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kybercrystals94 · 2 months

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Sick Day

Read here on Ao3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 29 | Prompt 29: Not Allowed to Die || Bad Things Happen Bingo: Hallucinations

Rated: G | Words: 516 | Summary: Echo is sick with a fever.

“Echo, I’m going to help you sit up.”

Everything hurts, even the soft weight of the blanket over his body. “Ugh, what’s wrong with me?” Echo groans.

An arm wraps around his shoulders, a hand on his bicep, and he is guided upright. “You're sick.”

“How? Clones don’t get sick.”

“Most clones don’t get sick. Clones with compromised immune systems on the other hand…” The arm and hand leave him, and something presses to his lips. “Here, drink this.”

The cool water feels like swallowing glass, but Echo dutifully takes several gulps before pushing the canteen away. “I don’t have a compromised immune system,” Echo protests, leaning back against the headboard of his bunk. He finally opens his eyes and glances at his brother sitting next to him.

Fives shrugs. “I’m not a medic, that’s just what I was told. Either way, you’re sick. You’ve got a fever.”

“I feel like I got hit by a speeder and then trampled by a rancor,” Echo grumbles.

“You’re so dramatic,” Fives huffs.

“I prefer poetic,” Echo says, letting his eyes slip shut again.

“Hey now,” Fives says, giving Echo a small shake. “No falling asleep yet. Tech still needs to run diagnostics. He wanted to wait until you were awake.”

Echo’s eyes snap open and he looks at his brother. “Who?”

Confusion and concern battle for dominance across Fives’ expression. “Tech,” he says, slowly. “You know who Tech is.”

Echo shakes his head, not because he doesn’t but because…Fives doesn’t. Fives can’t know who Tech is because they’ve never met.

“Echo, do you know who I am?” Fives asks, leaning forward.

“Of course I know who you are, Fives.” Echo tries to laugh, but it comes out strangled of any humor.

Fives’ face falls. “Oh, Echo,” he breathes. “I think…I think the fever is messing with your head.”

“No it’s not. I can see you. You’re right here.” Echo reaches out to grab Fives’ arm, but Fives pulls back, narrowly escaping being struck by Echo’s scomp.

That’s not right.

Echo’s takes a shuddering breath.

“Easy, Echo,” Fives soothes, moving closer again, hands up in a pacifying way. “I need you to stay calm.”

“No,” Echo cries, “You’re not dead! Fives, you’re here. You’re not dead.”

Fives looks heartbroken. “Echo…Fives has been dead for a long time.”

Tech steps up behind Fives, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Maybe it would be best if we sedate him…just until his fever is under control.”

Fives stands and steps to the side, letting Tech take his place at Echo’s bedside. “Tech,” Echo pleads, “Tell Fives he’s not dead. He’s right there. You see him, don’t you?”

Tech shakes his head. “I’m afraid you are mistaken, Echo.”

Echo tries to pull away when Tech lifts the hypo to his neck, but it is like his energy has evaporated, and he can do nothing but weakly protest as the needle pricks his skin. “No…He can’t be dead.”

Before the world around him melts into darkness, Echo thinks he hears Fives whisper, “I am so sorry, brother.”

END

✨Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!✨

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#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday29 #prompt 29: not allowed to die #bad things happen bingo #hallucinations #sickfic #star wars #the bad batch #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #echo tbb #echo needs a hug

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kabie-whump · 2 months

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♡ Febuwhump Day 29: Not Allowed to Die ♡

@febuwhump

omg last day! I'm done! That being said I accidentally wrote two for this prompt. I decided to post this one but I might do the other later cause it's about Solstice and I love them.

So here's another little thing to go with my series, 'Ripe, About to Fall.' Takes place some time before Onthyes shows up.

Content: pet whump, ! suicide attempt ! , intimate whumper, jumping off a balcony attempt, defiant whumpee, nonhuman whumpee, drug addiction/withdrawls, non explicit dub-con (or non-con depending on how you see it), transactional sex

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Not so fast, little bird."

Ventis yelps as Athos's hand snags his arm and pulls him from the railing of the balcony.

"No!" Ventis grabs the railing, holding himself there as Athos tries to drag him back inside. "Let me go!"

Suddenly, Athos stops pulling and pushes on Ventis's head, causing his face to hit the railing so hard that he blacks out. When he comes to he's sprawled out on Athos's bedroom floor and the man is locking the balcony doors.

"Did you really think you could escape like that?" Athos asks as he returns to Ventis, grabbing his horn harshly to pull him up to his knees. "That fall would've killed you!"

"I know!" Ventis snaps back.

Athos's face goes from shock to rage faster than Ventis can comprehend. His hand flies, striking Ventis across his cheek and leaving a cut in the wake of his ring. Ventis's head snaps to the side but Athos uses his hold on his horn to pull it back to face him.

"Stupid boy. You would really rather kill yourself than spend another day in luxury?"

Ventis averts his eyes, earning a hand on his jaw, squeezing too hard. "Look at me," Athos demands.

Ventis looks, his eyes filling with tears.

"You aren't allowed to die," Athos hisses in his face. "Not unless I want you to. Your contract states it very clearly."

"I hate you," Ventis snarls. "Death would be better than having to look at your ugly face all day."

He's slapped again, then shoved to the floor. He curls into himself as Athos's foot slams into his ribs and leaves him gasping for air. After a few more kicks Athos grabs Ventis's wrist and drags him over to the bed where he cuffs it to one of the posts at the end.

"You're sleeping on the floor tonight," Athos says as he secures the chain. "And no nightspill until you learn to be grateful for what I do for you."

Fear rushes through Ventis and he can't help but let out a sob. He can't go through withdrawals again. It hurts too much. "No, please. I'm sorry." He reaches for Athos, catching the edge of his robe and pulling on it. "I'll make it up to you. I'll be good, I promise."

Athos sighs, reaching down to pet Ventis's hair. "I wish you would be this sweet to me when you aren't in trouble, dearest."

Ventis stares up at him, batting his lashes. "Please, master," he says again. "Let me show you how good I can be for you."

Athos cups Ventis's cheek gently, smiling at him. "You're finally learning the way of things here. I'm very proud of you, treasure."

Ventis takes a deep breath, preparing himself for what is to come. He's willing to take a few moments of discomfort tonight to ensure he won't have to go through withdrawals tomorrow. It's worth it, even if this man disgusts him.

Just a few physical acts and he can avoid punishment completely.

Except when it's over and Athos is satisfied, Ventis is banished to the floor again. and when the next morning comes Athos ignores Ventis's pleading looks and the nightspill box remains firmly locked.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Ventisposting taglist (aka a list of people who i want to bake cookies for):

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet @rainydaywhump

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across-violet-skies · 2 months

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Febuwhump day 29: not allowed to die

Whumpees: the Chain

Whump Rating: 10/10

TWs: major character death (of sorts. it's complicated), blood & injury

Time seemed to slow down as Hyrule glanced over at his teammates.

Time and Warriors were holding their ground, as were Sky and Twilight. Wild was in the trees somewhere, picking off monsters with his bow, and Legend was blasting monsters with his fire rod.

Wind was down for the count. He would be fine, but he couldn’t fight in his current state, so he was sitting on the sidelines woozily. Wild was close enough to keep an eye on him, at least.

Which left Four. He had been fighting alongside Wind, but now with the sailor out of commission, monsters were beginning to gang up on the smithy. He slashed furiously at Bokoblins and Moblins as they surrounded him, finding their smallest member to be an easy target. Four was strong and a capable fighter for sure, but there were only so many monsters that one person could reasonably manage at one time, and the smith was reaching that limit.

