#angstpril day seven

[fanfictasia]

Angstpril Day 7

Bad Dreams

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Children of the Desert

Anakin is still dreaming. He can’t stop. He wants to wake up and think it’s all a dream that’s passed like Obi-Wan said, but Anakin knows it’s not. His master means well, but he’s not right. Not about this.

Obi-Wan has never had visions before. Anakin is one of the few Jedi who has. It’s not something he can fully explain to anyone, and something was different this time.

Maybe it’s that he’s so close to Tatooine, or maybe it’s just that his mother’s danger is so much more prevalent, and Anakin can’t let her die. He can’t let her be hurt. He can feel it now when he’s meditating, even awake. He can’t let someone hurt her – she’s his mother. She’s the only family he has.

He has to go.

Padme’s light footsteps sound behind him, and he can feel her presence moving closer. She’s in the doorway, watching him, and it’s – it makes it easier. It gives him something to focus and ground on. He’s struggled for so, so long at the Temple, because all he had was Obi-Wan, and Anakin loves his master with every shred of his being, but he’s just…

Different.

They’re close, but… he’s the only one Anakin has. He shouldn’t want more, but he does. He aches for the familiarity and companionship he had with his mother and his friends on Tatooine.

[the-little-moment]

Nice to meet you! 😊

Hi there! You can call me Lil. I'm in my early 30s and my pronouns are she/her. This blog is dedicated to Star Wars content, mostly Clone Wars/The Bad Batch.

About Me

I majored in traditional art in college and have recently started learning digital art as well.

I love anything to do with flowers, plants, and gardening.

I enjoy reading and writing poetry. A lot of the inspo for my art and writing comes from poetry.

I'm a painful perfectionist when it comes to my pet projects.

I'm married to a huge Star Wars fan whose knowledge, esp. for EU/Legends stuff, far exceeds my own. He's the one who got me to watch The Clone Wars years ago when I said the animation was too ugly. 😅 (It still is in those early seasons; I'm sorry.)

I'd love to make friends on Tumblr, so always feel free to leave asks, comments, or message me.

Masterlist

My art is all tagged as "#the little moment art".

The tag I use for my writing, which is also being added periodically to My Ao3, is "#the little moment writes".

I'm currently working on two main fics:

"Not Just the Carcass, But the Spark", which is an Echo fic,

Part One - Home

Part Two - Regrets

Part Three - Consequence

Part Four - Lost

Part Five - Dreams

Part Six - Heat

Part Seven - Free

Part Eight - Fragile

Part Nine - Hurt

Here's art for "Carcass" too: There's Never Been a Time

And

"Only What Burns You Back", which is an AU of "Carcass" that focuses on Crosshair.

Part One - Out From Under Our Feet

Part Two - Loss

Part Three - Changed

Part Four - Only Smoke

Part Five - The Sniper and the Surgeon

Part Six - Memories

Part Seven - Through the Heart

Part Eight - Choices

Part Nine - Hope is the Hardest Love

Both fics feature my OC, Senna, who is my profile pic. You can click "#dr divehdi" below to see everything related to her, including art.

Febuwhump 2024

Day 6: Broken Promises

Day 8: Love Sees Not with the Eyes

Angstpril 2024

Masterlist

Other Works

Lunch with Clone Command (Senna meets with some of her friends from the first clone command class. It doesn't take long for things to turn ugly.)

The Quiet Part (An injury brings Crosshair back to Kamino, where he says more than he means to.)

A Small Visit (Four years after she was first hired as part of the Republic's secret cloning project on Kamino, Dr. Senna Divehdi is surprised by a late night visit from one of her favorite cadets.)

A Tender Memorial (Dr. Senna Divehdi, Chief Medical Officer of the GAR, reflects on her time with the clone soldiers of the Republic.)

In Another Life (Crosshair can't face his family after all they've been through, especially what happened to Tech on Eriadu. Even though his brother is now recovered from his injuries and living happily with his fiancée on Pabu, Crosshair's guilt forces him away from the others. In an attempt to maintain their life-long connection, Senna moves away from the rest of their family, knowing it's the only way she can still see Crosshair. This fic is an AU of "Carcass".)

The Dress (Echo has never had an opinion on flowers, never even really noticed them, until now.)

Braided Together (A collection of hair stories featuring OC Senna and the Bad Batch.)

The Embers at the End (Eleven years after the end of the Clone Wars, Sergeant Char, one of the last remaining Imperial clone troopers, is forced to trust a traitor when he and his brother have nowhere else to turn. This fic takes place in a possible future of "Not Just the Carcass, but the Spark".)

[befuddled-calico-whump]

One Warning

for Angstpril, Day 27: Til Death Do Us Part (alt)

cw: alcohol/intoxication, stress position, noncon strip, noncon touch, manipulative whumper, fear/anticipation of and referenced noncon

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

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Alexei's head was still spinning when he reached Titanium HQ. Not a new occurrence. Grabbing a drink or two after a mission had been normal before the Tower; nowadays it was practically a ritual.

Or in this case, a drink or six. Or seven. Maybe eight. He'd lost count. Lex would pay with a headache the next morning, and normally it would be worth it for the dreamless sleep and numbed thoughts, but tonight Spyglass had ruined his shaky grasp on tranquility.

Pestered him with talk of being good, of fighting back against Uriah, until he was ranting about his year in prison. The last thing he wanted to talk about, the last thing he wanted anyone to fucking hear about, but in the moment, he couldn't stop himself.

Lex tried to forget it on the way home, and it had all but trickled out of his thoughts as he trudged through the hall to his room.

Ball, call, doll, fall, he thought sleepily. As soon as he hit the bed, he'd be out like a light, and tomorrow the memory would be all the fuzzier.

But he could see light coming from under his bedroom door. And before he even reached out to push it open, he knew Uriah would be waiting for him on the other side.

"You ran into Spyglass." It wasn't a question. Uriah was reclining on Lex's bed, a narrow, stiff thing that looked sleek and futuristic but wasn't the least bit comfortable. His room was peppered with similar furnishings; the modern, fashionable stuff rich people liked to use in decorating. No carpet on the shiny wooden floor. No windows.

Lex stayed in the doorway, giving a sharp nod of acknowledgement. He really, really didn't want to do this right now. But what choice did he have?

"You didn't call me," Uriah continued.

"You never said that was part of my job. M' I supposed to notify you every time I see someone jaywalking too?" He made an effort to enunciate, to stand up straight, but the wry look that crossed Uriah's face told him it wasn't enough.

"Drunk again, Alexei?"

He didn't bother denying it. "Got a problem with that? I finished your fucking mission."

The other man shook his head, pushing himself up off the mattress. "Liquor always seems to sharpen your tongue. I'm not sure I like that," he said as he crossed the room. By now Lex knew not to try to shrink back when Uriah reached up to take a fistful of his jacket, pulling him closer until their faces were almost touching.

"Why didn't you tell me about Spyglass?"

"Y'figured it out on your own just fine. What, you need me to hold your fucking h—"

Uriah slapped him. Nothing hard, it barely stung, but it wasn't meant to hurt. It was just another way for Fox to remind him who was in charge here.

Glaring silently at the other man, Lex toyed with the idea of killing him. Right here, right now. He could do it. Might even be able to set the building on fire before they shocked him and beat the shit out of him and dragged him back to the Tower…

He inhaled a little too sharply at that thought, and he could've sworn Uriah flinched at the sound.

Ah. He knows it too.

"You said the rogue team was off the table," Lex said, dropping his voice to a low growl in an effort to seize onto the other man's momentary fear.

But Uriah was already back to his smarmy, composed self. "Hm, perhaps I wasn't clear enough. I won't send you after them, but I still expect you to report any sightings. They are a slippery bunch."

