#GOOD LORD MY BRAIN IS NOW BEING PLAGUED WITH THE WORST VISIONS

[redstrewn]

The way....leanders hair falls over his eyes......makes me go fucking insane tbh

[sonoftatooine]

Whumpay 2021

DAY 31: ALT DAY - SLEEP DEPRIVATION

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Shaak Ti

Summary: When Anakin makes the decision to go and save Palpatine from Mace Windu, his lack of sleep over the past week chooses the worst possible moment to catch up with him. Shaak Ti attempts to intervene.

***

It was said that the Force, in the hands of a competent Jedi, could do many things. It was also said—with greater and greater frequency over the course of the war—that in the hands of Anakin Skywalker, it could do the impossible. Right now, however, Anakin himself was of the opinion that this was a bold-faced lie, for the one thing he could not make it do, as he staggered unsteadily yet imperturbably toward the main doors of the Jedi Temple, was have it chase away the fog that was threatening to take over his over-tired mind and send him spiralling into the deep, impenetrable darkness of forced rest. He had been fighting it for days, drawing on the Force to fend off sleep as he searched desperately for a solution to save his wife from the awful fate that plagued his dreams whenever he tried to rest. And now, only now, when he was so close to finding the solution that the Jedi had denied him, when a moment's delay meant that he could lose that knowledge for ever, did his reserves finally run out, and the ability to stay awake and moving start to slip through his durasteel grip like sand.

Sand. Sand. His head felt like it was full of sand. Scratchy and grainy, lodged in unlikely places, disrupting all the whirring mechanisms that governed his thoughts. He'd had the same problem with Threepio when he was building him, without his coverings to protect him from the ravages of Tatooine, and he'd spent hours cleaning the stuff out of his servos just as he had with Watto's junk at the shop. He wanted to shake his head to dislodge it, but nothing he did made it—

He had been so focused on putting one foot in front of the other that he barely realised when he collided full on with a tall, slim figure standing directly in front of the door. The world swam before as one of the frequent waves of dizziness overcame him, and he felt strong, slim fingers circling about the flesh of his biceps to keep him upright. Dazed, he blinked, trying to chase away the strange blur that had overtaken his vision, and the smudge of red and white and purple before him coalesced into the face of Jedi Master Shaak Ti. Her hairless brows were drawn into a frown, and she looked very concerned.

“Anakin,” she said. “Are you alright? Where are you going?”

Anakin wished he could dislodge the sand from his brain, but his thoughts wouldn't come coherently, and all he could force out from his lips was a garbled, “the Chancellor— I need—”

Shaak Ti's frown deepened.

“The Chancellor?,” she asked. “But the Masters have already gone to confront him. You need not worry—the situation is already in hand.”

Anakin could only shake his head wordlessly, immediately wishing that he hadn't as his vision swam once again at the sudden movement. She didn't understand. The situation wasn't in hand because Windu might kill Palpatine who was the only one who knew how to save Padmé and he couldn't let Padmé die, he couldn't live without her -

“Shaak Ti,” he gasped out. “Get out of my way.”

He had to get to the door, had to— If he could just get to the door— He tried to pull out of her grasp, but Shaak Ti held on, the press of her fingers on his arms gentle yet firm.

“The Temple is sealed,” she reminded him. “The door is code-locked.”

Oh. Yes. They were expecting retaliation from Palpatine should the Masters fail. Windu had put Shaak Ti in charge of the Temple's defence as a precautionary measure when he had ordered Anakin to wait like a good little Jedi in the Council Chambers while he marched off to kill the man who had always been kind to him, had lied to him, had been the only one to offer to help him save Padmé— But what did it matter? He was a Jedi himself. He had the codes, and Shaak Ti couldn't keep him here when he needed to go—

“And you're in the way of the pad” he snapped.

He jerked back, and this time, he managed break free, but the force of the movement had unbalanced him, bringing on another alarming wave of faintness. His vision blurred, the world spun, his head throbbing painfully with exhaustion and hunger and fear. Hands shot out to catch him once again, and he pitched forward, forced to lean against Shaak Ti to keep his knees from buckling.

“You're not well, Anakin,” the Jedi Master's soft voice spoke somewhere in the vicinity of his ear, but despite how close she was, she sounded distant, muffled, as if she were talking over a bad comm connection. “You should be in the Halls of Healing.”

“I— No. I can't—,” Anakin stammered desperately. He couldn't afford distractions, not with Padmé's life on the line. He had to get to Palpatine now, before Windu— “I'm fine,” he added, trying to push himself back upright again. “I need to go—”

Shaak Ti shook her head.