Hyrule watched with horror as a Moblin raised a spiked club, swinging it with incredible speed and dexterity for a beast of that size.

“Four!” Hyrule called, alarmed.

It was too late.

The traveler watched with horror as Four turned to look, eyes widening for a split second before the club made contact with his chest, creating the most terrible cracking sound. The smithy flew backward into a sturdy tree, crumpling into a pile on the ground.

“FOUR!” Hyrule screamed, sending a sword beam through a Lizalfos’ throat before running to his friend. The monsters had dispersed already, assuming the smithy to be dead.

Hyrule desperately hoped they were wrong. They had to be wrong.

Legend, who had also seen the events, came running as well. Hyrule skidded to his knees next to Four, frantically searching for a pulse or breathing or something. He couldn’t be dead. He had to be alive. He had to be.

“I’ll guard you!” The Veteran yelled, falling into a defensive stance as more monsters approached the fallen smithy.

Hyrule didn’t bother replying, too focused on finding a pulse. Four’s body– so small, so vulnerable like this– was mangled, especially in the chest area. But there was a faint movement there, a strained breath. Four was alive, but only just. He would have to heal this quickly if the smith was going to continue to live.

Focusing, Hyrule shut his eyes, puffing out his cheeks. Magic pooled in his hands, and he slammed a ton of it into Four all at once, crying out. Green tendrils poured from the traveler, sinking into the smithy’s broken body. Four shuddered and choked, quickly going silent. Tears leaked from the corners of Hyrule’s closed eyes as he continued pressing everything he had into Four in hopes of healing him.

“Oh…” Twilight murmured breathlessly. Hyrule didn’t dare turn around as more presences made themselves known around him. One got close, grabbing Four’s wrist, then pressing fingers against his neck.

“Four…” Sky whispered, voice breaking.

A gentle hand laid itself on the traveler’s shoulder. “Hyrule…” It was Twilight. “Hyrule, stop.”

Stop? Why would he stop? Four needed to be healed, and that’s what he was doing! If he stopped, then…

“Hyrule,” Twilight repeated, firmer this time. “Link. You need to stop. You can’t do anything.”

Hyrule froze. What? No, no, he could do something… the only way his magic wouldn’t help was if Four was already dead, and that couldn’t… no. He couldn’t be. Four wasn’t allowed to die, he wasn’t allowed to die! Nobody could die, no, none of them could die…

Heart pounding, Hyrule peeked his eyes open. Warriors was sitting on the smith’s other side, eyes solemn as he shook his head. Four was lying perfectly still, partially healed but not quite enough. It hadn’t been enough. He couldn’t save Four. Four was dead.

Hyrule screamed.

He screamed, sobbing as he collapsed onto the smithy’s still– too still – body. No, not body– Four’s corpse. Because Four was dead and Hyrule couldn’t save him and it just wasn’t enough no matter what he did. Maybe if he hadn’t wasted time searching for a pulse, maybe if his magic was stronger, maybe if Four hadn’t been cornered in the first place-

“Hyrule.” Twilight’s strong arms wrapped around him, holding him in a tight hug. “You did everything you could. It’s okay.”

It’s okay? It’s okay?! How could anything be okay?! One of them was dead on the ground and it was okay? Nothing was okay! How were they supposed to move on from this?

All that came out was a choked sob as Hyrule crumpled against Twilight’s chest, shaking with each pained cry. The rancher held him gently, rubbing the traveler’s back.

Time, Warriors, and Sky carefully wrapped up Four’s body, treating him with the utmost care and respect. Sky cried softly as he helped, and Time and Warriors’ eyes were misty as well. Wild and Legend had both disappeared somewhere, and Wind was just coming to.

“Here, Hyrule,” Twilight murmured, petting the brunette’s hair comfortingly. “Why don’t you help the sailor? Do you have enough magic left?”

Hyrule nodded miserably, hands glowing as he sobbed brokenly. Wind’s dazed expression dissipated as the magic flowed, healing his head injury with ease. At least he could do that… but it was too late for Four. The smithy was dead, wrapped up in his favorite blanket with all those colors on it. Almost like his tunic, Hyrule thought, sobbing weakly.

“Ughhh,” Wind groaned, holding a hand to his head. “What happened?”

Twilight stood up, leaving Hyrule to usher their youngest away. “Let’s talk,” the rancher said to Wind, dragging him away from the scene.

Now it was only Hyrule, Sky, Time, and Warriors. Well, and Four. But Four was-

“‘Rulie,” Sky sniffled, wrapping the traveler in a hug. “I’m so sorry, I wish I could’ve been here to help. You did your best… I’m so sorry!” The Skyloftian knight held Hyrule close as they cried together, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“I…” Warriors sighed, clearly upset despite his attempts to conceal it. “I guess I’ll go look for Champ and Vet.”

“Someone should stay here with…” Time grimaced, gesturing to the blanket wrap that held the smithy’s corpse. “You go on ahead, try to find them. We’ll search for a gravesite when all of us are together.”

“...Right.” Warriors ran off without another word, but his sobs were loud enough to hear anyway. Sky and Hyrule remained on the ground, clutching each other like their life depended on it. Time stood over Four’s body, closing his eye as he hung his head. It was clear the loss was taking a toll on all eight of them, but Hyrule was easily the most upset. He blamed himself, after all.

“You did your best…” Sky repeated, sniffling. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not any of our faults,” Time agreed. Sky and Hyrule glanced up at him with teary eyes. “We couldn’t have known. We… there was nothing we could do to stop it.” The Old Man sighed, shaking his head. “I never wanted to bury one of our own.”

“None of us do,” Twilight replied, expression solemn. Wind followed behind him, sniffling as he laid eyes on the small wrapped body.

“Four,” he whispered, jaw dropping as he stared, wide-eyed. “No, I- no.”

Sky opened his arm, scooting so there was more space. “C’mere.”

Wind fell to his knees, sobbing as he leaned into Sky and Hyrule. The three of them cried together while Twilight joined Time’s vigil over Four’s body. Warriors returned soon after with Wild and Legend, bringing their number back up to nine eight. Wild took one look at the blanket wrap before breaking down, sobbing into Twilight’s arms. Legend just stared numbly, expression unreadable.

“We should find somewhere to bury him,” Time murmured after a few minutes.

Warriors nodded. “We’ll have ourselves a little funeral. A… proper sendoff.”

“He wouldn’t’ve wanted anything fancy,” Wild added, voice breaking as he tried not to cry.

“I found a place.” Everyone turned to look at Legend, save for the three on the ground. The Vet’s expression remained emotionless as he stared at the body of his friend. “South from here. Bunch’a mushrooms and shit around.”

He would've liked it there went unsaid.

Time nodded, for once not bothering to correct the language. “We’ll check it out.”

They gathered their things, and Time carefully lifted Four’s body, draping him over his shoulder. Twilight carried Wild, and Warriors carried Wind. Sky helped Hyrule to his feet, offering a ride to the traveler as well. The kid was small enough to carry without much difficulty anyway, and he was extremely distraught by the day’s events (as the rest of them were).

So Time, Twilight, Warriors, Sky, and Legend walked south until they found a nice spot, setting their stuff up for the night. Hyrule and Wind were sent to bed (neither of them could sleep, but some rest would do them some good), Legend sat and stared at the campfire, and Wild made a spot for himself up in a tree. Sky sat near Legend, carving something, and Time, Warriors, and Twilight dug a hole.

As dusk approached, all eight of them gathered around the hole in the ground, around six feet deep but around four feet in length. No words passed between the eight remaining Links as Four’s body was lowered into the ground, buried with dirt until a small lump of raised ground was the only sign of their fallen comrade’s grave.

