#oh well but that's for another angstpril

[nyamadermont]

This Isn't Going to Work

Angstpril 2024: Day 6 (1368 words)

“Lin, this isn’t going to work. I only have a couple of days in the city and I can’t predict when the baby will come. If you can’t take a day or two off to spend with me, I’ll just stay on the Island and not interrupt your schedule.”

“But Kya, I want to see you. It’s been months, and I miss you. We’ve been planning this raid for six months. I would risk my officers’ lives if I just took vacation time right now. Never mind what the council would say.”

“Oh, don’t bring my brother into this, Lin,” Kya groused.

Lin scoffed. “Your brother would be mad at me, but more for making you unavailable. He’s been on my back for three years to take a vacation.”

“Tenzin and I agree on something other than the fact he’s lucky Pema puts up with him.”

Lin froze.

Through a clenched jaw, she managed to respond. “No, I’m sorry, Kya. You’re right. This visit isn’t going to work out.”

click

***

Lin frowned at the timetables and weather charts spread out over Katara’s dining table. She was nearly in tears as she said, “Kya, this isn’t going to work. I have been gone for two weeks already. I’ve got to get Saikahn back to his usual duties. This election is in two months, and I have security to work out across the city.” She dropped her face in her hands. “I want to stay.”

Kya reached over and pulled one hand away and gave it a kiss.

“Lin, dear, you hate it here.”

Lin scoffed.

“I don’t hate you,” she muttered so softly Kya nearly missed it.

Kya kissed Lin’s hand again before settling her cheek into Lin’s palm.

“I don’t hate you, too.”

Their eyes met and they laughed.

Kya sighed.

“Well, if this isn’t going to work, you’d best pack. You know what Tenzin is like when he’s decided a problem is not going to fix itself. I’m sure he is going to have Korra on a meditation regime like none we’ve ever seen before.”

There was no laughter over the fate of two benders going home without their bending.

The door nearly broke from its hinges as Mako came bursting into the room. “Chief! Korra’s back! Everything is going to work out!”

***

“This isn’t going to work. We should just go home,” Lin growled, her stomach churning. Her feet were encased in soggy leather rather than her standard uniform boots. Everywhere, the riotous green growth was oppressive in its pervasiveness. They could only see so far ahead before yet another tree turned them aside from their best guess of a path.

The earth under her feet was saturated, and the water blurred her seismic sense. Kya, meanwhile, seemed almost to tiptoe through the reeds and rushes.

Lin paused a moment to admire the one spark of beauty in this spirits-forsaken swamp.

Except, of course, the spirits had not forsaken this awful place. They had both had visions the night before, and Lin was embarrassed by what Kya had heard.

“Lin, I have a good feeling. I bet Toph is just past that tree over there. Trust me.”

The cackling laugh seemed to come from everywhere but above them.

“Trust? Kya, you should know better than that. Lin won’t trust her own two feet.”

The tiny, wizened form of Lin’s mother emerged from behind the very tree Kya had indicated. 

“Hey, Chief.”

Lin shook her head and sighed. “Hey, Chief.” 

A few minutes’ worth of backtracking brought them to Toph’s small abode. She negligently raised two stools for sitting, then returned to her own reclining seat.

Kya’s stomach gurgled, so she started opening their pack. “Toph, we brought some food with us. We thought you might like something other than wet mushrooms. We just need a little larger fire to cook everything.”

“That isn’t going to work. The swamp and I have an arrangement, and that fire doesn’t get any bigger. It’s either good enough, or it’s not.”

***

Kya was perplexed by the instructions in the note in her hand. Lin told her to arrive at a very specific hour at the delivery entrance to the Republic City History Museum, and to wait for her.

After a short wait, she began to regret dismissing the cab, because she didn’t see anywhere to sit and wait for her wife. The shadows were shifting, and Kya had other things she wanted to do other than watch the birds flit about the alleyway.