Lex clenched his jaw as Uriah reached for him again, this time smoothing the front of his jacket. "Noted."

"Excellent. Now why don't you take this off? You look uncomfortable."

He knew it wasn't a suggestion. Metal fingers fumbled for the zipper, and he dropped the jacket, making a point to ball it up and throw it into the corner as hard as he could. He left his tank top on, and Uriah didn't say anything about that. Not yet.

"Before I let you sleep, I have one more thing I'd like to discuss. Come have a seat."

As he followed Fox to the bed, a dozen worst-case scenarios flashed through his head, a growing sense of unease momentarily sobering him up, but making the twisting in his stomach that much worse. He sat at the foot of the bed, as far from the other man as possible.

"What were you and Spyglass discussing?" Uriah asked. "I was only able to pick up one half of the conversation."

Lex tried to recall what he'd said, if there was any way he could twist the topic into something that wouldn't give up any of the woman's plans to Uriah, assuming he didn't already know them. He shrugged.

"I was a few drinks in. Kinda fuzzy."

"I see. Then I suppose I'll have to remind you. It sounded like she was asking for your help."

(Kelp, whelp, yelp.) Lex swallowed. "Maybe."

"Well fortunately for you, you turned her down spectacularly," Uriah said. "If the conversation ended there, I'd be in here to reward you for your loyalty."

The mention of loyalty was enough to spike Lex's nausea, but worse than that was what came before. The 'if'.

"But you warned her when you left, Alexei," Uriah continued. "You told her I was listening. You told her to run. And while I can forgive the mistake of not reporting her in the first place, I can't overlook a deliberate sabotage."

He wouldn't go. He'd go down fighting, he'd take Uriah with him, he'd burn Titanium down and let it collapse over him. He wouldn't go back. He couldn't go back.

Lex could barely hear the last few words over the blood rushing in his ears. His mouth had gone dry. It wasn't enough, was it? One warning wasn't enough for Uriah to send him back, was it?

He flinched as Uriah laid a hand on his shoulder, barely able to restrain himself from grabbing the appendage and crushing it.

"You're trembling, Alexei. Are you so afraid of discipline?"

(Flayed, braid, delayed). He didn't dare to look up. "Don't send me back," he whispered. "I-it won't happen again. I'll follow orders."

Uriah chuckled. "Send you back? No. You're still of use to me, and besides, I like you."

The stomach-turning slickness of his tone was nothing compared to the wave of relief that washed over Lex. It took a lot to not slump forward and hold his head in his hands.

"But this kind of incident can't go unpunished," Uriah continued. "Stand up."

Lex did. The sudden wave of fear had sharpened his wits, but his body was still sluggish and swaying, and his head spun as he got to his feet.

"Strip," Uriah said, and he fought through his discomfort as he obeyed, pulling his tank top over his head, fumbling with buttons and zippers until his pants fell, and stepping out of his boots. Better to not dwell on it. To not think at all. Not give Uriah a reason to do anything else.

"I said, strip."

A moment's hesitation, and then Lex was removing his boxers as well, tossing them with the rest of his clothes, then just standing there. Too aware of Uriah's eyes on him, too proud to try and cover himself, no matter how much his skin was crawling.

"Come here." Uriah patted the mattress beside him. This time, the hesitation lasted longer, and when Lex finally began to take small steps towards the bed, he had to resist the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

There was a small jingling noise as Uriah thrust a hand into his pocket, retrieving a heavy pair of handcuffs. He gestured with his head. "Up to the headboard. Hands behind your back."

Lex bit down on the inside of his cheek, seeking anything to distract himself. It's fine, it's fine, it's not the Tower, it could be worse, it was worse there—

Uriah locked one cuff on. Lex couldn't feel it, but he could hear the clash of metal on metal.

"If you fight me, I'll make this worse," Uriah said, and Lex almost laughed. How many times had he heard that one?

The other man stood on the bed, pulling Lex's arms back and upwards, until his own weight was a strain on his shoulders.

He heard the click of the other cuff locking, but it was a distant sound. He was too focused on the wrinkles on the bedsheets, scattered across the mattress like cracks on cloth.

But the unwanted touch he was bracing himself for never came. Uriah's weight left the bed, and for a moment he just stood beside it, looking Lex over.

"I hope this gives you plenty of time to think about where your loyalties lie," he said, patting Lex's bare thigh. It seemed more condescending than anything else; an odd thing to feel relieved over.

Now that the threat had passed, Lex was becoming aware of the building tension in his shoulders. The only way to ease it completely would be to stand up on the mattress, and even then he'd be forced to duck his head to avoid hitting the ceiling.

"I hope you never forget again," Uriah said as he stepped out, pulling the door after him. "You're mine, Alexei. Goodnight."

It was only a few minutes before his residual arms started to go numb. This punishment would be hell for the night, and he'd probably need to see the company healer for his shoulders in the morning, but he'd take it over others.

Over so many others.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing

[nyamadermont]

Year in review (eventually)

Thanks go out to @itsmoonpeaches for suggesting I give this a shot.

1. Number of stories posted to Ao3: 14, total, all LOK-based.

2. Word count in 2022: 96,206

3. Fandoms I wrote for: Avatar: The Legend of Korra

4. Pairings: Lin Beifong/Kya II (3); Lin Beifong/Reader (1); Lin Beifong/Pema/Tenzin (9); Other (1 - shorts with various pairs, if any)

5. Stories with the most:

Kudos: Lin’s Interview, part 4 of Give Us Your Hand (Pemlinzin)

Bookmarks: Two Pairs of Eyes, (Kyalin)

Comment threads:  Elemental Changes, Lin Beifong-centric multi-chapter

Word count: Elemental Changes 

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why):  I’m sure it’s cheating, but I have 3 answers. 

1: Elemental Changes: This started with an image in my mind, and I wrote the whole thing before I published any of it. And the art I commissioned from @slowdissolve kickstarted a whole new experience for us both.

2: The In-Between Years: I managed to take all 30 prompts from Angstpril 2022 and string them into a mostly coherent story, writing no more than 1000 words at a time. Not every day is a gem, but I am happy with the progress of the story from high angst to an amicable resolution.

3. Give Us Your Hand: What started as a 507-word @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt blossomed into a 46K-word, 9-part series (so far).

7.   Work I’m least proud of (and why): This is ‘least’ proud in a set of stories I’m really pretty happy with. I’m going to throw Now Is Not the Time under the bus, because in retrospect, it’s kind of a rewrite of I’m Sorry I Need You.

8.   Share or describe a favorite review you received: This isn’t quite what the question asks, but having @slowdissolve say she would have done my commission for free was right up there in the highlight reel. And those three little hearts from @mjsharizai are always an absolute treat.

9.   A time when writing was really, really hard: I’m still very new on the writing wagon, having just started writing for a hobby in early 2021. Thankfully, I’m old enough that when it’s hard, I just set it aside and come back when the ideas are ready.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: I just can’t answer the questions the right way tonight. Here, I’m going with the whole Pemlinzin ship. How little goody-goody two-shoes me wound up writing polyamory is something I should think through at some point in my life.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:  

This feels very odd to describe as a favorite. It engendered my first negative review which was so mean-spirited that it was, in its own way, the fire that helped me write the next seven entries in the series. From Mistakes (Give Us Your Hand, part 2):

[Tenzin] sighed. “About a week before he died, she came to visit. She was being Toph, trying to pretend it wasn’t that bad, that he wasn’t dying. Mom left them alone to talk and went to lay down for a little while.”

