#febuwhump2021

[stripedscribe]

3 and 5 for ao3 wrapped?

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

I love the Goodbye Series, its one of my more plottier works, if not the most, I enjoyed playing in the zombie apocalypse world! I also have a soft spot for Foggy Dollars, which came from a mind meld in the Avocados Server, and I'm glad I could bring it to life!

Also, now I've been nosing for the next question, Febuwhump2021, I don't know what happened but I somehow wrote 50k in a month, so yeah, I'm pretty proud of that.

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

You got me nosing in my statistics, and nothing is as I expected in here whatsoever, the top stats are not the fics I expected. My collab creating art with @pomegranate-belle fic for Darebear takes the top spot for everything, thanks to Pom's gorgeous writing. Foggy Dollars is most kudosed after that, and I do remember that having a boom, which for what felt like at the time a little game (351 people have read that, and that feels like an insane number). And @katbelleinthedark remixed it for DDE! :D

[lover-of-midnight]

It hurts

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

Gen

Fandom:

Merlin (TV)

Relationship:

Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Characters:

Merlin (Merlin)

Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Leon (Merlin)

Gwaine (Merlin)

Gaius (Merlin)

Additional Tags:

Hurt Merlin (Merlin)

Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Protective Knights (Merlin)

Aftermath of Violence

Threats of Violence

Whump

One-Shot

Wordcount: 1.000-3.000

FebuWhump2021

febuwhumpday8

Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin)

Hurt/Comfort

Angst

Language:English

Series: ← Previous Work Part 8 of the Febuwhump 2021series

Collections: febuwhump 2021

@febuwhump

The night air was cold, the knights were slowly falling asleep. It was just another day’s ride then they would be back in Camelot.

Arthur was sitting on a rock looking into the darkness, he could hear the men’s breathing evening out.

His eyes strayed to his friend who was slightly outside the ring of knights, Merlin’s mob of hair was even messier than normal.

He could feel the fatigued clawing at him, wanting to drag him under, he couldn’t imagen how his men must be feeling. It was a battle worthy of the history books.

But at the moment, he just wanted them to rest. The patrols were getting more and more with the sorcerers attacks picking up. The people were scared but there wasn’t much more that they could do to keep everyone safe.

Arthur's eyes moved around the trees to see if he could see anything, the woods were silent except for insects making noise.

The animals of the wood were used to the man walking through the clearing, his magic crackling around him.

When he first started to live here, they would fall silent every time he would move, he was a danger to them, but he never attacks them, he doesn’t hurt them, and when they got injured the man would heal them if he found them.

So they continued with their songs of the evening, it didn’t bother them that his magic was more violent than normal.

Arthur could feel his hair standing up like a pissed of cat. He grabbed his sword. He kept his eyes trained on the woods but there was no movement and the wood was still alive with insects.

He knows that a good indication if something is going to happen, is through listing to the wood, but at the moment, nothing was giving him an indication for having a bad feeling.

The man’s green eyes flashed gold and smoke started to drift into the camp, he could see the prince was aware that there was something in the woods that was out for them.

In less than five minutes since the spell was uttered Arthur fell over, his mind felt like it was trapped. And there was simply no way out. Arthur tried to push himself up, but his body felt like it was made of lead.

He could only watch in horror as the man picked Merlin up. He felt himself getting nauseous when the man slapped on demetricuffs around his arms.

For a moment it felt like his mind was going to split in half, he wasn’t sure what he felt. On one hand, Merlin is a bloody sorcerer and on the other hand horror because his friend was taken and he had no idea where he was being taken.

The man and Merlin disappeared into the woods. Arthur tried again to get himself up, but it was impossible, his muscles were locked.

When the sun started to rise Arthur finally managed to get himself upright. He felt like hell, but he wanted to get Merlin back.

He had a long time to think of what it would mean the fact that Merlin is a sorcerer and how it made him feel. He was angry about it. But at the same time, Merlin never gave him any reason to believe that he is against Arthur.

Arthur bit the inside of his lip. They will just have to talk about it when they find Merlin.

“Wake up! This isn’t the time for sleep anymore” His voice echoed around the clearing, he could see that his men struggled to push themselves up. Their eyes were slightly clouded, but it looked like everyone was okay.

“What happened?” Gwaine’s voice was hoarse, and he stretched out trying to work the weird stiffness from his body.

Everyone’s eyes landed on Arthur and a singular question went through everyone's mind. Why didn’t he woke them up for there turn for guard looked out?

“Something happened last night, I am not properly sure what happened because one minute I was still fine and the next I couldn’t move. But that is not the problem, the problem is that the man that caused it took Merlin.” Arthur could feel the anger boiling under his skin. And the worst part is that he wasn’t sure what he was angrier about.

The fact that Merlin was kidnapped or the fact that he had magic.

Arthur was silent as he looked at the knights, he knows that most of them think of Merlin as a little brother to them.

“Why would they take Merlin?” Leon looked firmly at Arthur.

Arthur was silent for a while, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to blab Merlin’s secret to them, but at the same time, he knows they wouldn’t just up and abandon him.

“He has magic,” Arthur’s voice was low, none of the anger he had felt through the night was there, now he was just scared and hoped that he would be able to get to Merlin soon.

There was a silence around the camp and for a moment Arthur thought he had misread how the knights felt about Merlin.

“So what are we waiting for, let's go get him back.” Gwaine glared at the rest slightly. Sometimes they need a kicked under the arse to get it moving.

The rest of the knights threw a shout into the air. Soon everyone was packed.

They walked through the woods which were spent in silence as they tried to find a trace of the man’s footsteps.

Just after the mid sun had started to pass, they stopped to eat something. How bloody far had the man gone?

The man stared at the boy in front of him. This is supposed to be the all-powerful Emerys? He almost scoffed. He couldn’t help but think that Merlin was nothing more than a runt. But in either way, it doesn’t matter what he thought.

They were sure that he was the one destiny had a prophecy about all those years ago.

“Wake up! This isn’t the time to sleep.” The man’s voice was hard.

Merlin woke with a start. His eyes were wide as he tried to figure out where he was. A small whimper escaped his lip when he saw the man.

His heart rate skyrocketed and he tried to pull into himself.

The man just looked at Merlin, he could see the fear clearly in the blue eyes and for a moment he was filled with joy. He so loved the terror he could create.

“Now, now none of that.” The man’s voice was lower but the darkness in it almost made Merlin close his eyes.

When a thumb traced over Merlin’s cheek, he froze up, he could feel his magic fighting to get out, but something was stopping it.

Pain washed over him when he tried to use it. Merlin could feel himself freezing up complete. He could feel the panic trying to smother him and for a moment it felt like it was.

The man only laughed before he calmed himself.

“So you see there are a few people that are pissed that you are helping the prince, betraying your people so that he could sit on the throne one day.” The man was talking as if he was giving information about the weather.

Merlin just stared at the floor. He admits to himself that he hates himself about that. He never wanted to hurt another person, but there was sometimes no choice. He needs to keep Arthur safe at all cost.

“They want information, and you are going to give me that information.” The man continued.

Merlin knows that he wouldn’t talk no matter what. There was simply too much at stake.

When silence was the only answer, the man turned around pulling a tray closer.

“We can start with something easy. A nail, the longer you don’t give me what I want, I will pull a nail out. And we can move on from there, to break your fingers. And we will continue to go through your body and restart if necessary until I have the information I want.” The man informed Merlin.

The knights were just back on their horses when a scream echo to them. They froze for a second before they started to follow from where the sound had come from.

It took them another hour of walking and a constant screams that had to follow before they found a small house.

They could hear someone talking inside the house, but they couldn’t make out what the person was saying. With a nod from Arthur, they pulled their swords and crept closer.

A kicked against the door and they spilled into the house, the man turned to face the knights. He was covered in blood.

With a wave from his hand, he sends the knights backwards, but there wasn’t enough thought in the movement and Arthur manage to jump out of the way.

The man didn’t bother to say a word or look back but simply disappeared from a door.

Leon and Gwaine rushed to try and catch up but when they opened the door, no one was there.

A silent curse was all that left their lips before they turned to Merlin. They were ready to step in when they saw that Arthur was busy to take off the cuffs.

His eyes had softened when he saw Merlin.

Merlin was pale and broken sobs left his lips, both his hands where cradled to his chest. Leon stood closer with a medic kit Gaius had sent with them.

The flinch made everyone feel like shit, this was their friend, they should have helped him more. But they couldn’t.

Arthur crouched down next to Merlin, he could see that Merlin’s right-hand was broken and it looked like some on the left.

“Merlin, can we see your hand please?” Arthur’s voice was low as he looked at Merlin.

It was clear to see that Merlin didn’t want to offer his hands up.

Merlin pulled his hands closer to his chest. He was surprised that the knights were able to get so soon to them.

A sob left his chest and he curls into himself. Arthur gave a worried look to Leon.

“Merlin, can you please settle against Arthur?” Leon gave Arthur a stern look but at the same time was his voice low and soothing.

Merlin gave an unsure look to Arthur, before he was pulled against Arthur’s chest, a warm hand settled against Merlin’s head.

The warmth and comfort Arthur offered calmed Merlin down slightly.

“Can I see your hand, Merlin?” Leon kept his voice in a soothing tone, the same he would use when he needs to help frightened villagers.