Just as she was about to give up and leave, a police van pulled up and parked next to the dock. Lin exited the passenger side, bent over to speak to the driver, then walked to the cargo doors at the back. Her hand was hidden by the open doors, until she backed up and a large crate floated out and settled on the ground behind the vehicle. Kya presumed there was something metal inside that she was bending.

Lin closed the doors to the van and tapped the back twice. The officer put the sato into gear and drove away. 

Lin bent the crate up onto the dock, then walked over to where Kya was waiting with an arched eyebrow and crossed arms.

“You were very specific, Lin. Why have I been waiting here so long?”

Lin had the decency to look slightly abashed. “The people we are here to meet got caught in traffic and couldn’t let us in on time. I’m sorry.”

With a wave, Kya dismissed the concerns, and leaned over to give Lin a kiss.

Kya was fascinated to get to see the back offices and storage areas of the museum. Even as the child of dignitaries, she had never gotten to see the parts of the museum where all the work was done. It seemed to be a busy place, even on a day when they were closed to the public.

She waited in the chair she was led to while Lin managed the crate under the direction of one of the curators. She rummaged through her bag for a book until she remembered having finished her last one from her last trip to the library. A glance around the room found very little to distract her, so she settled on the floor to meditate.

“Kya, dear. We’re ready.”

Kya was prepared with her side-eye for Lin, who somehow did not seem surprised. Or put off in the slightest.

She was almost smug.

Kya frowned, but got up from the floor to follow Lin.

They emerged from the employee areas into the main visitor gallery. Hand in hand, they walked through an open doorway with the phrase “The Story of Our City” marked out in a cheerful red overhead.

It had been years since the last time Kya had brought the niblings, so she could see a few places where things had been updated and rearranged. Lin took a turn Kya didn’t recognize, only to be confronted with a larger-than-life statue of Toph. Which thankfully was not the size of the statue at headquarters.

Lin guided her through a small hall dedicated to the police force from its establishment under the original council through the rise of the triads, the terror of Yakone, the two chiefs after Toph, to Lin’s own promotion to the top job. There was a memorial wall for those killed in the line of duty, whether in what Lin called the ‘quiet years’ or specific historic moments like the Equalist Uprising.

“Kya, darling. Close your eyes, please.”

Kya looked at Lin first, but slowly and deliberately closed her eyes, and wrapped her arm around Lin’s elbow. It was only about another twenty steps before Lin asked her to stop and turn around. She heard a click that sounded like a storage case closing.

“Open your eyes.”

Behind a glass case, a dressmaker’s form supported one of Lin’s uniforms. The plaque overhead read, “Chief Lin Beifong served Republic City for forty years before retiring in the twenty-fourth year of the Korra Era.”

Kya blinked. “Retired?” She looked at Lin in confusion.

“Retired." Lin pointed at the uniform. "This isn’t going to work.”

She smiled at Kya.

“Ever again.”

[awaytobeunshaken]

Angstpril 2023 - Day 3: No Escape

The desert night sky spread wide before Ashton as he settled down with his drink for a spot of solitude away from the continuing activity behind him. It was good to be able to see the stars properly, with Ruidus settled back into its usual position above the horizon. It seemed dimmer since they’d broken the tether to it, but that was probably down to its constant flaring just before. Either way, it felt good to be able to nearly ignore it.

A shiver ran through Ashton’s body; they’d shucked their vest to have something to sit on, but that only left them more vulnerable to the cool night air. 

“If you’re gonna wander off from the fire, you oughtta at least come prepared.” A bundle of fabric landed in his lap and he looked up to see Lita, Orym’s sister, fastening another one of the cloaks she’d chucked at him. “All partied out?”

Ashton shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it a party, exactly, but yeah. Not a fan of crowds.” They tilted their head towards Lita. “Same?”

She shrugged. “A bit. I said I was gonna take a walk and Orym asked me to bring you this. Wanted to make sure you didn’t freeze your ass off.”

“Oh. Well, thanks. Uh… to him, too, but I guess later I can…” Fuck, he’d been running with the same people for so long he forgot how to talk to strangers. Or maybe it was just the stress.

