid getting skewered.

Sabine was wrestling him for control of the lightsaber hilt now. Kanan could hear when it was jerked free.

It dropped to the ground, deactivating.

"What do we do?" she cried.

"Stun him!" Kanan ordered, running forward.

He fumbled with his own blaster, hastily checking the settings to make sure he didn't accidentally tear a hole in Ezra's stomach.

His barrel clacked against Sabine's as they both fired, point blank.

Zeb grunted a bit, getting some of the dual stun shock himself, and Kanan heard Ezra's body go limp and boneless, his presence blip off to the normal muted mode of unconsciousness.

Kanan let out a breath of relief, danger still tingling on his senses.

He quickly helped Zeb rearrange Ezra in the Lasat's arms, stroking a hand over his face just to check for his own reassurance that the boy was still breathing. Worried murmurs whispered from all around and behind him.

As soon as Zeb had his hands under Ezra's neck and knees, they beelined for the makeshift medbay.

***

"The Old Republic facility on Balmorra was the key," AP-5 droned on, gesturing with self-importance, very proud of himself. "Once the lab results and toxicology report came back with elevated traces of Dimalium-6 in Bridger's blood, I was able to cross-reference the chemical against Imperial records of Old Republic conflicts, of which Balmorra was once part. According to those archives—which I of course still have access to—" he bragged, "—Dimalium-6 was a major component of a compound called IX serum, sometimes used in clandestine spec-ops by the Sith Empire."

Beside her, Kanan straightened a bit at that.

"I think I've heard of it," he said, quiet and sober. "Isn't that part of some kind of... brainwashing technique the Sith had?"

"Indeed," AP-5 confirmed. "The subject would be injected with the serum, often without their being aware of it. Once the serum was fully absorbed, which from reports said could take anywhere from three to thirty days, the subject was then imprinted with a code word. Once spoken, the code word would open the affected mind and force the subject to obey the subsequent commands."

Sabine shuddered, letting out a soft, horrified exhale.

Worried looks were exchanged all around the room, and then down at the cot where Ezra was sitting and absorbing everything in grim silence.

He stared straight forward, shoulders hutched. Initially the medics had insisted upon strapping down his hands, but after he awoke, disoriented once again but calm and manageable, and after Kanan had reassured them that Ezra was in control of himself again, they had undone them. Ezra looked like he wanted them back on now though, his fingers twitching towards the loose buckles, hands glumly by his sides.

"So you're saying... Maul could just say the code word to me, any time he wants..." His next inhale was shaky. "...and I'd have to do whatever he orders me to do," he concluded.

AP-5 seemed to hesitate a moment. "It is... unclear from the records whether the programming was meant for one time use or could be activated repeatedly for multiple uses," he said. "Given your previous characterization of the Dark Sider known as Maul, however, it does not seem in character for him to expend so much effort on something that could only be triggered once. So essentially... yes."

Ezra closed his eyes, his breath hitching, stuttering.

Eyes wrenching with sympathy, Sabine reached her hand over slowly to grip his, squeezing tightly.

On the other side, Hera clung to Kanan in horror. "Can it be undone?" she asked anxiously. "Reversed?"

"That was unclear as well. An Imperial Intelligence report suggested that the programming could be reset with another round of IX serum, but also cautioned that repeated uses of the serum could result in permanent brain damage."

"Karabast..." Zeb said, wiping a hand behind his head, ears drooping.

Ezra pulled his hand out of hers and curled up with his knees close to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs in a huddle.

"...I want to be alone for a while," he said quietly.

Kanan stirred. "Ezra—" he started.

"Please," Ezra begged.

The older Jedi bit his lip a moment, then backed down. "All right," he said, ushering Hera and Zeb out of the room. AP-5 shuffled off after them.

Ezra waited for Sabine to go too.

She didn't.

"Sabine..." he groaned.

She shook her head stubbornly, eyes fierce. "I'm not going. I won't leave you alone like this."

"I almost killed you today," he said, miserably.

Sabine stepped closer to the cot. "Kanan will figure out a way to remove the conditioning," she told him.

"And what if he can't?" Ezra demanded, his tight eyes challenging her, despair etched in every line of his face. "What if the programming takes over again?"

Sabine shrugged. "Then I'll stun you as many times as it takes to reset that brain of yours."

Ezra gave a humorless laugh, dropping his gaze to his knees. "Thanks," he said, and it sounded genuine, even though his expression was bitter.

Aching, Sabine wanted to say something, give him something better than vague hopes and empty platitudes. Her eyes fell across the wristband with his personal comlink and a thought seized her.

She reached for it, peeling the strap free. Ezra startled softly a bit from her touch, watching in confusion.

"I'm gonna reset your comm frequency, okay?" she told him, holding up the wristband.

His eyes widened slightly in understanding. Maul had already demonstrated he could break into Phoenix Group's secure channel; Sabine was making sure he wouldn't be able to call in straight to Ezra and whisper that damn code word to him.

"That's a good idea," he said, gratefully. He uncurled a bit, eyes dropping once again. "I'll see you when they let me out," he told her, once again urging her to go. "If they let me out," he amended glumly.

Sabine was already half-turned, already taking steps towards the door, fiddling with his comlink, stomach pinching at the thought of anyone on the base treating Ezra like a threat, like some kind of enemy to be contained.

We'll figure this out. It'll be okay. I won't let him take you. All things Sabine wanted to say in that moment, to comfort him, to try to make him believe they would get through this.

What she wound up saying, as she cast a last anguished look back at him, was a soft, plaintive, "Be safe. Please."

Then she left to find her tools, anxiety scraping up every raw nerve inside her.

---

Yeah so, Ezra gets put through the Castellan Restraints protocol from the SWTOR game because as soon as I stumbled across the concept the whump gremlin in me started salivating. Thanks for giving me an opportunity to write it, @alphaofdarkness, hope you liked this!

[ilkkawhat]

You're a funny guy. I try. [x]

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Red Hood finds Nightwing in the throes of fear toxin, babbling about missed calls and text messages.