#angstpril day 3

[fanfictasia]

Angstpril Day 3

Broken-Hearted

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Turn Back Time

“You can leave if that is what you want to do,” Anakin tells Fox, meeting his gaze firmly. He already knows the answer, but this is a choice he has to offer. He wished for years that someone would be willing to give him the same. He longed for someone, for there to be someone who loved him enough to free him, or maybe even someone who tried because they were foolish enough to believe it was the right thing to do.

For decades, he had nothing, no one, and every time he reached out, it just got… worse.

He knows he doesn’t deserve it, never deserved to be free, but now that he is, he’ll give the same chance to everyone he can.

Even to Fox.

Fox, who set everything in motion when he killed Fives.

Fives, who was the one person who could have saved everyone. He could have saved Anakin, the Jedi, the entire galaxy from the fate they endured.

Fives.

Anakin’s best friend. His brother. His – he may not have been the one always at his side in the same way Rex was, but Fives was Fives, and he was a friend. Maybe the only one who hadn’t held care for rank and status. Fives.

A genius, the one reckless and chaotic enough to match with Anakin’s perfectly.

There hadn’t been a single minute since his death that the image of Fives’ falling body, a hole in his chest hasn’t haunted Anakin.

That seeing Rex hold him, that feeling his warm presence fade away hasn’t burned in the forefront of his mind.

Fives, who died trying to free his brothers, all the ones that Anakin unknowingly helped enslave.

“You don’t have to stay here,” Anakin repeats, “I know you don’t know any other life, but you can learn if that is what you want. All of you.”

In a different lifetime, he killed Fox in a moment of blind fury. He’d failed and he nearly had Vader killed. He had the clones fight him, and Vader had been… angry.

It was so soon after Mustafar.

The rage and pain were smothering, and nothing could stop him from lashing out. He knew it was a clone, and that he shouldn’t hurt him, but that was just one of the many mistakes Vader made. He killed Fox. He kept him from the chance at survival and redemption – if the person who murdered Fives could truly be redeemed. That was Anakin’s choice, and Fives would want him alive.

He would never have wanted any of his brothers hurt, no matter who they were or how awful they were. He was the one who stood by Dogma the entire time after Umbara, no matter how he was the one insisting on Fives’ execution. Fives wouldn’t want Fox dead, and Anakin – knows what it’s like to kill people. He knows how it feels to kill those in his family, who deserve so much better than what he did to them.

He owes Fox this, and all of the Coruscant Guard deserve a chance at being free. They deserve a chance to live, and Anakin has to give them one. He’s the only one who can.

[sinvulkt]

Angstpril: 30. LOST HOPE - evil au - second (successfull) escape

@whumpril - Day 30."Don't let go."

My breath raced as I followed Rema throughout the corridors. I felt floaty, disconnected. Our steps rang in my ears, and Rema's warmth in my hand didn’t feel quite real. This was stupid, I knew. We’d get caught, and everything would be for naught.

What worse could happen?

My feathers itched where they had been amputated, and I longed to feel the high altitude breeze tease my cheek again. How long has it been since I last flew? How long would it be, before I could again? 

I never would.

I had not been made to stay grounded.

I guessed it didn’t matter in the end, whether I went with Rema, or whoever yanked my leash. In both cases, my life was in someone else's hands, caring or not, the responsibility of keeping my heart beating far away from my twisted mind. In both cases, I would never fly again.

Something in me was gone, dead, an empty hole replacing the once bright light pulsing in my chest, and I couldn’t muster the energy to bring it back. Was it not for the strict anchor Aheka had placed in my mental space, I would have been gone already, stomping away from the wasteland of a galaxy that I had burned to ashes.

Everywhere was the same.

“Master, where are you going?”

I froze, guilt and instinctual terror battling for the front seat of my consciousness.

Pat.

I darted a glance at him.

The Togorian stood in the hall, darkness spinning around him. Darkness spun around all of us, these last few days. My heart tightened, longing for the free days we had together, and I slowed down. Perhaps if I stayed… If I stopped disappointing Aheka, stopped being such an ungrateful Padawan… Would everything go back to normal?

(It wouldn't.)

Rema tightened her hold around my hand, pulling me ahead.

“Don’t let go,” she hissed.

I followed, too hungry for the smell of freedom to care for the Padawan I left behind. Something angry shifted in me, whispered that I abandoned him, that I was undeserving of the freedom I chased. I laughed at it. This was far from the worst selfish act I did while soaking in the Dark. 

Furthermore, it had never been a matter of deserving. If it was, then the Force had a funny way to show it: I never deserved my place as a Jedi, never deserved the luxury I got in slavery, never deserved to have a fallen Master so kind… I had seen the marks on Kedrick’s Apprentices. Compared to those scars, temporary clipped wings had been nothing.

But it was so much worse now, wasn’t it?

The crackle of a comm being turned on echoed behind us.

“Bring reinforcement to the section 1.3. They are here.”

I tripped at the coldness in Pat’s voice, but Rema’s hold pushed me forward. She ran further, each step dragging us closer to the exit. My head spun from the effort. My muscles had weakened from the months of inaction, as I was kept in the palace like a pretty bird in a golden cage, then even more as I layed near-catatonic on the floor for days to end, and I was now paying the price. I let Rema pull me, limbs awkwardly tripping behind her, uncaring of the outcome.

Soon enough, we reached a nursery. Rema dropped my hand, and I stopped, confused. Vaguely, I remembered something about Rema being pregnant, and meeting her child. The toddler’s name was lost amidst the fog weighing down my mind, however, teasing memories I couldn’t care to recall. I felt like a droid on autopilot- unable to move except if given the command. 

An instant later, or an eternity (both felt the same), Rema reappeared, a toddler in her hands.

Solana.

The name finally came to me, ringing loudly in my head now that it had been heard. The child was pressed tightly against Rema’s chest, and I could sense her distress in the Force. In another time, I would have been able to interpret it, and move to fix whatever bothered her. Today, all I could focus on was the inescapable pain pulsing through my wingtips, and the black spots dancing over my vision.

Guards’ stomps and shouts echoed in the hallway, spurring Rema into action.

“Let’s go,” she whispered, taking my hand again.

This time, she took us through shortcuts. We climbed in large vents, hid in tight closets, and passed through invisible wall doors.

We arrived in front of a small hangar door. Rema stopped, and I collided with her back. Recognition wormed its way throughout my dazzled mind. This was Kedrick’s private hangar- where we had stopped last time, and been captured. Already, I could hear guards from the other side of the door. There was no way we would pass and reach the shuttle.

Uncontrollable shivers wracked  my body. We’d be caught, I was certain. What would they do this time? Kill me? 

