#angstpril day twenty eight

[fanfictasia]

Angstpril Day 28

Never See You Again

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Tethered to Life

The Jedi are gone, and Obi-Wan’s been struggling to deal with the sheer enormity of it ever since it happened – but none of that compared with the moment he went back to the Temple and watched the security holograms. Nothing could compare to the moment that he saw it was Anakin who was doing it, or… the moment he saw Windu run him through.

He hadn’t been able to watch any more of it after that.

Anakin was gone. His padawan, the boy he raised like his own child, the only person he’s truly been close with in years.

None of it made any sense, least of all that Anakin would turn on the Jedi only right before he was killed. Yoda insisted that he’d clearly been corrupted, that at least one of the Sith had been stopped, but all Obi-Wan could think about was that Anakin was gone. The only one he’d been furious with was Windu, even if he’d tried to retrain himself from… anything violent like he’s been obsessing over from the moment he saw that.

He's lost himself in trying to fight the Empire ever since, trying to do anything to get the aching, gutting emptiness out of his heart – to take an edge of the icy fury and desire for vengeance burning through him – but nothing really helps.

He hasn’t been able to focus on anything but the knowledge that he’s never going to see Anakin again.

But apparently, Anakin is somehow still alive even though that shouldn’t be possible. Never mind that no one ever bothered to tell him that, not even Anakin himself. Who is apparently still fighting for the Jedi, even Obi-Wan saw clear holograms indicating otherwise, and Windu is acting like he’s a ticking time bomb who’s about to murder them all, when he sees none of those signs whatsoever. Except, that he still can’t get Anakin cutting through the Jedi in those security recordings out of his mind, so he has no idea what’s even happening.

[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-Eight: Loss

“What was he like?” Yori asks. Her hand is laced with his, pinning him in place. Tron cannot pull away.

He finally told her about Cyrus. That there was another program like Beck—another program they had shared code with. 

Had , because he derezzed long before she ever got to meet him. 

Now she wants to know about her son.

“He was like you,” Tron says, quietly. “Kind. Gentle. Brave. He risked his life to save me from Clu. I wouldn’t be here if not for him.” 

All of that was true, at least in the beginning. It’s not something he admits often enough, especially to himself. 

“He was gifted. He could make things—alter things. He was a fast learner. Sometimes he was too smart for his own good.” He squeezes her hand. [ Sound familiar? ]

At times the beta had reminded him so much of Yori that it hurt. 

No matter how bleak things got, he never lost his sense of humor, even if it turned grim to match. The way he grumbled to himself while he worked, threatening and coaxing his projects in turns, was painfully familiar. So was the way he paced when he was nervous or lost in thought—sometimes up the walls or across the ceiling. At the time, Tron had only known one other program who was capable of that. 

Yori smiles a little, ducking her head. He can see the tears in her eyes. 

She already knows this story doesn’t have a happy ending. He’s just unsure how detailed he should make his retelling. 

“He was also broken,” Tron says. It’s too crude a descriptor, but in the moment he can’t think of a better one. “He was corrupted, before he found me. It only got worse over time. I didn’t realize what was happening until it was already too late.” 

He stalls. Maybe he should plead for her forgiveness; she’s certainly smart enough to read between the lines. 

But he’s not the one he finds himself defending. 

“He wasn’t himself at the end. It wasn’t his fault.” 

“I know,” she says, far too forgiving. “It wasn’t yours, either.”

[alright-anakin]

Angstpril 2021 Day 28: Voices in Your Head

Day 28: Voices in Your Head

“Let’s take a moment,” Obi-Wan murmured. His Padawan glared up at him, though Obi-Wan knew the glare was more of a show of determination than any ill feelings towards him.

“No, I can keep going.” Obi-Wan felt a small smile tug at his mouth.

“Padawan, it is alright to rest. Here,” Obi-Wan passed him a bottle of water and took one for himself. He sat down on the floor of the training room and after a long moment, Anakin sighed and sank ungracefully to the ground. He uncapped the bottle and begun drinking. Obi-Wan smiled. “What has you so determined to keep going? You have time to learn the forms, Anakin. You have time to learn all you need to know.” Anakin fidgeted a little, tugging on the sleeve of his tunic. It was a long while before he spoke.

read more here

[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

[jasontoddiefor]

Angstpril Day Twenty Eight: Voices in Your Head [ Other Parts. ]

When the Force spoke to him, Qui-Gon knew to listen well. It guided his every move, his decisions. When he could, he gave himself entirely to it, got lost in its currents and winds, the skies, the seas and everything in between. He knew that not all people were equally convinced that this was how to live with the Force in harmony, but it was the path Qui-Gon had forged and the solution that had yet to fail him.