“What can you possibly do?,” she asked. “Master Windu and the others will handle it. You have done your duty. Let yourself rest.”

Yes, Windu will handle it, Anakin wanted to shout. That's precisely the problem. Padmé was going to die because he couldn't get away, because he couldn't get there on time. His head swam again, and to his horror, he felt tears of fear and frustration pricking at his eyes.

“You don't understand!,” he babbled. How could she understand? How could he explain it to her after he had broken the Code so badly? “There's no time. I have go! I have to do something! I can't just—”

“Anakin, please,” Shaak Ti cut across him. She looked deeply worried. “Let me take you to the healers. You are in no state to be fighting battles against a Sith Lord. You will get yourself killed.”

Anakin shook his head.

“He...he won't kill me,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “He wants—”

Realising exactly what it is he was about to say, Anakin cut himself off abruptly. He wants me as his apprentice, he thought. That's the price of Padmé's life. My life in service so she and the baby can live. He knew this deeply, instinctively, with all the knowledge of the little boy on Tatooine who had spent his life at the mercy of his masters, even though the part of him that wanted to think not of the Chancellor's lies but of their long friendship tried to tell him that there wouldn't be a price for his help. He couldn't tell Shaak Ti that. Couldn't tell her that, as much as the prospect alarmed him, there was a tiny spark in him beneath the furious insistence that all he wanted was to make sure that Palpatine wasn't killed that was actually considering it. Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, however, for a look of severe alarm found its way into Shaak Ti's violet eyes.

“He wants what?,” she said, and there was a note of urgency in her tone that he had never heard from her before—usually, she was the very epitome of Jedi calm. “Anakin, what does he want. What has he told you—?”

But before she could demand anything further of him, and before he could even begin to think about evading her questions, four lights blinked out of existence, and the Force screamed. Both Anakin and Shaak Ti staggered under the weight of it.

“What—?” Anakin gasps. He knew those lights. Windu. Fisto. Kolar. Tiin. Where were they? They couldn't just be gone. They couldn't be— There had been four of them and only one of Palpatine. He couldn't have—

“It cannot be,” Shaak Ti breathed, her eyes wide with horror. “Four Jedi Masters... How could he have—?”

She shook herself, as if she could rid herself of fear the way an akk dog did water after a swim.

“We must see to the Temple's defences. I fear he will come for us next, and without—”

But she never got to finish, as Anakin took advantage of her distraction to dart around her towards the keypad. Another wave of dizziness overcame him, and he nearly crumpled in a heap on the floor, but he flung out an arm to break his fall. Bracing his right arm against the wall, he raised his trembling flesh hand to the pad, intent on typing in his code. If only he could stop it from shaking so violently, let alone shift the sand in his head to remember what the damned code was—

A hand circled around his wrist, and he froze.

“Anakin, no,” Shaak Ti said sternly, even as her voice shook at the feeling in the Force of four Jedi Masters dead. “I cannot let you go to him. Whatever he wants with you, it will bring you nothing but harm.”

Harm. Harm. Palpatine had harmed Windu and the others. Had killed them. He should want to kill him, as he had for one short moment in the man's office when he revealed to him that he was the Sith Lord behind the war. Did he want to kill him now? No, he needed him to save Padmé. He needed that knowledge, that power. Who cared if it harmed him as long as it helped her? A small voice in his head whispered to him that if Sidious had the power to defeat four Jedi alone, then surely being able to save Padmé would be nothing by comparison. Oh Force, he felt sick.

“Please,” he begged, appalled to hear his voice tremble and break as he spoke. He wanted to cry, wanted to rest, to fall asleep in Padmé's arms knowing that she was safe, that he would no longer be plagued by dreams of her death and that he wouldn't have to turn to the Sith Lord that had just killed four Jedi Masters for help. But he couldn't have any of that. All he had was one possible way to save her life that Shaak Ti wouldn't let him take. “Please, it's not me, it's— She's going to die! Padmé's going to die and I have to...”

Shaak Ti's eyes widened in sudden realisation, but he could barely see her through the blackness that was encroaching on his vision. She tilted sideways or—no, he tilted sideways, tumbling to the floor and what was that? Was the door opening? Had she opened the door? No, it was someone coming in—many someones with heavy booted feet and blue and white armour and weapons pointed—

There was a click of many weapons being primed, a shout, the snap-hiss of a lightsaber being ignited, and then the darkness consumed him amid a hurricane of blaster fire.