A frantic head shakes from Merlin only happened. He couldn’t bring himself to allow anyone near his hands.

Arthur forced himself to take a deep breath. His hand ran gently through Merlin’s hair.

“Merls, give your hand to Leon, he needs to set it so that Gaius can look after it. If it sets wrong you won’t be able to use your hands.” Arthur kept his voice low, but he knows that Merlin would want to keep the use of his hand, even if it was limited.

Merlin gave Arthur a pleading look, everything in him screamed to keep his hands against his chest.

Leon just sighed. “Merlin please, we need to keep it cool and make a sling that you can keep your hands still.”

They could see the fear in Merlin’s eyes.

Arthur gently ran his hand through the sweaty hair of Merlin. He could feel the shiver running through Merlin’s body.

Merlin’s arm was stiff as he handed to Leon, his body was even tenser than a few minutes before. A pain shot through his arm when Leon started to exam the hand.

“St-stop, please.” The pleading broke Arthur’s heart.

Merlin wanted to pull his hand back but he didn’t want to hurt himself even more if he pulled away.

“Calm down, Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was soft but there was a firmness in his voice that made Merlin listen to him.

Merlin forced himself to breath as Leon wrapped a cooling salve on his arm, he knows that it will help with the swelling that was already happing.

But it didn’t stop the fact that it was painful.

When a bandage was put around Merlin whimpered, but it looked like he was starting to calm down.

With the sling finished, Merlin sat back and rest against Arthur. Now only the fingers that were broken need to be splinted.

When everything was finished, Arthur picked Merlin up. He easily helped Merlin onto his mare, before he slipped up behind him.

Merlin was heavy against Arthur. Arthur tried to over as much as support as he could as they rode to Camelot.

Arthur could feel Merlin’s body slowly going heavier as the fatigued dragged him down.

The ride was spent in silence as they rode on to Camelot.

“Merls, it is time that you wake up.” Arthur couldn’t help but ran his hand against Merlin’s cheek.

Arthur could feel the tension returning to Merlin’s body. With some manoeuvring, Arthur managed to get Merlin down from the horse.

The trip to Gaius chambers was long, and Arthur was kicked out as soon as Gaius had learned what had happened.

Dusk was just falling when there was a knock against Gaius door. The physician answered it, he only nodded at Arthur and allowed Arthur into the room.

Merlin was sitting upright, his hand in a bandage. He kept his eyes on the floor.

“I will leave you too it, don’t upset him, Arthur.” Gaius's voice was a warning.

Arthur only nodded and waited until the door closed behind them. Arthur crouched down in front of Merlin.

“How are you feeling?” Arthur’s voice was soft, he wanted to reach out and take the pain away.

“Alright.” Merlin’s voice was soft and childlike.

“I’m not mad Merls.” Arthur's voice was gentle.

Merlin's eyes widen slightly as he looked at Arthur.

“B-But…” Merlin trailed off.

“But nothing, you are the same dollop head that started work for me, if you wanted to hurt me, you had plenty of change, but you never did.” Arthur gently ran his hand through Merlin’s hair.

Merlin gave a broken laugh.

“We will figure this out Merls.” Arthur hopes the smile he gave Merlin was giving him some hope.

Merlin could only sag forward, Arthur easily caught him. Just holding him close to his chest.

[febuwhump]

FEBUWHUMP 2021 PROMPTS

the prompt list is out! these prompts were chosen entirely from a poll that you guys filled out! the 28 days of february are filled (in a random order) with the top 28 prompts as voted for by you guys! the 10 switch outs are the next in your favourites, with a few write-in prompts too!

i look forward to seeing everyone create with these prompts, and if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to check out the blog’s FAQ and ask!

full write up of prompts and rules under the cut:

FEBUWHUMP 2021 PROMPTS

DAY 1: mind control

DAY 2: “i can’t take this anymore”

DAY 3: imprisonment

DAY 4: impaling

DAY 5: “take me instead”

DAY 6: insomnia

DAY 7: poisoning

DAY 8: “hey, hey, this is no time to sleep”

DAY 9: buried alive

DAY 10: “i’m sorry. i didn’t know”

DAY 11: hallucinations

DAY 12: “who are you?”

DAY 13: hiding injury

DAY 14: “i didn’t mean it”

DAY 15: “run. don’t look back”

DAY 16: broken bones

DAY 17: field surgery

DAY 18: “i can’t see”

DAY 19: sleep deprivation

DAY 20: betrayal

DAY 21: torture

DAY 22: burned

DAY 23: “don’t look”

DAY 24: memory loss

DAY 25: car accident

DAY 26: recovery

DAY 27: “i wish i had never given you a chance”

DAY 28: “you have to let me go”

SWITCH-OUT PROMPTS:

is there a specific day’s prompt you don’t want to fill? here are ten alternatives you can switch them out for!

ALT 1: truth serum

ALT 2: “i can’t lose you too”

ALT 3: coma

ALT 4: identity reveal

ALT 5: hostage situation

ALT 6: “don’t try to pin this on me”

ALT 7: time travel

ALT 8: allergies

ALT 9: gunpoint

ALT 10: “please come back”

RULES:

SOFT RULES:

prompts should be answered in the form of whump

creators can produce whatever kind of media they want

you don’t have to do all the prompts! you can create however much you want to

you can use the prompts after the event ends

you can post on any platform you want, however this blog will only be sharing those posted on tumblr

if you want to be featured on the hall of fame then you have until the 3rd of March to inform this blog that you completed all the days

HARD RULES: (specifically for being featured on the blog)

when uploading febuwhump content to tumblr, please use the tags:

febuwhump (i’ll also be checking febuwhump2021)

the relevant day’s tag e.g. febuwhumpday1, febuwhumpday2...

nsfw (if relevant)

and any trigger warnings that may be important!

you can also tag the blog, @febuwhump 

i cannot guarantee your work will be archived on the blog because I have no idea how many participants there will be. a random selection of works tagged in accordance to the rules above will be reblogged every day of february.

[enduracarrotchips]

the prompt was hallucination :)

[whump-mania]

Febuwhump Day 6/7: Hypothermia/Used as an experiment

(combining the two since i missed yesterday)

(tw: lab whump, hypothermia/freezing)

LAB NOTES 273:

Subject is restrained and put inside cryochamber. They seem to be making an attempt to escape, mostly with futile struggling. Nothing of importance. Initial temperature set to 15°F.

LAB NOTES 274:

Subject shivering profusely after three hours in 32°F. Goosebumps covering skin, eyes seem to be shut. Breathing is long and slow. Lowering temperature to 0°F.

LAB NOTES 275:

Subject has gone immobile after another two hours. Eyes have not opened back up. Hands and feet have become blue/purple, as with their nose and cheeks. Lowering temperature to -10°F.

LAB NOTES 276:

Subject removed from cryochamber due to health vitals slowing. Currently unconscious, cold to the touch. Showing clear signs of sickness. Cryochamber Test #2 will begin tomorrow after recovery.

[katelynnwrites]

fandoms:

criminal minds (on hold)

stranger things (retired)

star wars (retired)

women’s football (woso)

others:

febuwhump 2021

five sentence ficlets (woso)

taylor swift collection

[giggles-and-freckles]

febuwhump day 14: ‘I didn’t mean it’

“Hey, Master!” Anakin scrambled up from where he had been sprawled across the couch, playing on his holo-pad and waiting for Obi-Wan to get back. His meeting with the Council had taken forever and Anakin was bored. He didn’t want to beat Holocron Hunters for the sixth time. None of the other Padawans were even impressed anymore, so what was the point?

Obi-Wan closed the door behind him without responding.

“You were gone a long time,” Anakin said, shutting off the holo-pad and tossing it onto the couch.

Obi-Wan moved toward the kitchen and pulled the empty kettle off the stove. “The Council had a lot of things to say.”

“Good things?” Anakin asked, coming to watch Obi-Wan make his tea. He’d promised to take Anakin into Coruscant this afternoon.

The older Jedi looked up from where he was filling the kettle with water and gave Anakin an inscrutable expression. After a moment, his eyes dropped back to the sink and he shut off the faucet. “They were just checking in.” He turned toward the cabinets, away from Anakin.

Anakin hopped around the counter, trailing Obi-Wan. “On my training? Did you tell them about last week’s spar with–”

“Yes.”

Obi-Wan moved past Anakin.

Anakin frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

A lie. So clearly a lie. And Obi-Wan never lied to him.

“Master–”

Obi-Wan shut the cabinet a bit harder than was necessary and hovered there, not moving.

Anakin waited.

Finally, Obi-Wan spoke softly. “Master Tekk spoke with me today.”

“Okay?” Anakin said cautiously.

“Her Padawan is a...friend of yours, I understand.”

“Yeah!” Anakin lit up. “Rechi! She’s–”

“Do you talk to all of your friends about your inexperienced and uncaring Master...or just her?”

Anakin froze.

His mouth went dry, even though he knew he needed to speak. Obi-Wan still hadn’t turned from the cabinet.

“I...I didn’t–”

“You did. There’s no use lying to me.”

Anakin dropped his head, his face growing warm with the humiliation of being caught and remorse for the words making it back to Obi-Wan.

“I didn’t mean it...”

“Yes. You did.”

Anakin swallowed hard.

“This doesn’t come naturally to me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan spoke quietly. He turned around slowly, but kept his gaze on the counter beyond the teenager. “Taking you on as a Padawan, I know...I know we’ve had our bumps, but–but I truly thought things were going well. That you were happy–”

“I am happy!”