But no, they had never been so merciful. Aheka wouldn’t let them be.

A comforting hand settled on my shoulder. 

“It’s alright, Sin. I’ll get you out of this.” She looked fondly at Solana as the word ‘you’ escaped her mouth.

She led me slightly to the side, towards a condemned vent entrance. The vent I had climbed in last time, I realized. Her red blade lit the corridor, and soon after, the airway was open. She motioned for me to climb up, but I didn’t react, paralyzed. 

“I feel like I’m helping some loth-kitten take its first step, rather than a full-grown Siegrind." She pushed me forward until I was half in the vent, and had to climb in for balance.

“Go through there. I’ll see you on the other side.” She hesitated an instant, before adding more softly. “If anything happens… Take care of Solana for me, will you?”

Before I could react, she was far away, opening the hangar door.

There was a floating moment, during which the troopers inside faltered, their brains taking a bit of time to compute what was happening. The silence only lasted an instant, however, before Rema’s powerful voice echoed.

“I’m here!”

Blaster shots fired through the hangar. A strange tightness settled in my chest, pushing beyond the numbness, pushing beyond the disconnection that paralysed me, and I pushed Solana forwards.

Was Rema alright?

Intellectually, I could feel, in the Force, that she was alive. But there were so many ways to be alive yet dead, to exist in an in-between state only filled with suffering… I crawled through the vent, focusing on guiding the toddler before me rather than the chaotic thoughts filling my head.

Rema's calm face met us on the other side, and my shoulders sagged in relief. I slipped away again now that I had visual proof she was fine, not wanting to stay here a moment more than necessary. My flockmate was strong. She would take care of everything.

Rema helped us out of the vent, then took Solana in her arms and walked inside a shuttle. I followed her like a lost duckling, uncaring of where we went as long as it was away.

But never far enough to escape the truth that my wings were—

I blinked, and found myself strapped to the pilot chair, Solana secured in my lap. 

“Sin. I need you to wake up for a bit, okay?" Rema coaxed, her tone gentle but determined. "It’s important.”

I looked at a vague point on the horizon, uninterested. We were on the ship. Beneath me, I could feel the structure vibrate, engines ready to go.

 Space was pretty.

“I know you hear me," Rema pressed. "Listen, please.”

The intonation. I turned towards her, gathering what focus I could. Blaster-calloused hands met my cheeks. Rema guided my head forward, until I could do nothing but stare at her cool blue gaze.

“You need to live," She said, weighing each of her words with a Force inflection. "To protect Solana… You need to live." She stepped back, and I almost followed, hypnotized. "Promise me you will.”

I nodded, and she left.

I stared, confused, at the empty space where Rema stood. I had heard the ship ramp retract, seen Rema walk towards the hangar door, yet I just stared on, expecting her to come back. To gather back Solana from my lap, turn back the ship autopilot to manual, and crack a joke about how I truly had fallen for her prank, of course she would never abandon her child. By the time reality finally pierced the fog enveloping my brain, the ship had long taken off and jumped into hyperspace.

Rema had left.

I was alone.

Next to me, the toddler began to cry. Automatically, my wings evelopped her, an engrained instinct trying to stop the child’s whimpers.

[chaos-company]

Angstpril 2024

Hi everyone!

It’s that time of year again! We are excited to announce that we are hosting the event again this year!

All prompts, FAQs and rules can be found in the graphics and below the cut! 

Prompts:

1. homesick

2. frozen

3. broken-hearted

4. longing

5. rise from the ashes

6. this isn’t going to work

7. bad dreams

8. lost battle

9. trust issues

10. phantom pain

11. no way out

12. a little too late

13. learning the truth

14. surrender

15. confrontation

16. cry for help

17. last chance

18. left behind

19. trembling

20. broken

21. faking a smile

22. drained

23. swept away

24. the ghost of you

25. cold shoulder

26. grief

27. panicked

28. never see you again

29. betrayal

30. the last time

Alt Prompts:

1. troubled mind

2. not strong enough

3. you were never mine

4. the night we met

5. mental scars

6. miscommunication

7. jealousy

8.rock and a hard place

9. emotionally distant

10. paranoid

Rules

All posted content must be your original content. The use of AI for creation of any kind is prohibited.

All tags must be utilized in order to be reblogged. NOTE: the mods are human beings, so not all works will automatically be reblogged, even if all tagging is correct.

Any art form is acceptable, including original writing, gif sets and fan art.

FAQs

“Do I have to create for all thirty days?”

- Not at all! Feel free to jump in whenever you’d like. This is a creation event, so create as much or as little as you want! However, if you want to be entered in the shout out post, you must participate in all 30 days.

“Can I post a creation after the day has already passed?”

- Yes! You’re welcome to post for a prompt day even after the date, just be sure to tag with which day and prompt you’ve created for! You will only be eligibile for the shoutout post if you complete all 30 days within the month of April.

“What if I don’t understand/like a prompt?”

- We have a list of 10 alt prompts for you to choose from if you don’t like the main 30. Feel free to use our alternate prompts for any day, and if there’s any confusion send us an ask!

[whumpsday]

With the Ides of March coming up, March is the perfect month to get into a whumpy mood! Here's some events to help with that!

March events starting today:

🏃 March Trope-A-Thon (@amonthofwhump), prompts here, a 7-day whump event (starts March 15!)

🎭 Whump: The Musical (@whumpthemusical), prompts here, a 31-day musical-themed whump event

📜 The Whumps of March (@storyweaverofgondor), prompts here, a 31-day literature-themed whump event

🌲 Wollemi Whump Event (@merriam-whumpster), prompts here, a month-long, 15-prompt whump event

🌵 March of Pain (@marchofpain), prompts here, a 31-day whump event

April events starting next month:

🩹 Whumpril (@whumpril), prompts here, a 30-day whump event

🎂 WoW's Birthday Whump Event (@whumperofworlds), prompts here, a 15-day whump event

🌧️ Angstpril (@chaos-company), prompts here, a 30-day angst event

🫀 Whump Wars (@folieadeuxserver), info here, a 10-day points-based Hannibal fandom whump event

In addition, I've made a whump event myself for the first time, though it's not seasonal: the Conflict Whump Challenge has 3-9 prompts depending on how you play it.

Have fun and enjoy the coming spring!

Full list of whump events here

[whumpcember]

Introducing Whumpcember 2022!

Everyone's heard of Whumptober or Febuwhump, Angstpril or Sicktember, but get ready for Whumpcember! Whumpcember is pretty much exactly like Whumptober or Febuwhump, except in December.