He shivered. “I wasn’t with them. I just heard Mom shouting. When I got to Dad’s room, Mom was healing him, and Toph was crying. She had punched him like always. But this time, her punch knocked him into the wall and he hit his head. It wasn’t terrible, Mom got him comfortable, but Toph didn’t come back after that. I know she and Mom saw each other at the memorial, and I know they basically made up. But then I hurt you.”

He squeezed Lin closer.

“They were best friends for over forty years. But one argument broke their relationship.”

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: This is a question I think will be easier to answer in retrospect. I was able to complete a couple of larger projects, even after I got so far into them that I kinda didn’t know what to do. I’m just so new at this I mostly can only see my weaknesses.

13. How do you hope to grow next year: Differentiating speaking styles and speech patterns between characters is a sore spot for me re-reading my own writing. I also know I’m not great at describing the interiority of characters. And starting fewer sentences with ‘and,’ ‘so,’ or an adverbial phrase {not an English major, I forget what the technical term is}.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

I think that should be obvious by now. I owe @slowdissolvee a lot of credit.

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: 

I’ve been married for 25 years and have 2 kids. There’s a lot of blood, sweat, tears, and memory in what I write.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: 

Be where you are. Sure, your readers are interested in seeing your updates, but your life comes first. #YourAudienceAwaits - and the patient ones are worth listening to. 

I’m going to offer a slightly different perspective than @itsmoonpeachessmoonpeaches, who was so kind as to suggest I take on this exercise. All while not disagreeing with her here:

Don’t be afraid to break out of your comfort zone. You will never grow as a writer if you continue to write the same things over and over again. If you have an idea for something very different, go for it! It takes a lot of effort and time to do something you don’t normally do, but you will end up being better after it.

I know I’ve already written the same story at least twice (see above), but it served me to write both of those stories. I clearly had some thinking to do on the topic.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: I cannot put into words how much fun I’m having on Red Jade. Between working with Slowdissolve and getting to read the other Linzolt writers’ stories, I have been grinning for months.

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read:

All in fun, friends. If it’s not fun, leave it be: @slowdissolve @orangepanic @master-sass-blast @pamplemousseparadox @superliz6 @chaoticnerdsstuff @wishingforatypewriter

And anyone else who wants to!

[awaytobeunshaken]

Angstpril 2023 - Day 5: Memories Feel Like Weapons (alt)

It’s early, the sun barely cresting the horizon, but Will is already practicing, the dawn shadows rippling across his bare torso as the cherry blossoms float past him. He’ll never get tired of watching the way Will’s body moves, Orym thinks, fluid, then sharp, but never jarring. Part of him wants to join Will in the exercises they’ve done together since they were children, but right now he’s content simply to watch his beautiful husband.  

‘Husband’—and the word still evokes the little leap in his chest, same as it has for the past several days. Will turns, now, and though his attention is still clearly turned inward, he must have caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye, because he drops out of his tree pose and walks toward Orym, bending to kiss him on the corner of the mouth.  

“How long have you been watching?” He smiles.  

“Forever. And I could keep watching you forever.”   

Will drops to one knee to meet Orym’s eyes. “Well, then, lucky you. You get to.”  

-  

“Sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six.” Orym counts crunches as the scene plays out in his head. This is a good memory, normally one he would welcome, but now Will’s words in his head sting. Talk of forever, a forever they never got to see.  

-  

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” Orym asks. “It’s our honeymoon. This is supposed to be a break. I’ve gotten so used to waking up next to you already; I missed you this morning, when you weren’t there.”  

ao3

“I’m sorry to abandon you,” Will teases. “Just felt like getting a quick workout in. Don’t want to be sloppy when we get back to work.”  

“I think we’ve been getting plenty of workouts in,” Orym says with a wink. “I’ve certainly been breaking a sweat.”  

“Oh, I’ll give you a workout.” And Will leans in to kiss him deeply before scooping Orym into his arms to carry him back to bed.  

-  

“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.” Orym flips over. “One, two, three... four...” Push-ups next. Not his strong suit. Orym didn’t have the broad chest and shoulders of his husband’s family, wasn’t built for upper body work the way they were. Not that Will minded… well, maybe a little…  

-  

“You comfy up there?”   

“Very,” He’s lying face-down on Will’s back, bobbing up and down as Will does his push-ups. “What’s wrong, too heavy for you?” Orym presses a kiss to the nape of Will’s neck and then nestles in between his shoulder blades.  

“Not at all.” Will increases his pace a bit, as if to prove it.   

“Mmm, you’re so strong. There’s no way I could do what you’re doing.”  

“Yeah… don’t think… this would work too well… other way around,” Will pants.  

Orym laughs. “Not quite what I meant.” He spreads his hands across Will’s broad shoulders, feeling how solid he is beneath him, then drags a lazy finger across Will’s neck.  

“Gah! That tickles!” Will collapses to the ground, sending Orym tumbling into the grass. “You are a menace,” he says, cupping Orym’s head in one hand and touching their foreheads together. “Enough slacking, though. You’re not going to get better at this if you don’t challenge yourself…”  

-  

He can almost feel the extra resistance of Will’s hand on his back even now as he finishes the set, the touch as firm as it had been all those years ago. He stands to start on his squats...  

The clatter of teacups in the basin. Shit, they were running late. “Just leave them,” Will says. “We can wash up later.”  

“Gods, I love you.”  

“Love you, too,” Will says with a smile, then takes off across the courtyard, leaving Orym scampering across the courtyard after him.  

The last morning. The last time he’d ever heard those words. “Twenty-six. Twenty-seven.” Why did his memory have to bring him here?  

More of the shadowy, grey figures appear as if from nowhere (ninety-eight, ninety-nine). Orym sticks his sword into one and it fades into nothingness, as though they’re not even real (one hundred twelve, one thirteen, one fourteen). They must be real, though, because he can see Derrig’s motionless body lying in the dirt even as he watches another of the figures run Will through.   

Orym screams and puts his sword through the figure, then collapses beside Will, pressing his hands desperately against the wound. But the heart beneath it is already still (one forty-six, one forty-seven). Lita will tell him later how the rest of the day went down, but for now Orym can only move through it like a dream. He tries to talk to them, knows that the words are important, to give them something to reach for, an anchor to follow back, and then the clerics tell them there’s not even anything there for their spells to latch onto.  

He returns to the cottage and sees the mugs still waiting in the basin (one hundred and eighty), and his mind is jolted back to reality. He strokes the rim of the cup that Will’s lips had touched that morning and to this day he can feel the texture under his thumb, can remember the exact pattern the dregs had formed in the bottom of the cups. He throws one mug across the room, then the other, where they shatter against the opposite wall, then he sinks to the floor.  

“One ninety-four, one ninety-five, one ninety-six,” and now his legs are screaming and he struggles to stand again, tipping backward onto his ass. He slaps at his thighs to try and get some feeling back into them, then rubs his hands across the skin to try and calm the burning muscles. Almost two hundred. Not enough; he’ll do more tomorrow. He has to. He’s not about to let these people down, too.  

[solar-siren]

Angstpril Day Twenty-Seven: Heated Argument

Their comm channel is silent as Beck follows Tron out of Argon City. More frigid than the wind and snow is the tension in the older program’s frame. Given the eventful cycle they’ve had, it’s hard to guess exactly what’s bothering him. Though Beck suspects he’ll find out soon enough.

They regroup with Quorra in the Outlands. And before they can talk about plans or next steps or anything of the sort, Tron turns on her.

“Who do you work for?” he demands.

“Excuse me?��

“ Network . You said you’re part of a network. Who else is part of that network?” 

Something flickers across her face too quickly for Beck to name. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a security risk.”