“For another Master to tell me that you…” Obi-Wan shoulders hunched in on themselves a bit. “I didn’t know I was so grossly underestimating our progress.”

“Master–”

“I’m learning too, Anakin. From the beginning, we...we’ve taught each other. That’s something I thought made us stronger as a pair, not weaker, but–I...if it’s ‘experience’ you want, then I...am not the Master for you.”

“Yes, you are–”

“No,” Obi-Wan shook his head, holding up a hand. “When Qui-Gon offered you a place at the Temple, you were under the assumption that...that he would be completing your training. Not me. You…” He sighed, shakily. “You didn’t even know me.”

Anakin watched his Master, silently. None of the words that threatened to come out of his mouth were right.

“I didn’t consider the unfairness for you. That...that you were essentially tricked into a life that was then taken from you before it began. I let my emotions cloud my judgement. When Qui-Gon–” He paused, his eyes distant for a moment. He blinked. “I was selfish to not think of the implications for you. That you may not be interested in studying under someone who–”

Anakin had enough. “No! Master, I was just angry that day! It was when we got back from Quilla and you–”

Obi-Wan’s frown deepened and his expression twisted into hurt. “I chose that mission because you’d told me you wanted to learn to swim and I wanted to...to teach you.”

Anakin’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know that.”

“When the current pulled you, I–I was frightened. I didn’t know what to...Anakin, I thought you were gone…”

“I didn’t know,” Anakin shook his head furiously, his heart pounding with guilt. “I thought you didn’t tell me about the current because you...you wanted me to figure it out for myself and–”

“Do you think me that cruel?”

Anakin couldn’t speak. He’d never seen Obi-Wan like this; he looked so young.

“I need to be alone,” he murmured.

Anakin’s neck snapped around as his Master brushed past him, headed toward his room. “Obi-Wan, no, please just–”

The door slid shut. The kettle sat unused in the sink.

febuwhump 2021 prompt list

[polaroid15]

Febuwhump day 20 - Betrayal

Summary: “How bad?” Tony asks.

“Not bad.”

“Pete-”

“I’m serious! I’ve gotten ten times worse as Spider-Man.”

When Tony looks at him, it’s gentle, and it nearly brings him to tears. “But you weren’t Spider-Man, buddy.”

Or, Peter just wanted a coffee.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/72739866

------

It’s not everyday that Peter is pistol whipped in the face by a Starbucks customer.

Today, however, is that day.

He’s at the front of the line, finally, and just as the cashier hands him his change a man wearing a crudely cut ski mask shoots two bullets into the ceiling. Everyone screams, ducks, and through the mass panic Peter hears his handful of change roll across the floor.

“Are you kidding me-”

“EVERYONE ON THE GROUND!”

Peter listens, trying his best to keep calm as he assesses his surroundings. The store has six customers and two employees. Another masked individual joins the first, also holding a gun.

That they’re not afraid to use, apparently.

Slowly and praying not to draw attention, Peter’s fingers close around the watch Tony had given him for his birthday and presses the side button three times. He’s only used the distress signal once before, and Tony had been at his side to help within a matter of minutes.

These idiots won’t even know what hit them.

The first man crosses behind the counter and shoves his gun into the barista’s face. “Open the register.”

For a minute, Peter thinks she’s going to refuse, her eyes set with anger and fear. As if getting the same sense, the man with the gun presses the barrel hard against her cheek and she whimpers. “Now,” he repeats, and she obeys with shaking hands.

Even though she complies, the man steps closer, his trigger finger tensing as the first inch of the barrel practically disappears into her face. Spidey sense screaming, Peter stands carefully, hands outstretched, “hey, hey. Come on man. Ease up. She’s doing what you asked-”

“On the ground,” the second criminal yells at him, spit flying from his mask. Peter freezes on the spot, eyes glued on the trembling barista. For one terrible moment, he’s brought back to a dark alley, his hands pressing down desperately on Ben’s chest.

“The register’s open,” Peter reasons, “let her go.”

“Looks like someone’s trying to play hero,” the first robber sneers. He pushes the barista aside and she falls onto the floor with a strangled yelp. “Grab him.”

Peter doesn’t flinch as the man’s accomplice obeys, digging strong fingers into his bicep and dragging him out of line. His back is brought against the man’s chest and the gun is pressed into his throat. He swallows at the pressure and keeps his eyes trained on the first man, who’s stuffing a duffel with cash.

Outside, there’s sirens.

“Damn it!”

The first man slams the empty drawer closed, throwing his gun out widely, “which one of you called the police?”

Peter almost laughs. Almost. “Are you kidding? You would’ve heard it if someone called. It’s a small room, buddy-”

A sharp pain in his face nearly sends him crashing to his knees. Blood pools onto his tongue but he keeps it there, not wanting to scare the other customers. Through the aching pulse in his head he hears a couple of them gasp.

“Not the time to be smart, kid.”

“Well you’re the ones who decided to rob a Starbucks of all places.”

Before Peter can even suck in a breath, he’s hit three more times, all where the first blow had landed. This time he does fall, and the man kicks him in the ribs for good measure when he’s down. The force of it has him gasping and somewhere in the distance Peter hears a kid crying.

Don’t think about Ben, don’t think about Ben.

“Police are here. Damn it. What do we do?”

Peter hears shuffling as he tries to reorient himself, his head spinning like a top. He only makes it to his elbows before his jacket is grabbed at its shoulder and he’s manhandled to his feet. He sways but stands his ground, wiping the blood off his chin with his sleeve.

“We take him with us.”

Peter doesn’t have the energy to argue as he’s dragged to the entrance by his neck. Through the glass and a rapidly swelling eye, Peter sees a semi circle of police, completely closing off an escape. He thinks he sees a flash of red and gold, too, but he can’t be sure.

“Walk, kid. No funny business.”

And he does, grateful, above everything else, that no one got hurt.

With a forceful shove, Peter is thrown out of the store, the grip on his neck still strong. He knows it’ll bruise in the shape of fingers, that he’ll stare at it in the mirror later and shudder at the memory of the touch.

“Drop your weapons!”

Peter yelps as the back of his knee is kicked in, forcing him to the ground. One of the men grabs his hair, forcing his head back, and sticks his gun underneath his chin. “Make another move and the kid gets it!”

It’s only now that Peter realizes his eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on him. Tony is here, standing on the sidelines of officers, his eyes blown wide with panic before his expression is cut off by his helmet.

He feels too dazed to be relieved.

“Let the kid go!” he hears one of the officers yell.

“Let us go!”

Peter chuckles again, and he’s not sure why. He feels warm blood dribble down his chin, and the grip tightens in his hair until he’s sure it’s going to be pulled right out of his scalp.

Whatever the men holding him had thought this was going to go, it must not be working, because one of the hisses a “get up” in his ear. Peter tries to listen, but he feels shaky and weak, and mostly just lets himself be dragged. He ends up back against the man’s chest, the gun pressed so forcefully into his temple that the opposite side of his head nearly touches his shoulder.

Only now does he let himself be afraid.

He could die.

Not as Spider-Man, not as a hero, but as himself. Right now. At Starbucks, of all places.

In front of Tony.

His mentor would never forgive himself.

“Walk,” the man hisses in his ear, and Peter stumbles obediently along with them as they step away from the door. The police follow them with their guns but otherwise don’t move.

“Where are you going to run?” Peter chokes. “It’s already too late.”

“Shut up.”

“There’s no way out of this.”

“I said shut up!”

Peter gasps when his head is hit again, his vision whitening at its edges. He must slump because the man struggles to keep him vertical. Somewhere in his fall Peter hears a familiar blast of repulsors and the hostile touch leaves him instantly. He falls to the cement, barely managing to catch himself on his elbows.

There’s a sudden rush of movement and Peter winces at the sheer loudness of it all. He hears muffled curses, boots hitting the pavement, the hostages inside the store cheering-

“Peter?”

And then there’s Iron Man, crouched down beside him and lifting up his chin gently with a metal-clad hand. Peter blinks away his double vision and musters a weak smile. “Hey man,” he wheezes, “coffee break?”

Tony doesn’t laugh like Peter hoped he would. Instead, he feels the armour shift under his arms and he’s lifted up, up and away. He jams his eyes closed at the sudden vertigo and lets out a tense breath when they land together on a nearby rooftop. In a second Tony is out of the suit and sitting beside Peter, his hands ghosting over the blood and bruises on his face.

“Concussion?”

“Look at my face. What do you think?”

“Cut that sass, kid. I have enough for the both of us. Anything else hurt?”

“Uh, my pride?”

“Ha. Funny. Now tell me the real answer.”

Peter sighs, and somewhere in the middle chokes on the blood in his throat. It makes his ribs flare and the wince he makes must be enough for Tony to piece two and two together.

“How bad?” he asks.

“Not bad.”

“Pete-”

“I’m serious! I’ve gotten ten times worse as Spider-Man.”

When Tony looks at him, it’s gentle, and it nearly brings him to tears. “But you weren’t Spider-Man, buddy.”

He sighs again and this time it’s easier. He lays down against the pavement in hopes it’ll stop the world from spinning while Tony hovers beside him like a worried mother hen. “Didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“So let me guess,” Tony says, “you smart mouthed them.”