Whumpcember is born out of a love of monthly whump challenges but with zero time to complete them. I also want to complete these challenges, but never have the time! So I came to realize that, from an American perspective, December is the month I get the most time off. So, I decided to create this event for people who have too much time in December, but so little across the other 12 months. Of course, this is most definitely an American experience and not universal; so if you don't have free time during December it is still perfectly alright to participate! This event was just made to cure my December boredom, and anyone else's.

Now after that ramble, onto the actual rules:

Prompts should be answered with whump as the main focus (i'll let angst slide though, since it's similar enough to whump)

Fanfic! Gif! Text post! Fanart! Fan video! Any piece of media that you can possibly make that has whump counts!

You can use the prompts any time! Don't feel the need to rush

Though, prompts answered during December will most likely be reblogged

Post anywhere! AO3, Wattapad, Tumblr, or even Fanfic.Net! So as long as you make a Tumblr post with a link to the answered prompt it may be reblogged.

When posting onto Tumblr you can either @/ the blog or tag with #whumpcember2022 and the day's tag, such as #whumpcember2022 day1

Don't forget to add any warnings necessary, such as NSFW or sexual content

At the end of the month a masterpost will go out to all participants and a badge you can save stating that you are either a participant or completionist. In order to be on the masterpost though, you will have to fill out a google form at the end of month; don't worry it'll take two minutes!

I hope everyone has a fun time during the event! And if you have any questions shoot me an ask through the ask box!

(this is also my first year running this event, expect a hiccup or two)

Written Prompt List Below

-Main Prompts-

Day 1: Hypothermia

Day 2: Avalanche

Day 3: Storm

Day 4: Shortness of Breath

Day 5: “I hate you!”

Day 6: Separated

Day 7: Scars

Day 8: Faked Death

Day 9: Sacrifice

Day 10: “I won’t leave you”

Day 11: Clothing That Doesn’t Fit

Day 12: Broken Bone

Day 13: Fear of the Unknown

Day 14: Shaking

Day 15: “You’re A Monster”

Day 16: Bad Luck

Day 17: Icy Deep

Day 18: Betrayal

Day 19: Electricity

Day 20: “It’s Too Late”

Day 21: Self-Hate

Day 22: Closing In

Day 23: Stumbling

Day 24: Anticipation

Day 25: “Shouldn’t You Be Happy?”

Day 26: Free Falling

Day 27: Crash Landing

Day 28: Explosion

Day 29: Failure

Day 30: The End Is Nigh

Day 31: Slow Healing

-Alts-

Alt 1. Nightmares

Alt 2. Desperation

Alt 3. Deal With The Devil

Alt 4. Accidental Injury

Alt 5. “I Won’t Help You”

Alt 6. Revenge

Alt 7. Lashing Out

Alt 8. Secrets

Alt 9. On The Run

Alt 10. “I Would Die For You”

[kybercrystals94]

Teal Paint

Read here on Ao3!

Angstpril 2024 | Day 18 | Prompt 18: Left Behind

Rated: G | Word Count: 1526 | Summary: Memories left behind... | Character Focus: Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Omega, Echo

*some slight spoilers at the very end for Season 3*

Tech finds a reasonably tame city to spend their brief period of downtime between missions. It took several months, but they’ve finally scraped enough credits together, and today is the day. The streets are crowded with evening traffic, the Batch walking close together to avoid being separated.

“Did you know,” Tech says, informatively, “that facial tattoos are among the most painful, depending on the location on the face?” 

“Thanks, Tech,” Hunter grumbles, “that’s really helpful.” 

“You’re not going to talk us out of it,” Crosshair adds resolutely.

Wrecker nods. “Yeah, we’re gonna do it no matter what you say, Tech!” 

Tech huffs. “On the contrary, I’m quite eager to observe the process. I just believe that being well informed is beneficial when making a life altering decision.” 

“Maker, Tech, getting a tattoo isn’t life altering,” Crosshair says. 

“It’s awesome!” Wrecker declares. “You should get one too, Tech.” 

“I prefer modifications that can be modified,” Tech retorts.

Crosshair leans close to Wrecker, puts his hand up to shield his mouth from Tech, and loudly whispers, “He’s too scared.” 

“That is not true.” 

“Aww, Techie’s scared,” Wrecker crows, throwing an arm around Tech. “I can hold your hand, be brave for the both of us.” 

Tech tries to extract himself from Wrecker’s grip. “I am not scared! I have stated my reasoning clearly and concisely. Fear has nothing to do with it.” 

Hunter rubs his hand across the left side of his face, a fist of apprehension balling up in the pit of his stomach. He isn’t having second thoughts, he’s almost positive that he’ll be happy with the results. He and Crosshair spent hours with a pad of flimsi sketching and scheming. Crosshair wanted something subtle, meaningful, a reflection of himself. Hunter, to his brothers’ surprise, wanted something bold. A statement. Memorable. Of the Batch, he most resembles, in appearance and speech, a reg. But he is no more a reg than any other member of his squad. He might not be able to easily change his facial structure or vocal pattern; however, inking half his face with the dark contour of a skull seems like a good start. 

“What do you think?” Crosshair asked, holding up the sketch he’d made of Hunter. 

Hunter grinned, taking the pad and admiring the simple lined likeness to himself, the skull motif shadowed deeply with graphite. He loved it. It was perfect. Exactly as he’d imagined it. “Looks good,” he told his brother.

Wrecker, at the last minute, decided that he also wants a tattoo, although his ideas are scattered and untethered to any sort of theme. Even as they approach the tattoo parlor, he is still undecided, claiming that it is going to be a surprise. 

“A tattoo is permanent,” Tech tells Wrecker again, having resigned himself to being tucked under Wrecker’s arm for the remainder of their trek. “You should at least have some sort of idea.” 

“I do,” Wrecker says, “My idea is that it will be the coolest tattoo in the entire galaxy.” 

“That is not an idea,” Tech sighs. 

At Tech’s direction, they turn off on a side street, the crowds petering off the further they walk. It doesn’t exactly feel like a bad part of town; however, it is less kept, the buildings showing their age and wear. Hunter is beginning to wonder if Tech got them lost when they turn another corner and a neon sign blinks the word “TATTOOS” at them, the flashing light practically searing into Hunter’s retinas. 

“They should get a brighter sign,” Crosshair snarks, “we almost missed it.” 

They step inside, and find the business deserted except for a human who stands up from a chair behind the counter. He is covered in colorful ink, his natural pigment completely lost under the tapestry of mismatched designs across every inch of his exposed skin. 

“Now that must’ve hurt,” Wrecker mutters to Tech, but he might as well have screamed it from the rooftops. 