Tron’s eyes flash. “ Security risk? ” Beck winces. That tone usually means he’ll be running drills for the rest of the cycle. 

Quorra is unfazed. 

“You’ve both been captured at least twice. You can’t confess what you don’t know. And that’s not me calling you weak,” she interjects, before either of them can. “You wouldn’t have to break. Clu takes what he wants.”

Tron steps closer, towering over the smaller program. 

“Is she alive?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I have a right to know!” His voice echoes over the mountains. This is as volatile as Beck has seen him since Dyson—nevermind that he has no idea who they’re talking about. 

Still, Tron isn’t angry so much as he is desperate. The fight drains out of him just as quickly as the flames leapt up. “ Please ,” he says.

Quorra purses her lips. 

“Even if she was alive, you wouldn’t be able to see her. You know what Clu would be capable of if he got ahold of your code. Can you imagine what he could do if he got his hands on hers? ” If her expression is any indication, nothing good. “It would be too dangerous if you knew where she was.”

“I wouldn’t have to know—” 

“If you got caught together, if he got both of you—”

“That wouldn’t happen.”

“You can’t know that.” 

“We would be careful—”

“You would be putting her life at risk,” Quorra says. “If she is alive, Clu doesn’t know it. One way or another, she disappeared on the cycle of the coup. You’re pinned for now. He knows where you are. And he could guess the one thing that would draw you out.”

“Two things,” Tron says quietly.

“Which is worse?” Quorra frowns. He doesn’t respond. “Clu could piece it together. And then he wouldn’t bother going after you. He wouldn’t have to if he got either of them. He knows that you would come to him.” 

Beck isn’t entirely sure what’s happening, but he knows he doesn’t like it. “ You seem to know where a lot of programs are,” he says.

“Not exactly. And even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.” She smiles bitterly. “ISOs are useless. We die on sight.” 

He doesn’t have a response to that aside from abject horror. Tron winces. 

“…If she was alive,” he asks at length, “what would she know about me?”

Quorra shrugs, nonchalant. “Everyone knows that Tron derezzed on the cycle of the coup. But there are always rumors.”

The Monitor looks suddenly distant. “Always,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. She watches him carefully.

“I’m leaving,” she says. “I’ll tell the others there’s an uprising in Argon. That their leader is a program impersonating Tron. Anyone who wants to know more will have to come here themselves. After that it’s not my problem.”

She looks between the programs one last time before rezzing her bike. “Don’t do anything foolish in the meantime,” she warns. And then she’s gone

  Two nanos pass. Three, and Tron doesn’t move. Four—

“Follow her,” he says.

[thechaoticfanartist]

and all things end

Angstpril Day 10: Sacrifice

Fandom: Star Wars

Teen & Up

Major Character Death

Characters: Grim Kennet (OC), Luke Skywalker, Kylo Ren (Mentioned), Obi-Wan Kenobi

Relationships: Grim Kennet & Luke Skywalker, Grim Kennet & Obi-Wan Kenobi

Additional tags: POV: 1st Person

Summary: For forty-seven years Grim wondered what would have happened if she had been at the Jedi Temple during Order Sixty-Six. Her death finally answers. 

How many years had it been? Decades, that I know. I lost my sense of time when I appeared in this universe. Which too had been decades ago.

I am a Jedi Master. The last of the Republic. The last of the Old Jedi Order. I had been only a Padawan when it fell. But at the very end of it the remaining Council members had knighted me.

Even all the decades later I still think about that day. The day the Republic and Jedi Order fell. Replaced by the Empire and the Sith.

I had not been at the Temple that day. I had been fighting in the Battle of Utapau by Master Kenobi’s side. Still I wonder, what if I had been? What if I had been at the Jedi Temple when Order Sixty-Six happened? Could I have saved anyone? Could I have stopped Skywalker? Or would I have died?

I try not to think about it. But tonight was different. Tonight I had a feeling of dread that I had not experienced since that day.

“Master, what’s wrong?” Luke asked me.

“Something is about to happen,” I replied. I had seen this before. I know it’s coming. I’ve known since Ben Solo was born. He will turn soon. Our new Jedi Order is about to fall.

Luke knows what my tone means. He heard this years ago, when he was my padawan. “What is it?”

“We’re about to be destroyed,” I whisper. I’m afraid. I feel there’s more that I don’t know.

And even later that night I found it to be true.

I woke up to screaming and burning. I grabbed my lightsaber and put on my boots and a cloak, having time for nothing else. I saw many students running. It was chaos in the fear as the fog of the darkside fell upon the Temple.

I wondered for only a moment if this was what it was like all those years ago for those who had been there. Only for a moment.

I began to run to gather the Jedi. “Follow me!” I called. My voice carried over the screams. They heard, and they followed.

I began to lead them away from the chaos. Away from the newest Sith. “Go!” I cried again. “Get away! Stay safe!”

The newest traitor found me, and I ignited my lightsaber. The purple blade illuminating the night. And the Sith ignited his.

If I was at the Temple, all those years ago, would I have fought Anakin?

We fight. I’ve battled Sith before. Decades ago. But I could still fight. I’m stronger, I know I am. I am Jedi Master Grim Kennet, the last Jedi of the Republic. Once a Padawan of Obi-Wan Kenobi. The last Jedi to have been knighted by Master Yoda.

If I was at the Temple, all those years ago, would I have saved any Jedi?

I am now. Holding off the new Sith. Maybe I can’t save them all. I never have been. It was never my goal.

If I was at the Temple, all those years ago, would I have been killed?

Suddenly I feel a burning pain, and I fall to the ground. “No,” I whisper. Realizing what this means. I had been stabbed, I can’t fight.

The newest traitor walks away.

Tears fill my eyes.

What would have happened if I was at the Jedi Temple the night of Order Sixty-Six?

I think I know at last.

I feel warmth. I know this warmth. I felt it years ago. And I hear him. “Hello there,” he tells me.

I look up and I see him. “Master,” I say, weakly and with tears. “I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “I failed again.”

“You never failed,” he told me. “You never failed any of us. We’re all so proud of you.”

I smiled. He always knew what to say to me.

He offered me his hand. “It’s time for you to come home, Grim.”

I reach for him, but never reach him. I fade away. But not into the Force.

What would have happened if I was at the Jedi Temple the night of Order Sixty-Six? I ask.

I would have died. My death replies.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed) : @padme--amygdala @soclonely @mrfandomwars @jgvfhl @starlonkedd @milfspectre1 @togrutanduin @jedi-valjean @one-real-imonkey @traygaming @roseofalderaan @keoxus  @tranakin-thighhighwalker @veiled-in-stars @sentineljedi @spicysucculentz @amelia-song-pond @kohtoyah @saturnsokas @thejediprincessqueenofnaboo @veradragonjedi

[f-oighear]

Angstpril 2024 - Day 27 - panicked

“Positive”

You’re Molly French, twenty-seven and fiercely independent, the life of the party, the one roommate who’s always down for anything. Yet here you are, defeated by three positive pregnancy tests.

[alright-anakin]

Angstpril 2021 Day 27: I Cant Do This Without You

tw: major character death tw: blood

Day 27: “I can’t do this without you.”

The lightning brought him to his knees. It danced over his skin, leaving fire in it’s wake. Well, not actual fire, but he felt as if his veins were being burned. But there was hope. This moment where Palpatine, Sidius, was focused on him, gave Master Windu time to get up off the floor. But Sidious was advancing on him now. “Anakin, I promised you safety for your family.” Anakin cried out as the blue fire scorched his body. He’d been electrocuted before, but this just felt… different. Sidious was aiming to kill.

