#burn wounds

[unlimited-together]

Shadow Weaver as a horse!!

(not Swift Winds version)

[rancidmice]

a pieta of mustafar <3

full piece& details under a read more: CONTENT WARNING for gore, burn wounds, blisters, really charred gnarly anakin

anyway i’m quite proud of it. it’s 22x28! biggest painting i’ve made. took me about 2 weeks on and off

[star-nosed-nerd]

(updated) human rob design + human lore

Rob fans when you tell them they don't have to make his lore as angsty as possible

[knappend]

after that fateful night in Sumter Forest, Aaron and Gage were separated due to the investigation. Aaron is permanently disfigured, in constant pain, unable to sleep and barely beginning to process the trauma of everything that led him here. there's no telling when or if he'll see Gage again; he's terrified of how he might react.

and the one thing that would ease his mind — the one thing he can't have — would be to know that Gage is somewhere safe.

Whumptober 2025, day 14: Wounded Caretaker

[astraymetronome]

You Can't Hide

Hey guysssss, sorry about the delay on the last fic I hinted at. I posted it to my AO3 but forgot to post it here. Anyways- here you guys go! Enjoy 6,000 words of angsty bedrock bros!

Warnings: Gore, Injury, Bedrock Bros, GORE I SWEAR IT'S A LOT, Illness

The chill running through his back was enough for Mars to know what was coming: the familiar buzz in the back of his head that told him when he was being looked at with intent. He dragged in a breath, fighting the urge to cry and moan about this stupid job, as he rolled his head to the side with a crack. He jammed his arm back, feeling his body collide with the elbow, and moved his hand up to grab a palm. He hesitated for a moment as he knocked a blade from the masked man’s hand before shifting his weight and swinging his attacker’s body over his head, making it slam into the pavement. 

He stepped back, adjusting his fabric face mask, and cracked his knuckles. Mars ran a hand through his hair, the color of his curls still hidden in the low light of the alley, before he pulled his hood up, adjusting the way it laid as he spoke up. “Just leave me alone!” He groaned, eyes spotting three new people in front of him. The vigilante rolled his fingers, not bothering to keep talking to these freaks. One of them was muttering some bullshit about a bounty, but it wasn’t like it even mattered. He’d still be doing this regardless. 

The trio leader took a step towards him, which Mars met with balling up his fist and instinctively throwing a right hook straight for the man’s jaw, feeling as skin met stubble. 

---------

The sudden fabric feeling against his hand threw him off, causing Tommy to finish his swing wrong. He offbalanced his weight, and instead of a clean hit to the cheek, he landed a heavy hit across his opponent's jaw. The teen pulled his glove back, hearing someone yell ‘Time!’ from just behind him. He took two steps back, hands dropped to show he had no plans of swinging again. He watched as his Coach stepped into the ring, immediately starting to look Amisey over as he checked their jaw. He didn’t dare to move, standing still until he was sure if he’d screwed up again. 

A deeper sigh left the man in front of him, eyes to the ground as Coach Halo turned to face him. That was when Tommy let his eyes lift, seeing a smiling Aimsey peaking out from behind the tall man with a thumbs up. The teen shifted to look up, seeing the white, void eyes of his teacher. “Be more careful next time.” He said simply. The blonde wasn’t used to Bad’s more… calm way to teach Boxing. 

“Save that swing for championships, Kid!” A familiar, but very annoying, voice called out to him. Tommy groaned, now worried about being nice as he spoke up. 

“Whatever you say, Skeppy.” He yelled back. He respected Badboyhalo enough to call the man Coach, but Skeppy wasn’t someone he could tolerate having in the gym. Not only did the diamond golem know nothing about Boxing, but he would act as he did. 

He made sure to bite his tongue from another remark as Bad began to speak over his husband's rambling. “The swings are good, Tommy, your posture and positioning are basically perfect, you just need to work on your follow-through.” Tommy nodded, used to having this told to him by now. He had a stupid, bad habit of hesitating in class. He gets so into the fights that he kind of forgets he’s at the boxing rings and not in the middle of another street fight he got dragged into because a hero didn’t want to clean up an easy henchman job. 

Amisey stepped into his view as they spoke up. “I’ll probably just have a decent bruise.” They said with a shrug, smiling as the taller teen nodded before the two of them fell into a conversation. Tommy was grateful for the break to get some time to drag his head back into his reality instead of the haze of swinging fists and panic. 

Tommy wasn’t allowed back in the ring the rest of the session, mostly because Halo was worried he would accidentally hurt his arm if he swung wrong, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was because he didn’t want anyone to get a broken jaw.

Tommy was able to feel the itching burn under his skin, the want for bruises and split lips heavy in his head. His power made adrenaline run through his body almost constantly. When he was a kid, people called him a shittier version of Spiderman because he had the awareness but not the control. No matter if the gaze or the emotion behind it, his hair stood on end, and his adrenaline would rush to his heart and head. He could feel people giving small glances and did his best to keep his eyes away from the alleys. If he sees someone being stabbed, he won’t be able to control himself. Turns out, if you’re able to basically feel when someone means you or anyone harm, that fear can almost turn real.

He turned to his vigilante life to escape it; every power has a limit, and he thought he’d found it. As long as he at least fought once a day, it would calm down, or at least it had up until a few weeks ago. Now the need was constant, his body basically craving to make everything into a fight. Tommy pulled out his key, heading into the house he stayed in with his foster parents. The place was still when he entered, the buzz going silent enough to tell him that no one was home. He appreciated it; this group home was so annoying when the other 4 placements weren’t out. 

He got into a lot of trouble at first, the constant need to fight making him more irritable and prone to violence, but when he started being Mars, it was enough that he could tolerate being surrounded by other people. He headed upstairs, glad to be the oldest and the only one living in the attic, as he threw his bag to the side and flopped face-first into his bed. 