Wild approached silently, jamming a row of tied sticks in the dirt over Four’s head. He bowed his head, pressing a hand into the dirt sadly. When Wild retreated, Sky took his place, kneeling to the side of the grave to lay a small, wooden sword, carved by his own hand. It resembled Four’s weapon but with a small feather carved in the handle, nearly identical to the one the smithy had worn as an earring.

“We’ll miss you,” Sky whispered, closing his eyes as he lifted his face to the darkened sky. “Rest in peace, Link.”

Hyrule and Wind both wore miserable expressions, faces stained with tear tracks matching their red, puffy eyes. The pair clung to each other, doing their best to stifle any sobs. Legend’s facade had finally cracked, and his eyes were rimmed red as tears slipped silently down his cheeks. Warriors had shed a few tears as well, and Twilight was sniffling as he hugged Wild close. Time’s head was bowed, but a stray tear or two dripped off into the dirt below.

None of them could believe Four was really gone. They buried him, they mourned him, but it hadn’t actually set in yet. Denial hit hard among the remaining Heroes of Courage as they said their final goodbyes to one of their own.

They say it gets worse before it gets better, but it was hard to imagine things getting worse than this. Maybe they would never fully recover from losing Four. They would be forced to move on nevertheless. Fate was cruel in that way.

None of them slept a wink that night. Those who tried were quickly awoken by nightmares, forced to relive the death of their friend. The death of their brother. And, once sunrise was upon them, a portal appeared, forcing them to move on against their will. And once the last Link passed through, it closed, sealing Four away from them forever. The smithy was really, truly gone, and there was nothing any of them could do about it.

Wind and Hyrule both blamed themselves. If Wind hadn’t gotten knocked out, if Hyrule had been faster, if someone had just been there to look out for Four-

There was no use dwelling on the past, no matter how painful it was. You can’t change the past. Nobody could change the past. Whatever happens happens and there’s nothing anyone can do to fix it.

Time pulled out his ocarina, smoothing his hand over it.

He covered the holes with his fingers, preparing for that first note.

He held the instrument up to his lips…

…and played the Song of Time.

–> support me on ao3!

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what-the-whump · 2 months

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Febuwhump 2024 | Day 29 | Not Allowed to Die

Power Rangers Operation Overdrive | 1x32 | Crown and Punishment

#Power Rangers #Power Rangers Operation Overdrive #Mack Hartford #1x32 #hurt #worry #medical care #death #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday29

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uss-genderprise · 2 months

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three wishes // lisanto

hiiiiii i am extremely normal about the sexy metal lingerie episode i swear

made for @febuwhump day 29 along with this fic. youtube version with subtitles here.

#torchwood #cyberwoman #ianto jones #lisa hallett #jack harkness #captain jack harkness #lisaianto #lisanto #janto #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday29 #vid #fanvid #fan edit #my edit

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shih-coulda-had-it · 2 months

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FEBUWHUMP | NOT ALLOWED TO DIE | WC: 695

a/n: speculative ficlet on the end of bnha. manga spoilers.

His whole body ached. This was nothing new to Tomura, who had been plagued with an awareness of bodily discomfort since he was conscious enough to register it, but unlike before, there was no way he could relieve himself of the pain.

He could not lift a limb; he could barely turn his head.

Beside him on the torn-up battlefield, Midoriya wheezed and wept dry, rasping sobs. He looked even more of a mess than Tomura, and the insides of Tomura were still churning with the stupid, indigestible truth that deep down, he was a pitiful child wanting to be saved. The ghosts had been ruthless in their excavation.

“Shut up,” Tomura managed, and his lips curled weakly to bare his teeth. “Just--would you shut the hell up and kill me already?”

Midoriya twitched. Unlike Tomura, Midoriya was laid-out flat on his back, face turned to the sky and all four limbs stretched out like a butterfly pinned to a corkboard. The kid didn’t even bother twisting his neck. He just side-eyed Tomura with unwarranted incredulity.

“A hero wouldn’t hesitate. Not after all I’ve done.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do,” Midoriya said, unsteadily, “for the past hour?”

“You’re trying to be the good guy. ‘There’s always someone to save.’ Ugh.”

The doctor had subjected him to intense electric shocks, conditioning his body before the transfer of All for One, and the Quirk still hadn’t integrated peacefully. Star and Stripes tried to smother him in the ocean and obliterate him altogether. In neither of these cases did Tomura cry.

Tears were beading up now, threatening to spill over and soak the ground. Tomura crooked his fingers against the dirt, seeking Decay in the fiery ruins of his veins, and tasting blood when all he turned up was more pain.

“I can’t do this,” he gasped. “I can’t look at--at all their stupid faces--and listen to them tell me that I was wrong--”

Unbelievably, Midoriya wrenched himself to the side and reached over to grab a fistful of Tomura’s hair. He said, “You don’t get to die.” He sounded like a hero; he sounded like a maniac who would see Tomura thrown into some asylum for ‘recovery’ when all it would really be was an indefinite term of drugged incarceration. “One for All didn’t go away so you could die. I told them I’d save you, and I will.”

“You and what Quirk?! You think you count for anything now? Even All Might’s word doesn’t mean shit!”

“You’re Quirkless too, now!” Midoriya fired back.

Tomura clenched his jaw. Maybe if he ate enough dirt, he’d throw up, choke on his own vomit, and die before any medical assistance reached them. Like being unable to use a Quirk mattered to the terrified, paranoid judicial system. He’d dusted both of Overhaul’s arms up to the elbows and they booked him in Tartarus anyway.

“I won’t let you disappear,” the boy swore.

“Moron,” Tomura spat. “I’m telling you over and over again, it doesn’t matter what the hell you want. You’re gonna stand against the heroes when they drag me to prison? You’re gonna ask them to go easy on me with the sentencing? It’d be more merciful to just kill me!”

Midoriya yanked on Tomura’s hair, and Tomura wailed a long, despairing cry into the dirt. Would anyone else help him? Dabi--useless. Toga--useless. Spinner--gone. Mr. Compress--imprisoned. All Tomura had left was Midoriya, and he hated Midoriya, but not enough to suppress Tenko’s needy want for a friend.

“If they take you, I’ll find you. I’ll ask All Might to find a safehouse in the country. I’ll make sure you have dogs to take care of.” Midoriya released Tomura and rolled himself completely to his stomach. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry. Exhaustion weighed on him as heavily as the hurt did on Tomura. “Don’t you want to live?”

This was the final straw, amidst the many final straws that had edged their fight further and further in Midoriya’s favor. Tomura had no desire to voice Tenko’s want, so he scrunched his wet eyes shut and screamed into the shattered earth.

Next to him, Midoriya waited.

#bnha #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #midoriya izuku #deku #shih.txt #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday29 #seven days out of twenty-nine... i think i did better on word count than last year at least

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whumpacabra · 2 months

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Day 29: Not Allowed to Die

Captivity, torture, hand trauma [nailed to a table], suicidal ideation, begging, blood, crying, nonconsensual kiss, referenced shock collar, referenced memory issues, ableism, implied past and future noncon

[Follows A Wolf with No Name]

His handler wasn’t asking questions anymore. The Wolf didn’t have any answers to give. But that didn’t make him stop; the humiliation and the shame and the pain - it was inescapable. There was only one way the Wolf could think of getting out of this hell.

“You look terrible. Let’s get those nails out, hm?” His handle procured a hammer while the Wolf stared at his hands. His handler had hammered those nails through flesh, chipping bone to secure his hands to the table.

“Please…” His voice was so low, so soft - even without the collar the Wolf always feared the shock, the blinding pain. He wasn’t supposed to speak without permission, let alone beg. But he was too tired to care.