“So what’s up with you two?” 

“I mean. We just spent the last two weeks marching our way back here. Including overpaying to hitch a ride on a dodgy-ass ship. The—the three of us had plenty of time to get to know each other. I don’t think there’s anything up with that.”

“Yeah?” She settled into the sand beside him. “That’s not what he seems to think.” At Ashton’s panicked expression, she clarified, “I mean, he didn’t say anything. But the way he looks at you, or when he talks about you… the only other person I’ve seen him look at like that was Will.”

“Fuck.” Ashton was still way too sober for this; they snatched their bottle out of the sand and took a drink. The normally pleasant fire of the alcohol seemed to choke them going down. “Fuck!” He’d noticed those eyes on him, hoped maybe the look was just one of friendly concern, or maybe he was overthinking things to flatter himself. Either way, he was trying to ignore the implication, but now she’d backed him into a corner. He rubbed a fist across his forehead.

“Hey, you’re your own person. I’m not saying you have to do anything with this information. I’m just saying that if it’s not going anywhere, you’d better fucking go easy on him. Because I know how to do everything that he does.”

“I would never want to do anything to hurt him. You don’t need to threaten me for that. I’m also notoriously bad at people and would probably fuck it up.” They could almost feel Orym’s eyes on them now, that lazy gaze he’d seen so many times across the deck of a ship, that they’d desperately hoped didn’t mean anything, would be something they could ignore. That Ashton himself would be the only one who could be hurt by the situation.

ao3

“Fuck up which part? Dating him, or turning him down?”

“You want an answer to that…” he passed the bottle over to her, “You’re gonna need to take a drink of this and ask me in the form of a ‘what the fuck is up with that?’ question.” She snatched the bottle away and took a long swig. “All right. You are dodging this issue way too hard for someone who doesn’t have some feelings of their own. So what the fuck is up with that?”

She was too good at this. Orym must have taught her the game. “I can’t give him what he had. It’s not me. And if that’s where he’s at, well… I want things to be square between us.”

Lita laid back to stare at the whole of space laid out before her. Ashton might have joined her but they wanted to be able to get up again; sand wasn’t exactly the best surface for leverage. “It wasn’t some kind of epic, written in the stars kind of romance, you know.” Ashton turned to face her. “It was just, normal. Frustratingly so, at times. They were absolutely inseparable as kids, you know, and then they hit around fourteen or so and could barely stand to be in the same room with each other.” She laughed. “Dad actually thought they’d had a falling out or something. Nah, they were just being teenage boys who’d grown feelings and weren’t sure what to with them, you know.”

Ashton didn’t exactly. They’d had much bigger things to be concerned with during their teenage years.

“So I guess what I’m saying is, if he likes you, it’s you, not what he wants you to be.”

Ashton stood and looked back to the gathering, where he thought he could just make out Orym’s figure against the firelight. Likes me, the words echoed in his head. That would be new. New enough that he's not quite sure what to do with it yet. 

[amamicorp]

hey gang! Little bit late on this one, but my sleep schedule got fucked and I got busy so I haven't really been able to post regularly. Oh well. This is another update to @chaos-company's Angstpril 2023 event, which I still have quite a few fics finished and ready to post for, not to worry. As a reminder, they're all for Danganronpa V3, specifically in a postgame virtual reality AU.

This fic in particular is for Day 14's prompt, Cruelty, and features Kokichi and Gonta in particular. If you're not into writing with arguments, lashing out, and self isolation, I'd advise skipping this one - though it's not all bad, I will say. With that established, hope you enjoy reading!

(The title is Ouma's fault btw I'm just saying. He possesses me to do this shit. The next one from his POV is worse)

[pat-the-togorian]

Pat's Angstpril Day 19: Breaking Down

The affectionately-named Milk Battalion had just come off of their biggest bust yet. Thousands of enslaved souls were set free, many of them receiving immediate care from the Clone medics aboard the Gruyere even as the crew set out to celebrate. Pat’s ship, the Beholden, and his own actions on the ground, had brought about the traffickers’ capture. All night, he soaked up commendations from the officers and the Clones. Aheka and Sinvulkt looked so proud. 