Tech rolls his eyes. 

The man smiles, flashing white teeth. “Only hurts ‘til the pain goes away.”

“Naturally,” Tech agrees sardonically.

“I’m gonna guess you lot are here for some ink,” the man says. 

“They are, I am not,” Tech replies quickly. “I am here to observe.” 

“Not a fan of needles, huh?” the man asks. 

Tech opens his mouth to deny the accusation, but Wrecker gasps out, “Wait, needles?” 

Crosshair groans. “We went over this, Wrecker.”

“Yeah, well” Wrecker says, “it sounds different the way he says it.” 

“How?” 

Wrecker heaves his broad shoulders in a shrug. “I’ll just wait on my tattoo. Until I think of something good, ya know?”

Crosshair steps around Wrecker and jerks his head in Hunter’s direction. “He and I are getting tattoos. These are what we want.” He pulls two pieces of flimsi from his pocket with their chosen designs, pushing them across the counter. 

The man takes them, looking over the details. “Straightforward and to the point. I like that. C’mon around and we’ll get started.”

Hunter takes a deep breath. 

He’s not turning back now. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Hunter and Crosshair decide to add to their armor to coordinate with their new tattoos. The next time they’re on Kamino, they find their leftover paint and set to work, Tech and Wrecker joining them. Inspired by Hunter’s new half skull tattoo, they decide to incorporate the symbol into all of their armor in some way. 

“So help me, Wrecker, if you tip over another can of paint…” Crosshair mutters, snatching up the at-risk bucket from Wrecker’s proximity. 

Wrecker is sprawled out on their barrack’s floor, taking up far more than his fair share of space. His paint brush flicks up, sending a spray of heavy duty white across the room. 

“You’re cleaning that up,” Tech says from his place at the table.

“No one will notice,” Wrecker assures them. “Maybe they’ll look like clean spots!”

Hunter sighs. “That’s not a good thing, Wreck.” 

Wrecker ignores the comment, instead dropping his paintbrush onto the tray Tech ordered him to use and holding up his helmet. “What do you think? It’s a skull.” 

“Not a human skull,” Tech points out. 

Wrecker shakes his head. “Human skulls are boring.” 

“There’s supposed to be red on your helmet somewhere,” Crosshair gripes. 

Wrecker reaches over and plucks Crosshair’s fine tipped paint brush out of his hand, the bristles still dripping red paint. Crosshair sputters a curse as Wrecker happily begins painting with the stolen utensil. 

“Hunter!” Crosshair cries, “Tell Wrecker to give it back.” 

 Hunter doesn’t even look up from his work. “Let’s share our toys like big kids,” he coos, earning a chuckle from Tech. 

“I’m gonna give it back in a second,” Wrecker says. “Almost done.” 

Crosshair growls something rude in Huttese. 

“There!” Wrecker says, tossing the brush back at Crosshair, the sniper catching it from the wrong end, paint staining the palm of his glove. Wrecker turns his helmet again to the room. “See? It’s perfect.” 

The number 99 is brandished across the forehead of his helmet in dripping red. 

“Subtle as usual, Wrecker,” Tech says. 

Wrecker grins. “Thanks!” 

Hunter sits back and admires his own helmet’s new design, carefully imitating his inked face. It’s exactly how he imagined it. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“I like this color,” Omega says, pointing at a swatch of teal paint. “Oh, and this orange is nice.” 

Tech glances at Hunter, clearly questioning the decision to let Omega choose their new armor colors. Hunter shrugs. At least it will look…different. Which is exactly what they want. 

“What about this one?” Wrecker asks, pointing at the yellow swatch.

“Yes! I like that one too!” Omega cries. 

They purchase the three cans of paint and some brushes before heading back to the Marauder. Omega is beside herself with excitement. “Do you think the paint will work on my helmet?” she asks. 

“Sure, kid, ‘course it will,” Wrecker says cheerfully. 

“I’m gonna use orange on mine, then,” Omega says. 

That evening, spread out under the Marauder’s wing, the Batch set about repainting their armor. Wrecker can’t bear the thought of covering up the skull on his helmet, so he settles for removing the bright 99 from it instead, sanding it down and repainting the area white. With Omega’s help, he uses orange and yellow to accent the rest of his armor pieces. 

Tech and Echo decide to monopolize the orange paint, leaving very little to Hunter. With a sigh, he picks up the teal paint, and pries it open. Omega beams at him. “I think that will be a very nice color on you,” she tells him sincerely, and suddenly, the color doesn’t seem so bad. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“All the armor’s been stripped. But we’re still not gonna blend in,” Echo says, tossing Hunter his helmet. 

The colors of his past lives have been removed with finality. He knows it is necessary; however, he can’t help but feel the pang of loss as he stares at the familiar piece of himself he’s had for so long, devoid of the visible memories lingering like ghosts behind him. 

Maybe they’ll paint their armor again, when all of this is over. 

If they all make it back. 

END

@the-little-moment and @just-here-with-my-thoughts 🥳 I can't believe we've only got 4 more stories/chapters each to go!

✨Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!✨

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @merkitty49

[the-little-moment]

Angstpril Day 19: Slipping

Prompt: Not Strong Enough

Words: 270

Summary: Hunter has one goal, to hold onto what he has left.

Hunter paused, bone-weary, in the doorway to the back of the ship, focusing on the slumped form of his brother, sleeping on the floor, using Gonky as a pillow. Focusing on the tooka doll in one of his large hands. Focusing on the little wooden trooper in the other. 

He hadn’t been strong enough for any of it. To get Crosshair to stay. To save Tech from falling. To protect Omega. To convince Echo to come with them. 

All Hunter had left now was Wrecker. His big, little brother with an even bigger heart, who he knew would never quit, never give up until they found her. A small, persistent, evil voice in the back of Hunter’s head whispered, “What if he’s next? What if you’re the reason you keep losing people? Everyone you love? What if the day comes, and you’re not strong enough to save Wrecker either?” 

Hunter felt his hands clench into fists at his sides, but the voice kept going. “You know that’s why Echo left, don’t you? To go back to a real leader, someone he can trust. Someone who isn’t going to get him killed, like everyone else.”

That’s not going to happen. Hunter gritted his teeth, snatching a blanket from the back of a chair. He knelt beside his brother, covering as much of him as he could. That’s not going to happen. He focused on Wrecker. Focused on the unscarred side of his brother's face that was turned towards him. Focused on the thought of bringing her home. That was what was going to happen. He just had to be strong enough. 

Whew! Almost 2/3 of the way through Angstpril! I hope you've been enjoying the ride with @kybercrystals94, @just-here-with-my-thoughts and myself.