[geffbob]

First short story I’m proud of part 2

I don’t really like having to deal with many things at once. When I was just starting out, it was simple. You go to the guild, you flirt with the lady behind the counter, she gives you your mission and you go on your way to kill x amount of goblins or clear the road or arrest the cultists that are trying to summon a black god or help the farmers rid the land of pests. Now things are more complicated. More complicated than I want them to be.

It wasn’t long until we arrived at the portal. Most places around the kingdom have little gateways to other cities, this helps for travel time as most people really don’t want to walk for 5 days to get where they want to go. The problem was, the sept wasn’t stupid. They knew that we knew what they were doing and trapped the portal. I don’t know why we didn’t see this coming. I was just talking to Herah (the elf) and noticed that the portal was slightly darker than usual. It was getting to about twilight and I didn’t really think much of it. We soldiered on and walked straight into it. Huge fucking mistake.

 Portals are usually over in half a second. You go in, you feel immense force on yourself and you’re out. It’s slightly sickening the first time, but you get used to it. What’s not normal, is when it lasts for more than half a second and you feel something worm its way inside your head.

 The first thing I noticed was the pain. Like a ringing in my hears like a thousand children screaming all at once. Next was the imagery. Images of torture and violence aren’t uncommon in these types of spells, but they never get easier to see. I saw everything. My mother being slaughtered and desecrated. My father having his skin removed. My brothers being burnt on crosses. My sister being ripped to shreds by trolls. And the screams. They wouldn’t stop screaming the entire time I was in there. It took me a while to realise that the screaming I was hearing was them screaming. My father, mother, sister, brother. All of them yelling at the top of their lungs while they get pulled apart and torn into the most horrific sights that plague my worst nightmares. Again, and again. And I can’t close my eyes, because they’re just behind my eyelids. Hellish fiery landscapes of pain and destruction, with my family being the centre point for all of it. Every time I look away, they’ve had something worse done to them. Things that would kill normal humans, being done to them time and time again. It was unbearable. Unimaginable. The amount of torture I saw just in the space of 10 seconds felt like forever.  And then I remembered what they taught me at the guild.

“You’ll be given visions of pain” – my old teacher said. An old orc, in his late 200’s. He probably only had a few years left in him and he was probably the best psychological combat teacher I’ve ever had. I remember being cross legged, in a circle around him, as I sat down with about 20 other kids as we listened to whatever he had to say.

“They’ll attack you at your most weakest because your brain does it for you. You think about things you love all the time, that’s what keeps you going. And yet, you can’t stop them from attacking those memories because that’s exactly what the spell does.” – he turned over his sword while saying this – “It attacks your most vulnerable part. The thing you have to remember is that it’s not real. Tell yourself that. Again. And again. And again. Figure out what’s wrong. Something’s always wrong in them. Focus on something that’s different than reality and use that to pull yourself out of it”

He’s never let me down, old Gog. Never.

I search for it. I don’t want to look at what they’re doing to my family, but I can’t help it. I need to see. I need to watch for a sign, something different. Something that’s not right. Clothing. Faces. Eyes. Hair. Weapons. Something’s not right about this and I need to see it.

Father being skinned. Screams. Mother being stabbed. Screams. Brothers cutting each other apart. Screaming. Sister being pulled apart by trolls. Screaming. Screams. The screams. My sister doesn’t scream like that. My sister hasn’t screamed in her life. That’s not her scream, that’s a baby’s scream. The baby of that old lady I spoke to yesterday. My sister doesn’t scream like that. She’s never screamed. My sister doesn’t scream. “MY SISTER DOESN’T FUCKING SCREAM LIKE THAT YOU FUCKING CULTIST BASTARDS”

I yell, pushing towards the image. The troll looks at me now and drops her body. Walking towards me. Thumping with every step he takes.

“I KNOW YOU’RE NOT FUCKING REAL, GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD” I scream, louder, over the sounds of my other family members. Over the sound of everything. Make my voice louder than theirs. Show them that I’m not afraid. The troll bends over to look at me and reaches down.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU” I scream. Loud. Louder than I’ve ever screamed before. My throat is on fire right now, but I have to hold on.

“DON’T TEST ME COWARD”

“JACK”

 I snap myself awake. I look down and realise I’m holding Herah by the neck, up in the air, with my knife drawn and next to her face.

“Herah!” I gasp in surprise. Shit. “Are you okay?”

I drop her to the ground and crouch down, trying to see if she’s okay. She coughs and pushes me away

“I’m fine! Human! I’m fine! Over there!” -she says between coughing- “Behind the- the fucking – behind the rocks!”