Tommy groaned as he threw his head into a pillow and swung a fist into the mattress below him. He wanted this all to stop, but he was too poor to afford power dampers. Plus everyones he's talked to says they are addictive in pillform and he would rather have a physical damper. His eyes drifted over towards the closet, eyes landing on the exact box he hid his equipment in, by equipment he means the only nice quality clothes he owns. 

The teen pulled himself off his bed and slid the box open after a few strides towards the closet. He changed in minutes, hands adjusting the belt for his cargo pants before he brought the hood up and over his head. He shifted the mask with a sigh, feeling a bit of comfort in the familiar clothing as he pulled his combat boots on.

Mars pushed the window to the backyard open, managing to slip through the small space and falling to the ground with a controlled roll. He was used to this, walking through the forest until there was a break into the next neighborhood about 2 kilometers away. He grinned as he rushed past the road, hearing a car honk at him before disappearing into an alley. 

________

The night was colder than he expected, busier too, but that didn't stop him from feeding the nagging feeling in the back of his head. Mars had already stopped two homeless thieves from stealing from a kid, punched a cop who tried to get frisky with an arrestee, and kicked another guy in the crotch who decided to scream at his wife for no reason. Overall, a good night for helping people but not for his own needs. The prickling in his neck had been getting worse all night, and he kept fighting the urge to look over his shoulder at every moment.

He could tell someone was following him, but he couldn't figure out where they were, which wasn't normal. His ability was always able to direct him where it was coming from, but his power almost seemed to hum in delight at the challenge. 

Tommy, on the other hand, was not happy with this. He didn't need some dumb tail to ruin his plans, and he sure as hell didn't want to have to drag some random kid out of a dangerous situation because they were trying to see him in action. At least he'd prefer that over the idea of being stalked by a villain or some idiot trying to claim the bounty he learned about last week. He's good in a fight, but even he has his limits with things he can take. 

His hood hid his eyes, and his mask hid his face; his height was out of the normal and there wasn't a way to hide that, so he made sure his combat boots added a few inches just to throw off anyone trying to identify him. The only way a bounty could claim him would have to be while he's on the move. 

He only had about an hour before he'd need to start heading back, bed check would be in two hours, and if he wasn't home by then, he'd be in some serious shit. Of course, things couldn't be that easy for him, and, as Mars expected, he suddenly felt the fear prick in his neck. He jumped out of the way of the alley, a hand having shot out and almost managing to grab his hood. The teen stumbled, almost tripping over his own feet, before steadying himself as a woman came into view. She seemed to be pouting as her head tilted and she spoke up. 

“They were telling the truth when they said this would be fun.” Her voice seemed to slur slightly, almost like a purr on the end, as long, claw-like nails pressed out from her fingertips. Mars did his best not to speak, instead just giving her a dull glare that he hoped leaked his distaste. The lady began to ramble, saying some shit about how she went by Catwoman and how she was gonna kill him. Tommy honestly had to bite back his laughter as she tried to be threatening when all he could think of was her sorry attempt at mimicking the DC villain.

The teen gave an eye roll as he popped his dominant wrist before swinging at her. She seemed caught off guard, his fist slamming into her throat before he watched her double over, holding her neck. “Shut up, Selina.” He said quickly, ignoring her gagging coughs as he grabbed her head and quickly pulled it down to his rising knee.

The resounding crack of her nose breaking felt like music to his ears as he let go of her, watching as Catwoman fell unconscious to the floor, nose angled weirdly from the break. Mars crouched down, feeling for breathing from her nose, and pulled away once he was sure she wasn't dead. He sighed once more, whipping his hands together before turning around. Tommy needed to start leaving now before anyone else got involved. 

Of course, the vigilante never got what he wanted; the buzzing was still there, and he was being followed by Mr. Make-His-Power-Stupid again. The fuzzy feeling in his neck was stronger, spreading to his shoulder blades, but he still couldn't tell where it was. The sensation was so heavy that it managed to distract him long enough that he noticed the flare of goosebumps on his left arm a bit too late. 

Tommy was yanked into the alley before he could even fight back. An arm managed to get around his neck, and the yell of surprise died in his throat. His eyes grew wide as air was forced to stay in his lungs. He hated holding his breath, and now the skin being touched was horrible. His skin burned at the contact, his nerves freaking out from the danger, which didn't help him stay calm. He moved his hands up, instinctively clawing at the limb around his throat. 

Mars could feel blood under his fingernails, digging them into the arm as a hand pulled his hood down, and hot breath was suddenly in his ear. “I’ve been trying to get my hands on you for a while now, Mars.” A masculine voice whispered. He could hear the glee in his tone and knew there must be some sadistic grin on his face. The hold on his neck loosened long enough that he could catch a breath before it was pulled tight again as someone traded places with the asshole holding him.

Tommy moved, trying to kick the man behind him, but the new guy simply moved his body to make it hard to get a good kick at him. Tommy's eyes drifted forward, watching as a masked figure came into view. He glared as he recognized the white color and the fucking kid quality smile on the front. Dream was a right dick, even for some of the horrible people he's fought, this bastard took the absolute crown of wrong-un. He figured he could guess who was behind him: Flare’s skin was hotter than a normal person's, and everyone knew that his power was related to flames.

“I’m supposed to take you in alive; it seems that you managed to get on The Syndicate's bad side.” He continued, the lack of interest clear in his voice as he mentioned the villain group. Tommy's avoided them like the plague after all, he's heard enough horror stories that he never goes near their side of town, in or out, of costume. 

He found himself ignoring everything that followed, gasping when he was given the opportunity for air as he tried to think about what was going on. The Syndicate has no reason to mess with him; he's made it very clear he has no plans to move to their side of town or to touch anything they mess with. He wasn't sure what was going on, but why would they put down a bounty big enough that Dream would be willing to go after it? He's seen only a few of the heavy hitters in the last week, but that wasn't out of the ordinary for him-

Tommy's panicked thoughts were interrupted as a hand grabbed his mask, and the burning on his neck flared up, causing his eyes to water. The youngest vigilante was quick to try to keep his mask up, but the villain pulled it off without care. His blue eyes were wide as he stared up at the white mask, fear clear in his gaze as he waited. Dream was quiet, the villain looking him over before he heard the laugh building in his chest. 