“Yep.”

“Course you did.”

Peter groans, poking gingerly at his swelling eye. He can barely see out of it anymore, which is highly unfortunate. “I lost my change. And I didn’t even get my drink.”

“Well, you’re alive, so that’s something.”

“Starbucks is expensive, Tony. I was treating myself.”

“I’ll buy you the whole damn Starbucks company if it’ll stop you from getting your face smashed in.”

Peter laughs at this. It makes his ribs burn. “Deal.”

Tony is quiet for a minute. “Feel up for a flight back home?”

Home.

He smiles.

“Only if we can pick up a coffee on the way.”

“Good God, kid. Look at these grey hairs. No seriously, I want you to look at them.”

Peter huffs out a laugh, head lolling slightly as Tony pulls him back up by his arms. Before they lift off, Peter is surprised when Tony wraps him in a hug. He blinks, then relaxes into it. It feels as if some of his pain is leaking into Tony.

He feels better.

“Thanks for coming,” he whispers.

Tony pulls away, ruffling his hair softly, his scalp still sore. “How couldn’t I? You were smart for once in your life and actually used the panic button I gave you-”

“Smart enough for a coffee?” Peter smirks, a cut on his lip stinging.

Tony looks at him solemnly and shakes his head.

“Grey hairs, Pete. Grey hairs.”

[zevlors-tail]

Febuwhump Day 8 - “Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep!”

A/N: I can’t believe I just wrote this in one sitting. I know I’m super behind on Febuwhump, yikes...but I think this turned out pretty well! This got longer than I meant it to be, but then, so did most of the prompts in my drafts that I have for this month. This is actually my first time purposefully writing whump so I hope this was okay! Unedited btw, i’ll read it over in the morning.

TW: Burning building, explosions, second degree burns, mentions/descriptions of burn wounds, life or death situation, building collapse, concussed reader.

***

The first thing Hawks notices when he comes to is the foul taste in his mouth. It causes him to gag and cough with his eyes still closed, though that doesn’t help his situation much if at all. The smell of something burning sears the inside of his nostrils and clogs his lungs, and he finds it incredibly hard to breathe as he rolls over onto his side, eyes finally fluttering open.

The second thing he becomes acutely aware of is how hot he is. No...how hot the floor is. Speaking of which, he couldn’t seem to recall what he was doing down there anyways. If only that incessantly annoying ringing in his ears would stop-

Wait. Wait a minute...

An image of you flashes behind his eyelids as he blinks them shut harshly to block out the billowing cloud of smoke filling the room, and it all comes back to him in a whirlwind.

There were villains. High class villains. Not your every day run of the mill villains, but villains who could really pack a punch when fighting back. They had been occupying a small skyscraper at the time as their headquarters, and you and Hawks had partnered up to take them down after months of steak outs and observation. But something had gone wrong...very wrong. Those details were still a bit blurry, but Hawks remembers something akin to an explosion- a loud noise, the building shaking, and a blast that knocked him unconscious.

All of the sudden he’s hyper aware of what’s going on- and he realizes he needs to move fast if he’s going to get out of here alive. He’s at least twenty stories up in the air on unstable structures, his feathers and hair are singed, and his head is foggy after inhaling too much smoke. Luckily he can still move, and it doesn’t look like he’s been burned too severely, at least not yet. But the flames licking at the bottom of the closed door in front of him cause alarm bells to scream out in his head, and he knows he doesn’t have much time to think. He needs to find you so he can grab you and-

Ohhh, shit.

As he rolls over onto his other side, he can make out the outline of a figure lying on the floor, and he’s almost certain it’s you. None of the villains stuck around after blowing the place up anyways, and he can just barely see the dulled colors of your hero suit behind the thick screen of smoke.

“Fuck! Oh god, Y/N.”

You’re lying too still for your own good, and Hawks thinks he can see the beginning of what he can only assume to be fire slowly eating at the wall next to you. He wastes no time and flattens himself on his stomach, army crawling in your general direction to avoid the worst of the putrid air. It doesn’t help much, but it’s better than nothing. He ignores the uncomfortable heat of his body and pushes onward, his movements still a little sluggish from getting knocked out cold. He’s not entirely sure if he can even use his feathers right now while they’re this singed, and furthermore, he hopes his wings aren’t completely out of commission; he’s going to need those if the both of you are going to make it out of this alive.

“Y/N!” he tries to shout, though it ends in a horrible sounding cough that comes from deep in his chest. As he draws nearer, he hears what sounds like creaking coming from above the two of you, and to his utter horror, the support beams under floor above you have burnt to a crisp and look like they’re ready to collapse any second. It had to have been a sheer miracle that the two of you weren’t already engulfed in flames yourselves. “Y/N! Come on, kid, you gotta get up! Move!”

Even as he tries to urgently get your attention his body seems to move on it’s own accord, and before he can stop himself, he sends a few feathers your way out of habit and concern that you might be crushed any second if he doesn’t move you somehow. It hurts like hell, and he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding. This is by far the worst he’s felt when using his feathers, but it does pay off, and you’re lucky that he made the split decision to move you- no sooner had he scrambled back with you had the ceiling collapsed into the floor.

He turns to you while staying low to the ground, shaking you desperately and firmly smacking the side of your face with his hand in hopes of interrupting your forced slumber. It works but just barely, and Hawks watches as you try to take a deep breath but end up choking just as he had. He gives you a once-over while you struggle to breathe, eyes flitting over your form to assess any damage you may have taken- and to his dismay, there seems to be a good amount of it. The entire left side of your hero outfit is singed, bits of the fabric even burnt into your skin in certain places where the heat must have been too strong. You hadn’t been able to move away or protect yourself in your sleep, and the burns on your arm and leg can definitely attest to that. They’re second degree, at least; some of the fire must have actually made contact with your skin.

“Oh, fuck- Hey, look at me. Y/N, focus here!”

He leans over you to look at your eyes, and he doesn’t have to shine a light in them or have you follow his finger to know that you hit your head a little too hard. They’re glossy and unfocused, and you can’t find a single place on his face to fixate on. You just keep looking all over, and Hawks can clearly tell your concussed. 

Fucking great. He’s got to get you both out, and now.

“Hey, kid. Can you hear me?” He nervously awaits an answer with eyes trained on you, and the second you start to talk he lets out a small breath of short-lived relief.

“Hawks...? Wha...” You look so out of it and dazed.

“So that’s a yes, thank god...” Before you try to ask anything else, he stops you in your tracks and shakes his head at you. “Whoa, whoa, whoa- take it easy, alright? No questions, I just need you to listen and keep talking to me. Doesn’t matter what it’s about, I just need to know you’re awake and alive-” He pauses briefly to look around for something, anything he can do to escape.

There’s the door you both came from, the one that’s barely holding back the raging heat behind it- that’s a no-go. No way in hell is he trying to brave that. His wings won’t last five seconds in that, and you don’t have the means to protect yourself while you’re concussed. Another option is to try and escape through the hole in the floor that the ceiling caused...but that’s way too risky for the both of you as is, and it looks like flames are starting to creep in from that way, too. If he is going to take that route, he needs to do it soon. Maybe he can get to a staircase, or find a-

The sound of you moaning in pain cuts through his thoughts and his head whips back in your direction to find you grimacing and trying to move. “Ah ah- Don’t do that. Just keep talking, come on. I know it hurts, but you gotta keep talkin’ to me. I’m gonna get us out of this mess, somehow...”

Panic starts to set in as he realizes his options are limited. Terror grips him in it’s icy stone-cold jaws as he comes to the conclusion that his odds of survival are even worse.

“Hawks...it hur’s...” All you can do is roll your head back and forth and try to move, but your body just won’t cooperate with your mind.

“Fuck. Fuck! I know, I know...” His teeth grit together as he thinks, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. Adrenaline is starting to kick in, and he’s desperate for anything at this point.

He still has no plan in mind when he makes another split second decision to move you from where you’re currently laying. The fire is only spreading up onto the carpeted floor the two of you are on, and the smoke is getting worse by the second; this room is a hot box with no ventilation at this point. He carefully picks you up and cradles you to his chest, his wings wrapping around the both of you to both support your frame and shield you from the onslaught of unbearable heat. It forces him to take a few steps back, and he does his best to navigate through a screen of black without bumping into any furniture. He almost trips several times, but eventually he hits the opposite wall. Or, rather...

A window. Bingo.

“S’ tired...” you mumble. Your eyes are already fluttering, rolling to the back of your head as your limbs grow heavy in his arms.

“Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep! Y/N!? Come on, stay awake!”

“C’n we go...home now?”

He doesn’t like how ragged your breathing sounds.

He almost chuckles at the absurdity of the situation, but his lungs are already full of tainted air to laugh, let alone breathe properly, so he scoffs instead- and instantly regrets it. Between fits of coughs, he presses his shoulder to the glass behind you both to test the temperature, and it’s much hotter than it should be. Part of the glass is already blown out to his right, but there’s not enough space to crawl out without the jagged edges of it tearing up his flesh and wings. But if he could somehow break it...

His feathers. He’ll have to use up more of them, but if he uses the bare minimum necessary to break the glass and saves the majority, he may be able to make it out the window and fly you both to safety. 

“We can’t go home yet,” he chokes out in response to you, finally. “I’m gonna get you out of here, and then you’re on your way to the hospital, yeah? You’re gonna be fine.” 