Windu was approaching, ready to strike, but his surprise approach was sensed. Suddenly Anakin went flying forward. The push was so strong he slammed right into the strong pillar in the middle of the room, and crashed to the floor with a groan. That had hurt. But Master Windu was engaging Sidious and Anakin couldn’t let him do it alone. He pushed himself up off the floor and moved behind Sidious. The Sith didn’t sense him, or was at least distracted enough not to be bothered by him. Anakin lifted his hilt and held it outward just behind Sidious, and ignited it.

read more here

Thanks to @skywalker-tano-kenobi for chatting with me on the Discord to help me through writing this one.

[chaos-company]

ANGSTPRIL PROMPT LIST

Here is the official prompt list, in both the images below and listed as text below the cut. Happy creating!

Day One: “You have to let me go.”

Day Two: Sole Survivor

Day Three: “I can’t.” 

Day Four: Betrayal

Day Five: Amnesia 

Day Six: “You don’t belong here.”

Day Seven: Friendly Fire

Day Eight: Screaming

Day Nine: “I wish we had more time.”

Day Ten: Don’t Look Back

Day Eleven: “This isn’t you.” 

Day Twelve: Dying Words

Day Thirteen: “You lied to me.” 

Day Fourteen: Nightmares

Day Fifteen: “They’re dead.”

Day Sixteen: Silence

Day Seventeen: Out of Time

Day Eighteen: Children Fight Their Parents’ Wars

Day Nineteen: “Don’t leave me.”

Day Twenty: The Silent Treatment 

Day Twenty One: They Both Die at the End

Day Twenty Two: “I had no choice!”

Day Twenty Three: Bedside Vigil

Day Twenty Four: Goodbyes

Day Twenty Five: The Light Died in Their Eyes 

Day Twenty Six: Songs for the Fallen

Day Twenty Seven: “I can’t do this without you.”

Day Twenty Eight: Voices in Your Head

Day Twenty Nine: Going Dark

Day Thirty: “We lost.”

ALTERNATE PROMPTS:

Alone

Trauma Repression

Broken Trust

“I’m right where you left me.”

Unattainable Peace

Run

“I’m sorry.”

Visiting a Grave

So Close, Yet So Far

Held Hostage

Coma

[ilonga]

angstpril day 1

prompt: “You have to let me go.”

ao3

The cell is utterly lifeless.

He hadn't expected much, to be fair, but three days in here and he can feel his sanity beginning to slip away. The grey walls and fluorescent lights are practically pounding into his skull, and the room itself is only a couple of steps from one wall to the other. The continuous crackling of the ray shield isn't helping much either.

And they never turn the lights off. Torture is technically—technically—illegal in Republic prisons, he knows, so this is probably the closest they can legally get.

Not that he thinks Tarkin will care much.

Footsteps sound and he drags his head upwards. He's cuffed—he doesn't think Ahsoka was cuffed but he can't ever be sure, can he? Plus, Ahsoka hadn't murdered the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic—with force-suppressant stun cuffs connected to the wall by way of a few wires. Supposedly he should be able to walk around, as all prisoners of the Republic are allowed, but they aren't taking any risks with him. He's only permitted to move when the Coruscant Guard come to escort him.  

It's a bit silly, Anakin thinks. It's not as if he's going to try to escape.

The footsteps round the corner.

It's Commander Fox. "Skywalker," he says, then with a few quick movements turns off the ray shield and unhooks the cuffs. "Come with me."

Anakin says nothing and gets up to follow. He wonders blankly where he's being taken before he realizes—yes. Interrogation rooms. It was only a matter of time.

But when they get there after fastening his wrists to the table, the Commander steps out and activates the ray shield. A few moments later he returns with—

"Padme?"

"Anakin," Padme breathes, looking as pristine as ever—of course she is. The Senate is probably in utter chaos right now, but she doesn't have so much as a hair out of place. "Commander," she says, turning to Fox. "May I speak to the prisoner, please? Face to face."

"Senator," he says incredulously. "Gen—Skywalker is in prison for the murder of the Supreme Chancellor—"

"He's chained to the table with force suppressors so strong they could knock out half of Naboo," she cuts him off. "I doubt he could so much as poke me. We went over my clearance seven times at the office, if you remember. I am perfectly authorized to be here."

The Commander looks between the two of them then, after a few seconds, concedes and switches off the ray shield. "Five minutes," he says, then steps around the corner and out of view.

Padme steps forward.

Anakin watches her numbly. Her pregnancy is showing even more now, he notes, and it finally sinks in that he probably won't ever meet the child.

They're going to execute him, of course. It's only a matter of time. He'd accepted it as soon as the Chancellor had confessed to being Sidious. As soon as he'd drawn his saber. 

"Anakin," Padme says, and now that she's closer he can see that her face is lined with worry and fear. "Anakin, what happened?"

"What are you doing here," he whispers instead of answering her question. "How the hell did you manage to get in?" Even he hadn't been able to get in to see Ahsoka, and her guilt had still been a mere suspicion at the time. He, on the other hand, is about as obviously guilty as it gets.

"That doesn't matter," she snaps. "Anakin, is it true? Did you—did you kill Palpatine?"

"Yes."

She gapes at him. "Why? Because—because of me? The Senators?"

"He was the Sith." Anakin says simply. Blankly. To be honest, he still hasn't really processed it himself. He's just been…aggressively not thinking about it.

"The Sith." Padme says in shock, more to herself than anything. Then she turns back to him. "We have to get you out of here. I'll see about collecting evidence, and you'll probably need to give a statement, and—do you know if he left anything? Can we use the recordings? And, Anakin, you have to tell the Jedi, and—"

He can't listen to her any longer. "Padme. I am guilty. Of killing the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. You're lucky they're letting you say your goodbyes."

"These are not my goodbyes." Padme says fiercely. "I won't let these be my goodbyes."

"They won't care that he's a Sith, even if you manage to prove it. Even if you manage to prove he orchestrated the whole war," he continues. "Everyone loved him, Padme." Me most of all. 

"He orchestrated the war." Padme insists. "He is guilty. By all fair logic you saved the Republic."

"By killing the Chancellor. Which is grounds for execution."

"I won't let it be." She's not looking at him anymore—she's looking at some point at the wall behind him. He's not much to look at anyways, exhausted out of his mind as he is.

"You have to let me go, Padme."

I’m already gone. 

[fanfictasia]

Angstpril Day 7

Sleepless Nights

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Vision

Wind whips across me, blowing my hair across my face, though I could almost swear it’s not as much as it should, and tugging at my sleeves.

The constant crashing of rolling ocean waves sounds, but over that is – is something else. Something much, much worse. It’s on Kamino. Everything is always wet and rainy here, and I rarely see the sun, but now? Now, everything is burning. But why? How? This is our home. It’s – it’s Kamino and we can’t – be destroyed.

The air is as thick with smoke as with humidity.

I look skyward, panic clawing in my chest, and it’s – it’s raining now, too, like it always is. Only now it’s raining blue fire.

And I hear Hunter’s voice in the background, unseen. He sounds scared, as scared as I feel, and his words are blurred out over the sound of explosions.

And I can only watch with a mind-numbing horror as Kamino, as my home – the only home I never knew – burns to ash.

I jolt awake, heart racing. What was that? What in the stars was that?!

I drag a hand across my face, struggling to breathe in and out. I’ve had nightmares before. Just not this personal. It… I can’t imagine something happening to our home, but there it was. As if I need something else to be worried about right now.

I will also not be falling asleep again anytime soon. Instead, I just curl up again, shaking. It’s cold in the lab here – always is, and I don’t mind – but still, it’s… right now, I’m freezing. It’s probably just in my head.

Omega is curled up nearby, still sleeping. Her presence is comforting, but I don’t want to wake her up. And it still feels too quiet, too lonely.