He needed this to stop.

“You say something, bitch?” His handler’s voice was disinterested, hammer teeth aligned to pull the first nail. It was freed in a single motion, the wound it left behind bloody and electric with pain.

“Please…” The Wolf repeated, voice raspy as tears began to streak down his bloodstained face. “Please kill me.”

He didn’t care how. His handler could beat him to death with that hammer, break every bone, rip him apart from the inside out - as long as it was the last time, as long as he died and stayed dead he didn’t care. He couldn’t break anymore, physically or mentally.

He just couldn’t.

His handler paused mid motion, a nail left half embedded in the Wolf’s hand as his handler stepped back. He regarded his project with unreadable eyes, amusement twitching at his face.

“Really? A few nails and you’re ready to throw in the towel? I thought I made you better than this, Wolf.” His handler laughed, ignoring his projects silent sobs. “I told you, you know - I told you I’d make you wish I killed you. Do you remember that? Or is that Swiss cheese brain if your’s missing that?”

“I remember, sir.” Partially, fragments of pain and blood and alien anger he wouldn’t dare grasp for now. He hadn’t believed his handler then. He should have.

“Well, then there’s your proof that I keep my promises. And I promise you, Wolf - ” His handler tangled his fingers in the Wolf’s matted hair, yet he so gently tilted the Wolf’s face up to meet his own. The kiss was rough and only lasted a few heartbeats, but still the taste of his handler’s cigarettes lingered on the Wolf’s tongue. “I won’t let you die. You don’t deserve that - that mercy. You are going to live, and if you listen to me, maybe one day you can do something to make up for your shitty, miserable life.”

“Please, please don’t - ” The Wolf cut himself off, mouth snapped shut with a whimper in his throat as his handler leaned in with a white toothed smile.

“You die when I give you permission to die; do you understand, bitch?” The Wolf gave a shaky nod, tear filled eyes trying to stare into the middle distance, to find that far away place where he could wait for a lull in the pain and the shame and the humiliation. His voice was hoarse, catching on his raw throat as he forced words from his uncooperative tongue.

“Yessir. Sorry sir.”

“Good boy. Now, don’t make a sound while I get the rest of these nails out. Save those for later, hm?”

His handler ruffled the Wolf’s hair and planted a quick kiss on his cheek, yanking out the next nail. The Wolf bit his tongue until it bled, swallowing back iron tinged spit between his hollow, soundless sobs.

[Before Vows]

(Part of my Freelancers: Swansong series)

Taglist: @stargeode

#whump #captivity #torture #hand trauma #suicidal ideation #begging #blood #crying #nonconsensual kiss #shock collar #memory issues #ableism #past noncon #freelancers #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday29 #we done o7 back to TWaTH AU and out of context canon

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scratchandplaster · 2 months

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FEBUWHUMP DAY 29 - Not allowed to die

CW: tiny/nonhuman Whumpee, existential horror

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Whumpee is a small homunculus sculpted from wax. When the sun sets, the creator ignites its body and spirit to illumine their workplace. It can walk to every spot it is commanded to, silent and dutifully giving its life force for them, as wax drips down its body.

Throughout its short life, the homunculus is always careful not to mark any scattered manuscripts on the table with its spilled self.

At the end of the night, the creator will blow out their flame of life as swift as they gave it and mold its successor anew out of cold remains and fresh wax. A part of it is forced to live on forever, yet that's all it is good for: fulfilling an unending purpose.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Art ↓

So yesterday I used a gif with my prompt that I got from a public source, but thanks to a comment I was told it was actually stolen from the artist kirokaze. If you liked the gif, check them out! Guess l´ll use less gifs in the future.

To make amends, you have to put up with my own sketches for now. Here is the little wax dude from above:

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

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such-a-random-rambler · 2 months

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Febuwhump - Day 29

The air’s thick in John’s throat, leaching all strength from his limbs. He staggers, gropes for the wall but manages to miss, and collapses on hands and knees. Shards of glass stab into his palms, and the world swirls, twisting and distorting.

From the smoke strides a man in life-saving blue, stuttering from far to near in time with John’s heartbeat. A hand cups the back of his head, an oxygen mask pushed a little too firmly against his face. His lungs unclench.

Static in his ears fades so he can hear the steady voice: “No dying on us today.”

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday29 #not allowed to die #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #john tracy

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comfort-questing · 2 months

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29. not allowed to die

the reappearance of Ari and her friend from day 19

it wasn't until the dusty, cloud-wracked afternoon that they reached the outpost, Ari's faltering footsteps dragging where she stumbled along at their side, their arm numb from holding her up. hours later than they'd hoped, this - but by that time they were grateful enough to see the low roofs huddled at the top of the next rise, and the clear path beaten down to dry dirt among the scrub brush and grass.

they told her they were almost there, just as they'd been speaking to her all the long day of travel. whether she heard, or whether she understood, had seemed less and less likely each hour. she hadn't answered this time, either. so they'd scooped her up over their arm and shoulder, the feverish heat of her face burning into their neck, and made it halfway up the hill before some of the other scouts met them.

by that time they were almost ready to collapse, too, but bit their lip and kept standing, because Ari needed the waiting arms of their companions far more than they did. still, they could have wept with relief as the wicker and wood gates finally swung open ahead of them, leading into the courtyard and safety and the closest thing to home that they had known for a long time.

the closest thing to home except, of course, for her.

"you did very well to keep her alive on the way back," the medic said, his voice as soft and tired as his eyes that met theirs. "I don't know a lot of scouts here that would have had the wits and nerve to manage it, quite frankly."

they licked their dry lips, cracked despite the water bottle they'd been nursing since their return. "thank you. I - I tried."

the medic nodded. "she's on fever reducers now, pain relief to help her rest, and a few things to fight the infection. we'll see how it goes overnight, and re-consider in the morning."

re-consider. they knew that there were questions like this, out in the wilds; there were only so many supplies, and only so much that could be done. they nodded, numbly, watching Ari's slow breaths beneath the blankets layered over her. the tautness of pain had relaxed a little now, around her mouth and her eyes, and she seemed at peace for the first time in so many many hours.

"I won't lie to you, she's very sick. but we'll give her the best chance we can. just like you did."

the medic's hand on their shoulder was comforting, for a moment, as he passed them by and left the two of them alone. they sighed and leaned over, elbows on their knees, and found Ari's hand with theirs. she didn't stir, her eyelids heavy and unflickering. the tube in her left arm dripped some slow bright liquid down from the bottle hung over her bed, each drop catching a bit of the dull sunlight through the window.

"you can't die." their voice was hoarse in their suddenly stiff throat. "I - I won't let you, Ari dear, just like I said last night - you're going to be all right, we're back at the outpost, you've got the meds you need... it wouldn't be fair if you died now - "

her fingers were limp in theirs as they turned her hand upwards. the muddy clothes were gone now, replaced with a too-large faded gown from the medical cupboard, but the dirt under her fingernails had stayed. they bit their lip to hold back the tears starting sharp in their eyes.

"Ari dear. please. you're not allowed to die, can you hear me?"

they slept next to her that night, again, after a cursory shower at the medic's command - he didn't fancy having that much wilderness grime next to his patient, it seemed, which made sense. Ari's dreams must have been dark, from her whimpering and crying out, or else the pain medication had worn off. they held her as best they could - held tight to the shivery shell of her, her mind and voice seeming too far away to reach now, but perhaps somehow she could still feel their arms, as she had the night before.

in the small hours of the morning they half-woke to the medic frowning down at the two of them, his fingers pressed to Ari's wrist to count her pulse.