He knows that to be true, so long as he can actually manage this. He backs up as far as he can go without subjecting either of you to the hot flames now openly invading the room, the entryway having burnt to a crisp already. From where he stands now, he hopes there’s enough distance to create the amount of force needed to shatter that damn glass. After a quick estimate of how many feathers he can get away with using, he readies them, and it all boils down this moment. If he can’t do this, you’ll both die. Both of your lives are at stake, resting on his weary shoulders. He can do this.

He has to.

“Wanna go home...wanna go...” You’re just murmuring to yourself, and it really puts Hawks on edge.

He hears the glass shatter before he sees it. He stumbles forward, wings still securely wrapped around you, and all but falls out of the edge of the window right before the rest of the floor collapses in on itself. He hears the devastation behind him, feels sparks on his back where the holes of his shirt meet the beginnings of his wings. He knows if he had hesitated or stayed any longer, neither of you would be alive right now.

Replacing his hold on you with his arms, he lets his wings drift open and prays he didn’t overdo it with the feathers, begs whatever gods may be listening that the two of you can at least slow the fall somehow. And to his pure joy and bliss, his wings, though bleeding and burnt and painful, are still very much holding up and allowing him to fly.

Now if he can manage to get you to a hospital...you’ll be just fine.

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) you’ve got to run far from all you’ve ever known  STAR WARS

Febuwhump no.3 - Imprisonment

A03

As he’s carried through the oppressive halls of the Star Destroyer, Rex’s entire body aches and his stomach rolls. His head is fuzzy, the result of the stunner that had taken him down, and his chest aches where the Purge Trooper had tackled him.

He had been on Felucia, following a potential lead on Bly’s location, when he’d run into the trooper in black. He’s only heard rumours of Purge Troopers, of Stormtroopers so elite that they’d earned their own classification and higher quality weapons. Made to specifically hunt Jedi survivors, Purge Troopers were well known for never leaving survivors, and for fighting until they couldn’t fight anymore. They were rarely ever seen among the rank and file, only given the most dangerous of missions, and they were rumoured to be among the best of the clones.

Rex had been tracking any leads he could, to rescue any vode possible, but even after five years, it seemed like an impossible task. He’d gotten both Gregor and Wolffe out, but neither had had an activated chip, too damaged by the head trauma they’d received during the Clone Wars, but neither were in a good place to run missions. He had gone to Cut, had helped him remove his own and take his family deeper into hiding so that the Empire couldn’t find them. He knows that Clone Force 99 is free, he exchanges encrypted comms with Echo on a regular basis, but they never meet up, unwilling to lead possible tails to each other. Rex’s strength had been his anonymity; the Empire thought him dead, that he’d died with the rest of his men when the ship went down, and his face was simply that of another clone if he kept his hair disguised. It allowed him to sneak behind lines and collect intelligence to pass on to the fledgling Rebellion, because no one was looking for him. He had heard a passing rumour of Bly possibly being on Felucia, being on the planet where his Jedi had been killed, and Rex had acted as quickly as he could; he’d known what was going on between Bly and his General during the War, knew that the Commander didn’t just think of her as a General, and he knew that if he didn’t find him fast enough, there likely wouldn’t be anything  to save.

He had been right. He’d found Bly, found him where he knew Bly would have wanted to be, and he’d kneeled in front of those two graves and begged for forgiveness. For not being fast enough, for not listening to Fives, for not being there. The rumours had been right; Bly had been on Felucia, but he was already gone.

Someone had gone through the trouble of burying both the Jedi and the Commander, had known Bly well enough to know that he’d want to be buried with his Jedi, and Rex had wondered how long it could have possibly been - how the rumours could have been sparked.

Then he’d picked up Bly’s bucket, intent on giving his  ori’vod   one final  kov’nyn while he said his Remembrances, and he’d seen the blinking light of an activated signal.

Someone had staged it. Someone had known that a free clone would come looking if a signal was picked up, and had planted a trap at the same time as they buried Rex’s brother.

He hadn’t even had time to pull out his blasters before the Purge Trooper had been bearing down on him.

Rex doesn’t know how long he’s been unconscious since the trooper stunned him, he doesn’t know  why he was taken alive, all he knows is that there are stun cuffs humming around his wrists and the Purge Trooper has him slung effortlessly over his shoulder like he were nothing more than a sack of tubers. Rex is almost a little offended; he knows he’s lost weight since starting his hunt, knows that he hasn’t had the chance to eat the way that his metabolism demands when he’s not on Seelos where Gregor can fuss over him and shove food that tastes like ash down his throat - he has no doubt that his brother can cook, and cook well, but Rex just doesn’t have the energy to taste what he makes, just goes through the motions of chewing and swallowing to make Gregor happy and reduce Wolffe’s stress - but he hadn’t thought he’d lost enough mass to make it easy on the clone carrying him. He’s slung over a surprisingly soft pauldron, staring foggily down at the Purge Trooper’s swaying kama, and he wonders if he knows this trooper, wonders if he could knock the bucket off and place their face.

Maybe he could sway them away from the chip’s programming.

“Commander.” A voice Rex doesn’t recognize, can’t see, says, and the Purge Trooper pauses, gait skipping slightly. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve captured a traitor to the Empire, Sir.” The Purge Trooper says drolly, like they were annoyed at the interruption. “I’m taking the clone to the brig, so that it can be transferred to Kamino for repairs and reconditioning.”

Rex’s stomach drops, heart fluttering in fear. If he was taken back to Kamino, the Longnecks would put the chip back in his head, and everything that made him  Rex  would be gone again. Panic flares in his mind like a heavy fog, threatening to drown him with the memories of staring down his blaster at Ahsoka’s scared face and not recognizing her as his  vod’ika and Commander. He hadn’t seen her as anything but a target, someone to execute - a traitor, not even a person, and if he hadn’t warned her before being dragged under in that split second of horrified realization that Fives had been right, then she’d likely be dead.

“Trooper,” The Purge Trooper’s superior sounds annoyed, like they were dealing with a child that kept bringing feral animals into their bed. It’s almost the exact tone of voice Rex had to use when Tup had tried to slip a  ‘therapy animal’  onto the  Resolute. “You know your orders. Any rogue clone is to be  executed, not detained. If you continue to ignore regulations, I’ll have no choice but to have you returned for retraining.” The Imperial sighs, sounding tired. “I’ve already been far too lenient with your…  defectiveness … because of your skills.”

“CT-7567 is an exemplary soldier, sir, and can be put to use once repairs are complete.” The Purge Trooper argues, and Rex lets out a punchy little breath of shock where he’s still playing dead on the trooper’s shoulder. “He’s one of the best, General.”

  They know who he is.

“And  that’s  what you claimed the last time.” The Imp growls, “Right before CT-9021 destroyed itself  and  the transport it was on. That wasn’t even the first time either. Execute the clone and dispose of it, it’s  my position on the line if I allow your defect to cause any more damage to the Empire.”

The Purge Trooper’s entire body shudders at the order, and Rex’s hands clench against the other clone’s thigh. There’s a stun baton hanging off of the trooper’s hip, if he could reach it, Rex could possibly try to fight his way out of the situation he’s found himself in. But there’s an entire cruiser between him and escape, a cruiser he doesn’t know how to navigate with an unknown amount of Stormtrooper, of which is an unknown percentage of chipped vode, and there’s active stuff cuffs around his wrists.

“Sir, the Empire would lose a powerful asset-”

“CC-2224,  execute the traitor.”

Rex jolts, and it’s not just because he’s been dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. His head is ringing, his chest aches from the harsh landing so soon after taking on a fully armoured Purge Trooper, but all he can think is that it’s  Cody .

Codycodycody  - he’s here, he was just holding Rex. He had Cody within his grasp, after five years of desperately searching for him, looking for any sign that his  ori’vod had survived Order 66. Cody had been collecting unchipped clones, bringing them back to the Empire despite his orders to kill them. The big brother that had found Rex hidden away from the eyes of the Kaminoans all those years ago is still there, still thinking underneath the thrall of the chip, still trying to protect any  vod he could, just like how he had once promised to protect Rex from decommissioning.

Cody is staring down at him from behind the glowing red visor of a Purge Trooper, Rex can see the reflection of his wide eyes in the glossy black of his armour. He barely notices the blaster being leveled at him, too caught up with desperately trying to see his brother underneath the unfamiliar helmet.

“Cody.” His voice breaks -  gods, it must have been Cody who buried Bly, Cody who was probably one of the few people who truly understood the position Bly had found himself in when he’d fallen in love with someone he could never have. Clad in armour so different from those that Cody had chosen, had so lovingly painted to represent a part of him that the Longnecks would have never allowed, Cody just stares back. “Cody - it’s  you.” He’s almost too relieved to see him to feel the fear of his imminent execution. “You’re  alive.” Rex’s voice is bordering on reverent, but he can’t bring himself to care. It had been five years since he had last seen his brother. “Force - I’ve been looking everywhere for you -” he lets out a faint laugh, “- of course  you would be the one to find me instead.” His eyes flicker down momentarily, to look at the blaster aimed for his chest, shaking faintly, and a bitterly sad smile lifts his lips. “Well. I doubt this is the meeting either of us had in mind.” Rex raises his gaze once more to the expressionless helmet his brother was wearing, face illuminated in crimson.