It started as a gaspy chuckle but began to grow into the kind of laughter that makes you regret having ears. His voice was almost manic as the shrill sounds left him. Mars was shaking a bit, his senses going absolutely wild, before the laughing that filled his head went silent as Dream's hand gripped his chin, the force enough to bruise his skin. The same around his neck went loose, instead pinning his arms to his sides as Flare moved him into a strange bear hug. 

“You're what everyone's been scared of? Some cocky teenager?” The said teenager couldn't help himself, clenching his jaw before he spoke up.

“What, your ego can't handle knowing that?” He questioned, making sure his voice was sarcastic to hide the fear in his chest. He couldn't let them know he was worried. Tommy rolled his eyes before continuing. “Is it so fragile that you're scared of a kid?” He continued, he hated being called a kid, but he'll use it when he needs to.

Dream didn't seem to like it, the man's posture growing stiff as his head tilted just so slightly. The vigilante squirmed his arms as he was pulled closer to Flare, the other villain keeping his arms tensed so the hold was tight. After a second, a fist hit him, his jaw throbbing as pain bloomed in the spot. Mars could already feel the swelling sitting in as he blinked the shock away. 

The masked man was screaming in his face, clearly not happy with his talking back. The man behind him seemed uncomfortable as he felt Flare’s body let go of him. The blonde swayed a bit as he heard the two of them starting to bicker and fight. His entire body screamed with fear, and the tingling sensation went from the base of his neck all the way down his shoulder blades and into his arms. He could feel tightness in his chest as his ears seemed to ring. His body was overwhelmed, his power screaming through his nerves.

Mars did what he knew best, not hesitating as he took a swing. His own fist met someone's torso; he wasn't sure which of the two it was since his vision had grown blurry. His body was shifting on instinct, just a pattern of swing, duck, block, then doing it again. He could feel each time his punches made contact, the sensation of skin against skin, calling the buzzing in his body to slow down and grow calmer. He was panting as he stopped needing to block, just hitting and hitting until his brain finally let up. 

The relief in his muscles was immediate, his head leaning back as he took some heavy, deep breaths, his chest heaving as the adrenaline faded into nothing more than a light buzz in his chest. His arms hurt, burns having blistered up where the fabric of his hoodie had seemed to melt away. He never realized that it was made of polyester, but what was done was done. His eyes drifted down, seeing the two forms lying on the ground. He winced at the damage; both of them had black, bloodied eyes and plenty of red marks. He's pretty sure he broke Flare’s jaw and probably fractured Dream's eye, but they weren't gonna get up any time soon. His thumb hurt, having been dislocated at some point, but he could pop that back into place once he was home.

Tommy stepped back, panting as his eyes drifted to the floor to find his mask. He was tempted to just forget it before the light buzzing in his head flared for a moment. He felt panicked for a second, but then it slid into the faint fuzzing of delight as he blinked. He closed his eyes, focusing as he took deep breaths, something pinpointed in his head, and he realized what it was. 

The teen straightened, rolling his shoulder slightly as he drifted his eyes over, using his peripheral vision to get an idea of the exact location. He saw the slight glint and immediately knew who was watching him. There was only one villain in L’manburg who used a sniper rifle. He looked up at it, his power aiding him in knowing he was looking the man right in the eyes. 

“I see you.” He said simply, a grin on his face. They were already looking for him anyway; the man had been watching the fight, so he probably knew his face regardless.

Mars was prepared to try to dodge if the gun was used; he was worried about it, but he might not even make it to the morning anyway. He was surprised his phone wasn't blowing up already. He continued to watch the spot, noticing how the glint disappeared before he heard an arrow hit the wall next to him. He flinched away when he turned to see the stick; there was a note tied around the staff.

He took the note off, noting how once he had the buzzing of awareness in his head faded, and relaxed as the Blood God had left him alone. Tommy peeled the thing open and read the message.

‘We just want to talk. Meet me at the warehouse on 7th and Madison at midnight tomorrow.’

It was simple and direct. If he were honest, that made sense for the group from what he's heard. Mars gave a sigh as he looked at it, not really interested in messing with the villain’s affairs, but they'll keep that stupid bounty up if he doesn't. He found his mask, digging it out of an unconscious Dream’s pocket. He slid it on and brought his hood up, adjusting the fabric once more. He then turned with his phone out, immediately bolting when he saw the time.

He was dead.

________

Somehow, his foster parents had been asleep and had forgotten about their checks. He wouldn't be surprised if they lied about the thing and never actually bothered, regardless: he got lucky. His body was sore from the fight, but at least his power was quiet for once. He's had situations like this, near-death experiences that left his ability calm and soft instead of heavy against him.

Tommy had spent an hour bandaging himself up last night, but at least a thick hoodie and some makeup covered up the bandages and bruises. He'd gone to school, aching the entire time, and had called out of his boxing session. He was waiting for it to get later, just lying on his bed, trying not to make a noise. His body hurt really bad and the burns on his arms seemed unhappy. He'd done his best to get as much of the charred fabric out of the wounds, but he knew he missed some of it. Plus, he'd been in a gross alley, and he'd been knocked down a few times during his blurry haze. He was scared of an infection, and burns tended to be more sensitive because they lacked the skin layers.

His arms ached and felt tender, but he couldn't do anything right now. Once Tommy knew what The Syndicate wanted from him, he'd make a choice. He'd either be killed by them, disappear if they decided he knew too much, or maybe they'll torture him for information he doesn't even have. All he knew was that he'd probably just be dead by morning regardless of what happened.

It's not like he had anyone to mourn him. His mom and dad had died when he was only 3, so it wasn't like he remembered them. He'd not had any living grandparents or aunts/uncles to take him in, so he was placed into an orphanage. The first family that took him home had returned him after a few days, saying he was too loud for a 3-year-old. It followed like that for years until he found a good placement when he was 8.