Taglist: @freesia-writes @clonethirstingisreal @lightwise

[whiskygoldwings]

Angstpril Day 3 - Alt - You were never mine

Although it ended up working for heartbroken too I guess...

Fandom: The Clone Wars (2008)

Relationship: Fox/Quinlan

CW: Relationship break up

----

“You were never mine”

Quinlan’s hands still in the middle of folding a shirt into his half-full bag. His shoulders raise around his ears, then release on a long sigh.

“You never let me be,” he responds.

Fox’s hands tighten into fists. “What does that mean?”

Quinlan tucks the last of his spare clothing into the bag, then stands and turns to face Fox.

“You were never able to look past the fact that I was a natborn. Always kept yourself from trusting me.”

Fox’s back teeth grind, jaw tense to the point of aching. He will not cry. He will not. Anger is easier.

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Quinlan smiles sadly at him, and Fox fucking hates that smile. Has seen it too much recently. “You’ve never looked at me and thought, ‘ one day he’s going to betray me’.”

Fox stays silent. There’s no point in lying to Quinlan. He’s a Jedi, he’ll know if he does. He’d always been waiting for the other shoe to fall, for Quinlan to say something, to do something that revealed how Fox was just a clone in the end. Not really human. Less than sentient according to the Republic they both worked under.

But... He’d never thought Quinlan had known. Had kept it tucked away in the depths of his mind, behind shields Quinlan had helped him form into beskar. Didn’t think he’d let it temper his touches, change the way he looked at Quinlan.

Quinlan’s who’s still smiling softly at him. There’s an edge to this smile that he doesn’t recognise. Something he’s never seen before.

That he’ll never get to see again.

“I... I love you,” Fox whispers.

Quinlan’s smile cracks, grief and pain breaking across his face. “I love you too Fox. But we’ve been falling apart for a while now. I can’t... I can’t become another enemy to you. Or at least, I can’t watch it happen while I’m still trying to hold onto you.”

There’s a pain in Fox’s chest, like his heart is tearing itself free to leave with Quinlan. The anger he was holding like a shield has fallen, leaving only desperation in it’s place. “Please I... I can learn to trust you.”

Quinlan laughs bitterly. “No Fox. You can’t. And I don’t... I don’t actually blame you for that. After everything the Republic has done to you and the Guard... I get it. I do. But it’s going to end up tearing us apart. Has already started. I... I want to stop it before I’m just another nat-born betrayal.” The smile is back, Quinlan’s eyes shadowed and closed to Fox in a way he doesn’t think he’s ever seen them be.

Fuck that smile. Fuck it and the patronizing, condescending way Quinlan is treating him. The anger roars inside him again, and he suddenly, brutally, yearns to hurt Quinlan as much as he’s hurting him.

“You know fucking nothing Quinlan. You don’t get to act like you understand what I’ve been through. Of course I find it hard to trust you. Oh, but I forget, I’m not even fucking sentient. How dare I think that you might have fucking empathy for my struggle.” Fox has his hands up, spread wide, face twisted into a snarl, threatening and cruel.

Quinlan just stands there. Jaw set, tears building in the corners of his eyes. He blinks, taking a deep breath, and one runs down his cheek, crossing over the golden bar of his tattoo. He doesn’t bother wiping it away, and Fox aches.

They’d argued recently. A lot. He doesn’t even really remember what about. Petty things, stupid things. Things that had meant far more than he’d realised.

He’s never made Quinlan cry.

He feels exhausted suddenly, hurt and bruised and miserable. The anger’s gone again, and he’s just... Sad. His hands fall to his sides, but he wants to go over there, to press his fingers to Quinlan’s cheek, wipe his tears away, put kisses and his love in their place.

Quinlan turns away just as he takes a step forwards, and the moment is gone before it happened. He grabs the handle of his bag, shrugging it onto his shoulder, and brusquely swipes over his face. When he turns back his eyes are clear, expression drawn and tired.

“I always had empathy for you Fox. I always tried. I tried so hard to get you to see you could trust me. That I wasn’t just going to abandon you, or hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me now,” Fox whispers, and Quinlan winces.

“Guess I did betray you in the end then...” Quinlan murmurs and Fox reaches for him, wanting to take that agony out of his voice.

Quinlan shifts, leaving Fox’s hand empty in the air. He holds it there for a moment, then let’s it drop to his side.

“Is... Is this it then?” Fox asks.

Quinlan swallows, but nods firmly. “Yeah Fox. This is it.”

Fox just stares at him, trembling under the weight of everything he wants to say, but won’t. There’s wetness on his cheeks, and Quinlan’s face crumbles. He looks away, closing his eyes and breathing deeply through his nose, before he moves around Fox.

Fox doesn’t move. Can’t move. He won’t beg. If he moves, he’ll be on his knees, grasping at Quinlan’s legs, flinging himself at whatever mercy Quinlan has to just stay. Let Fox have him. Let Fox keep him.

He won’t beg. Not to a nat-born. He made himself that promise when the Chancellor first had him beaten bloody. He won’t beg. It’s the one thing the nat-borns can’t take from him.

Quinlan pauses at the doorway, the sound of his breath tight and controlled, like he’s trying not to sob. There’s a moment of silence between them, then Quinlan keeps walking, the door hissing as it slides closed behind him.

Fox lets himself fall to his knees once he’s alone. Lets himself keen and whimper with the pain in his chest. Lets himself tear the room apart when the rage hits him again.

He curls up on the floor eventually, surrounded by the ruins of his actions. He’ll allow himself this time. This moment of mourning.

After all, it turns out he’s just as disposable as he thought he was.

[numerousbees1106]

We're At A Fair, Oh What Do I Care?

Angstpril Day 3 - Heart-Broken

Read on Ao3!

Death didn’t exist in the way that most other things did, even abstract and intangible things. Most other things were a presence, a convex point or hill on the infinite plane that was existence, or concept. Rage was the presence of that burning, red static that felt like blood inside of veins. Guilt was the presence of blame, and blame was the presence of countless ‘what-if’s and ‘why didn’t you’s and ‘what could I have done differently to prevent this’s. Grief was the presence of guilt and blame and despair and rage and a thousand other things, a monstrous amalgamation of feelings that ate away at someone like an infection. Even loss was the presence of something - it was the presence of that insurmountable, crushing devastation, that all-consuming despair that haunted like a ghost.

But death? Death was an absence. A true, concave absence on the plane of existence or concept. It was the absence of whoever or whatever had died, an aching hole that for Anakin, was all-too familiar.

That didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Even if that death wasn’t real.

Especially if that death wasn’t real.