If he were going to die, he’d rather it be looking into Cody’s eyes.

“It’s okay, Cody.” He soothes, “It’s okay. It’s not you - I don’t blame you.” Cody’s body shivers, “I love you,  ori’vod.”

Cody’s entire body jerks, twists, and Rex’s acceptance falls away to shock as his brother swings around to face the Imperial in white. The blaster fires, and the General drops, a smoking hole in their chest, their expression a dying mask of stunned confusion.

“Cody?”

“-execute the traitor.” Cody’s mumble is barely audible through his bucket, as his shaking hands fumble to throw his blaster as far away as possible. “Execute the traitor to the Empire. CT-7567 is an asset the Empire can’t lose.” He jerks again, movement punchy, as he moves towards Rex now and wordlessly lifts him to his feet. “How many - how many - how many are traitors?”

“Cody?” Rex repeats, stunned, as his brother hauls him through the halls, “What the kriff was  that?”

“General Medenhall was a traitor to the Empire.” Cody mutters, voice frantic. “Putting his own needs above those of the Empire. CT-7567 is an asset the Empire can’t lose. He had too much control on the ship. The others are traitors too.” Rex doesn’t even think that Cody is talking to him, wonders if Cody had ever been talking to him. It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of his words - or trying to convince the chip.

“Cody you mad genius.” Rex says in numb shock, joy blooming in his chest.

Cody was fighting the chip.

“Good soldiers follow orders.” Cody hisses, grip tightening on Rex’s elbow to the point that it was almost painful, giving him a faint shake, and Rex gets the message to shut up and let his brother concentrate on the chip in his head. He shuts his mouth and lets his older brother drag him through the halls. “My orders were to execute the traitor. General Medenhall was the traitor. The asset needs to be secured.”

No Stormtrooper they pass looks twice at them, none of them seem to pick up that their General had just been killed and that the Purge Trooper that they all carefully don’t look at is muttering to himself. None of them seem to notice that he’s imprisoned in his own mind, fighting desperately against the chains. None of them seem to care that he’s dragging a prisoner behind him to Force knows where.

None of them stop them from reaching the shuttle bay, none of them stop them as Cody leads him onto a ship and closes the ramp behind them.

“Holy kriff Cody.” Rex whispers in awe, “You always were too competent for anyone’s good.”

Cody shakes his head, releasing his arm, but he doesn’t step away. Quivering hands grip at a black helmet, and Cody sways momentarily before he’s ripping off the Purge Trooper bucket and throwing it against the floor with enough force to make it bounce away from them with the sound of cracking plastoid.

For the first time in five years, Rex gets to see his brother’s face.

He looks younger than Rex now, his face is less lined by age, somehow, like he had actually aged  only the five years a natborn would have, but his temples have started to gray. It’s still his brother’s face, still the face that had haunted Rex’s nightmares for the last five years, when he hadn’t known if his brother was alive or dead. His scar is even more faded than it had been the last time he had seen him, had been given the chance to heal, the stress lines still etched into his forehead from scowling at datapads too often.

It really is Cody.

Dark wetness drips from his brother’s nose, tracing across the pained scowl twisting his lips, and his eyes look bloodshot, and Rex wonders how much pain his  ori’vod is in from fighting against his chip and its programming.

Fuck, he doesn’t know if Cody can fly in this state.

His gaze slides to the shock baton at his brother’s waist once more.

Slowly, making sure not to alert him, Rex reaches, curls his fingers around the hilt, and before Cody can react, he’s sliding it free. He activates it quickly, and, with an apologetic wince, the former Captain presses the sparking weapon against the unprotected patch of his brother’s side. Cody is seizing up immediately. He instinctively tries to pull away, but Rex follows. He blocks out the garbled noises of agony his brother releases, ignores the tears tracing through the grime on both of their faces, and he holds it there until Cody slumps, twitching, but blissfully unconscious.

“Sorry, brother.” Rex whispers, fumbling through his brother’s belt until he finds the key to his cuffs, and he’s barely aware of swapping them onto Cody’s wrists instead, as a last resort if he woke up while they were flying. “Sorry.”

Dead to the world, but no longer under the fist of the Empire, Cody doesn’t answer.

Taglist: @a-mediocre-succulent @yellowisharo @spoofymcgee @roseofalderaan @everything-or-anything @bellablue42 @tumceteri-fratres

[pandora15]

Febuwhump 2021 Day 18 Prompt: “I can’t see”

The surgery was taking too long.

Sighing, Anakin shifted in his chair.  He glanced to his right, where Ahsoka sat in her own chair, sleeping.

They’d been waiting since the afternoon—since she and Anakin had landed the ship at the nearest hangar and dragged Obi-Wan to the medbay.  Obi-Wan had protested at first, saying that he’d only suffered a minor head wound, but then he collapsed after the ship’s landing sequence ended.

And then…

Anakin had never seen a seizure before, so when it happened, he froze.

Luckily, Ahsoka seemed to know to roll Obi-Wan onto his side while it happened, and—

Well, then came the medics, and Master Che’s diagnosis and treatment.

A massive brain bleed, and surgery.

Which lead Anakin to where he was now—sitting and waiting for a Healer to come out and say that it was over, that Obi-Wan would be alright.

Anakin needed to hear that.  The longer this took, the more he began to think that there was a complication, and that something had gone terribly wrong and the Healers weren’t going to be able to save Obi-Wan, and then—

A shuffling sound.  Ahsoka’s brows scrunched together, and then her eyes opened.  She let out a quiet sigh.

“Hey, Skyguy,” she mumbled, stretching her arms above her head.  “Are they still working on him?”

Anakin nodded in response, and Ahsoka’s face fell.

“He’ll be alright,” she murmured.  “Maybe they’re just double-checking?  They did say the bleed was massive.  It could just be taking them a lot of time.”

“Maybe,” Anakin echoed.

They fell into silence after that.  Ahsoka stared at the floor, looking as though she was counting the tiles, while Anakin struggled to get his mind under control, because—

He couldn’t help but assume that the worst had happened.  Obi-Wan was…

Anakin had never seen him like that before, and it was too much.

There were quiet footsteps, bringing Anakin out of his thoughts, and then a Rodian Padawan Healer.

“Master Kenobi’s out of surgery now,” she informed them, voice quiet.  “I can take you to him, but I need to let you know…”

“Let us know what?” Anakin demanded, leaning forward.  “Did something happen?  Why did it take so long?  What’s—”

“Master,” Ahsoka said, giving Anakin a significant look.  Then, she turned towards the Healer.  “Please, tell us.”

Anakin didn’t completely understand all of the words that fell out of the Healer’s mouth, and he suspected that Ahsoka didn’t either.  All he knew was that he was hearing words like significant, more than expected, complications, and permanent damage.

At that last one, Anakin started.

“What?” he croaked.  “Permanent damage?”

The Healer sighed, bowing her head.  “The damage was more severe than expected.  We don’t know if…we simply won’t know how severe until he wakes up.”

“But permanent damage is a possibility,” Ahsoka said, voice quiet.  “That’s what you’re saying, right?”

The Healer nodded, and Anakin closed his eyes.

“Take us to him,” Ahsoka was saying, but her voice sounded so far away now, as though she went into another room.  “Please.”

“Of course,” the Healer replied, sounding even further away.

Numbly, Anakin stood up and followed them out of the empty waiting area, through the door, down the corridor into the recovery area.  Then, they stopped outside a door.

“The anesthesia is wearing off,” the Healer said, tilting her head towards the door.  “But he should be awake soon.  You can sit inside and wait.”

“Thank you,” Ahsoka said.  When the Healer walked away, Ahsoka opened the door, and then Anakin felt himself following, though he felt like he was somewhere far away, only watching all of this unfold from a distance.

The figure on the bed was barely recognizable.  There were bacta bandages wrapped around Obi-Wan’s head, wires and machines, and a horrible pallor to his face, along with the bruises.

Obi-Wan just didn’t look like himself at all.

Anakin found himself moving to the chair next to the bed and sitting down, Ahsoka following suit next to him.

Then, they waited in contemplative silence.  Ahsoka’s eyes tracked around the room, taking in the sight of the machines and monitors, while Anakin stared at Obi-Wan’s face, unable to tear his gaze away.

So when Obi-Wan’s eyes finally opened into tiny slits, something in Anakin’s stomach tightened.

“Master?” Ahsoka asked, jumping to her feet.  “Thank goodness you’re awake.  You’ve been out for a really long time, and the Healers had to take you to surgery.  How are you feeling?”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows furrowed, and he groaned softly.  Then, after a moment, he opened his mouth.

“Ahsoka?” he whispered, voice gravelly.

“Yeah, and Anakin’s here, too, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth worked as his eyes opened wider, staring up at the ceiling.  Then, he moved his head towards Anakin and Ahsoka.

“Anakin?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Obi-Wan,” Anakin replied, taking a step forward and reaching for Obi-Wan’s hand with his flesh one.  “Are you doing alright?  You look a bit…shaken.”

“Anakin, I can’t—”  Obi-Wan’s voice trembled, and then his eyes moved, away from Anakin and Ahsoka, raking across the room.  “I can’t see.”

A pause, except for Ahsoka’s quiet gasp, along with the feeling of the Force shaking with pain and desperate confusion.

And in between it all, Anakin was…lost.