Tommy had fit right in with the trio, a nice family with a son only 5 years older than him, being the chaos they needed. He'd been allowed to play and was good around for the year he stayed with them. He loved the Crafts; he saw the family as the place he wanted to stay for the rest of his life, but it wasn't possible. They'd been forced to give him back after his foster brother’s power was finally noticed by his social worker. 

He'd been taken from them for his own ‘safety,’ but that was more bullshit than anyone wanted to admit. The teen had never felt safer than when he'd been at home with the Crafts. He’d been moved into a foster home in Pogtopia after he was caught sneaking out to try and get back to his old house, and stayed there until he was transferred back to town when he was 13. 

If Tommy had one request before he died, he'd want to see the Crafts one more time. Not that it was possible, he'd gone to their home once he got back, and they'd moved. His family was gone, and he knew there was nothing he could do. A part of him just expected to die during one of his patrols, and… he wasn't against it. Maybe this was what was supposed to happen: Tommy Innit was never meant to grow up. Mars was never going to become a good vigilante. They were both just meant to die in some sorry excuse of an accident. 

Dissociation wasn't new to him; he's done it plenty of times in his life, but for once, he knew it was happening. He was stuck in his head, staring at the roof, even as his foster dad came to let him know dinner was ready. He didn't say anything, and the man just left. He wasn't sure how long he'd been staring up at the roof of his room, but when he came back to himself, it was around 10:30 pm. 

He needed to get ready.

________

Mars was in a new hoodie, one that he'd really just dug out of his closet that he's not worn in a while, walking through alleys in order to keep himself hidden. His arms throbbed, and his head felt like it was full of lead. He was exhausted, but he couldn't let The Syndicate think he was vulnerable. He’d gotten to the warehouse quickly, around 30 minutes after he left the addict. 

He was nervous as he glanced around the roof area, noticing that the only thing blocking his line of sight was behind him. Tommy knew he was early, but he figured that his stalker would have been here already. He sighed and stepped back, staring at the roof access point but keeping the unit in his line of sight as well. He refused to be caught off guard; his breathing was off, almost panting, as his body was hot. He couldn't feel his powers, knowing he was probably feverish, which wasn't a good sign. 

His eyes were fuzzy, the cold air being nice against his skin where it managed to sneak under his clothes. After what felt like an hour, he heard boots on the concrete and his eyes shot open. Wait- when had he closed his eyes? He could help himself, immediately pulling a knife from his pocket and holding it out. He needed some kind of defense to keep the man back.

He looked up, eyes settled on the villain in front of him. Mars' eyes drifted over the man, starting at his head and working his way down. He was a little surprised by the pink hair, not expecting it from The Syndicate, but he's heard that no one knows how the Blood God looks. His hair was in a braid that rested on his shoulder. Tommy couldn't say how long it was, but he was pretty sure his unbraided hair went to his mid-back. The crown on his head was pretty, making him a bit jealous that the man could afford something so expensive. He didn't care to see his outfit; it was mostly black with a crown symbol on his chest.

He then lifted his head up again and let his eyes meet the red ones visible through the boar mask on the man's face. “I'm here.” He said quickly, trying to sound strong. “What do you want to talk about?” He added.

Tommy watched as the villain crouched down, putting a large case on the ground next to him before speaking. “You fought well.” The deep voice caught him off guard, but the praise made him hesitate. He lowered his arm slightly, the knife shaking in his hand. He didn't say anything else, and the Blood God took it as a sign to continue. “We have no plans to harm you. The bounty was for taking you to us, alive.”

He growled in response, lifting up the knife again, and then moving now so that it's only inches from his face. Mars was absolutely pissed. “Oh? You guys really thought people would do what it says?” He said bitterly. “You're literally governmentally defined as villains.”

Tommy's really not in the mood for this, but at least it was better than rotting in bed. He watched the man for a moment, very unhappy, before he saw the man open the case. Blood God's hands were a lot bigger than his, and he just watched them pull out bandages and other first aid items. He blinked, confused by them as he brought the knife closer to himself. The vigilante was prepared if he needed to fight back, but this was just confusing.

The villain hummed as he held his hand out, palm up, like he was waiting to be handed something. He wasn't sure what the villain wanted, so he reluctantly started to place his knife into the man's palm, only for him to instead grab his wrist. Tommy panicked for a moment, but the hold wasn't horrible. It was controlling, yes, but his grip wasn't as hard as he pulled the sleeve of his hoodie up.

He no longer had his knife, and now his dominant hand was being held. He wasn't sure what to do, but he wasn't able to do anything. He hurt too much. His eyes drifted over his arm, watching as Blood God began to unwrap the bandages and gauze. His knuckles were bloodied and bruised, and the burns were bright pink and mad under the waxy bits of dead skin and the melted polyester he couldn't pull without causing more damage. Tommy trembled as he saw some blood swelling up where the gauze pulled away with the things it managed to stick to but also a green tint to some of the remaining living skin and a bit pooling in some of the deeper burn sections.

Tommy could have sworn he heard the villain curse under his breath as he revealed the wounds, but he didn't hear him say anything as he crossed his legs and grabbed out some tweezers. He watched as the man began to pull the debris from his arms. It was a struggle not to make any sounds from the pain. Every time he tugged one free, the blood would rush up, and some dripped down his arm. The man was dabbing the spots with gauze to help them calm down. The care this murderer was giving him shocked the teen. This guy killed hundreds of people, but he was treating him like his care meant everything.

This process stuck for a bit before he grew tired of sitting in the silence. “Why did you guys want to find me?” He asked, “You've been following me for a few weeks now.” Mars watched as the villain pulled the last bit of polyester from his burn, and then he pulled out a bottle. Tommy thought it was a potion, but it was clearly just water after it was poured over his arm to rinse it. He dabbed it dry before pulling out more gauze and carefully spreading a cream on it, then doing the same with his arm. Tommy whined when he felt it, the pressure hurting as he was shushed. 