"is she - " though they could feel her faint, overheated breath on their face, a moment later, stilling their sudden panic.

"she's no weaker than she was, anyway; she might be rallying. heartbeat's still steady and her lungs are clear, no fluid or systemic infection... we'll try another round of meds and see."

they yawned, too tired for proper gratefulness, and watched him dimly as he compounded and set another bag to drip; it wasn't dawn yet, or near dawn even, the single harsh lightbulb of the unshaded lamp the only light in the infirmary. but they heard, or thought they heard, a bird singing somewhere nonetheless somewhere outside; despite the darkness that hadn't let go of the world, undaunted by the distant wail of a monster somewhere in the night.

and when they took Ari's hand in theirs again, they thought they felt her fingers squeeze back, ever so slightly; so they leaned over and kissed her forehead, and lay back down to wait for day.

#whump #hurt comfort #febuwhumpday29 #febuwhump2024 #lady whump #here we are I guess!

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tired-of-being-nice · 2 months

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not allowed to die (+ i love you)

febuwhump day 29!!!!!! we made it guys!!!! this is a combo of the actual prompt (not allowed to die) and an alt prompt (i love you), and oh boy, i've been planning it out for a LONG time >:D let's go!

content: some questionably healthy relationships, sickfic, fever specifically, mentions of death

Ray brings them towels, which Milo is disgustingly grateful for—it's a good thing Ray has so many favors to pay back, they have to keep reminding themself, or they'd owe her after all this.

But it's nice to no longer feel quite so much like a miserable wet cat, and they and Ray conduct in whispers a negotiation of the exact terms of this. Much of their relationship, really, has been built off of owed favors and transactions—it is precisely this that made Milo go to Ray first. They know that she will keep her end of a bargain and not try to find a way to screw them over with it, and in this way Ray is the closest thing Milo has to a friend.

The upshot of the negotiation is that Ray goes to get blankets and an Advil, and they bundle up Coren in the blankets and wake it up enough to convince it to take the Advil, and then they sit there for a long time. Ray actually gets out a book and starts reading. Coren dozes. Milo tries very, very hard not to doze off as well.

"I'm gonna go make myself something," Ray announces abruptly. "Should I make you something, too? Some soup?"

Milo would really, really like that, but they only have so many favors left, and they don't want it to swing the other way so they owe Ray. They shake their head.

Ray nods in understanding and goes over towards the kitchen. Milo sits. Glances over at Coren, cozy in its blanket nest. Looks down at their hands. Looks back to Coren.

Ah, fuck it. They peel back a few layers of blanket and tuck themself in next to Coren. It's still pretty out of it, but it doesn't seem to mind. It makes a pleased chirping noise and flops over on Milo.

Milo knows it's not exactly a good thing to do—it's actually probably really fucked up, they observe distantly, to use the shell of your former friend for heating. But fuck, they dragged it all the way here, and it was the kind of cold out that sinks into your bones and makes you think you'll never get warm again, and Coren always ran warm and with the fever they're even more so (and that's fucked up too, come on Milo they're literally sick and you're just– what are you doing) but it's too late, so there, Milo's done many bad things over the years and comparatively speaking this isn't much worse.

Coren is so warm. The warmth is slowly creeping back into Milo's skin, and their breathing is slow and even, and if Milo closes their eyes they can almost pretend they're back before any of this happened, that they're safe and warm on Coren's old couch and they're going to watch a movie.

(Not quite. Not exactly the same. Coren smells like blood and antiseptic, not like comfort and coffee, and it's so thin—god, don't they ever feed it over there? Milo hugs it closer, all the same. Close enough.)

"Coren," Milo whispers. "You in there? At all? Anything left?"

Coren doesn't respond.

"Coren," Milo says, now with a sense of urgency pressing at their throat, "please, even if you don't know me anymore, just– fuck, don't die on me, okay? You are not allowed to die on me. I'm forbidding it, it's forbidden. You will not die. Understand?"

Coren stirs a little, which startles Milo– they mean to actually wake it. "Mmm. Miley?"

Milo feels a jolt of shock run through their body. Coren hasn't called them that in years, are they dreaming or did it really just—

"Mileyyy," Coren repeats, sleepy grin spreading across its face. It bats a hand roughly in their direction. "What'dja say?"

Milo has to take a second to steady themself before they can respond. "Just– that– um. That you're not allowed to die."

"Oh," Coren says, blinking one eye slowly open and then closed again. "Mmokay. I'll do my best." It yawns, head lolling to the side. "I love youuu."

Milo feels like their insides have turned to ice. There's a faint humming in their ears, and they half-feel themself gently brush a strand of hair away from Coren's face.

"No you don't, Coren," Milo says gently. "That's just the fever talking. Go back to sleep, okay?"

Coren frowns. "But–"

"Shhh," Milo says, running their hands through its hair, and Coren sighs and relaxes into their touch, falling quickly back asleep.

Milo wishes they could do the same.

taglist: @whumpsoda!

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday29 #sickfic #not allowed to die #fever whump #oc: coren #oc: milo #oc: ray #milo my love you have oh so many problems #also YAY I DID IT!!!!!!#not every day but almost all the ones i wanted to do!!!!#i set a goal and met it!!! WAHOO

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whumpinthepot · 2 months

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@febuwhump 2024, Day 29. Not allowed to die

#whump meme #tw suicidal ideations #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday29 #breezys post #whump

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aquietwritingcorner · 2 months

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Not Allowed to Die

Title: Not Allowed to Die Day: Febuwhump 2024, Day 29 Prompt: Not Allowed to Die Fandom: TMNT 2003 Word Count: 2484 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: T Characters: Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael, Leonardo Warning: NA Summary: It was his responsibility. It was Mike’s responsibility to look after his little brother while they were out. But he’d been irresponsible, and now he was running, his thirteen-year-old brother held tightly to him, and repeating that Donnie wasn’t allowed to die. Notes: Part of the Little Don AU, an AU I’ve had forming in my head where, during a crisis with the Time Scepter, Don sacrificed himself to save everything. Instead of it killing him, though, it turned him into a baby, and his family has needed to raise him all over again. ff.net || AO3

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Not Allowed to Die

Mike ran as fast as he could, his thirteen-year-old brother held tightly to his chest. One hand was under his brother, supporting him, while the other wrapped around his shell and held his head to Mikey’s shoulder, keeping it from bouncing too much as the older turtle ran.

Donnie didn’t return the grasp at all.

In fact, his brother was limp and unresponsive, and Mike was terrified. He should never have let Donnie go into that warehouse alone. He should have insisted that they stay together and not split up! It was his fault that Donnie was hurt, and it was tearing him up inside. Mike was smarter than this! He was twenty-two years older than his baby brother! He had far more experience than Donnie had now! He should have seen the warning signs and not trusted his teenaged brother’s judgement on this!

Donnie’s arm slipped from where Mike had it thrown across his shoulder, and Mike could feel the slick blood trail it left behind. He doubled his speed.

“Hang in there, Donnie,” he said. “You’re not allowed to die, alright? You’re not allowed to die!”

But Mike was afraid that if he didn’t get him help soon, that Donnie would die. There had been a bomb in that building, and Donnie had headed straight for it, trying to disarm it. Mike should have seen that coming. Donnie always went straight for the tech. Even as Don, that’s what he had done. But what Donnie hadn’t realized was that, even though there was a countdown on this bomb, there was also a remote control—and one of the Foot had it.

Mike had screamed out a warning to Donnie just before the Foot Ninja had set it off. If the explosion hadn’t of killed the Foot Ninja, Mike would have killed the man himself. Instead, he had dug himself out of debris and gone desperately searching for his little brother.