I groan softly, rolling over, arms curling around myself. It won’t help. It won’t make it stop. It won’t keep me from seeing this awful nightmare when I try to sleep and even when I’m not, because I can still hear and feel it echoing in my mind.

It still feels like if I try to sleep, the room will… explode for some inconceivable reason. Or that everything will spontaneously start on fire and… I just want to see my brothers again.

[not-all-dead]

angstpril day fourteen: nightmares

CW: reliving trauma, panic attack, swearing

fic under the cut

Cold, everything was so cold. Her body felt heavy as she was dragged from a small guarded room to the pavilion outside. She was forced onto her knees, her hands pulled tightly behind her back.

She could hear every tiny movement. Her head hung low as she listened to the crashing of waves in the distance, the rustling of leaves in the wind, the occasional call of birds. Soft footsteps all around her. She’d have said was almost a beautiful scene had she not known better.

She listened, and she waited. She knew what was coming. It was the same every time, the bliss before the nightmare really began.

His footsteps were heavier than the others’, his clothes looser and louder. The wind whipped his robes as he walked up behind her, taking his sweet, sweet time moving to stand before her. He placed a finger under her chin and forced her head up, the air around them suddenly stilling.

She stared up at him, glaring at his emotionless mask and hollow eyes.

Now it’ll happen, she thought to herself.

That’s how it always went.

But something was different tonight.

As she watched him, he started to change. His body changed first, taking a form all too familiar to her, before his mask fell to the ground revealing his face.

And instead of Amon standing there, it was her mother.

“I couldn’t be more disappointed,” Toph said, staring coldly down at Lin.

“You’ve failed me. You’ve failed everyone.”

Lin closed her eyes, expecting tears to fall. None came. When she opened her eyes again, it was no longer her mother in front of her, but Kya.

“I really did love you, you know. But this time,” Kya paused and everything around them changed.

Suddenly the Air Temple was gone and they were on the beach on ember island, their friends laughing loudly in the distance. Kya’s hair was brown again, her face younger and smooth. She still stood above Lin, lifting her chin with a single finger.

“This time,” Kya repeated, the landscape around them changing again.

Now they were in the middle of a ballroom, masked faces twirling gracefully around them. The lights dimmed suddenly, plunging them into darkness.

“This time,” She said one last time, the air temple behind her returning and the cold biting down to Lin’s bones.

“You’ve gone too far,” Kya released Lin’s chin and walked around to stand behind her.

When a hand reached down and yanked her head back, it was Amon looking down at her again. His icy hand gripped her neck while he stared blankly down at her, raising his other hand above her. He stretched out his thumb and brought it quickly down towards her forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut, dreading the sensation that was about to rip through her body.

She sat bolt upright, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. She glanced to her left to see Kya sleeping peacefully. Her vision blurred with tears and she tried to stifle a sob, pushing herself gently out of bed. She made her way to the bathroom as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake Kya. She closed the door behind her and turned on the light, hunching over the sink.

Her hands gripped the edge of the sink tightly as sobs shook her shoulders. She’d tried to calm herself down and almost managed to stop crying several times, but bits of the nightmare rushed back and she broke down all over again. It was just before she started sobbing again that she heard a knock on the door.

“Shit,” She muttered before opening it, looking up at Kya with red and puffy eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I tried not to wake you up,” Her voice broke and she took in a shaky breath, her vision blurring with tears again.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Kya said, pulling Lin into her arms.

Kya held Lin until her sobs quieted, stroking her hair and rubbing her back. When she was no longer shaking, Kya pulled back.

“Come back to bed,” She said softly, cupping Lin’s scarred cheek in her hand.

Lin nodded and followed Kya back to their bed, curling into Kya’s chest and draping her arm over her torso.

“Do you want to talk about it? Kya asked quietly.

Lin lay quietly for a minute before responding, debating whether to say anything or not.

“It was the Amon nightmare again,” She paused and shifted, finding Kya’s hand and taking it in her own.

Kya hummed in response, letting Lin play with her fingers. After what felt like ages, she spoke again.

“It was different this time, wasn’t it,” She placed her hand on top of Lin’s to stop her fiddling.

Lin sucked in a deep breath.

“Yeah,” She said, moving her head to look up at Kya.

“He turned into my mom, and then you. My mom said I’d failed, and you… you said that I’d gone too far. That you couldn’t forgive me this time,” A tear slipped down her face and she moved her head again, looking down at their hands.

“That sounds awful,” Kya lifted her hand and interlocked her fingers with Lin.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” Lin squeezed Kya’s hand in response.

“Thank you,” She breathed, closing her eyes and relaxing against Kya.

“I love you,” Kya whispered a moment later, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“I love you too,” Lin replied before they both drifted back into deep, dreamless sleep.

———————————————

She knew exactly what was happening. She could feel the fog seeping into her skin, filling her lungs, clouding her vision. It took over her senses first, then creeped into her mind. It made her dizzy, then tired, then started showing her all the things she didn’t want to see.

A man she’d found half dead in a cave when she was only twenty one. She hadn’t been able to save him no matter how hard she tried.

This isn’t real. Just wake up.

A woman and her baby, both dead after complications with the birth. It had been her first and last delivery, at twenty three.

It isn’t real. Wake up.

A handful of pale villagers, their eyes sunken and skin almost green. She’d done everything she could to heal them, and had kept the virus from spreading to anyone else, but had lost every one of them. She’d been twenty seven.

Just wake up.

A twenty nine year old woman, the exact same age as her, drained and lying in a pool of her own blood. They’d been travelling together for almost a year. She’d found her too late, and healing the wounds caused by her own blade had done nothing compared to the sheer amount of blood loss.

Wake up.

Jerking out of a deep sleep in the middle of the night to the screams of the others in her hotel. Nearly suffocating trying to get out of the fire. Being the only healer despite being just thirty four. Losing nearly half of the people pulled from the burning building.

Please.

Watching her friend step over the edge of a cliff at thirty seven, a year older than her. Screaming his name and running down the path to the bottom, only to find him crumpled. She tried anyway. Nothing brought him back.

Kya.

Visiting Air temple Island at forty one only to watch her father dying slowly. She was the last one to see him alive. She tried to bring him back. She failed over and over again until someone pulled her away from him.

Kya, please.

Teaching waterbending in the South Pole. Her youngest student, a boy not older than four years old, falling through the ice. Her forty eight years of life somehow still not being enough to give her the ability to save him. The wails of his mother when she had to tell her what happened.

It isn’t real. Wake up.

Coming back to Republic City and going to Lin’s apartment with the intent of confessing her feelings. She’d found her bleeding in the bathroom. She’d never been so afraid, and had somehow kept her alive. She’d been fifty three, but felt like a child again.

Kya, wake up.

Four years later finding Lin the exact same way a second time. The same fear gripping her, her hands shaking as she healed her again. She’d barely been able to breath.

Please, please wake up.

She’d barely been able to breath.

She couldn’t breath.

The air was too thick.

It was the panic filling her lungs when someone she loved got hurt. It was the smoke in that burning building. It was the guilt that grew with every person she lost.

It was the fog infecting her body, her mind.

She was suffocating.

Kya.

She couldn’t breath.

Kya.

She was shaking.

Kya.

The world was becoming fuzzy.

Kya.

Why was everything shaking?

“Kya, please,” Lin’s voice was the first thing she heard when her eyes snapped open.

Kya’s vision was swimming, tears streaming from her eyes. She pushed herself into a sitting position, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them tightly. Her breathing was shallow and fast, the lack of oxygen making her light headed. She flinched when Lin placed her hand on her back, relaxing after a second and letting her softly bring it up and down. Lin let her be for a second before recgnizing that she needed help getting out of the attack this time.