He felt like a little kid being taken care of by their mom, but he couldn't remember when his parents did this to him because he was too little. The Crafts took care of his cuts and scrapes, but they weren't taken care of like he might run away like this. Tommy was quiet as his arm was wrapped before Blood God spoke. “We were trying to gauge your standpoint.” He started as he offered up his other arm, which was quickly taken. 

He watched as his next arm was unwrapped and began to receive the same treatment. “Father has an interest in you.”

That caught him off guard- Father? Was this man saying that Angel was his actual dad? That made no sense. What kind of parent would drag their child into that life? The vigilante couldn't understand this, but he couldn't do anything about it. “Why?” He asked.

Blood God looked at him quietly, pulling another chunk of fabric from the burn area. He sighed as he moved to another spot and spoke. “He thought you were someone who was taken from us.” He explained. Mars blinked as he tilted his head. Someone they'd lost? He didn't remember hearing anything about the Syndicate having a missing member. They sometimes had Death assist them when the lady was needed. 

“I wasn't taken from anyone-” He said quickly, wanting to do what he could to get out of this situation as soon as possible. The villain shook his head as he started to spread cream on his gauze and then on his arm.

“You were taken from us, Theseus.” That made Tommy pause. His eyes went wide as he looked at the man. That name was something he's not heard in years. He loved hearing it again, but he didn't understand how this man could know the nickname his foster brother called him. Now that he thought about it, from what he knew about Death's and Angel’s appearances… they could fit as Kirsten and Philza. His eyes then moved to look at the man in front of him with brighter eyes. 

“Techno?..” He asked softly. He could see the way the man's body seemed to shake lightly. He couldn't help himself sitting up a bit as he didn't stop wrapping his arm. Tommy shook as he spoke as well. “Don't play with me- please tell me it's you.” He asked.

After a moment, once he'd finished wrapping his arm, the villain's hand lifted up, pulling the boar mask off his face and showing it. It was older now, but he could easily recognize the scarring on his cheek and the color of his face. The blonde moved his hands, placing them on the face in front of him. He shifted it in his hands, tearing up slightly as he saw his brother's eyes watching him. Techno wasn't crying, but the worry and fear on his face were clear.

It took a few minutes, but Tommy couldn't help himself; he started to sob, shaking as he lifted his arms slightly, hands barely moving to reach for his shirt before he was pulled into a lap. Tommy shook as he dug his fingers into the fabric of his suit, and he pressed his head to his warm chest. He felt as the villain ran his hands through his curls, and the other squeezed his shoulder as he was enveloped in a tight hold. He loved it, being held as he went ahead and pushed his head up until it reached his brother's chin.

“I missed you so much-” He said quickly between his sobs. He was hugging him tighter as he heard Techno shush him again. 

“I know… we fought them on it. Dad said that they couldn't trust me not to... lose control.” He understands the fear of not knowing what you can do. Tommy couldn't help but nod as he leaned closer, listening to the sound of a heartbeat. He relaxed into it as he closed his eyes. 

Techno shifted his body, and he suddenly felt a hand on his head. He leaned into the cool touch as he heard his brother sigh. “You're burning up. I need to get you to Niki.” Tommy didn't understand why; he knew he had an infection, but he didn't expect a fever. He shook a bit as he nestled closer, eyes closed as he whined. His body aches as he is held to his chest with one arm, the other moving to start packing up the first aid supplies. 

The blonde watched him before he closed his eyes as he picked up the case and they stood. He was warm and comfortable, being held by the person he's been missing for so long. Techno had promised him that they'd be reunited, but he honestly thought it was one of those lies you’re told as a kid to make you feel better.

None of it matters right now. He was being held by the one person he's been missing, and he would get to go home soon. Tommy was fine disappearing from his foster home; they could always take in another kid. After all, Tommy's 16. He can make his own choices. All he cares about right now is going home to his family.

_________

Thank you for reading ^^ <3

[clickerflight]

Fallen: Part 30 - Respect Earned

A.N. - I went to post this earlier and Tumblr was down. How rude, right?

Masterlist - Part 29

Content: villain whumpee, whumpee turned whumper, hallucination whumpee, multiple whumpees, impalement, explosive limb removal, burn wounds

.....................................................

Kolt was too tired for this. He was so exhausted and he just wanted to sleep. He didn't want to deal with some weird hallucination trying to destroy his new friend.

Lynx had thrown himself into the fray, but lost Beater quickly when the hallucination made himself invisible and silent.

"He's coming this way," Watcher said quickly, moving to intercept.

He gasped in pain, his two tones splitting to four in a discordant harmony of pain as a sharp instrument was driven through his chest.

He turned his eyes to Kolt, wide and terrified before he dissipated.

Then it hit. Adrenaline mixed with exhaustion. Paired with being emotionally drained and 110% done with this nonsense. Kolt forced himself out of bed, barely feeling the pain in his various body parts.

He could tell where Beater was. He could sense that Beater was trying to hide from him too, but it was impossible to hide from yourself.

Kolt shoved through his own Power, wading to that place that Beater came from. It was all so clear, now. He has been blinded by terror and the certainty that, in some way, he would be eternally broken and helpless. And while he might always be broken, damaged goods, he was the master of his own mind. Not Dr. LeAnne, not the men who came to hurt him while he was locked in a cell, and certainly not Beater.

He forced Beater into view and lifted his hand, power beading there.

He blew off Beater's leg, which disappeared in a spray of blood that vanished before it could touch the walls.

"I can handle this from here," Kolt said, his voice sounding distant from himself. It sounded like Kolt from before. The one who knew what he was doing and would claim that he was all alone in the world despite all of the people that had helped him to get as far as he did.

"Kolt," Lynx said.

Kolt ignored him, crouching beside Beater with a frankly embarrassing knee crack. "We're not doing this anymore."

Beater glowered at him, face tight with pain. Kolt could feel Beater trying to shove that pain down into Kolt's own leg. He could feel Watcher writhing somewhere within himself, trying to keep the pain from his own wound from escaping into Kolt.