He’d found him, and for a second fear and coursed through him at the idea that he might be dead. Fortunately, that was quickly pushed to the side when he saw his little brother breathing. But when he also saw how heavily he was bleeding, the panic had started again.

Donnie’s side had taken the brunt of the explosion, leaving that side of him bloodied and burned. Mike had seen shrapnel in there, too, but he counted his lucky starts that none of it seemed big. His shoulder hadn’t been sitting right, though, and he had a large headwound that had been bleeding. Mike had quickly looked him over, determining that his neck seemed fine, and that his shell was still in one piece, before scooping his baby brother up. He had heard movement around them, and he had known that there were more Foot around. He’d needed to move fast if he was to get Donnie to safety. He’d pressed the emergency button on his shell cell, and then he had just run.

The Foot had been chasing him since, and Mike had needed to fight, even while holding Donnie. He dodged and evaded as much as he could, though. His goal was not to defeat the Foot, but to get Donnie home.

“Hang on, hang on, hang on,” Mike said as he ran. “You’re not allowed to die, alright? You’re not allowed to die. You’re not allowed to die!”

He got no response from his little brother.

He kept running, taking as many alleyways as possible and trying to avoid the Foot. He heard something coming down the street, heading for him, and he doubled his speed, looking for an alley way to travel down that wouldn’t have a dead end in it. The Foot had been trailing him. If they were sending back up this way, Mike wasn’t about to let them catch up.

“Mikey! Mikey for the love of—Stop Running!”

Mike skidded to a stop, turning to look. It wasn’t just any vehicle that had been trailing him up this deserted road, it had been their vehicle, the Battle Shell 2.0. And Raph was leaning out the window yelling at him.

Mike ran straight for it without a moment’s hesitation.

The side door was already opening, and Mike leapt in, making sure to keep all of Donnie’s limbs safe as he did. The door rolled closed behind him, and the Battle Shell 2.0 took off down the road. But Mike didn’t care as he carefully laid his baby brother down on the floor of their truck.

“Mikey, what happened?” Raph asked, even as he gathered supplies.

In their younger years, Mike might have taken that as an insult, a questioning of his skills. Now he knew that his brothers didn’t doubt his skills at all, but that the question was asking just what it was. Mike shook his head.

“A bomb. They planted a bomb and blew it early,” he said. “I—I tried to make sure his neck and shell were alright, but—”

“Never mind all that,” Raph said. “Help me stop the bleeding on his head while I take a look at his side. Leo!” he called out to the front of the truck where, presumably, Leo was driving. “Step on it—and take us straight to Leatherhead’s!”

“Right!” Leo said, and the truck moved faster.

“Keep pressure, Mike,” Raph said as he looked over their baby brother.

“He—he can’t die,” Mike blurted out. “Raph, he can’t die, he’s not allowed to die!”

“I ain’t about to let him die, Mike,” Raph growled out. “So, stop yammering and keep that pressure steady!”

Mike nodded, taking short breaths and trying to breathe deeper. He was on the edge of panic, and he knew it. But Donnie was just thirteen. He was still a kid! Mike knew that they had all been just a little older, fifteen, when they had first gone topside. They’d felt so grown. But two years older than Donnie was now didn’t feel grown at all. It felt like that was still childhood, and all Mike could think of was how it wasn’t fair. Donnie was a child! He shouldn’t be laying on the floor of a truck he modified, bleeding everywhere while enemies chased them. He should be staying up playing video games, reading for the fun of it, and building things.

“You’re not allowed to die,” he said, softly but forcefully to Donnie. Raph heard him, but aside from a glance, said nothing.

The trip to Leatherhead’s wasn’t far, especially since the Battle Shell 2.0 could easily fit through the sewer tunnels, in case of an emergency just like this one. Leo must have called ahead, because Leatherhead was already there, ready and waiting. Raph lifted Donnie off the floor as soon as they were stopped, and he, LH, and the Fugitoid took off to the infirmary with Donnie.

And then Mike was left there all alone, with only his brother’s blood for company.

It took Mike a moment to realize that Leo was beside him, and he looked up at him. “I…” Mike started. “…he’s not allowed to die.”

“I know, Mike,” Leo said. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Mike nodded, and let Leo lead him away.

Mike sort of lost track of time after that. Leo took him to the bathroom, where he helped Mike to get Donnie’s blood off of him, as well as to patch up any injuries he had gotten. Then he took Mike to Leatherhead’s living room, sat him on a couch, wrapped a blanket around him, and headed towards the kitchen. He came back with something warm to drink and pushed it into Mike’s hand. Mike took it, and then just waited.

Master Splinter arrived only a few minutes later, and not long afterwards, so did April and Casey and their kids. Mike didn’t know how long they all sat there. It could have been thirty minutes. It could have been half the day. All he knew was that he needed to know that Donnie was going to be okay.

“You’re not allowed to die, Donnie. You’re not allowed to die! That’s almost happened too many times already, when you were Don, and we’ve lost Don, too. We gained you, though. And you? You’re NOT ALLOWED TO DIE!”

Finally, Raph came out, looking tired, but alright. He looked up at the group that had gathered. “He’ll be alright,” he said without preamble.

Tension left the room, and Mike felt himself go limp on the couch cushions.

“He’s gotta recover,” Raph said. “But the shrapnel wasn’t bad, and the burns aren’t too serious. His shoulder’s busted at the moment, but LH and the Professor have got that in place and immobilized. And his head wound looked worse than it was. He did lose a lot of blood, but he’ll be alright in time.”

Mike could have cried.

“Mike.”

Mike nearly sat up at attention.

“Boy genius is awake, and he wants to see you,” Raph said. “So, get your mopey shell in there.”

Mike glanced over at Leo and Splinter, but they both nodded, and he didn’t waste any more time.

At some point, they had managed to set up a small almost-hospital in a room here at LH’s. It had come in handy a time or two before, and they’d managed to get some real things, like an actual hospital bed. That’s where Donnie was now, his mask and pads removed, arm immobilized, and bandages wrapped around him. He was chattering quietly to the professor, but as soon as he saw Mike, he lit up.

“Mikey!” he said.

Mike walked closer, coming up next to the bed. “Hey, squirt. How are you feeling?”

“Raph told me that I couldn’t say ‘fine’,” Donnie said, “or anything close to it, so I guess I’m feeling kinda bad,” he said with a wince. “But are you alright?”

Mike blinked. “Me? Bud, I’m not the one that almost got blown up. I’m fine.”

Donnie winced at that, and looked down at his hand, fiddling with the bed sheet. The professor, watching the two of them, politely excused himself, leaving the two turtles functionally alone. Mike sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Hey—Donnie? What’s going through that brain if yours?” he said. “Talk to big bro Mike.”

Don bit his lip, and then looked up at Mike, guilt on his face. “I’m sorry!” he blurted out.

Mike blinked. “Sorry?” he said, confused. “Donnie, what are you sorry about?

“I didn’t listen,” he said. “I thought I could do it. I thought that, if I could defuse that bomb, then maybe I could go on missions with the three of you. Like… like you used to do with the old me.” His head sank down a little. “I know you miss him. I thought that maybe if I could do that, then things might be sort of normal again.”

Mike blinked. “Oh, buddy…”

He stood up, and moved closer to the head of the bed, so he could sit next to Donnie. Donnie shifted over to accommodate him, and Mikey gently wrapped an arm around his little brother, carefully pulling him into his side.

“Alright, Donnie, I want you to listen to me good,” he said. “Yeah, I miss Don. I miss old you. I miss my big brother that I could go crawl in bed with after monster movie marathons and giving him crazy ideas for inventions. I miss the memories and the jokes and all of the stuff we shared together. I miss him. But,” he bopped Donnie lightly on the nose. “That doesn’t mean I want him instead of you.”

