#post-victory collapse

[linecrosser]

Febuwhump 2k25 - Day 27 - Post-Victory Collapse

Shang Qinghua just completed his role as a Deus Ex Machina.

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Febuwhump Day 27: Post-Victory Collapse

We got it. It’s safe. It’s done.

Don hadn’t registered his vice grip on the precious external hard drive until April reached for it and his hands trembled with the effort of prying them loose. As soon as that burden was lifted, all adrenaline plummeted from his head to his toes, staggering him against the nearest wall.

“Whoa, Donnie! You okay?”

Every trace of their personal data was finally extracted from Stockman’s systems; all it took was a near-sleepless week, a heist and half a dozen razor-sharp Mouser bites. Better than okay, Donnie decided even as his bloodied legs buckled.

[daydreamingofspace]

DAY 27: POST-VICTORY COLLAPSE

Fandom: Star Wars

Rating: T

Warnings: mention of death, character death, panik attack, war

Pong Krell is dead.

Pong Krell is dead and Rex's instincts kick in. He begins to think about the procedure: he would have to write a report, the Council would probably want him to testify, (surely a lot of paperwork was ahead of him), he would have to tell Anakin and Ahsoka about what happened…

It is this what makes his train of thoughts stop.

He hadn’t thought about his General and his padawan since that moment. What would he tell them? Anakin would be furious of course, and Ahsoka will be too, but also worried about them. Anakin had only been away for a few days, and this happened. It was not his fault, obviously, but to Rex’s surprise, he finds himself blaming his general nevertheless.

He had abandoned them, left them in Krell’s hands. He went away and this happened.

“There was no way he could have known”, the rational part of him tells him.

“He is a Jedi, he should have known” the impossibly hurt and damaged part of him tries to justify. And it’s a part of him he knows it will never heal, not completely, so Rex listens to it because it is louder. Pain is always louder.

He knows it is not Anakin’s fault, but he is their general and he wasn’t there when they were being massacred. When they were being used as toys in an imaginary war. “Maybe it was the will of the Force” the voice says, ironically, and Rex hates that it sounds like Anakin’s.

“Maybe you deserved this” and now he can’t tell if it is his general’s voice or his own.

All the memories he had been trying to keep away are right there, ready to haunt him, and he can’t run away because the voice is too loud.

He stops feeling the ground under his feets, or his surroundings, or even his body.

He sees them, all of his fallen brothers. He is familiar with death but they didn’t deserve this,, dying for a mere game, for Krell’s amusement. He sees Waxer. He had died by the hands of one of his brothers. Damn it, he could have died by his hands even, he could never know.

“He told us they were wearing our armour”

The pain in his eyes will be forever carved in his soul, his pain was his pain too.

“You have killed your brothers” the voice says.

He hates autocompassion, but the voice is too loud.

He hears gunshots, and he knows each one means one more of his men, his brothers, is dead. He yelled to stop firing, he shouts it now once again, or so he thinks, because the voice is telling him it is not enough, Krell’s plan has worked, he has fooled you, it’s your fault.

The voice is too loud.

- Capitain?

“You have killed your brothers. It’s your fault”

He blames Krell, Anakin, the Jedi, this war, and yet there's nothing it can be done about it, and that thought is even worse than all his hate and loss.

“Capitain”

Someone or something touches him, and he snaps back to reality. With his anger making his blood boil, he reached for his guns. No one will ever hurt him or his brothers again. They will have to go through him.

Before shooting, he looked at who was before him, with his hands up, palms facing him, showing there was nothing on them.

“Kix”

Terrified, he puts the pistols down. All he could think of was his brother, kneeled down next to the wounded men, healing them, talking to them, comforting them.

-I’m… I’m sorry… I- I don’t know w- what…- he made himself say, even though he still doesn’t feel his body and all he can see are dead bodies.

-It´s okay- he cut him, which Rex thanked, because he had no word to explain what had happened.

Apparently, Kix had.

-A panic attack. It’s quite common after traumatic events, just as the one we all just lived. Don’t worry about it, just listen to me, focus on what is real, it will soon be over I promise…

Rex did focused on his voice, because it was nicer than the one on his head, and started to sense his body aging. It felt uncomfortable at first.

-Just… don’t blame yourself, don’t listen to your guilt, okay?- Kix continued.

Rex wondered how many times Kix had felt guilty when one of his patients died, or how many times he had had a panic attack. He guesses far too many. His advice had described what he had felt too accurately for it to be casual.

Rex began acknowledging his surroundings past Kix and himself, hearing more than just his pain and anger, and feeling his body completely.