"What do you want?" Kolt asked.

Beater bared his teeth. "To not be a part of you, anymore. You're weak! You're broken! You're a coward! I am better than you in every way."

"Really?" Kolt asked, raising an eyebrow. "Looks to me like I have the upper hand this time."

He reached out, grabbing Beater's jaw. Kolt forced Beater's his head back, power beading in his palm and burning along Beater's jaw and across his face.

Beater tried to fight Kolt off, but Kolt blasted away his arm with his other hand, leaving the hallucination grasping at Kolt's wrist for support.

It hurt. This was hurting Kolt as much as it was hurting Beater and Kolt would suffer for this later, but, at the moment, he really didn't care. He needed to get his point across as clearly as he possibly could.

"No more of this. No more fighting me or the others," Kolt growled. "I am recovering; newly injured. You will not like what I can do to you when I have fully recovered. Understand me?"

Beater opened his eyes. There was still hatred there, but now there was respect as well. He looked significantly cowed, and Kolt let go of his face, half melted flesh tearing from Beater's jaw and sticking to Kolt's fingers before vanishing again.

Beater clasped a hand over the wound, face scrunched up in pain.

"I will kill you one day, you know that?" Beater gasped.

"I dare you to try," Kolt replied sharply before disappearing Beater with a blast to the chest that scorched the floor behind Beater.

Kolt turned, refusing to look at the others as he climbed back into bed. This was the second time he had killed someone or something while wearing a hospital gown, and the idea made him want to giggle madly, but he locked it down before the noise could go anywhere.

"I need painkillers," Kolt said.

"I'll get Dalley," Lynx said after a moment.

Penelope simply walked to the sink, filled a glass with water, and brought it back to Kolt who sipped it shakily.

He stayed awake long enough to receive the pain killers before he slid under the covers and passed back out under Penelope's watch where she settled back into the chair beside his bed.

............................................................

Penelope paused her show as Kait stepped into the room.

"Hey," Kait said. She looked exhausted and angry, but not at Penelope.

"Hello," Penelope said.

"I.... You look alright."

Penelope shrugged.

Kait lifted the box she was holding a little higher and said, "Bret said you asked him to order this. He said the rest would be coming in after a few days."

"Thanks," Penelope said, reaching for the box, standing to shift things on a table so she had room to set out her tools and supplies.

Bret had done a good job finding everything she needed fast. Some of the parts she still needed were more complicated and had to be ordered and made on demand, so it would likely be a few weeks before she saw them, but they were all just meant to be upgrades to her body rather than something she needed. Everything she needed was here.

"I'm sorry," Kait said. "I'm in charge of Jennie and her getting to you was my fault. I should have known she wouldn't listen to me and would go after you. She is so one track minded and she doesn't care who she hurts as long as she can work on the projects she wants to."

"Not your fault. I blame her."

"Please don't blame her."

Penelope turned, eyebrow raised. "Don't blame her!? You have to be kidding me!"

Kait had a truly pained expression on her face. Penelope got the sense that she was being let into an emotional secret that no one else would ever believe.

"Please, you need to understand. Her Power torments her. She dreams of machines so detailed she wakes up and has to write their designs down before the ideas are gone. She has had so many ideas, so many inventions. She will never get to build them all and some would destroy the world if they ever got out. The invention that made you possible was one that Phoenix specifically banned her from working on. He gets touchy about anything that could make someone a slave or turn someone into something they couldn't live with. And it's grated on her. She's a genius! She can't stand the idea that her thoughts will one day die with her."

Penelope listened with growing disgust. She didn't want Jennie anywhere near her. She didn't want Kait trying to keep the blame off of this so called genius.

"So, it's my fault. Jennie is a force of nature and I am in charge of her. If you need someone to blame, blame me," Kait said, nearly breathless now.

Penelope scoffed. "Alright, I'll blame the both of you, happy?"

Kait was clearly not happy, but Penelope cut her off before she continue. "I understand you feel bad, or whatever, but I refuse to indulge her. She's probably the way she is because people like you keep stepping in to take the blame. And there is nothing you probably could have done to stop her, anyway, so that is not really your fault. What is your fault is the way you are enabling her and trying to convince me that I shouldn't be mad at her."

Kait looked like Penelope had slapped her in the face with a wet fish.

"Sorry, was that too therapy speak for you?" Penelope asked, turning to Kait fully and folding her arms. "She is a grown *** woman, and she needs to act like it or handle the consequences herself. Now, unless you need anything from me, you should go."

Kait snapped her mouth closed and glared at Penelope before turning and leaving without another word.

Penelope rolled her eyes and turned to pull off her shirt so she could work on her self. She was going to have a terrible time of it. The scratches on her chest plate were going to be a hassle to fix herself and Jennie had messed up the way the Penelope had her wires sorted so it would take a while to get it all fixed.

With a sigh, she reached up and popped out one of her eyes, sticking it in one of the sockets in her chest to give her a better view of what she was working with.

There was the soft ping of a message in her mind and she looked at it without pausing in her work.

Bret: Don't take this as my peeping, but do you want me to turn off the camera to the med room for a bit?

Penelope hummed, surprised. She needed to meet Bret in person soon.

Penelope: No need, but thank you. Did you see the interaction with Kait, then?

Bret: Yeah, I was kind of spying, sorry. You really read her the riot act.

Penelope: Hope I don't get in too much trouble for it.

Bret: Nah, I think you're good. Everyone has been wanting to tell her that for ages, I think. Been driving us all a bit batty the way she picks up after Jennie. Not really giving Jennie a fair chance at life, IMO.

Penelope: I'm glad that I'm not the only one then.

Bret: Yeah. Hey, I'm almost off my watch shift. IDK if this is too personal, but I'm handy with electronics if you could use some help.

Penelope thought about it for a moment. She reached into her mind to the file she had compiled on Bret and his life, pulled from the internet and Phoenix's own servers.