So when the boy, who had rescued Qui-Gon from a sandstorm, was thrown violently against a wall and a red blade found itself at his neck, Qui-Gon listened. His instincts screamed at him to go protect his new friend, but the Force shouted even louder. He didn’t attack, he didn’t remain frozen in fear. Were he any less connected with the Force, trusted it less, then he would have been dead twice over already.

The impossible blood-red blade was held by a young man with eyes that burned like the suns above, robbing Qui-Gon of every breath.

When he was young, he used to listen to the older Padawans tell him ghost stories, even though he had never been too fond of horror stories. His Master had only ever scoffed at the tales and reprimanded Qui-Gon for listening to them and being scared. He should know better than to waste his time listening to such stories and believe them. Of course, his Master being his Master, Dooku had still allowed Qui-Gon to sneak into his room at night and find safety from his nightmares in his arms.

But that had been decades ago.

Qui-Gon shouldn’t be scared anymore, especially not of ghost stories and relicts.

And yet, here it was: a nightmare come to life, a terrifying crèche tales. In all his time as a Jedi Knight, serving the good of the galaxy and fighting its worst infections, Qui-Gon had seen many nightmares. Most of them were even more gruesome than what his dreams could conjure.

But nothing compared to this.

A Sith.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin shouted, quickly returning to his feet and rushing to the Sith’s side. “Obi-Wan, stop!”

He held onto the Sith’s robes, pulled at them as if trying to stop him. The boy was scared, but Qui-Gon could detect no fear of the monster. Anakin had touched the Sith without any hesitance, an action which suggested that this was a familiar gesture. This home was constructed lovingly, adoration was carved into every stone, and yet it reeked of suffering, of screams and hatred and darkness. Not unusual for slave quarters like these, but the intensity threw Qui-Gon off.

The Sith had to be amplifying it with his own emotions.

“He’s a Jedi,” the Sith spat. “He cannot be trusted, why did you bring him here, Anakin?”

“I had to help him!” Anakin insisted. “Mom always says you have to help people—”

“You don’t,” the Sith hissed, his blade pressing close enough to Qui-Gon’s throat that the heat threatened to burn him.

“Especially not a Jedi. They are weak and pathetic and they don’t care. They never do.”

They never did.

The Force wept so loudly, Qui-Gon nearly didn’t hear the Sith’s words over it. It cried for its lost child, its grief overwhelming. Was the Sith an Initiate, who had fallen through the cracks? A child they should have found, but didn’t?

“My name is Qui-Gon Jinn,” he introduced himself, careful not to raise his voice or move his body in a way that suggested hostility. “I followed Anakin because he promised shelter.”

“Because you sensed his strength,” the Sith argued, anger infusing his every word.

Qui-Gon wasn’t even going to try to lie to him. “That too. He is incredibly powerful and untrained Force-sensitives on their own are dangerous and at risk. I wanted to see whether there was anyone protecting him and found you.”

The Sith’s eyes narrowed and he glanced at Anakin still clinging to him. “What do you really want here Jedi?”

“Help,” Qui-Gon answered. “I only want to help.”

[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.

[exomal]

Angstpril Masterlist

Day Six: “You don’t belong here.” [ART]

A young Anakin Skywalker contemplating his place in the Jedi Order.

Day Nine: “I WISH WE HAD MORE TIME” [ART]

Anidala Artwork (Padme)

Day Fifteen: "They're Dead" [FIC] Part 1/2

After months of searching Obi-Wan and the rest find Anakin in an assumed separatist base. But something feels off and they find more than what they were prepared for.

Day Twenty-three: "Bedside Vigil" [FIC] Part 2/2

Anakin escaped med bay and Obi-Wan finds him sitting next to a familiar person.

Day Twenty-eight: "Voices in Your Head" [ART]

Anakin Skywalker Artwork with Palpatine

[fanfictasia]

Angstpril Day 28

Loss

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from an unnamed fanfic

“I – I don’t want you to go.”

It’s more touching than he thought it would be, that Anakin would… say that, given that he’s the one who kidnapped him from the start. And Obi-Wan can grudgingly admit the boy didn’t have much reason to want to stay with him, until more recently. “I don’t either, but you can’t stay, and I can’t go. I need to know you understand.”

“I do,” he whispers, voice shaking slightly, “When will we see each other again?”

“I don’t know, but we will. Eventually.”

Anakin nods, suddenly moving forwards. It catches Obi-Wan off-guard enough that he didn’t realize what he was doing until the boy’s small arms are wrapped tightly around him.

Well then.

He wraps his own arms around Anakin, pulling him close, and for a few moments they just… stand/sit there. It hurts in a way far deeper than he could ever say, that they’ll have to go separate ways indefinitely now.

It can’t even compare to when he left his family – frankly, he didn’t feel bad about that. It was a part of life.