Donnie blinked at him, but didn’t say anything, so Mike continued. “You’re Donatello Splinterson, the same as he was, but you’re not Don. You’ve lived different lives, had different experiences, and you’re different people. And I love both of you. I love Don and I love Donnie, and I wouldn’t trade one for the other. Besides, Don wouldn’t want that. He wouldn’t want the him that’s you to stop existing.”

He put a kiss on the top of Donnie’s head, being careful of the injuries there. “When you’re ready for patrol, then I know that we’ll gladly take you with us. But not because we want you there to replace Don, but because we want you, Donnie, with us. We love you. Not because of who you used to be, but because of who you are, okay? So don’t go around trying to replace Don. Grow up into who you are. That’s all we want.”

Donnie looked at Mike with wide eyes, his chin trembling a little. He looked away, and used his good arm to wipe at his eyes. Mike obligingly pretended that he couldn’t see the tears in them.

“O-okay,” Donnie finally said. “Okay. But… I really do want to go on patrol with all of you,” he said.

Mike chuckled a bit. “I know you do. But I think tonight proves that you’re not quite ready for that yet.”

“Yeah,” Donnie agreed with a sheepish smile.

Mike stayed with Donnie for a little bit longer, and then he left, knowing Master Splinter wanted to come in and spend time with his youngest son. Mike collapsed back on the couch as soon as he could, staring at the ceiling.

“You good, Mike?” Leo asked.

Mike nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I will be. Where are April and Casey and their crew?”

“Gone to get us food,” Leo said. “No one really feels like cooking.”

“And no one wants you to cook, bro,” Mike shot back.

“…How’s Donnie?” Leo asked softly.

Mike took a moment to consider. “He’ll be okay. He just needs to figure out who he is, apart from Don.” He paused. “He wants to go on patrol with us.”

“Not for a while, not after tonight,” Leo said. “He’s not ready yet.”

“Yeah, I think he gets that,” Mike said. “But maybe that’s something to work towards.”

“I’ll talk it over with Sensei,” Leo said.

Raph called out to Leo from the kitchen, and Leo left to see what he needed. Mike stayed put, thinking over the night’s events. Donnie had been hurt, badly. But he was alright. He was going to be okay. And they had some things to work through with him. But that was alright with Mike. As long as his baby brother was alive to work through them, that was alright with Mike. They’d talk it through, they’d train more, and in a couple of years, maybe Donnie could go on patrol with them.

But not until he was ready. Not until they knew he was ready. Because if there was one thing that Mike was certain of, after seeing it happen once, it was that Donnie was not allowed to die. None of them would let it happen, and that was a promise.

#Febuwhump2024 #FebuwhumpDay29 #TMNT #TMNT AU #TMNT 2003 #TMNT 2k3 #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt fan fiction #tmnt fanfic

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lamaenthel · 2 months

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Not Allowed To Die

[read on ao3][masterlist]Febuwhump prompt: Not allowed to die

The bacta bandage itches. It takes all of his self control to not rip it off, dig his fingers into the fresh incision and rip open his own skull so he can spray the insides with bleach. "You should have just killed me," Rex says, hollow. He stares down at Cody's medical contraption and the rotten biochip that it pulled from his brain, and curls his shaking hands into fists.

Characters: CT-7567|Rex/Sith!Ahsoka Tano, Darth Vader, CC-2224|Cody Wordcount: 2457

"Been a rough year, eh?" Cody asks mildly. He's never been funny. Today isn't different. "What can you remember?"

"All of it." Rex presses his palms against his eyes until he sees stars. "It… Everything I did…"

"Don't blame yourself, Rex, that was the chip—"

"And everything she's done…"

"It makes it so that every order given is completely sound, logical. It starts degrading after a few months. Things start becoming more clear." Cody rubs his back. "You noticed that suddenly things felt wrong, didn't you? You couldn't just go along with it as easily. It's not your fault. Ahsoka is the one who Fell—"

"That's not Ahsoka!" Rex turns on his brother, spitting with rage. "That's not my fucking Ahsoka! Korrē isn't Ahsoka, no matter what she looks like… her eyes…" He weeps like a damn tubie, gulping, heaving big, ugly sobs like he hasn't since he was a cadet and saw his first brother die on the practice range. Cody can blame it on the chip all he wants, but in the end he did what he did because he loved her. "He did something to her. Skywalker… no, Vader, he did something when he brought her back."

"What do you mean?" Cody asks.

"She was dead." Cody's eyes go wide. "Palpatine murdered her with Sith lightning, then Skywalker…" A surge of vomit rises in Rex's throat. He's finding it harder and harder to tell them apart in his mind, even though he knows that the Skywalker he had followed into battle would have killed all three of them before letting them become what they have. The clarity of the chip is gone. He almost hates Cody for taking it away. "Vader. He used his own lightning to restart her heart."

Cody goes pale. "General Kenobi used to say that Sith lightning could corrupt, turn and deform—"

Rex vomits on the hand-woven Nubian rug and collapses next to the puddle, sobbing hysterically. He can't look at Cody—You're devouring him too quickly—can't even think of looking him in the eyes after—I've just been so hungry lately— what was done to Kenobi's body—

"Alright, alright, easy." Cody pulls Rex back to a sitting position and wipes the vomit off his face. "They're on their way back, brother. We don't have much time."

"You have to get them away from here," Rex forces out in between hiccups. "Senator Amidala—and her children. Get them out—get them out before he can hurt them any—any more than he already has." I want us to be a big, happy family. Padmé's doing her part. "She's pregnant again, Codes. You can't let him—let him get his hands on another—"

"I didn't come here for them," Cody says. His mouth tightens to a thin line. "They're too heavily guarded, and even if I got through I don't have an astromech to slice into a ship."

Rex lunges for the wardrobe. He tosses all of the expensive banthashit that they've bought to dress him up in over his shoulder in search of it, and he finally finds it at the bottom of a suitcase. "I didn't know why I kept it," Rex says, sinking back on his rump. "It's Artoo's memory chip. I know there's astromechs in the hangar garage, just plug it into one. He can slice into anything."

"Skywalker's old mech?" Cody takes it with a look of trepidation. "What about you?"

Rex tastes stomach acid again. Whatever she brings forth won't be right. It'll be as corrupted as she is, feral, vile. That doesn't mean he'll abandon them. "She's pregnant."

"I heard you."

Rex shakes his head. "No. Korrē is pregnant."

Cody's face falls. "Rex." He puts a careful hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure that…"

"That it's mine?" Rex laughs bitterly. "That's the only thing I am sure of. He hasn't fucked her." Cody doesn't look convinced. Rex can't blame him. "It's the only thing he won't do to her." He wants to cover his eyes again, but he knows he'll only see Ah—Korrē, Korrē's mouth hanging open in pleasure as the man who helped raise her crudely masturbates her lek, sitting entwined with him on his throne like a pair of serpents. "He likes to… to rile her up, and then turn her on me." And he watches them, too, though Rex doesn't tell Cody that. Every time he felt a tickle on the back of his neck, every time the hair on his arms sprang up with the feeling of eyes on them, it was because there were; Vader's jealous eyes were the ones Rex felt when he made love to her.

"I'm sorry, Rex." Cody sinks down next to him. "I know how you felt about her. I'm so sorry, but I don't… You said it. That's not Ahsoka anymore."

She responded to her name. Now that Rex has control of his mind again, the desire to try and wake Ahsoka up—to drag her out of Korrē—is getting stronger. But even if he did, would Ahsoka want to live with what Korrē had done? "What was your plan? If you don't have a ship, how the hell were we getting out of here?"