He flashed his trademark grin until his jaw hurt, sipped the drinks they bought for him, and altogether, did his best impression of himself all night. But unlike the big-wigs and the adoring public, he had been in the trenches, with Clones shot out from right beside him. He was in the blocks of cells and the webs of chains, slicing the bonds off the emaciated bodies of the underworld’s worst victims. He saw their wounds and scars up close. Too close. 

Some days, it all got to be too much for Pat. 

People enthusiastically pointed out, thanked, and praised Pat all night. He was honestly thrilled that he was recognized for doing something great. At the same time, though, he grew more and more anxious and queasy. Why could this be celebrated when it couldn’t take place without suffering? Surely they don’t know what I had to see… I just want to be with my pack right now…

Eventually, the four weary warriors stepped away from it all, the merry buzz of the party carrying them back to their quarters. Pat tried to just keep walking, make it to his room before dropping his facade, but it was no good. Rema, Sinvulkt and Aheka noticed immediately as they looked at him more closely.

  “Pat, what’s wrong?” Rema asked, spotting the signs of distress rapidly. Aheka and Sinvulkt stopped cold, also looking at him with concern. He gave a heartbroken smile. 

“You saw things down there, didn’t you,” Rema murmured. 

Pat’s eyes welled up. I’m ruining this night for everyone, his mind wailed. 

Sinvulkt acted first, rushing to wrap her wings around his shaking form and gently letting him down as he fell to his haunches, sobbing. 

Aheka placed her hands on his shoulders, being careful never to touch his neck. “You can talk to us,” she assured. “About whatever you saw down there.”

 “N-no… I’m okay,” he pleaded. “Please… keep having fun and don’t lose sleep over me…”

Each of them looked outraged at the suggestion that they should leave him alone with everything he’d seen. “We aren’t going anywhere,” they all asserted.

“I-I don’t deserve this! I deserve to be a slave myself! It should have been me… oh, now I sound so ungrateful…” he curled even tighter, writhing with humiliation and grief. 

“Easy, Pat, let’s all breathe together, okay?” Aheka urged everyone to join in and they walked Pat’s breaths back to normal. 

“I-I-I couldn’t save everyone… I can’t bear what I saw… I’m such a disgrace…” he hiccuped through the words. At least he was breathing. The three looked ready to go to war against Pat’s feelings. 

“We’ve all seen the horrors of war, Pat,” Aheka reassured him. “And we’re all here for you.” 

“I’m supposed to be happy…” he whispered, brokenly. Sinvulkt’s wings tightened protectively around him. 

“Talk to us, my Padawan,” she whispered. “Don’t hesitate.”

“All of the captives were… in such bad shape,” he choked out. “We took out the guards but before we could stop all of them they started to shoot people… one after another…” 

He couldn’t stop a sob from tearing out of his throat. 

“A-a-and… I was trying to pull this girl… out from under a huge pile of chains… d-d-died in my arms…”

Aheka looked heartbroken, though unsurprised, that one of her children had to witness such atrocity. Sinvulkt looked like she’d never let Pat leave the safety of her wings. Rema clamped down on her own flashbacks to keep on rhythmically stroking the top of Pat’s head. 

“It hurts,” he finally whispered. 

No one disagreed. 

Eventually, Aheka stood, gradually letting the others help Pat stand up. The three were bone-tired, but Pat’s eyes looked like they’d be open until the end of time. “You know where to take him,” she whispered to Sinvulkt and Rema, herself sneaking away to Pat’s room to grab his favorite blanket. 

The next morning, any other Jedi walking through the common room would have stumbled upon quite the sight. Aheka’s outstretched arms and Sinvulkt’s wings curled around Rema and Pat, who’d both fallen asleep curled around the other. The former two had been awake for hours, but would do anything not to wake their sleeping charges.