He hadn't grown up in any of the three cities that now made up Crestlen, coming from a town called Hatchet Creek. He had come to the cities to work while going through college, working as a techie at a repair store and hacking into places he shouldn't. Phoenix had met up with him after he had hacked the Dragon Gang and offered him a job and to pay him the rest of the way through college. Bret was about 35 now, turning 36 in a couple of weeks. He was unmarried, though he'd had relationships with both men and women in the past. Penelope had been in shocked awe over how many of those relationships had ended on good terms, and Bret was still apparently friends with a lot of his exes. Phoenix deemed him as trustworthy, friendly, and a genuinely good guy to be around. Plus, it seemed that he had been downplaying his abilities with mechanics.

Penelope: Yeah, I could use the help. Do you know where we can go? Don't want to disturb Kolt when we get talking.

Bret: :D yeah, I have an office. I'll send you directions.

Penelope packed up her things and put her eye back, left a note for Kolt on his bedside table as he slept, put a shirt back on and headed off down the halls in search of Bret's office.

She found it before he got off of his shift, though it was locked. She started watching the show he had recommended to her as she waited. It really was a good show.

Bret came around the corner with a smile. He wasn't overweight, necessarily, but it was clear he worked a desk job and likely had good taste in food. His facial hair was neatly trimmed and his hair pulled back in a tail. He was due for a new hairstyle, though, as balding was starting to kick in.

He held out a hand to shake hers and she took it with a smile. "Good to finally meet you."

"You too!" Bret said brightly. "Here, come on in. Make yourself comfortable and tell me what you need help with."

Penelope followed him into the office and did just that.

Part 31

Crestlen taglist: @looptheloup @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @snakebites-and-ink @starsick1979 @antlerfish 

@scatteriskity @whump-till-ya-jump @sunrise-lemon-bar

[x688plsloveme]

The Fall

A renovelization of Padme and Obi-Wan's confrontations with Anakin on Mustafar. Because I wanted to be sad today.

_______________

I've never read the actual ROTS novel but while watching, I noticed some things that I wanted to point out with my words.

Padme sees him as she steps from the ship, breaking out into a run to meet him.

They hug. They love each other.

And she's so worried.

"I saw your ship." They let go of the hug, but still have their arms on each other, not willing to let go. "What are you doing here?"

His voice is so soft. That's the Ani she knows. "I was so worried about you." She shakes her head, not wanting to believe the next words she says. "Obi-Wan told me terrible things." His blood runs cold. He can feel the darkness inside him stirring at the mention of his old master's name. "What things?"

"He said… you've turned to the dark side. That you… killed younglings."

She watches as his head lowers and his eyes close. 'No. No.'

He resolves himself. She doesn't need to know these things. Her perfect ears don't need to be graced with the horrors of the galaxy. She just needs to listen to him. "Obi-Wan is trying to turn you against me."

"He cares about us."

Anakin pauses. "Us?"

She nods her head and says, "He knows. He wants to help you."

Anakin laughs derisively.

She looks at him pleadingly. Searches his eyes for a trace of the man she was certain she knew. "Anakin, all I want is your love." "Love won't save you Padme. Only my new powers can do that." Anakin is firm, certain in his belief.

"At what cost? You're a good person." She knows this. She does. "Don't do this."

"I won't lose you the way I lost my mother. I am becoming more powerful than any Jedi has ever dreamed of. And I'm doing it for you. To protect you." He's not listening to reason. She must get him to stop. She touches his hair, tenderly but desperately. "Come away with me. Help me raise our child. Leave everything else behind while we still can." If he leaves now, she could live with him and their child. She wouldn't mind not having anything else. She wasn't lying when she said all she wanted was his love.

Anakin smiles and it worries her. "Don't you see? We don't have to run away anymore. I have brought peace to the Republic. I am more powerful than the Chancellor. I-I can overthrow him."

Padme backs away ever so slowly. She is coming to the realization that her husband has changed beyond what she could bear.

"And together, you and I can rule the galaxy. Make things the way we want them to be."

His smile is manic. It scares her. 'He doesn't see a thing wrong with this, does he?'

She shakes her head. "I don't believe what I'm hearing. Obi-Wan was right! You've changed."

His face scrunches. She's mentioned him too much now. "I don't want to hear anymore about Obi-Wan. The Jedi turned against me. Don't you turn against me." His face is cold, firm.

He's never talked to her like this before.

"I don't know you anymore. Anakin… you're breaking my heart. You're going down a path I can't follow," she chokes out through tears.

"Because of Obi-Wan?" Of course. Palpatine warned him that they were seeing each other but he didn't want to believe it. It seems it was true after all.

She cries out, "Because of what you've done. What you plan to do."

His gaze hardens as anger and hate fill his heart when he notices the man standing at the entrance of the ship.

"Stop. Stop now. Come back!" She hasn't noticed Obi-Wan yet. She just wants Anakin to notice how much she needs him.

But Anakin can't hear her, vision so clouded by the lies. All the promises they made each other and the words and touches they shared mean nothing in front of this liar that stands before him.

He knew she was cheating with him with Obi-Wan! Why is he even here? He needs to convince her. This is all for her! It is! It is, it is, it is!

Something in his head says, 'But she's a liar.'

He blinks. But she's a liar. She doesn't want him anymore.

Fine! He doesn't want her either!

She pleads, "I love you!"

He yells, "LIAR!"

She notices Obi-Wan now and she knows it's over. "No.. no!'

"You're with him! You brought him here to kill me!" He raises his hand to choke her - a reprimand that will teach her to fall in line for the greater good.

The greater good he knows is necessary. It's for her anyway. It must be.

"Let her go Anakin!"

Some part of him wants to, another, louder part - the part that singed his eyes yellow - needs her to learn.

"Anakin…" She rasps out.

"Let. Her. Go." Obi-Wan commands. Anakin hates that tone, telling him what to do.

The voice talks to him again, 'What are you going to do about it?'