“Do I even know you at all?” Was the thought that kept circling Anakin’s mind whenever he thought of his former master. 

He thought he had known everything there was to know about Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’d known that his favorite tea was that spiced one from Mandalore, that he liked to meditate right after he woke up and right before he went to bed, that he preferred the old-style flimsy books over datapads whenever possible, and that his favorite genres were romance and mystery, and that his favorite scented candle was ‘forest campfire’. Anakin knew that Obi-Wan didn’t much care for physical contact, but that he showed his affection through food despite his notable lack of cooking skills, and that he was scared of not living up to Qui-Gon’s expectations even after more than a decade since the man’s death, and that he still had feelings for that Mandalorian duchess even though he tried very hard to pretend not to, and that he had a fear of tookas after being partially mauled by one in his youth. Anakin knew that Obi-Wan liked to take hour-long hot showers, a fact that had horrified a young and water-worshipping Anakin, and that Obi-Wan hated it when Anakin flew because he almost always got airsick, and that Obi-Wan’s ‘aesthetic’ was most definitely ‘sad beige mom’, no matter what he said. Anakin knew his hopes, his fears, his likes and dislikes, his strengths and weaknesses, his various quirks and oddities, everything. 

Or, at least, he thought he did, because the Obi-Wan he thought he knew would never do something like this. The Obi-Wan Anakin knew strived to complete the mission, sure, and sometimes he got a little blindsided by whatever goal he was seeking to achieve, and sometimes that led to someone (mostly Anakin, sometimes Obi-Wan, often the both of them) getting hurt in some manner - and yeah, maybe the Obi-Wan Anakin knew could come off as a little cold, or dare he say cruel, in his strive to do what he thought was best. 

But this? This was something else entirely, and it put everything Anakin thought he knew about the man into question. 

Put everything Anakin thought he knew about the Order as a whole into question.

Obi-Wan’s supposed death had… it had broken something inside of Anakin, something that was never meant to twist the way it had. He couldn’t stop seeing it, when he closed his eyes: the body, lying there, a limp and lifeless puppet sprawled across the ground, cradled gently by Ahsoka - Ahsoka, so young and vulnerable to the tragedies of the world, exposed to such a trauma as holding her grandmaster’s rapidly cooling corpse, and the subsequent nightmares that ensued. He couldn’t stop remembering the way the world had sharpened to focus on every detail, every component of the environment suddenly screaming at him, even the smallest things overtaken by vivid clarity - the way the grimy walls of the adjacent buildings were dappled with rust and washed-away graffiti, how an oily sheen on the ground had reflected and refracted the light in a disgusting rainbow of color, how the unusually cool air had felt as it grazed against his skin. 

The red of Obi-Wan’s hair appearing crimson in the dim light. The rustle of the wind against his robes giving the false impression of movement, of breathing, of life. The stench of burnt cloth and blaster fire. The choked sound he made when he saw his master lying there, oh-so-reminiscent of how his mother had laid sprawled across the sand a year before, an aching and fetid wound that still had not healed.

And a part of him hated Obi-Wan for that, for everything he and Ahsoka had went through, for the nightmares that lingered and the traumas that plagued them, the way that they shuddered at the sound of someone falling down, of flesh hitting the ground - he hated him for that. The sleepless nights, that sinking and endless pit of despair, that feeling as though nothing would ever be alright again, followed up by the sucker punch that was finding out that it had all been a lie to weaponize his greatest weaknesses and insecurities in some sort of convoluted scheme - even if he had wanted to properly grieve, that chance had been robbed from him, all closure stolen away, leaving only the directionless grief that now seemed irrational. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t really dead… so why was he still grieving?

Rage intermingled in with his despair, yet Anakin still struggled to fight off the deep depression he had fallen into. 

The progress he had made since his mother’s death wasn’t… spectacular, but he had been making progress. And yet, at the sight of that body lying there, a pale and vulgar impersonation of someone Anakin loved dearly, he had felt every ounce of progress he had made slip away, setting him all the way back to square one. 

Except now, the grief was doubled, and with it all the guilt and sorrow and rage and awful, awful loneliness. Anakin grieved, silently and painfully, as he always had, but with twice the intensity as he had before, some horrid thing inside of him burning hotly with the raging feelings he felt. That burning thing, like the core of a star, never failed to crawl up through his veins and arteries at night, boiling his blood, when he lay awake and couldn’t stop remembering. It heated the backs of his eyes, spilling molten tears down his face, sparks and smoke stinging his eyelids. It smoldered in his chest, smothered his throat with broiling emotion, choked him of sound. He wanted to scream, to curse, to yell, to shout; he wanted to whisper quietly in the stillness just to see if he could shatter it, he wanted to speak in low voices with the figures from his memories of before this great betrayal. He made no noise, the fire overtaking his vocal chords. 

Anakin felt alone, isolated - everyone else seemed to simply forgive and forget. Was it really that easy for them? Did they simply let go of their feelings, or are they secretly like Anakin, hiding them away deep inside to release in the dead of night? Was Anakin really the only one still feeling what he felt, still reeling from the vicious emotional rollercoaster ride he had been subjected to against his will? Was he the only one still struggling to forgive Obi-Wan and the Council and the Force as a whole for the cruel trick they had played? Was he the only one with a warring dichotomy of conflicting hate and love? 

Was he truly the only one to shoulder this heartbreak?

It sure felt like it.

[katwritesshit]

angstpril '24 day 3 — broken-hearted

Zena is broken-hearted.

Cassius is broken-hearted.

Word Count :: 475

——————————☆——————————

Zena was broken-hearted. Cassius was her best friend, and she'd let him be taken away her. This was all her fault. If only she'd heard the bounty hunters coming. If only she'd warned him first, before protecting herself.

He was probably alone right now. He was probably suffering alone in a cold, dark cellar.

She hoped he wasn't blaming himself. This was all her fault; her burden to bear.

The others wouldn't leave her alone.

Nikolai came in and told her he was going to get Cass back. He wouldn't need to if it wasn't for her.

Zvezda brought her a sandwich and some water, sat down beside her and held her as she cried. Zena didn't want to bother her but the tears came without warning and felt like they would never stop.

Mirko came in and asked if she was okay, if she needed anything. She said she didn't.

Florien didn't come in while Zena was awake, but when she eventually fell asleep, she woke up under a blanket she remembered seeing in his room.

Amari was waiting for her when she woke up. She told her Cassius would be fine. Zena didn't believe her.

Nazheda came in that night and asked Zena to tell her a story. She told her about how her and Cassius had met, how she knew right away her was her soulmate, her best friend for life, her other half. She was crying by the end of it.