Whenever it got to be too much, they deserved every moment of comfort they could provide.

[pat-the-togorian]

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

8! There are some much older titles on my FFN (14), but I've stopped posting new works there.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

43,798! Mostly thanks to month-long challenge attempts in Feb and April of last year! Otherwise, I write *very* briefly.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Star Wars currently! But in the past I've written for Legend of Zelda, Civilization V, Doki Doki Literature Club, RWBY, Octopath Traveler, Pokémon, Kung Fu Panda, and even one Hardy Boys parody fic! In the future, I want to do more with HTTYD and some of the others, likely in a gift fic request form!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Tending to Togrutas - 61

Never That Normal - 39

The Silent World - 20

Skywalker Snared - 16

Pat's Febu-Whump 2023 (28 chapters) - 7

(OC fics and one-shots sure make the numbers uninspiring 😅

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, I love getting comments, especially from repeat commenters! I always try and thank them and let them know it means a lot. Engagement is priceless.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

One of the individual chapters in Febu-Whump or Angstpril, most certainly. Leaning towards Chapter 23 of Pat's Febu-Whump, "You'll Have to Go Through Me," in which Pat witnesses several Clone Troopers, including one who terrorized him before he became a Jedi, sacrifice themselves for his sake; becomes Force-inhibited, and is presumed dead by his new found family.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them do 🤣 But of the ones I have written, I'd say it's Never That Normal.

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

Not usually. Some of my old stuff got some anonymous reviews, but I'm pretty sure they came from one vindictive person, on personal reasons, rather than fic preference. Oh! And my Pokémon piece was caught up in Blades of Chance's crusade.

9. Do you write smut?

Nope!

10. Do you write crossovers?

I sometimes roleplay crossovers or toy with the ideas, but nothing that's complete enough to publish.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of! Help me out if so!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

It would be news to me! Although it would be an honor!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes, @sinvulkt, @ct2002-rema, and @asteral-feileacan consulted on their characters in the prompt challenge fics, and I'm officially co-authored with them and The Jedi Wayseeker on A Questionable Encounter. There are also a few fics with Venom Garage and @christina-stark-skarlet-stileto, such as Across the Stars.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I usually just stick with what's canon when reading, and I don't write a lot of romance on my own 😅For reading, though, I like Hiccstrid (HTTYD), Zelink (Legend of Zelda), Link/Orielle (LOZ: Skyward Sword), and laughing from afar at whatever madness my fellow roleplayers (...especially you, Rema...) come up with for their original characters!

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Maybe my attempt at Angstpril 2023? Some of it is based on roleplaying game sessions none of us remember that well 😅I still hope to post what I did finish, but making it to 30 is unlikely.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

Mechanics, grammar, thesaurus and editing. I love editing (but I'm not taking new jobs rn sorry). I also love writing dialog and short, punchy descriptions.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Sometimes I can make paragraphs too long or make scene transitions a bit vague. Also, when I have a strong internal conception, I don't always remember to explain it fully on paper. I also get caught up in high-school English level bad habits like never using the word "said," which makes my dialog tags laborious and distracting.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Never been fond of the idea of, for example, learning Mando'a. For Pokémon, or the dragons in HTTYD, or droids, I try to focus more on their body language, movements, and the mood of their nonverbal vocalizations. I'll mention when people/sentients switch to another language, but requiring the reader to understand the language or translating it directly on the page removes readers from the moment, in my opinion.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

My first fic ever published was for Legend of Zelda! It's only on FFN, titled Shared Memories. The first fanfiction I ever attempted to write was for Wreck-it Ralph (being the first ever work of fanfiction I stumbled across) but alas, I was 14 when I wrote it, and I'm grateful I didn't publish those awkward beginnings.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

For its sheer merit and the (relative) acclaim it's gotten, I'd choose Gift (Guardians of the Galaxy, on my FFN).