“Kya, can you look at me?” She moved so that she was sitting cross-legged in front of Kya.

Kya shook her head almost imperceptibly, keeping her stare locked on her feet.

“Alright, that’s ok. Let’s start with five things you can see,” She reached up to pull one of Kya’s hands away from her legs, squeezing it in an attempt to encourage her.

Kya’s eyes moved up from her feet, tracing around the room. Her eyelids fluttered as she did so, threatening to close every time she looked somewhere new. After a moment her stare returned to her feet and she opened her mouth to speak. It hung open for a moment before it closed again and she shook her head.

“Hey, its ok. Do you want me to get your notepad so you can write instead?” Lin watched Kya hesitate before nodding.

“Alright,” Lin stood and walked two steps to the bedside table, pulling the drawer out as quietly as she could and grabbing Kya’s small pad of paper and pen.

She walked back to Kya, who had moved so that she sat cross-legged with her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. Her breathing had improved slightly, but she was still clearly in her state of panic. Lin sat across from her again and placed the notepad and pen on her lap.

Kya closed her eyes for a second before pulling her arms from around her. She grabbed the pen with a shaking hand, glancing around the room again before scribbling a collection of words on the paper. Lin took the notepad and read the notes out loud, looking around as she did so.

“The window, the rug, me, your hands, the blanket. Perfect,” She smiled reassuringly at Kya and handed the pad back.

“How about four things you can feel?” She rested her hand on Kya’s knee.

Kya nodded and used her other hand to rub the blanket quickly. She then touched Lin’s hand lightly, ran her hand through her own hair, and rubbed her fingers on the paper. She wrote down the four things she’d touched and gave the pad to Lin again.

“The blanket, the best hand ever,” Lin couldn’t help but laugh, looking up at Kya, who had a tiny smile of her own shining through her tears.

“Your hair, and the paper. You’re doing great, Kya,” She gave the paper back and reached forwards, wiping one of Kya’s cheeks.

“Now how about three things you can hear?” Kya stared at the paper, listening, before she wrote anything.

“Your breathing, cars, Jin from next door’s radio even though it’s the middle of the night,” Lin laughed again and grinned at Kya.

“Amazing. Two things you can smell?”

Kya took in a deep breath through her nose, closing her eyes to focus on the smells. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration and she inhaled again, blinking twice before writing.

“The ocean, home. Perfect, you’re almost there,” Lin put her hand on Kya’s knee again as she wrote the last one, not needing Lin to tell her what it was.

“Toothpaste,” Lin read, squeezing Kya’s knee slightly.

“You alright now?” She looked up at Kya, who’s breathing was now a little shaky but much more evened out.

Her eyes were no longer glazed over, and she wasn’t crying. She smiled at Lin, grabbing the pad from her one last time.

Thank you, she wrote, lifting Lin’s hand to her lips.

“Talk in the morning?” Lin asked, sensing that Kya needed time before she’d be able to voice her thoughts again.

Kya nodded gratefully and tucked the pad back in its drawer, patting the bed next to her. Lin crawled under the covers next to her, hugging her and holding her hand as they both fell back asleep.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Window Shopping (Tower: Day 212)

for Angstpril, Day 15: Lost in My Mind

cw: imprisonment, manhandling, dehumanization

previous ///// masterlist /////

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

Out on the horizon, the skyline sits like jagged teeth

A city waiting to devour you, spit your bones into the street

And the wolves in the towers are watching in wait—

Hm. Bait, fate, gate, grate, hate…

Lex's poems had gotten shorter lately. Sharper. He'd been finding it more and more difficult to compose verses about the things he missed, and couldn't tell if it was because it hurt too much, or because he was forgetting them.

The latter didn't seem possible. How could he forget something like the sun? The maple trees in the city park? The little coffee shop that was run by a woman he knew recognized him, but never said anything to the cops?

But every poem he tried came out flat.

'the sun above is shining gold'

Yeah, no shit. But it wasn't shining on him anymore, and that detail overshadowed anything lovely he could come up with.

The sun was bright, leaves danced when they fell, fall trees burned brighter than his fire, and the coffee lady's name was Sophie. Didn't matter. He'd never see any of them again.

To his right, Lex heard the mechanical click of the door being unlocked, and tried to breathe through the fear that suddenly seized him. It had only been four meals since wash day, ten left until the next one, and aside from that, the door only opened for something bad. 

Usually that something was the guard, Wade. Coming in at random to 'take care of him', or drag him up the stairs to the cold tile room where he'd be left in the hands of violent strangers.

Grabbing and tearing and laughing at cries

The hand that bruises the hope that dies

Which would it be today? Wade's administrations were unwanted, demeaning at best, but he'd take that over the uncertainty of the room upstairs. 

When the door opened, it was a pair of guards Lex didn't recognize. They pulled the door closed after them, but not before he caught a glimpse of a suit-clad gaggle of people waiting in the hall.

Was it another tour? That he could bear, endure the humiliation of being put on display to avoid what would happen if he didn't. But they'd made a big show of cleaning up the cell right before the council's visit, so that couldn't be it, could it?

"Get up." The guards moved to either side of him, forcing him to his feet when he didn't move fast enough.

The question of what was going on rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down. If they wanted to tell him, they'd tell him. If not, he'd only be wasting his breath.

A cuff was locked around his ankle, and he felt it activate. The trickling heat of his power, the part that hadn't been silenced by the cuff he already wore, went cold, sending a chill through him. Hands moved roughly across his torso, down his legs, as if searching him for weapons or contraband he had no way of accessing. Lex stared at the stone wall across from him, and waited for it to end.

Things that reach out in the dark

Snuff and smother any spark

"He's clear." The guard who spoke went to open the cell door, leaving her partner to stand next to Lex.

He didn't even turn his head as more people stepped into the cell, only able to see them out of his peripheral. There were six or seven of them, all talking at once in light, conversational tones.

"Smells like shit. Couldn't they have cleaned up before our arrival?"

"Is it always so dark? Guess it saves on the electrical bill."

"Yikes. This one's scrawny and damaged."

"I'm sure someone could find a use for him. Terrence?"

"You know I don't go for brunettes." Laughter.

Lex tried to tune them out, eyes locking onto a crack in the wall and following its path.

A fracture in an old foundation 

Lightning-patterned stone damnation 

"What's the deal here?" A question directed at the guards.

"Alexei Wilder. He was an assassin. Cinder. He's the one Overkast 'killed'." The answer was met with sounds of recognition from the group, rising like a hum.

"I'm not sure any of us is in the market for an assassin that's been… disarmed." That one got a chuckle from everyone.

"Shall we move on?" prompted another voice. The response was shuffling of shoes on stone, moving away. Lex felt a little of the tension ease out of him.

Moving on. Leaving him alone. Alone in the dark was better than unpredictable hands.

But the guard beside him didn't move, piping up a small "Sir?" as a gray suit stepped in front of Lex, obscuring the cracks in the wall.

Not alone, not yet.

He stared past the figure, finding a new imperfection in the stone to follow, by now so familiar with it he knew each jagged turn.

Chase the road, and taste the sky

The gravel sings your lullaby

Hands stretched out from the gray suit, pushing back his hair, knuckles brushing his cheekbone with a foreign gentleness that almost scared him more than violence could.

Autumn comes to burn the trees

And winter trails to snatch the leaves

"See something you like, Mr. Fox?" the remaining guard said.

"Unfortunately not something suited for my needs at this moment." A smile, scant light reflecting off white teeth. "But I'm sure that will be remedied with time."