The wounds were still there, the part of him that was forever destroyed.

So he just collapses. He falls to his knees and he is crying, begging, and falling apart.

Kix touches him again, hugging him, but this time it doesn’t matter.

He has failed his men because too many are dead, and he is failing them again by not being strong, by crying his eyes out for what he has lived, for what he has to remember forever.

But he can’t stop because it is his fault, he knows it, and nothing could ever make him change his mind.

link to my ao3 work

tags: @febuwhump

[loopstagirl]

Long Distance

For @febuwhump day 27: Post-victory collapse

The sound of cheering drew Scott’s attention. 

“Let’s check out who won,” Matty said. He tossed his apple core in the trash without looking and started heading towards the field. “C’mon, Scott.” 

“Not sure I’m in the mood,” Scott muttered. Matty stopped and looked back at him.  

“That’s unlike you.” 

Scott shrugged. “John really wanted to run it. But kid’s got a cold. Grandma made him promise he wouldn’t exert himself or she wouldn’t let him come to school.” 

Virgil or Gordon would’ve jumped at the chance of a free pass for a sick day, but John was different. It was the first time Scott saw him properly consider it though. 

This race had meant something to John. He’d always been better at long-distance than short sprints. In a school where athleticism was prized more than scientific achievements, it was a way for the 15-year-old to get out of the box that other students were trying to force him into. It was a way of escaping the bullies if he proved he could do something physical as well as ace all the tests. 

Missing it meant another year of just being the nerd. 

“In that case, you have to find out who won. He’ll want to know, and better he hears it from you than someone else.” 

Scott snorted. “You really want to head over there, don’t you?” 

“Yup.” 

Grinning, he gestured for his friend to start walking and fell in step with him. He was bored of spending his lunch breaks cramming anyway, however close the finals were looming. 

Half the school seemed to be on the track field. Not just the younger years, to whom this was still exciting, but Scott saw a lot of his friends milling around as well. It was a bright day, the first they’d had in a while, and everyone was taking the opportunity to be outside. 

It wasn’t long before Matty was cursing the mud covering his new sneakers. Laughing, Scott led the way to the finishing line, watching as the stragglers came in. It was a perfect day for a run: John would’ve loved it. Scott hoped his brother had stayed inside, away from it all, than watch on the sidelines and torment himself about it. 

“Who won?” Matty asked a passing girl. It would be all over the school by the afternoon: the annual long-distance race was the only highlight of this term. No one wanted to be the last to know. 

She just pointed, grinning at Scott. 

Scott followed her gaze. A big group were gathered around someone, cheering louder than usual. Whoever had won, it wasn’t who the rest of the school expected it to be. The crowd shifted, and Scott caught a glimpse of worryingly-familiar blond hair before the onlookers closed back in again. 

Someone stalked away from the group, face thunderous. Scott assumed it was an accident when the kid barged into him: not many people were foolish enough to take on seniors, especially not one with Scott’s reputation. While generally liked by all, it was also known that you didn’t mess with him or his family without consequences. 

But the boy turned and sneered at Scott. 

“This changes nothing,” he spat.  

Then he stalked away, still breathless from the race and leaving Scott bemused in his wake. 

“Do I know him?” he asked Matty, who chuckled and shrugged helplessly. 

Scott looked back towards the cheering crowd. They shifted again and this time, he couldn’t deny the blond hair. 

“Oh no,” he muttered.  

He should’ve realised. There was no John would’ve given in so easily: he was a Tracy. Competitiveness was in his DNA. But the race had been more than that. It had been his way of proving that he wasn’t just the smart kid in the back who was only any good if you needed someone to do your homework for you. 

Leaving Matty behind, Scott shouldered his way through the crowd. He grabbed John by the shoulder, spinning his brother to look at him. John’s face was flushed with exertion but his eyes were bright in triumph. He faltered when he saw his brother but quickly hitched the grin back on his face. 

“I won,” he cried. “I won, Scott!” 

“You weren’t supposed to be running.” 

John’s grin slipped and he glanced around. Scott tightened his grip on his shoulder and steered him away from his admirers. As mad as he was at John for doing something like this when he was ill, after promising their grandmother, he wouldn’t take his brother’s victory away from him. He understood why John had done it, probably better than his brother anticipated. 

He didn’t speak until they were out of earshot, then gave his brother a shake. 

“What were you thinking, you know what Grandma said!” 

“I was thinking that maybe I could do something that even the great Scott Tracy hadn’t done.” John pulled away, his eyes flashing angrily. “That for once I could step out from your shadow.” 