I turn around. Noticing for the first time where I am. It’s a small village, slotted in-between a few grassy hills with some roads leading up and from it. The portal took us out onto the top of a hill next to the village. There’s farmlands around us but all the livestock is dead with flies buzzing around. Trees sway slowly in the breeze, in different directions. Air current is off here, the wind doesn’t work like it. I get this overwhelming feeling that something is wrong. I look down at the village and notice that some shapes are coming out of the houses. I don’t really have time to see what they are, as I spot something shuffling next to the rocks.

 I leap over. I’m not a very good magic user, but I know enough propulsion force to leap across the ground without letting the enemy get a chance to react. And she didn’t have time. I draw my greatsword and hold it over my head, looking down on her, stepping on her chest. I notice what she’s wearing before anything. She’s plain. Nothing’s off about her, save the eyes. She’s wearing a loose fitting brown cloak with inverted 5 pointed stars on it. Her head’s shaven and her eyes are black. I don’t know if it’s make-up or soot from some sort of fire. They stare back at me with fear, like she’s genuinely terrified to see me. I don’t blame her; I’m wearing loose fitting black plate armour with black leather pants and jet-black boots. My hands are covered by black fire-proof gloves. The armour, however, is a little special. I tried to get something arrow proof and invented by elves because it’s very light weight and very practical. I’m holding a greatsword over my head with both my hands and have my knife on my belt, ready to be drawn at any moment. And while I don’t look too bad when I’m walking down the street, as a black cloak usually covers everything. When I’ve got my weapons drawn, it’s nigh impossible to not be afraid of me.

I slightly lower my guard, doing a feint. She sees me do this and snarls, chanting quickly and without hesitation. Of course, her fear was a ruse. It’s always a ruse. I don’t bother with the rest of the feint. I drop my greatsword down with barely any force. It impales her neck and pins her to the ground without any effort. I would have sworn these people were armoured, as most cultists usually are. But this one was basically naked under her robes. Her spell gets cut off before the good part. I see her hands were outstretched. Could have been a fireball. Could have been poison. Could have been another vision of pain. Who’s to tell. Either way, it’s over.

 “I’m sorry…” – I begin. Walking towards the elf. But Herah stops me.

“Don’t be. I expected a human like you wouldn’t be able to stave off the spell. The second we went into the portal I knew something was wrong, so I quickly cast a protection spell without even thinking about you. I should’ve known you wouldn’t have noticed” “But I did notice” – I retort “I managed to pull myself out of it”

“No, you didn’t. You were about to cut my face into ribbons. I was able to cast a small nox spell over by the rocks to stop the visions briefly” “And I then pulled myself out of it. I noticed that my sister’s screams weren’t real” “Ah the old ‘it’s not real’ tactic” she stops and thinks for a minute. “Well, I suppose you might have got out of it. My spell was only just starting to work, and you were slowing down. That probably explains your yelling about wanting to kill me”.

 I pull my sword out and re-sheath it. “Well, we know they’re here. Do we head back for reinforcements?”

“No” she says. Looking at the sky. “Too late now” “What the hell do you mean too late?” I reply, getting angry now

“I’m saying it’s too late”. She turns and looks at me. “I’m not stupid, neither are you. You see it, too can’t you? They’ve started early. The wind’s wrong. The sky isn’t blue. It’s too dark. Too quiet. And the town’s gone. Everyone in it is dead. A sacrifice to their ‘great lord’” she says, holding her hands to hear ears. I think that’s how elves do their bunny fingers thing when they’re being sarcastic. “It’s too late. We stop them here. Ourselves.”

 I look up at her. She’s quite funny looking, a librarian in a town of the dead. And yet something about her makes me think that she knows what she’s doing. Probably the fact that her eyes are glowing, and her hands are smoking. Elves wield very powerful magic, the strongest out of the 4 magical races. Humans being second. Dwarves being third and orcs being fourth. Elves barely even fight up close if they don’t have to. Why would anyone need to stab someone when you can just fly over them and shoot lightning down?

“Fine”. I say. “Where do you think they are?”

She looks up to me and points at the map inside her book. “Here”.

 Underground. In the middle of the town. Of course, it would be underground. The one thing I hate the most about the guild. Most of the monsters come from underground. I’m not good with tight places. I’m not good with underground places. And I’m certainly not good with underground tight spaces. But I can’t tell her that. So, I just nod.