For the experience, Pat's Febu-Whump 2023. It brought out the long-hidden roleplayer in me, deepened my friendships with the creators of the other characters, and has even been printed out by @sinvulkt ! I got to autograph it for them and it was a huge honor! It was a proud finish, and I'm forever grateful to my team and all the reviewers from @fanfictasia.

Speaking of whom... @asteral-feileacan and @christina-stark-skarlet-stileto, would you like to take the same interview? Anyone else is also more than welcome to keep the chain going!

20 Questions For Writers

Wow, thank you so much for the tag @fanfictasia !! I've wanted to participate in something like this forever!! 🎶✨️✨️

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Right now? 66.

"Yes, as a star wars writer, I am very proud of that. No, I do not intend to change it anytime soon."

I really need to focus on (and finish) some of my WIPs, and that mean trying not to disperse my energy amidst one shots (no matter how much i love monthly challenges and fic exchange events). Also I'm very proud of that 66 count and want to appreciate it xd.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

321k words!!

(More or less 100k / year 🎶 little me would never believe that 0.0

My school exam results sure don't, with how they are dropping 🤣)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Star wars mostly (Vaderkin or my OC Sinvulkt), then Marvel (Dr Strange), Dream SMP (Dream), Le Visiteur du Future (Renard) and more recently Batman (Bruce Wayne) as well as Avatar: the last airbender (Zuko).

Plus the original stories I am supposed to write but almost never end up doing xd (the engagement in fandom compared to original stories make the switch hard xd).

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Dreamt of a Never Ending Sky (Dream SMP)

669 kudos

2. To Fly Free Under The Morning Sun (Star Wars)

480 kudos

3. On the Edge of Twilight (Star Wars)

380 kudos

4. Scales of Embers (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

353 kudos

5. Crash Landing on Space Australia (Star Wars)

319 kudos

I'll never know how my Dream SMP fic got so much engagement. Good timing at a moment the fandom was in effervescence, I guess. Scales of Embers scoring so high is also a surprise 0.0. I discovered it had that many kudos today. It’s a shame the Dr Strange fandom is small because I think my Dr Strange WIP What If Doctor Strange Lost His Humanity ? would have deserved a place here. It definitely does in my heart.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! As a reader, I always feel super happy when the author shows that they’ve read and appreciated my comments. I know that personality an author who answers make me more likely to want to drop a comment.

As an author, I absolutely want to show how much I love every single comments, so I try to answer them all. But I get a little overwhelmed sometimes, bcs lots of other stuff going on irl or another reason. As such, it can happen that I don't feel the energy to answer a comment on the spot. And if I don't answer it on the spot (using the power of the wiggy dizzy nice happy feeling of getting a comment), I don't necessarily have the energy to answer later on. I currently have something like 60 unanswered comments I think? TT.TT

But rest assured that whether I answered or not, I absolutely adore and cherish every single ones!! Comments are amazing! ✨️.✨️

(This kind of engagement is one of the only reason I managed to settle into such an active rythm of writing after years of trying then dropping the hobby~)

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Glance at my fics.

Uhhh... This is a hard question here... Many of them have angsty endings XD

Mostly the ones at the beginning (the worst written ones xd). I wonder why~

Also a lot of them don' have endings yet XD

I'll say amidst the 'old' fics from 2021, Day 8 - Screaming (Star Wars) would be the angstier one (or most horrible one ig xd).

But as far as recent fic go... While I haven't finished writing it bcs its wordcount exploded in my face, I already plotted / drafted it a few months ago and I know the ending, so I'll choose:

Batman’s Downfall (To Stand Alone) (Batman)

I noticed my kind of angst doesn’t have much success around these parts 🫠🤣. Oh well. I cherish it all the same :3.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Sometimes I think I wrote too many fics. It's hard to select one.

Uhhh... My fluffiest works are one shots in Of Feathers and Freedom serie, but they are part of the series so it’s not really an 'ending'.

...

I'll answer for the crackiest story rather than the happiest ending bcs all my finished fics ending are ominous open ending at best xd.