“You’re way better than me at -,” 

“Nothing this school cares about,” John spat. “All they care about is what happens out here.” He gestured to the running track, the sports field, and the outdoors as a whole. 

Scott shook his head helplessly. How was he supposed to make John see his skills were so much more worthwhile than Scott’s? That in a few years, he’d be leaving for college and he’d have the time of his life there among peers who saw things the same way as he did. 

But for now, he could only watch, helplessly, as his brother stalked away from it. 

Or, at least, tried to. 

John paused a few steps away. 

“John?” 

He didn’t answer. 

Scott closed the gap between them, moving so he could see John’s face. He was still flushed from the run, too flushed, and his eyes weren’t bright with victory, but with fever. Scott took his shoulders gently. 

“Johnny?” 

“Don’t feel so good,” John slurred.  

It was only Scott’s grip that stopped him from falling as his legs gave way.  

Scott shoved his shoulder under John’s, propping him up. His brother had done all this to be seen as something more than the clever one. Scott was hardly going to let him collapse with all these people watching. But John didn’t seem to be supporting any of his own weight and Scott was forced to wrap an arm around his waist. 

“C’mon, little brother. Let’s get you to the nurse.” 

All of John’s fight had gone out of him as Scott supported him across the field. John’s crowd of admirers didn’t seem to realise he wasn’t actually there anymore but just continued celebrating anyway. Any excuse to make more noise during school hours. 

They didn’t make it to the building before John suddenly lurched to one side. Scott held him up as he vomited weakly in a trash can, trembling as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Can’t go to the nurse,” John said softly. “Grandma will kill me.” 

Scott chuckled. “No, she’ll get you back to full health before she’ll kill you. But she’ll kill me first for letting you run.” 

“You didn’t even know I was doing it,” John muttered, confused. Scott just laughed, deciding now wasn’t the time to explain the complexities of being the eldest. 

He tried to encourage John to move but his brother dug his heels in. 

“I mean it. Grandma can’t know.” 

“Fine.” Scott sighed. “I’ve got a free period now. We’ll tell them I’m taking you home.” 

“Are you allowed to do that?” 

Scott shrugged. He dragged John inside, finding somewhere cool for him to sit and pressing his own water bottle into his brother’s hand. 

“Sip it,” he instructed before disappearing to find someone who could help. 

Technically, he probably shouldn’t have been able to take John home himself. But their mother’s death had changed things and Scott had spent a previous year charming the school staff into letting him leave early to collect his brothers. While things were back to normal now, he still held a certain sway. 

Thankfully, none of his charm had worn off. It only took a few quick sentences before he was hurrying back to John’s side. His brother had his head resting back on the wall and his eyes shut. It took Scott a worrying moment to make him focus again. 

“Let’s get out of here.” 

It was rare John didn’t protest about leaving school. There was always some test, project or piece of work that he couldn’t miss. It showed how exhausted he was feeling as he didn’t say anything as Scott hauled him to his feet and started towards the parking lot. 

“You hurl in my car and I am telling,” he threatened even as he deposited his brother in the passenger seat. John only managed a weak smile before resting his head against the cool window. 

They were silent as they drove home. Scott managed to get some more water into his brother and some painkillers. They helped to bring his temperature down a little. While Scott didn’t trust John with a shower, he did manage to help his brother clean most of the mud off and get into clean clothes. 

“I’ll dump these in my room,” he said, gathering up John’s gym kit. “She won’t notice it’s not mine until it’s clean.” 

Their grandmother tended to not look to closely to the contents of their laundry bins, especially a mud-splattered gym kit. 

John just gave him another of those weak smiles before flopping into bed, sighing in relief at the cool sheets. Scott paused in the doorway, watching him for a long moment, before forcing himself to move. While he had sway at school, they were also keeping a close eye on his attendance now things had returned to normal. If he didn’t make it back for his last period, his father would find out about it. 

He disposed of the incriminating kit and moved to the kitchen. He fetched his brother a fresh drink and made him some toast. While that was cooking, he called his grandmother. He only mentioned he’d found John at lunch and his brother was feeling worse and had asked Scott to bring him home. He didn’t say anything about where he’d found John, or what his brother had been doing to make things so much worse. His grandmother also didn’t ask. Scott doubted she was fooled, but if he wasn’t telling tales, she wouldn’t comment. She knew he’d tell if he thought it was serious. 

His brother was dozing by the time Scott took everything back upstairs.  

“Grandma’s on her way over,” he said softly, putting down his offerings and drawing the curtains. “I’ve gotta get back to school but she’ll be hear in about ten minutes.” 

John opened his eyes. He looked miserable. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. The elation of the win had clearly passed. 