—

Cassius was broken-hearted. Zena was his best friend, and he'd let himself be taken away her. This was all his fault. If only he'd heard the bounty hunters coming. If only he'd been paying more attention.

She was probably trying to be alone right now. She had probably locked herself in her room.

He hoped she wasn't blaming herself. This was all his fault; his burden to bear.

He hoped the others wouldn't leave her alone.

Nikolai would comfort her in his shitty, emotionally constipated way. He'd probably awkwardly tell her he had a plan, then leave the comfort to someone else.

Cassius didn't know Zvezda well, but he knew she cared about Nikolai. And if a girl as nice as her could care for a boy like Nikolai, she would probably be taking care of Zena.

He hoped somone came in and asked if she was okay, if she needed anything. He knew she would say she didn't but he hoped for it anyway.

He hoped she would wake up comfortable, that someone would take the time to make sure she was warm.

He hoped someone would tell her he was fine, that they would find him.

As Cassius fell asleep, he found himself reminiscing how they met. How he knew, that same day, that she was his soulmate. His best friend. His other half. He fell asleep crying.

——————————☆——————————

End Notes :: NO GUYS YOU DONT GET IT THESE LITTLE PIRATES MAKE ME WANNA SIDJDHJDUFJDJSHRHDHDHDH

[whumpflash]

Penumbra: Unrest

For Angstpril, Day 3: No Escape

cw: torture

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

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The first night had been fruitless, but Nisha was undeterred. It was their own fault, really. They'd been too enthusiastic with the rod, aggravating wounds and eventually just beating Cerus with it. The former king had passed out before Nisha even got around to removing the bit.

Today they'd be a little more deliberate.

After dusk, they made the journey down the stairs. Forty-eight hours since their last visit, carefully counted. Guards had been instructed to watch over Cerus and ensure he did not sleep. A job they'd managed quite well, Nisha saw, as they entered the cell to find the prisoner had changed position, now hanging from his wrists. The runed cuff was still in place on his forearm.

Perhaps the Shadow King would already be in a talking mood. Nisha unfastened the iron bit and pulled it from the prisoner's mouth, watching as the man's jaw shifted, clenching and unclenching. Likely the first true free movement he'd been granted since his capture.

A stream of hoarse words in a foreign tongue poured from Cerus's mouth not twelve seconds after the bit's removal, the rhythm and enunciation too precise to be anything but an attempt at a spell.

Nisha took a step back, preparing to reach for their weapon if the need arose, but the runed cuff held true, momentarily glowing a dull violet. Cerus let out a hiss of pain at the cuff's activation, quickly ceasing his incantation.

"I see you're well and prepared then, traitor," he said in the same cracked voice. "What will you have with me?"

"Only the truth," Nisha replied.

"And how will you get it? Through more blows? Another sleepless night?"

"If that's what it takes, but tonight I brought water," Nisha said. "I can offer you peace. A swift death."

"A pittance. I will take nothing from swine like you."

It was almost entertaining. As trapped, as helpless as he was, Cerus's pride remained intact. Nisha wondered what it would take to truly break him. To make him beg. They looked forward to finding out.

"Very well," Nisha said, moving to the wall of tools, eyeing them carefully. "I suppose we'll go with your first idea then. Blows and sleepless nights."

They selected a whip from the wall. Certainly not as precise as a thumbscrew or a knife, or even a meticulous magical torture, but there would be time for those later. Holding it coiled in one hand, they moved around to face Cerus's back.

It looked like some of the guards had already taken liberties. Fresh welts spread over the back of the chained man's thighs, and new bruises mottled his ribs, shoulders, and hips, some of which had been left by Nisha's own hand. 

The realm maintained laws against deliberate harm to a wounded man; even a prisoner under interrogation had the right to recuperate between sessions. But Cerus was more monster than man, and so it was with a clean conscience that Nisha delivered the first strike.

Cerus bit back a scream, his body spasming under the lash. Nisha gave him little time to recover, bringing the whip down again and again in an erratic rhythm. It wasn't until fatigue had begun to set in that they stopped, leaving Cerus's body bleeding and shuddering, slumped as far as the chains would allow.

Satisfied with their work, Nisha circled around to face the Dark King, reaching out to remove his blindfold with a none-too-gentle hand.

Cerus's eyelids fluttered as the cloth came away, red-rimmed grey eyes glaring up at Nisha. It was a wonder he hadn't passed out.

"I'll remember your face when I free myself from this prison," Cerus muttered in a voice tinged with pain. "Your death will be a slow one."

Nisha only smiled in response. "I will see you tomorrow," they said, replacing the blindfold, and then the iron bit. Cerus struggled against both, but in the end there was nothing he could do. Nisha took the bloodied whip with them to be cleaned, and set out to find a healer.

Cerus couldn't be allowed to bleed out.

They were only getting started.

@whumpwillow @rabbitdrabbles

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[fanfictasia]

Angstpril Day 3

No Escape

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Breathing Ashes

To even say he wants to be out from this would be lying to himself. He did that before. He wishes he hadn’t, but it… needed to happen. If Anakin hadn’t finally stepped forwards to demand more, something, they never would have made it to where they are now. At least here, they have… something. Some semblance of equality.

“That’s not what I treated you as,” Obi-Wan objects. Anakin glances at him, wordlessly – he could argue endlessly to that, but he… won’t. There’s no reason to, anyway. He catches Anakin’s look, anyway, and sighs. “That… was not what I meant to treat you as.”

“But you did,” Anakin tells him, quietly. “Everyone did.”

There has never been a way out. Not for him. How many others is that true for? And to think this is what he wanted so much to end that he left everything just to try. Because he had to try. But he failed that as everything else.

Obi-Wan reaches out, touching his arm. The sensation is… comforting at least.

“What do you want?” he asks. “If you could choose?”

He never wanted to reach this place, but he has. He’s become what all slaves try never to be. “I don’t know. It’s… unachievable, and irrelevant.”

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Angstpril 2023 Masterpost

Day 1: Liar (featuring Alexei Wilder)

Assassin whump, sci fi, superhero world.

Day 2: Loss of Control (featuring Cerus)

Fantasy, villain/royalty whump.

Day 3: No Escape (featuring Cerus)

Fantasy, villain/royalty whump.

Day 4: "Why Did You Leave?" (featuring Alexei)

Assassin whump, superhero setting

Day 5: Serious Injury (featuring Cerus)

Fantasy, villain/royalty whump

Day 6: Abandoned

Villain whump, heroes and villains.

Day 7: Sleepless Nights (featuring Alexei)

Assassin whumpee, imprisonment.