 As we walk closer to the town re realise what we’re dealing with. These cultists aren’t even remotely considerate with how they deal with the dead. Bodies are everywhere. Strewn in the streets like roadkill. Families hang out of the windows with holes where their hearts would be. Cut with puncture wounds all over themselves. A city of about 30 or so people, no guards, no protection, away from all the fighting. These people thought themselves to be the safest people on the continent. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. There’s people lining the streets with their bodies cut into little pieces. Arms, legs, heads. Some are cut up. Some are desecrated. Some are just left upside down, with all the blood leaking out of them like a butcher’s shop. The blood itself is still fresh and moving. Moving?

 “Why is the blood moving?” I say “Watch. It’s all going into the same place isn’t it. Straight into the centre. Follow it”

 We walk for a few minutes before finding the spot. They’re not even trying to hide themselves now, this is their last ditch effort. They knew they would be found and they’re trying to finish everything as fast as they possibly can. I don’t know if a portal will be opened, or if they’ll be saved, or if they’re just trying to sacrifice themselves to the god so they get eternal salvation in their next life, but they’re trying everything they can in order to finish up. And they’re doing this fast. And sloppy. One of the villagers is still breathing. As I rush over to help, I start hearing something.

Chanting. And it really doesn’t sound human.

 “Are you okay old man?” I say, bending over to help the man. He’s clearly damaged. Under a lot of stress and badly injured.

“I’m fine” he whispers back. Looking around. There’s tears in his eyes. “Everyone’s dead, aren’t they?” “Yes.” I reply. I don’t know what else to say. “We need to get you to a hospital”

“Do you see a hospital around here boy?” he says, barely. “I’m not getting out of this alive. And if you jump down there, neither are you.”

“Then should I just kill you now?” I say, drawing my sword. He’s not wrong. The only way he’s getting out of here is if a mage appears out of nowhere and picks him up. And it’s more likely that the sun will explode before that happens. Mages barely leave their blasted guild.

 The elf.

 I turn to her, and she shakes her head. Fucking useless. One would think elves could at the very least cast a small teleportation spell to the nearest town. But when you think about it, the shock alone would kill him. Organs tend to bounce around in portals created by the magical races.

 I look at her and mouth ‘he’s not gonna make it’. She closes her eyes and looks away. Looking for an entrance to the underground part.

 “What can I do for you then old man?” I say.

“Are you going to kill them?” “I’m going to stop them.” “I don’t want you to stop them. I want you to kill them” – he coughs – “send a message to all the other psycho bastards.”

“I’m not getting paid to kill them”

“In my house, there’s a safe. If you kill them. I’ll give you the password. – he looks up to me. “They killed my daughter. She’s lying there, on the ground next to your elf. They gutted her like a cow. Make them suffer. Please.”

 I think it over. Our goal is over when we stop the ritual. If I jump in there and the elf blows up the book, they’ll scatter and escape, and then we can let the hunters after them. Mute bastards, the hunters, with their large fucking dogs, they’ll find them in the next few hours, and we’ll be fine. But they’ll just be arrested and put to trial. Probably rot in some gaol somewhere. But they won’t die.

 “Okay.” I say. Without thinking. “I’ll try”

 I stand up and look at the elf. She heard it all. Of course, she did, big eared fucks constantly listen in to things that don’t concern them. She looks at me and starts to open her mouth”

 “Don’t” I say “Don’t what?” “Don’t say anything”

“You humans make promises you can’t fulfil all the time, thinking you’re all heroes or saviours. Do you honestly think he’ll still be alive when you get back? Do you honestly think you’ll kill them all? You’re going down there and making them scatter.” She’s yelling now. “The ritual will be over and your silent humans with their big dogs can come and pick them up later. If you fight them you will die, don’t think for one second that you’ll make it out of there alive if you start swinging your sword around spilling blood. Just stop them.”

 I stop and look at her. Before I say anything, I draw my sword, flip it over my head and look at myself in it. There’s blood on it from that girl I killed just before, but I can still see myself. Blue eyes, blonde hair, small facial hair. I haven’t shaved yet. And I’m fuming. I’ve never been good at expressing emotions, so whenever I get upset or I’m feeling down, I look at myself and find out what I’m feeling from that.

 I feel angry. And not because she’s still talking

 “And another thing, if you get yourself killed you can’t pay me for your time. I’ve given you hundreds of secrets regarding daemons and you KNOW I can’t give you them for free. I’m charging you for services rendered…”

“I’ll kill them”. I say. Looking at the old man. He’s breathing slower now. Looking at his daughter. Slumped against a house, blood all over him. He probably has a few more minutes left in him.

 He remind me of dad.

 “Fine.” She says. “But if you get hurt, I won’t save your ass. I’ll just take your sword and armour. It’s elven anyway” “Fine by me”.