“You’re an idiot,” Scott told him bluntly. But then he sat down on the edge of the bed. “But I know why you did it.” 

He sighed, gently brushing a hand through John’s hair. He winced at feeling how warm his brother was but knew his grandmother would know what to do. 

“I know why you did it, though. But you’re wrong. Doesn’t happen very often, but in this case, you are. You’re not in my shadow. You never have been. Never feel like you have to prove yourself: you’re pretty awesome the way you are, you hear. Don’t try and change.” 

He hated the idea that John didn’t think he was good enough how he was. He was the smartest kid Scott knew. John would go on to do great things, his brother had no doubt about that. The last thing he wanted was for some school bully to make his brother doubt himself. 

“Everyone compares me to you,” John murmured miserably, shifting the pillows rather than looking at Scott. 

Scott laughed. “Same here. You have no idea how many times I’ve been asked why I don’t know the answer when my younger brother would do. You’ve made your mark, Johnny.” 

John gave a soft smile. Scott made a mental note to bring this conversation up when John wasn’t feverish and might actually remember it. He tussled his brother’s hair and stood up to leave. But as he reached the door, he turned back. 

“But you were right with what you said before. You did do something I didn’t. I’ve never run track. Setting new records for the Tracys yet again, little brother.” 

John’s smile was more genuine this time even as he struggled to keep his eyes open. 

“Get some rest, kiddo. I’ll check on you later.” 

He left John to get some sleep, but hovered downstairs until his grandmother pulled up. It was only once he’d told her (almost) everything he knew and she’d bustled up the stairs to check on him that Scott finally let himself head back to school. 

Unless he was mistaken, he’d met the kid who’d been giving John a hard time about not doing anything physical. Scott wasn’t bothered about last period but he did want to be there at the end of the day. He had a bully to find and sort out. 

[m-j98]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chimney sighed. “I get it. Really, I do. But the others will come around eventually… Hopefully.”

“Come around? With a captain like Gerrard?” Hen scoffed, “probably not. I know choosing this profession was gonna be a challenge but… even after everything I’m doing, they don’t acknowledge me. Sal, Tommy, Gerrard… no matter what I do, it’s not enough! And I know, it was hard for you, too, but you’re still a man. And you had Eli. I’m a woman, a black woman at that, and a lesbian. I’ll always have to work two or three times as hard as people like Deluca, just to get a fraction of the recognition!”

---

Hen is sick of some of her team treating her like she's less than. At some point they do realize that maybe, just maybe, they were in the wrong for doing that.

@911bingo @febuwhump @henwilsonweek @badthingshappenbingo

I hope I'm doing all of these events justice :) (I'm a little early for the febuwhump prompt, sue me :S)

[tiamat-zx]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series), The Legend of Vox Machina (Cartoon) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Grog Strongjaw, Kevdak (Critical Role), Pike Trickfoot Additional Tags: Febuwhump 2025, Day 27: Post-victory collapse, Episode: s02e10 The Killbox (Legend of Vox Machina) Series: Part 27 of Febuwhump 2025 Summary:

Title kinda speaks for itself lol — @febuwhump 2025 Day 27: Post-Victory Collapse

[tina-mairin-goldstein]

The Hurt Within These Halls - Chapter 27 - Tina_Mairin_Goldstein - Doctor Strange (2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Day 27: Post-Victory Collapse

Summary:

America had already lost two parents. She didn't want to lose another.

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Multi

Fandom: Doctor Strange (Movies)

Relationships: Ancient One & Hamir the Hermit (Marvel), Kaecilius & Wong (Marvel), Kaecilius & Karl Mordo, Daniel Drumm & Kaecilius, Daniel Drumm/Kaecilius, Stephen Strange & Wong, Ancient One & Stephen Strange, Adria/Kaecilius (Marvel), Kaecilius & Stephen Strange, The Cloak of Levitation & Stephen Strange, The Cloak of Levitation & Kaecilius, Ancient One & America Chavez, America Chavez & Stephen Strange, America Chavez & Wong

Characters: Ancient One (Marvel), Hamir the Hermit (Marvel), Kaecilius (Marvel), Wong (Marvel), Karl Mordo, Daniel Drumm, Stephen Strange, Adria (Marvel), The Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), America Chavez

Additional Tags: Febuwhump 2025, Major Character Injury, Injury, Blood, Violence, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt, Emotional Hurt, Angst, Whump, Everyone Needs A Hug, Sign Language, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon timeline is there but adjusted to my needs, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Mind Control, Medical Inaccuracies, Mentions of Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Necromancy, Demonic Possession, Grief, Guilt, Comfort, Torture

Language: English