He lets her go and she falls on the floor. A part of him knocks against his brain, screaming to help her, help her! She is pregnant with your child and she's hurt!!! HELP HER! He breathes, unsteady, before he remembers whose fault it really is.

"You turned her against me!" He yells at Obi-Wan.

"You have done that yourself!"

No! No he didn't! This was all for her! He can avoid her death and he'd do terrible things, but she'd be alive! That's all he needed. If it wasn't for Obi-Wan's meddling - whispering in her ear - she wouldn't be on the ground right now.

His mind isn't clear, but he knows one thing for certain.

"You will not take her from me!"

Obi-Wan's tone is clear, unmuddled by emotion. "You're anger and your lust for power have already done that."

He's admitting it now! Obi-Wan took her and is trying to blame it on him! Palpatine told him all about their secret meetings.

The voice pushes again, 'Do not let him take her.'

"You have allowed this dark lord to twist your mind. Until now… Until now you have become the very thing you sought to destroy." There's a hint of hurt in his voice.

Anakin scoffs. As if. He's doing this for Padme. He lives and breathes for her. Ever since they kissed - it's the only thing he knows how to do.

"Don't lecture me Obi-Wan. I see through the lies of the Jedi." Accusing Ahsoka, hiding his wife, refusing his master status. His mother. All the order did was tear him down. "I do not fear the dark side as you do." Palpatine was the only one who was ever always on his side. "I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new empire!" He turns around, shouting at the air while addressing Obi-Wan.

He doesn't see his old friend check to make sure Padme is okay behind him.

"Your new empire?" He questions.

Anakin glares. "Don't make me kill you." Despite his betrayal, Obi-Wan was still a mentor and a friend.

"Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic. To democracy!"

And there it is. He was never on Anakin's side. Not really. "If you're not with me, then you're my enemy."

"Only a Sith deals in absolutes." He unsheathes his lightsaber. "I will do what I must."

"You will try." Anakin resigns himself to what he must do. He brandishes his lightsaber and leaps to attack Obi-Wan.

Their battle is fierce and intense, sabers swinging at a speed that normal species couldn't follow. The sounds of their battle rings across the empty planet and Anakin can feel himself winning. He feels the powerful dark energy coursing through the planet, aiding him in every swing.

But Anakin's hatred consumed him too deeply. It puffs him up into something arrogant and foolish.

They take their fight above the lava and there is a lull. Obi-Wan uses it to try and convince him one last time.

"I have failed you Anakin. I have failed you." Over a decade of knowing and teaching this young man. Where did he go wrong?

Anakin doesn't care. "I should've known the Jedi were plotting to take over!"

"Anakin, Chancellor Palpatine is evil!" He is desperate now.

"From my point of view, the Jedi are evil!"

"Well then, you are lost!"

The finality in his tone just makes Anakin even angrier. Why can't he see!?

The platforms they are on whoosh through the air. They can both feel the fiery death that awaits below. The platforms come closer. They could touch if they only would reach.

"This is the end for you, my master." He must do what he must do.

Obi-Wan's hurt is palpable, but he lifts his lightsaber regardless.

Anakin jumps on the same platform as Obi-Wan, and they continue their duel. No two Jedi were ever so evenly matched. With his options getting more limited, Obi-Wan flips to a hill-side to have steadier ground and more movement.

Anakin stares him down from below.

"It's over Anakin! I have the high ground!" He wants him to surrender. He begs every being he's ever known to please make him surrender.

"You underestimate my power!" He can't lose! He has to go back to Padme! Has to live with her in this new peace he's created!

Obi-Wan shakes his head, pleading to him. "Don't try it."

Anakin leaps, but Obi-Wan is ready. With one swift move, his limbs are ripped from his body. Anakin rolls down, towards the lava as he screams. The pain comes in waves, and is quickly multiplied by the heat that sears him from below. He tries to crawl forward, but his efforts are useless.

Obi-Wan sees the pitiful sight and wants to cry. He screams instead. "You were the chosen one! It was said you would destroy the Sith, not join them!"

Anakin squeezes his eyebrows together, his face contorted in pain and confusion. This isn't how Palpatine said it would go! Obi-Wan can't win! Padme needs to live, she needs to live, she needs to live-!

Obi-Wan continues, "Bring balance to the force, not leave it in darkness!"

This man is to blame, yes! That's it! He's to blame for it all! He has to be!

"I HATE YOU!"

He desperately tries to crawl away from the heat, he must still kill him. That's the only way.

"You were my brother Anakin. I loved you." His voice is quiet.

For a moment, just a moment, all the hatred in Anakin's face leaves. It is left with something akin to recognition. Regret. Realization. This was the man who was both a father and brother to him. Not even a day ago, he loved him too, didn't he?

But the moment vanishes as quickly as it came when his body comes alight with a fire that rekindled the darkness and hatred in him.

The pain flares first, like a thousand lightsabers touching him all at once. Then the smell of his flesh burning hits his nostrils and he feels sick. He screams, agonized, and looks up to Obi-Wan as if asking the man to help - to do something!

Obi-Wan looks away, not able to bear the sight. When he glances back, he sees Anakin completely awash in flames, screaming as he reaches for him.

It's the worst thing he's ever seen.

He thinks for a brief moment that he should go, help him, at least put him out of his misery, but then he remembers what he saw at the temple. The Holocron he needs to ensure doesn't see the light of day.

This man, this man who did so many unspeakable things. This man who he never thought capable to kill children and choke his pregnant wife and turn from everything he knew.

And to hate him.

This man isn't the Anakin Skywalker he loved.

This man is a Sith.

Obi-Wan turns around, picks up Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber, and leaves. He leaves him to the punishment that was deserved of him.

Leaves behind the greatest friend he ever knew.

[sevencoloredstar]

j-hope's favorite lyrics/verses pt.2 (pt.1) • Airplane • 흥탄소년단 (Boyz With Fun) • MORE • Outro : Ego • Lights • My Universe • 방화 (Arson)