Day 8: Mind Games (featuring Alexei)

Assassin whumpee, noncon caretaking.

Day 9: Devastation (featuring Cerus and Tansy)

Villain/royalty whump. Fantasy.

Day 10: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished (featuring Judd)

Apocalypse whump, defiant whumpee.

Day 11: Self-Sabotage (featuring Lex)

Assassin whump, superhero setting. Creepy whumper.

Day 12: Confessions (featuring Lex)

Assassin whump, superhero setting.

Day 13: Recovery (featuring Lex)

Assassin whumpee, superhero setting.

Day 14: Cruelty (featuring Lex)

Assassin whumpee, whumper POV.

Day 15: Lost in My Mind (featuring Lex)

Assassin whumpee, heroes and villains.

Day 16: "You Have to Let Me Go" (featuring Rhys)

Non-human whumpee, lab whump.

Day 17: Running Away (featuring Lex)

Assassin whumpee, heroes and villains.

Day 18: Exhausted (featuring Lex)

Assassin whumpee, heroes and villains

Day 19: Breaking Down (featuring Lex)

Assassin whumpee, prison setting

Day 20: Burn (featuring Lex and Akeela)

Assassin whumpee, raging against the system lol

Day 21: No One's Coming to Save You (featuring Lex)

Assassin whumpee, heroes and villains

Day 22: Shadow of Former Self (featuring Cerus)

Royal/villain whump, fantasy setting

Day 23: Failure (featuring Rhys)

Lab whump, nonhuman whumpee

Day 24: Trauma (featuring Cerus)

Royal/villain whump, wound cleaning

Day 25: Nothing Lasts Forever (featuring Lex)

Assassin whumpee, more rage against the machine

Day 26: Storm (featuring Markus)

Villain whumpee, even more rage against the system

Day 27: Til Death Do Us Part (featuring Lex)

Assassin whumpee, possessive whumper

Day 28: Trust Issues (featuring Cerus)

Royal/villain whump, recovery.

Day 29: Mistake (featuring Cerus)

Royal/villain whump

Day 30: Lost Hope (featuring Melchior)

Whump art

[chaos-company]

Angstpril 2023

Hi everyone!

It’s that time of year again! We are excited to announce that we are hosting the event again this year!

All prompts, FAQs and rules can be found in the graphics and below the cut! 

1. Liar

2. Invisible Wounds

3. No Escape

4. "Why Did You Leave?”

5. Crisis

6. Abandoned

7. Sleepless Nights

8. Mind Games

9. Devastation

10. Sacrifice

11. Self-Sabotage

12. Confessions

13. Recovery

14. Cruelty

15. Lost In My Mind

16. "You Have To Let Me Go”

17. Running Away

18. Exhausted

19. Breaking Down

20. "I Can’t Go Back”

21. “You’re On Your Own, Kid”

22. Shadow Of Former Self

23. Failure

24. "I Was Wrong About You”

25. Nothing Lasts Forever

26. Storm

27. Heated Argument

28. Loss

29. Cast Away

30. Lost Hope

ALTERNATIVE PROMPTS

1. Til Death Do Us Part

2. “I Can’t”

3. Inner Demons

4. No Good Dead Goes Unpunished

5. Serious Injury

6. Trust Issues

7. Loss of Control

8. Trauma

9. Memories Feel Like Weapons

10. Mistake

FAQs

“Do I have to create for all thirty days?”

- Not at all! Feel free to jump in whenever you’d like. This is a creation event, so create as much or as little as you want! However, if you want to be entered in the shout out post, you must participate in all 30 days.

“Can I post a creation after the day has already passed?”

- Yes! You’re welcome to post for a prompt day even after the date, just be sure to tag with which day and prompt you’ve created for! You will only be eligibile for the shoutout post if you complete all 30 days within the month of April.

“What if I don’t understand/like a prompt?”

- We have a list of 10 alt prompts for you to choose from if you don’t like the main 30. Feel free to use our alternate prompts for any day, and if there’s any confusion send us an ask!

[nyamadermont]

Broken-Hearted

Angstpril 2024: Day 3 (338 words)

Song Jin had just opened the door to the hallway when he heard the first broken-hearted sobs.

He frowned as he cradled his bag of groceries so he could back into the door quietly. He gently stepped through. The door slid along his leg so he could control its contraction back into the frame. The pain in his foot made him wince, but he was able to keep it from slamming shut. 

Once the door was settled, he scooted over to his own door just a few steps away, and tucked his bag against it. Looking down the hallway, he saw his neighbor. She was crouched halfway out of her door, sobbing with her arms cradling her knees, and her head resting against them.

His heart broke for her.

They weren’t friends. She had always been polite, but reserved and cool to him. He’d seen a somewhat older woman knocking at her door a few times, but had never learned her name, either. He thought they didn’t look enough alike to be related.

A mental shrug overlapped another soft sob from the next doorway. His neighbor began rubbing her face. It looked like she was about to get up and go back inside.

Jin pictured the contents of his shopping, and decided the orange would be a reasonable gift. The cool skin against his fingertips made him want to smell it, so he pressed a fingernail against it. He took a quick inhale, and smiled.

They inadvertently stood in unison, but her back was to him. Before she could disappear inside, Jin spoke up. “Neighbor! May I give you this orange?”

She froze in place.

He gave her a slight bow, holding the orange out in her direction. “I am sorry to have intruded on your upset. Please accept this as a token of my apology.”

She turned toward him.

His heart ached for the pain she showed on her face, but when their eyes met, he thought he might just be bringing her oranges again and again.

[solar-siren]

Angstpril 2023 Masterpost

A belated masterpost of my Tron Angstpril fics. You can also read them all on AO3.

Day 1 - Liar

Day 2 - Trust Issues

Day 3 - No Escape

Day 4 - “Why did you leave?”

Day 5 - Crisis

Day 6 - Abandoned

Day 7 - Sleepless Nights

Day 8 - Mind Games

Day 9 - Devastation

Day 10 - Sacrifice

Day 11 - Self-Sabotage

Day 12 - Confessions

Day 13 - Recovery

Day 14 - Cruelty

Day 15 - Lost In My Mind

Day 16 - “You Have to Let Me Go”

Day 17 - Running Away

Day 18 - Exhausted

Day 19 - Breaking Down

Day 20 - “I Can’t Go Back”

Day 21 - You’re On Your Own, Kid

Day 22 - Shadow of Former Self

Day 23 - Failure

Day 24 - “I Was Wrong About You”

Day 25 - Nothing Lasts Forever

Day 26 - Storm

Day 27 - Heated Argument

Day 28 - Loss

Day 29 - Cast Away

Day 30 - Lost Hope