This is different, and he can’t say how much he doesn’t want to do it. But this isn’t… for him. It’s for Anakin. And he’d much rather have him a Jedi and alive, than a Sith apprentice and dead.

“It will not be forever,” Obi-Wan promises, holding him close, tightly. (For not the first time, he wonders if this is what it’s like to hold your child. It’s certainly not how you feel towards a Sith apprentice.)

“I’ll miss you,” Anakin breaths.

“As will I,” he murmurs.

They pull apart, and Obi-Wan hesitates, hands lingering on Anakin’s shoulders. It’s too soon to let him go, but he needs to hurry if he really plans to get out of here.

“I should give you Twilight,” he muses, standing.

“You can keep her,” the boy objects, “So… you won’t be alone.”

Obi-Wan can’t help the smile – and sharp stab of pain that spears through him – at the childishness of the words. “Alright.” Besides, would the Jedi let Anakin keep something from a Sith? Likely not, so maybe him keeping it would be for the best.

“Will you be okay?” Anakin asks, blue eyes full of worry.

“Of course,” he answers, automatically. “You should go.” He gently pushes him towards the door, and after a moment, Anakin moves towards it, though he pauses at the entrance, looking back.It’s the last they see of each other, before Obi-Wan turns to leave himself, taking off down the hall. He has to go now, or he’s going to change his mind. If he sees Anakin again, he can’t be certain he’ll be able to leave.

[fanfictasia]

Angstpril Day 28

Alt. Broken

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Phantoms of Glory

I finally find myself by Anakin and Padme, who are fighting side by side, taking shelter from the tipped-over cart. “I thought I’d be seeing you any moment,” Anakin remarks, deflecting another blaster bolt. “Want to take over for me?”

I step into position to cover for Padme as she continues firing at the droids without question. I don’t ask what he’s doing – it doesn’t matter anyway. Anakin steps behind us, scanning the arena.

I focus my attention on the battle and taking out any unlucky droid that dares fire out direction. Across the arena, I spot one of the pieces from Obi-Wan’s smashed pole lifting off the ground and moves towards one of the doorways where the droids are pouring into the arena. Anakin’s doing. Smart. It’ll slow them down. Give us more time.

Except that’s when it happens. I feel a ripple through the Force. Something is wrong, very, very wrong. Someone is… someone’s dying. And it’s not the numerous Jedi who have already fallen, it’s…

The pain that flares through my mind and the Force is excruciating and I fall to my knees, gasping. “Master,” I whisper, faintly, pressing a hand to my chest. It feels like something was just ripped out of it and if I didn’t know better, I would swear it was. I don’t register dropping my lightsaber, only that it’s not in my hand anymore. It feels like something is crushing my chest so I can’t breathe, the knowledge of what just happened hammering at my mind over and over.

Sar – my master was like my very own mother. Not the same home understanding acceptance way that Shmi was. But – but she was my teacher. And now…

Anakin steps in front of me suddenly, lightsaber raised in front of him. Somewhere through the blur of horror and pain and raw shock, the knowledge that he’s covering for me settles on. I froze up. I could have died, but he saved me. Even while I stumbled and froze, and –

She’s gone. I’m supposed to let go, but I can feel the place in my mind acutely where our bond was ripped lose. It’s not supposed to hurt. That’s why Jedi have so many bonds, so the loss of one hardly affects them. So why does it feel like something dug its claws in and ripped something lose, like Ashla.exe has stopped functioning?

The thrumming presence that was Master Sar Labooda just poofed out and gone. From the Force and my life forever. And leaving her padawan here, alone. Everything else is trying to readjust and shift around to take its place. Why do people always act like the lack of a presence in your mind – even if it was shielded before – doesn’t hurt?

I can’t comprehend it, how someone else in my life could just be gone or understand what exactly that means.

My master is –

She’s gone.

She is dead, like so many of the friends Anakin and I had back on Tatooine and like Qui-Gon and she’s not coming back.

I came here to save Obi-Wan and – and I only got my own master killed.

It doesn’t seem real. It can’t be. She was just here, and we were laughing and joking together, and I know if let a strange sense of finality before we left for Naboo, but it doesn’t make sense because – because she can’t be gone.

It feels like something inside me is irreparably broken and shattered and gone.

I can’t breathe.

Through the heat of the planet and the smell of smoke and fire and burned flesh from the battle and the dead I know there are others out there I need to get up and fight for, but I can’t.

My master is gone and she’s not coming back, and I’ve lost her to, and I never got to thank her for everything she did for me, and I don’t even know if she cared about me.

“Ashla!” Someone is calling me, touching my shoulder, and there’s blaster shots right next to me and I find that I don’t even care. Would it be so bad to die here with my master?