"On foot."

Rex barks out a hysterical laugh. "Top tier plan, ol' boy."

"We only need to get outside the blast radius." Cody snorts at his surprised gasp. "Obi-Wan had me waiting here since Order 66 as a contingency, in case they had to flee Tatooine. But he couldn't smuggle them off world in time, then it was all locked down with a dozen sodding Venators in orbit. I didn't… I didn't realize you were alive until Skywalker announced the engagement to Ah—Korrē," he quickly amends at the face Rex must be making.

"You've got a bomb?"

Cody shrugs. "It's a bit ironic, I admit." He pulls a small capped syringe out of a pouch on his belt and shows him. "Nano-droids. Voice activated, just need to say the trigger phrase."

Rex takes the syringe, caught between laughter and tears. "This is how Offee bombed the hangar. What Ahsoka was accused of doing. Why she almost walked away." Until Skywalker talked her into staying. He almost starts crying again.

"I figured it was my best shot. I was going to lace the food with it. I don't trust a bomb to take them out unless it's inside of them." Cody reaches for the syringe. Rex keeps it out of reach. "Rex…" he warns.

"I'll do it." Rex curls his fist around the syringe.

Cody huffs, frustrated. "Brother, I love you, but I don't believe that you're going to shoot up your pregnant betrothed with nano-droids."

Rex isn't formulating a plan, it's coming to him fully formed with the strangest assurance that it'll work. He stopped putting much stock in the Force when he marched up the stairs to the Jedi Temple at Vader's side. Maybe he was wrong. "I'm not shooting her up."

"Then give it back."

Rex uncaps the syringe and jabs it into his neck before Cody can stop him.

"The fuck are you doing?" Cody hisses, yanking the syringe away too late.

"Lacing her food." Rex laughs at his own joke and ignores the horrified look on Cody's face. "Ahsoka wasn't allowed to die when she should have. Vader denied her that peace. I love her enough to give it back."

Cody's face crumbles. "Even though she's—"

"Especially because she's pregnant." In his mind's eye, he sees the sleeping Padawans twitching in their bacta tanks as they suffocate. "Take my armor. I'm the only one with the authority to move the royal family, no one will question you. Get that chip into an astromech, and get Amidala and her babies out."

"You're sure?" Cody's voice cracks.

Rex nods, smiling genuinely for the first time in over a year. It'll be over soon. "I'm sure."

Cody yanks him into an embrace. "I'll see you on the march, Rex," he whispers.

Rex grasps the back of his brother's head and presses their foreheads together hard enough to bruise. "I'll keep a spot open for you."

A housekeeping droid cleans the bedroom while Rex showers and programs the nano-droids. Once he's done, he rips the bacta patch off his head. The wound is barely closed, but a patch will draw more attention than a cut. Especially to a predator with a nose for blood.

The smell of fresh blood will make what he needs to do easier, anyway.

Rex watches Cody lead Padmé, dressed in a dark cloak with her babies tied securely to her chest, down the long beach until they're out of sight. An orange R3 follows them. Rex imagines that he can hear the droid complaining, the cadence of offended honks and beeps as familiar to him as his Commander's voice. He briefly wonders if Padmé knows it's not him who's leading them to safety.

The air turns thick and oppressive when they return. The birds stop singing, even the insects go quiet. Everything alive in the villa can sense the predators that have returned.

Rex waits for them in the sitting room with a paring knife slicing thin lines up his forearms, tenderizing himself for her. He needs as much of his blood out of him as he can stand. He feels her excitement tingling in his spine as she catches the scent from outside.

"Rex?" Korrē hurries through the vestibule, closely followed by Vader. He looks like he's in a good mood. "What are you doing?"

Rex's heart pounds like a hammer in his chest. He drops the knife with a clang and holds up his arms to show her.

She goes to her knees in front of him. "What's wrong, my love?" she coos, kissing him. "Why are you hurting yourself?"

He pulls her into his bloody embrace and kisses her hard. Her mouth tastes like fresh blood and saltwater. "Missed you," he whispers once they come up for air.

Korrē's face splits in a sharp smile and she puts Rex's bloody hand to her lips. "You missed me that much?" She sucks the blood off his fingers, closing her eyes in rapture. "I missed you too." She hums happily as she laps at the stinging cuts on his arms like a cat.

He feels a hollow satisfaction at knowing the nano-droids are now in her too. Whatever happens, they'll go together. He puts his hand on her belly and silently says goodbye.

She moves it lower, down the front of her pants. Her sex is already dripping. "I missed you so much," she says into his neck.

"I suppose I'll see to my other children, since you're preoccupied." Vader leans down, yanks her backwards by her rear lek until her head is craned all the way back, and stares at her. There's something close to hate in his golden eyes that softens to love after a few moments.

Rex finally has the clarity in those heartbeats to realize why Vader won't cross that final line—Kill your Padawan—why he touches her lek and nowhere else—kill the last, weak piece of Anakin Skywalker—why he kisses her cheeks and her montrals and her forehead and everything except her lips. It's because Anakin Skywalker won't let him. The hedonistic, possessive, egotistical, power-hungry demon of an alter ego that he created hasn't managed to kill off every bit of the man who cried and begged Palpatine to spare Ahsoka's life.

Rex is saving Anakin as much as he's saving Ahsoka.

Vader lets her lek go with a scowl, and turns to leave. "Stay," Rex blurts out, his heart racing a million beats per minute.

"What?" Vader turns slowly, glaring at him.

Rex can see the front of his robes are tented. His eyes trail up and meet Vader's for the first time since Mustafar. "Stay," he says again.

Vader's face distorts, deforms into a mask of pure rage. Rex flies up, is flung across the room with the Force so hard that he sees stars when he slams into the marble wall. "Are you inviting me to watch you fuck my daughter, Rex?" he growls, squeezing his fist. The air is squeezed from Rex's lungs like an invisible vice tightening around his chest. He gulps helplessly. He can't say the trigger word without air. He can't say it without air.

"Father?" Korrē's orange arms wrap around Vader from the back. Rex can just barely hear her purring over the throbbing rush of blood in his ears. "I'm sorry he said that. You can punish me. I can take it."

"You can take it?" He reels on her, puts his hand around her already bruised throat and holds her up against the wall. Rex drops to the marble floor, falls hard onto his knees. "Do you hear that, Rex? Your pregnant betrothed wants me to punish her in your place. Is that what you want?"

"No!" Rex struggles to his feet, hisses at the popping of his knees. He bit his tongue when he hit the wall and now his mouth is flooded with blood. "Please, my Lord, don't hurt her. I'm sorry." He goes down to one knee, contrite, and ignores the way his kneecaps feel like they're about to burst.

Rex doesn't look up until he can see Vader's boots. The Sith yanks Rex to his feet with one hand around his throat. "And how should I punish you?" Vader whispers, tightening his hand. He leans in until his lips are barely a centimeter away.

Rex closes the distance, shoves his tongue into Vader's mouth. After a moment of shocked stillness, Vader returns the kiss hungrily and walks them forward, shoving Rex against the wall with a knee between his thighs. His tongue is brutal, invasive, sweeping around his mouth with unexpected eagerness. When he pulls away, blood that's rich with nano-droids drips from the corner of his mouth.

Rex looks into Korrē's confused eyes from over Vader's shoulder. They almost look blue in the dim twilight of the Nubian dawn creeping through the stained glass windows. As best he can manage with Vader's hand around his throat, he takes one last, deep breath for the trigger phrase and smiles at her. "I love you, Ahsoka—"

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