(Pandora’s Febuwhump 2021 Masterlist)

[cloudyskywars]

15 Years

Written for @febuwhump Day 24: Memory Loss. I really like the idea of this one and might revisit this eventually! Like all my other febuwhump fics, this was written at like midnight so if I were to do this again I would probably flesh some more things out. But here, enjoy!

Anakin woke up, and the first thing he noticed was that he felt heavy. He couldn’t feel his legs, though when he looked down he could see they were strapped to a chair. Wait, he thought. Why is everything red? He looked down, only to notice his hands were also tied behind his back, and had force suppression cuffs on them. Great, he thought. 

He was wearing a helmet of some kind, one that completely covered his face. Apparently the visor had a red filter on it? That would explain why everything was tinted red. The silence of the room was interrupted by a heavy breathing, one that sounded almost mechanical. It reminded Anakin of Grievous. Belatedly, he realized the breaths were in time with his own.

Before he could ponder his odd situation any further, the (cell?) door opened and a Togruta walked in. She turned to him, and he gasped. The respirator made a terrible noise, but he ignored it.

“Ahsoka?” he asked, then recoiled at the sound of his own voice. It was so deep and wrong. But he pushed the thought aside, because somehow Ahsoka, a full-grown Ahsoka, was standing in front of him. 

She was tall, so much taller than he remembered her being. Her montrals and lekku had lengthened considerably, her leks reaching almost past her waist. The stripes on them had changed, too. Where they used to be thick and smooth, now they were thin and sharp. His eyes traveled to her face, and goodness, she was so grown up. Even her markings had changed- the white marks above her eyes now curved around, and the wings on her cheeks were elongated. But despite all of the changes, he would recognize her anywhere.

“How did you find us?” she asked, voice cold. It came out as more of a demand than a question. 

“Ahsoka, I don’t know what’s going on. Why am I in this suit? Why are you so old? Where’s Obi-Wan?” he asked. Force, his voice sounded so weird. Ahsoka’s eyes narrowed, and she saw her jaw clench.

“I’m going to be asking the questions here- not you. And do not call me that. My name is Fulcrum,” she said. 

“Fulcrum? C’mon, Snips, that’s a little weird, don’t you think?” Immediately after he said it, he knew he had made a mistake. Her hands shot down to her sides, and then her white lightsabers were crossed at his neck. White sabers? 

“How do you know that name?” she snarled. And Anakin wasn’t scared of much, but right now, he was scared of her. He oh so wished that his hands were free so he could show he meant no harm.

“Ahsoka, it’s me, Anakin. It’s Skyguy,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. It didn’t work well; the vocoder seemed to be designed to make his voice sound intimidating. Once again, Ahsoka bared her teeth at him. She has fangs now, he realized.

“You are not Anakin. Anakin is dead. Now answer me, how do you know that name, and how did you find us, Darth?” He recoiled. Why would she call him Darth? 

“Ahsoka, I promise it’s me! I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know why I’m in this suit or why you don’t recognize me, but Ahsoka, I promise that it’s me!” he said, voice desperate. Her expression didn’t change, and he knew he hadn’t swayed her. “Okay, okay, umm. How about I tell you something only I would know?” he said. Still, she didn’t respond, and her lightsabers remained at his neck.

“You-” he took a breath, and it echoed around the room. “You died on Mortis. I didn’t want to tell you at first, but you were having nightmares, and Obi-Wan convinced me to tell you.” He saw her eyes widen almost imperceptibly. Finally, he was getting somewhere. “Oh! And- and when you were on the run, after the Temple bombing, I found you in the sewers. Ahsoka, if you asked, I could tell you everything we said that night. Please, please believe me,” he begged. Slowly, she backed away and disengaged her lightsaber, hooking them back on her belt. 

“I’m still not convinced,” she said. But she at least looked intrigued, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “What year is it?” she asked. His brow furrowed, although she couldn’t see it.

“It’s 7958 C.R.C.” Ahsoka scoffed. 

“And I’m a bantha,” she said, sarcasm dripping. “You’re 15 years off. It’s 7973.” Anakin felt his stomach drop all the way to his feet that he couldn’t feel. 

“No, that can’t be. You’re on the way to Mandalore, and Obi-Wan and I are supposed to be on the way to save the Chancellor. I just gave you your sabers- they’re blue now, and you were going to capture Maul, and the war was about to end-“ she held up her hand and cut him off. For the first time, he realized how truly old she looked. Sure, she was clearly an adult now, but her eyes looked like they had seen too much. 

“The war ended 15 years ago. The Republic lost. And my Master and the Jedi are dead,” she practically hissed out. Anakin felt his face pale. 

“No, no, that can’t be right. We were winning! And the Jedi couldn’t have just died. Obi-Wan-” his voice cracked. “Obi-Wan couldn’t just die,” he gasped out. Her eyes saddened even more, if that were possible. 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi is dead. Slain at the hands of Darth Vader.” Vader. That’s a name he hadn’t heard before. But if he ever met this Vader, he would kill him and avenge Obi-Wan. 

“Who is this Vader?” Her eyes narrowed at him. 

“You are.”

[atlantis-scribe]

FEBUWHUMP 2021 — DAY 22

[ day 22 - burned ]

.

.

Rodney’s ears are still ringing by the time he crawls out of the trap door.

It’s dark, and he can smell smoke everywhere he turns, but Rodney pushes through, powered by nothing but the sheer need to get out. To go home.

When he reaches the end of the concrete maze, a strong breeze of cool, evening air hits his face, followed by light and the distinct smell of burning wood. Ah, so he didn’t imagine the explosion, after all.

“Rodney?”

It’s Teyla’s voice, familiar and comforting, and Rodney closes his eyes to bask in it. Hallucination or not, it’s the first good thing he’s come across in who knows how long, and the fight rushes out of Rodney almost immediately.

“McKay!” he hears someone shout just as his knees give out.

Suddenly, strong arms are supporting Rodney, and they slowly lower him to the ground. When he looks up, he barely makes out the ears and nose of Ronon Dex before he reaches a hand out to cup the other man’s cheek.

Rodney feels almost hysterical as he whispers, “You have no idea how happy I am to see your face right now.”

Ronon’s surprised huff is drowned out by a single sob that goes straight through Rodney’s chest.

When he looks up, he finds Sheppard standing a couple of yards away, silhouette backdropped by the wreckage of a building in flames.

“Wha. . . what happened?”

Teyla’s grip on Rodney’s arm is steady and firm. “We received word from your captors yesterday.”

“Said you were dead,” Ronon adds, hauling Rodney up with little effort. “Brought proof, too.”

Rodney tears his eyes away from Sheppard in time to see Teyla pursing her lips. “There was . . . sufficient evidence to believe their claims.”

Together, they assist Rodney as he limps his way over to where Sheppard is standing, seemingly frozen in place. Up close, Rodney could see soot all over the Colonel’s face, which is pale and unmoving. Rodney frowns, looks down, and has to blink once, twice, three times, before he can confirm that Sheppard’s hands really are shaking.

They haven’t done that in all the years Rodney’s known the man.

“Sheppard?”

Rodney’s eyes are drawn to the blazing structure that had once been a state-of-the-art lab, the flames so hot they’re almost glowing.

“You thought I was dead,” he says, like that explains everything.

There’s a brittle look on Sheppard’s face, and Rodney is tired and hurt, but he’s not stupid. He knows he has to salvage this before something else breaks. Maybe Sheppard.

“Did you even look inside before bringing out the C-4?”

Behind him, Ronon huffs again. “Like I said, they had proof.”

Rodney waves the excuse away, and takes the last few steps closer to Sheppard.

“John?”

It takes a long time before Sheppard blinks. “Hmm?”

Rodney manages a smile, weary but oh so grateful.

“You singed your eyebrows.”

[fatefulfaerie]

Broken Bones

Febuwhump prompt #16/28

Franchise: The Legend of Zelda University AU by @snickerduu (I promise this is the last one)

Word Count: 1,041

Zelda tread down the bleachers as her footsteps made that familiar clinking sound. She regretted having to go to the bathroom right in the middle of the big game, but she just couldn’t hold it anymore.

“What’d I miss?” She asked as she sat back down in her seat, taking the long strap of her purse off her shoulder.

“Not much,” said the stranger beside her. Despite the two sitting next to each other almost half the game now, those were the first words spoken to each other. “Necluda Knights lead Tabantha Eagles 2 to 1. There’s still time to catch up, though.”

Zelda smiled, giving a slight chuckle.

“You’re a Tabantha student, aren’t you?”

If their eyes weren’t glued to the baseball field below them, they would have looked at each other as they conversed.

“You aren’t?” The stranger beside her asked.

“Nope,” Zelda explained. “I’m a senior at HSU Necluda. My boyfriend of four years is number five.” Zelda pointed her finger at a distant person who currently guarded third base. “Right there.”

“I see,” the stranger said. 

A new silence hung over them as an Eagle athlete stepped up to the plate, preparing to swing the wooden bat in his hands with bent knees and loose hips, eyeing the pitcher who stared him down similarly.

The announcer said a name Zelda didn’t recognize or care to listen to as she watched intently. Before she met Link, she wasn’t into sports at all, and really she still wasn’t. Yet, she was invested in not only Link’s safety but also in his interests and thus, despite her worry for his danger, she had gone to almost every one of his various games. Besides, Link had proved himself a capable athlete.