The Blob Adventures Of Excentrics Jedi (Star Wars)

Because it's cute blob drawings of our crazy team of OC in taaoej, and I love them (although we are all angst lovers in taaoej, so it's more crack-angst, and we don't know the ending bcs there isn't really one. Not yet at least. Hopefully never).

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

Just my own innervoice as far as I'm aware. But then I've always been rather clueless when people tried to 'hate on me'. The message usually just got lost somewhere in dreamspace immensity, never computing.

I've found the fandoms communities really welcoming at the very least!!

9. Do you write smut?

No.

I don't really enjoy reading smut. Nor romance for the matter. I don't think I'd enjoy writing it.

But maybe I'll try one day, for the sake of experimenting all genres.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I never did. I don't know why. Maybe I just never felt the need to mix characters and universes. There are amazing crossovers out there though, so who knows, maybe one day I'll try one.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of. In all honesty, I don't think my works are nearly popular enough to get stolen xd.

My writing style isn’t that good yet, and my dislike of romance when the majority of the fandom community is ship-powered means I end up in a corner quite niche. (A corner I love, that being said. Yay Crack, Angst and Gen~)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but maybe I'll translate some of mine in french someday. Be it only so that I do write fiction in my native language from time to time.

Anyone that wanna translate my fics, feel free to!!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes, To Fly Free Under The Morning Sun (Star Wars)!!

I’m still waiting for my co-author @purpleopossum to come back to me / get back in star wars mood to continue that one. 🫠

Can’t say my hopes are that high up after all this time, but it’s the redemption | healing part of the serie and I don’t really have fun writing alone redemption | healing part... i prefer doing the whole mayhem that create the injury in the first place. And with how long some of my fics hiatus are (and I got no excuse for those xd), it’s only fair for me to wait. (I did write more other works for the dragon Vader serie in the meantime xd).

I made an oath to myself to never leave a work unfinished though, so we’ll see. If in several years purple still doesn’t wish to continue it, or if she inform me she is dropping the story, I’ll try to make some kind of ending. It’s part of the game i guess.

Alternatively, the The Amazing Adventures Of Excentrics Jedi universe is a group of star wars OCs that we made together with @pat-the-togorian , @asteral-feileacan , @ct2002-rema and Xylian. I don’t know if that count as co-writing? We usually write our OCs pov.

But in all cases, co-writting is very fun and I’d definitely do it again if other opportunities arise in the future.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

The absence of ship is my all-time favorite ship. Otherwise, "main character / digging their own grave" would be my 'favorite ship' since I tend to synch with idiots snarky jerks disasters.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

To Fly Free Under The Morning Sun (Star Wars) that I mentioned for question 13? 🤣

More seriously, I'll answer On the Edge of Twilight (Star Wars)

Because it's my vent fic. I know the main plot line, I vaguely know the current arc, but no one can predict where the next arc will go. It's all pure impulse and while I have a vague idea of 'ending', I refuse to plan a path towards it. This fic specifically, I want to keep pure impulse. So I'd love for it to become some kind of "The NeverEnding Story". :3

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I write.

No seriously, it's not something I did four years ago appart from vent poems here and there. Writing is in itself a huge writing strenght!

Otherwise I'm also a bottomless well of idea. It's pretty neat.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

... romance?

Or dialogues. Lastly I have a lot of frustration around the transition from dialogue / transition / dialogue. I feel like I'm crap at properly timing that.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It's fun. I do it for games sometimes. Since apparently writing normally is not chllenging enough for my brain sometimes. It did teach me bits of mando'a.

Recently for Sēċan (Star Wars) I decided last minute to put the whole droid dialogue in morse, and I regret none of it.

I'm usually only doing it for one shots though, and never 'official existing' languages until now.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star wars :p

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Now that's another hard question, how am I supposed to select one.