And then the hands were gone and the door was closing and all the cracks in the wall could be seen again. Lex closed his eyes, willing himself to breathe slow. When he opened them, it was like no one else had even been there.

Out on the horizon, the skyline sits like jagged teeth

A city waiting to devour you, spit your bones into the street

And the wolf in the tower is watching in wait

Once his jaws snap shut there will be no escape.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing

[nyamadermont]

Crushed Hopes (Angstpril 2022, Day 29)

Rohan woke up before dawn. Today would be his first time in the Family Bending Tournament. He reached under his bed to take out his clothes so he could get dressed in the bathroom and not wake up Meelo. He wanted to meditate and do his exercises before his favorite person came. He wanted to be ready.

It was still a little dark outside, but that was ok. The island was quiet, and Aunt Yue was watching him. He meditated for a very long time. He counted twenty breaths before he hopped up and ran over to the training pool.

He pulled a water whip three times, and only spilled a little bit of water on himself. He only missed the chair by a little bit.

He ran his hands over the water and pictured the ice block he wanted to make. He waved his hand just like Aunt Kya did, but nothing happened the first seven times. The eighth time, he thought he felt a little something, and he wanted to go find Aunt Kya right now before that little wave melted.

“Rohan? What are you doing out here?”

Rohan jumped. He never could hear his dad coming, and he hated it.

“Nothing.”

His dad squeezed his shoulder. “Ok, it’s time for meditation anyway. Let’s go over to the-”

“I did meditation already. I did that first, like you told me to.” He looked up at his dad, only to see a frown on his face.

“I did! I counted to twenty, just like you said!” He frowned, confused why dad didn’t believe him.

“Rohan, where was the moon when you came outside?”

Rohan pointed, and his dad crouched down and looked along his arm. He hummed. “That was very early, son. You should have been in bed asleep.”

“But I have to practice for the games! I want to be Aunt Lin’s partner so we can beat Meelo!”

His dad made a little laughing noise.

“You know, I remember the first time Aunt Lin and I beat Uncle Bumi and Aunt Kya. We were the best team for a long time.”

“Aunt Lin is the best!”

A picture of his mother came to his mind.

“But Mom is really good, too.”

His dad gave him a kiss on the head. “They are both very good people. And they both love you. Go inside and tell everyone I’m waiting in the pavilion.”

**

Lin chatted with Kya and Bumi as the kids milled around, waiting for Katara to come out with the vase of tokens. The youngsters were lounging. The children were practically buzzing. Tenzin had told them about Rohan being up before the sun to practice, but Lin had the sense that he didn’t tell them the full story.

“Gran-Gran’s here!” Meelo shouted.

Katara walked out with a large black jug. Everyone gathered around, and drew a pai sho tile.

“Ok, everyone, show your tokens. Find your partners.”

Everyone held out their tiles. Lin’s eyes fell on Rohan, who was floating almost as if he was on an air scooter. He looked up at her with a big grin on his face. “I’m going to be on your team, Aunt Lin!”

She smiled, showed him her knotweed tile, and watched him look at his token.

She saw the moment his hopes were crushed.

He threw his token down and ran away from everyone.

Before she knew it, she was chasing after him, calling for him.

He ran up to the house, and jumped into the arms of his very confused mother. Lin slowed down and trotted up to the pair. Rohan was crying loudly. Pema wrinkled her brow and tilted her head to Lin for an adult’s explanation.

“Rohan is upset because I was on a different team.”

Lin reached over to rub Rohan’s back. Her hand brushed Pema’s, and they looked at each other. Lin stiffened slightly and mumbled an apology. She patted Rohan, and turned to go.

She was surprised to feel him twist under her hand and launch himself at her. Pema staggered at the change, grabbing Lin’s elbow to keep from falling over.

Lin wrapped her arms around Rohan to keep him from falling. She looked at Pema to confirm that she was alright, too. She patted Rohan again, and said, “Rohan, you don’t have to spar if you don’t want to. I’m sure Meelo or Ikki would be glad to play on two teams.”

She felt him stiffen. He pushed and wriggled his way out of her arms, running back the way he had come. Something that sounded like “wait for me” came floating back over the breeze.

Pema laughed, and leaned her head against Lin’s shoulder.  “Thank you, Lin. I was afraid I was about to have my hopes for a nap crushed.”

[jasontoddiefor]

Angstpril Day Twenty Seven: Visiting a Grave

Tatooine was just as miserable as he remembered it. Obi-Wan had been on this planet twice before and now he had stepped foot on it for what hopefully would be the last time. It had never been a travel he had made because he wanted to. The first time, he had been on the run. Tatooine was the place that should have been his grave and yet, because of gentle hands and kind hearts, it hadn’t been. The second time Obi-Wan had been here, it had been a mission from the Jedi Council, given to a young Knight much too old to remain a Padawan any longer.

Once for death, twice for duty, thrice for repentance.

He didn’t know where exactly the Lars homestead was, and Obi-Wan couldn’t draw too much attention to himself. His face was well-known, and scarves and hair dye only helped so much. Quietly, he made it through Tatooine’s spaceports to the edge of the Dune Sea, his destination. It was dark by the time he arrived and the stars above were as clear as they’d never been on Coruscant. If Obi-Wan tried, he could track down his former home.

He wasn’t sure whether the task would bring him anything but grief, and Obi-Wan was already struggling to keep his head above water.

He stopped the speeder in some distance of the homestead and traveled the rest by foot. He didn’t want to be noticed by anyone, foe or… Well, they weren’t friends, or even acquaintances. In truth, Obi-Wan had no idea whether the Lars even knew he existed as a person that, once upon a time, had mattered to Shmi Skywalker.

Obi-Wan’s boots were laced tightly and yet, somehow, sand managed to get inside. It was as if the desert was trying to get beneath his skin, swallow him up for stealing what had rightfully belonged to it. Obi-Wan had given up on Sith doctrines of eternal possessions and the right of the mighty, but he knew that there were ties that conquered everything.

Even death.

He came to a stop in front of a flat white stone. No name was itched into it. There was nothing remarkable about it, but the fact that it stood here on its own. This was not out of negligence, but another form of protection, a sign of adoration. If a grave were too richly decorated, they risked getting robbed.

Shmi Skywalker had already had enough taken from her.

At least in death, in the Force, she should find peace.

And hopefully Obi-Wan would gain an apology.

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping to his knees like a puppet whose strings had been cut. “I’m sorry. I promised to take care of him, to watch him, to make sure he’d never become like me, but—”

They call him High Inquisitor. I’ve never seen a Force-user with such strength, none but—

“I’m sorry,” he breathed again in the cool night. Obi-Wan buried his hands in the sand who still retained its heat from the day. “I failed him, I failed you.”

Obi-Wan didn’t know what else to say. Should he describe every gruesome detail? The way he’d seen Anakin decimate half of the Rebel forces without breaking a sweat? That, when reaching out much more patiently and carefully than Obi-Wan had at their first meeting, unschooled in what it meant to love, Anakin had still recoiled harshly and thrown all his hurt, pain, anger, betrayal, you left me, you let him do this to me—

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He tried to reach for the quiet Qui-Gon had spent hours teaching him, but all he found was chaos instead.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I will not let him suffer any longer.”

If he couldn’t rescue him, Obi-Wan at least had to ensure Anakin could find the same peace and quiet under the stars as his mother. He’d built him a grave somewhere far away from the large cities, take him to a meadow, a forest perhaps, and lay him to sleep. Surrounded by flowers, the Force would take back all it had given. He wouldn’t tell a soul where he’d bury Anakin, not until his own time had come.

Maybe the Force would be kind, and Anakin wouldn’t have to wait on him for long.