The pitcher threw the ball with a high leg behind him, which was almost immediately hit by the batter, soaring through the air and starting to land where the people at first and second base had to run to catch it.

But, by the time they did, the batter had already passed first and was about to turn to second. The ball was thrown to Link after the batter had already passed second, and just as he neared third.

The batter hurtled full-force into Link, who had run to him slightly to ensure that the ball touched him and thus he would be given a strike. Yet, the weight of the batter was bit more than Link could handle, and they both tumbled to the ground rather ungracefully.

Link felt as if his ears were ringing, the wind knocked out of him where he lay disoriented. Pain radiated from a lot of different places in his body and yet he couldn’t quite place the most prevalent place until he stood up.

Zelda breathed a sigh of relief when Link did stand up, but her brow soon furrowed when he winced trying to put weight on his left leg. Link was trying to be nonchalant about it, but the announcer called out that that was the last strike, and that it was time for the Knights to move into the dugout to become the batting team.

Zelda could see Link’s hesitation, looking with another wince in his expression at how far away the dugout was.

“Link,” Zelda said as she leaned forward, her heart paralyzed with fear.

Link took a deep breath, and tried to summon all the strength he could, but in one foolish stride, he crumbled back down to his hands and knees, the audience gasping and Zelda immediately standing up. She strapped her purse back on and started hurrying out of the stadium to meet him where the medics would take him.

Link was panting where he was on his hands and knees. He couldn’t even feel his leg anymore, and his teammates and rivals were crowding around him attempting to help.

“Back off!” Link heard a voice say. “We’ll handle this.”

He felt hands on him, hands checking his pulse, his breathing, hands gripping his limbs, his back as he was handled onto a gurney. He heard voices but he could barely make them out because of all the commotion. He felt a very subtle sensation on his leg that he assumed to be temporary wrapping as white clouds and blue skies flitted across his view.

“There’s an ambulance right outside,” was the first thing he heard that was coherent, as well as the clicking wheels of the gurney. He recognized the dark grey ceiling he saw as the locker room.

Zelda was restless as she waited by the open ambulance, and perked up immediately after hearing wheels. The paramedics didn’t seem to care for her at all as they loaded Link onto the ambulance.

“Link,” she said as she ran. “Link!” She exclaimed. Link cranked his head to get a view of Zelda, who was stopped from getting in the ambulance by a paramedic.

“Let me through,” Zelda insisted. “I’m his girlfriend.”

“Hospital policy,” the paramedic said. “Only family members and spouses.”

“But—”

“Zelda,” Link interrupted, with a tone in his voice that told Zelda he was about to tell her to let the situation be. He should be getting to the hospital as soon as possible and this was wasting time. 

And yet, what he said next took her completely by surprise.

“Will you marry me?” He asked, Zelda’s eyes widening and her lips parting.

Even the paramedics had stopped.

Zelda had found the sincerity in Link’s blue eyes and smiled, everything seeming to slow down as she replied with all her heart.

“Yes.” She said, Link laughing and chuckling in disbelief.

“How about fiancés?” Zelda asked the paramedic, who stepped aside.

Zelda rushed onto the vehicle and to Link’s side, taking his hand. The paramedics who could afford to clapped while the others went back to their duties.

“Hey,” Zelda said.

“Hey,” Link replied.

Zelda leaned down and kissed him as the vehicle started with a jolt, continuing for a lingering, passionate second before withdrawing.

“Are you okay?” Zelda asked. “Do you feel any pain?”

Link tightened his grip on her hand.

“With you here?” He asked rhetorically, his eyes soft and on her. “I think I’ll be good as new in no time.”

[mybeautifulbeautifuleternal]

You didn’t see the shoes that tripped you. It didn’t really matter, you knew they were Owen’s. He always had a bad habit of just kicking off his shoes whenever he came in the front door, never taking the time to take care of them.

And it wasn’t really about the shoes. The aggression had been building up inside you for a while if you were going to be honest. It was hard for it to not build up, months of only barely sleeping. Sleep that was riddled with nightmares.

“Son of a bitch! Owen! Take care of your fucking shoes for once in your life. I’m tired of tripping over them,” you snarled out the order over your shoulder, in the general direction of the kitchen where Owen was busy making breakfast.

You were getting ready to go for a run. You needed to do something to tire yourself out.

You just wanted to sleep.

As you left the house, Owen came out from the kitchen and moved his shoes.

…

The run was long and demanding, going through the woods as you were. But it did give you time to think about the words you spoke this morning and you felt the regret climb up your throat. You really didn’t mean to sound so harsh with Owen. You knew you had to apologize.

It was quiet when you entered your house. It set your teeth on edge. You kept quiet as well as you searched for your husband. You found him on the back porch.

Leaning against the door, you saw that he noticed you joining him but was content to keep the silence. The two of you stayed there close to an hour, just watching the forest that surrounded your house.

It was you that broke the silence.

“I’m sorry about yelling at you this morning. It was wrong of me.”

“So why did you?” He didn’t turn to you but he was curious.

“I haven’t been getting any sleep. That incident stirred up my nightmares again. That doesn’t mean that I had the right to yell at you though.”

When you mentioned the nightmares, he turned to look at you over his shoulder. When you finished apologizing, he stood up and moved to hug you.

“Thank you for apologizing. Is there anything I could do to help?”

“I don’t know. I just want to sleep.”

“Then let’s go take a nap,” Owen turned you away from the outside and led you back into your bedroom.

“Ok,” you were just so tired. And you were glad that Owen forgave you for earlier. Hopefully, he could help you now.

[katelynnwrites]

pairing: Ezra Bridger x f!Reader (mostly platonic)

warnings: some fluff

word count: 710

summary: you can’t sleep and decide to take a walk around the Ghost, bumping into Ezra as you do

Febuwhump Prompt: ‘Insomnia’ (Day 6)

You wandered around the Ghost, your bare feet padding against the cool metal floor soundlessly. It was one of those nights where you just couldn’t seem to sleep. You had been too restless to stay in your bunk so you got out, hoping that by walking around, you would become tired enough to sleep.

Making your way to the nose gun, you hesitated as you heard the faint sounds of someone speaking.

Curiosity overcoming you, you crept towards the door.

‘I’ve been training with Kanan every day and I’m getting better at being a Jedi.’

You immediately identified the voice as Ezra’s, wondering who he was talking to.

‘We’ve been fighting against the Empire, continuing your work. Hera says that you would be really proud of me and I know that. I just wish you were here to tell me that.’

There was a pause, almost as if Ezra was thinking about what to say next.

‘There’s something else I would’ve liked to talk to you about.’

Ezra’s voice had changed. The tone of it had seemed almost softer?

You stepped back, realizing that you had unintentionally intruded Ezra’s privacy. This was a moment meant just for him and his parents and you guiltily turned back around.

Then you heard your name.

‘Y/n. I think you would have liked her. She’s funny, caring and ever so kind. She makes me laugh harder than anyone ever has before and she’s always looking out for me. Even when we’re not on missions. Like how she’s outside right now.’

You freeze, panicking at your discovery. A few seconds passed and your panic increased. Ezra didn’t speak about his parents often, preferring to keep those memories to himself. The last thing you wanted to do was cross a line.

‘Just come in Y/n.’ Ezra’s voice has an underlying current of laughter and you relax, knowing that he wasn’t angry.

The door slides open and you see that Ezra is sitting on the gunner’s seat with the holodisk projection of his parents in front of him.

‘How did you know I was there?’ You ask, smiling sheepishly.

‘I can sense you remember?’ Ezra grins, stretching his arms out in front of him.

‘Oh.’ You blush slightly at his statement.

‘Does it work on everyone?’ You ask curiously. While you had watched Kanan and Ezra train, you had never quite understood the nature of their abilities.

‘Yeah. I just have to concentrate more. Sensing your presence comes easily to me. Sometimes I don’t even have to think about it. It just happens.’ He explains.

Turning back to the hologram, his lips quirk up in a little smile.

‘I told you she was watching. Meet Y/n, Mom, Dad. She’s special. I wish you could have met her.’ His tone was gentle and you blushed even harder at his compliment.

Spinning the chair around, he shut off the hologram.

‘Why are you up?’ He questioned.

‘I could say the same of you E.’ You fire back, giggling softly.

He grins again at the nickname.

‘Can’t sleep. You?’

‘Same.’ You reply, gazing out into the stars.

There was a small click and you turned back around to find that Ezra had opened one of the overhead compartments.

‘Here.’ He tossed a blanket to you and you smile gratefully.

‘Stay and watch the stars with me?’ He asked, his bright blue eyes sparkling with hope.

You didn’t even have to think about your decision.

‘Of course.’

******

‘Ezra? Y/n?’ Hera’s voice echoed through the ship.

‘Kids!’ Zeb yelled.

Hera shook her head as she moved down the corridor. Those adopted space kids of hers were always getting in trouble. The rest of the crew woke up this morning to find both Y/n and Ezra were missing.

There was a hiss as the door slid open and she sighed in relief at the sight.

Snickering, she smiled at the two teenagers who were cuddled up against each other in the corner of the room.

‘Y/n?’ She softly murmured, attempting to wake the sleeping teen.

Her smile widened as the girl shifted and burrowed further into Ezra’s side.

She giggled softly as Ezra wrapped his arm around her, almost as if he didn’t want her to leave.

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