I'm gonna answer the whole Of Feathers And Freedom (Star Wars) serie. Bcs wings. :3

Tag time~ (if you wish to)

@purpleopossum @pat-the-togorian @cinderfeather @beguilewritesstuff @purple-iris @dreaminghour @ravenite-void @trickstress333 @bluntblade @doctorgeekery @stewardofningishzida @jenae-0 @trickstress333 @kittonafoxgirl @pastelcourage @salparadiselost @kefalion @charlottevader @ravenstakeflight @starr234 @aelaer @sarcasticfirefighter @mckiwi @linzerj @sonderwalker @exomal @tonhalszendvics @nephilimswitchlight @firejay112 @only-here-for-the-star-wars @ajedilikehisfather @makaronik @chickadeechickadoo @dirtkid123 @numerousbees1106 @akizumy @25centsoda @udekai @wendingways @silvereddaye @in-company-of-misery @wisechaosglitter @kuraiarcoiris @alright-anakin @wyvunn you're more than welcome to join on the interview fun!! (Or to ignore the tagging if not interested xd).

I know I tagged. I lot of people. Some of you may recognise my pseud, some may not. But I thought it would be interesting to hear the answer of the various authors with whom I interacted on ao3 over the years, so I went and digged up those with tumblr I could find from my inbox 🤣

(Hopefully I didn’t bother any of you >.< - otherwise I apologize. Same for if I accidentally tagged a non-writer.)

I'd love to hear your answers! 🎶

[jasontoddiefor]

Angstpril Day Nine: “I wish we had more time. [ Other Parts. ]

“I wish we had more time, Qui-Gon, but—”

“Did you know?” Qui-Gon asked, interrupting the shadow that had once been his Master. His relationship with Dooku had never been the best. He had been an excellent teacher and had managed to teach Qui-Gon the control so many doubted he’d ever gain. No longer did Qui-Gon struggle to maintain his shields and keep his distance from others, even if it was still painfully easy to slip into someone’s mind and leave his own thoughts. He was thankful for the lessons, all the things Dooku had done to shape Qui-Gon into the person he was now.

But he wasn’t sure he had ever truly liked his Master. He had loved him, desperately, as all Padawans were devoted to their Masters, and he had admired him too, but only ever in the way you look at a sculpture, never wanting to become it.

Staring down at his Master now, perhaps Qui-Gon had always sensed that there was something wrong with Dooku. That there were shadows lingering in the corners of Dooku’s mind that would lead him down a path he could not return from.

The darkness clung to him now, embraced him. Poisoned rot hung from his frame and Dooku didn’t even notice when it made Qui-Gon gag.

Dooku’s eyes narrowed, his patience close to snapping. There were probably only a handful of people who could read his body language effortlessly, and one of them was dead. They had all suspected that Sifo-Dyas had died on his mission but with the revelation of the Clones, the Sith or perhaps Dooku himself, had murdered his oldest friend and none of them had been the wiser.

“Did I know what, Qui-Gon?” Dooku asked sharply.

“Of your Master’s other apprentices. Maul, Obi-Wan.”

Was his former Master aware just how replaceable he was? How far this other Sith would go to cover his tracks and achieve his goals?

“Obi-Wan,” Dooku repeated. “Your pet project. He is still a Padawan, is he not?”

Dooku was evading the question. And Qui-Gon did not have to answer the one Dooku asked him in turn. Obi-Wan’s status within the Order was messy, but to call him a Padawan as if it were shameful it took him over a decade to unlearn what he’d been taught for two was an insult. Initially, the Council hadn’t even thought that Obi-Wan could be brought back to the light fully, and on some days doubt still ran deep, but Obi-Wan worked harder than anyone else in the temple.

Qui-Gon believed he’d be great Jedi Master some day and it didn’t matter how long it would take Obi-Wan.

“You frequently put me on crèche duty when I was being a brat,” Qui-Gon said instead, suddenly feeling incredibly old. “You told me that it was our duty to look after our young. Has the darkness corrupted you so that you’ve changed this far within your heart? That you know of children molded into weapons with torture and you can still stand at the side of such a monster—”

“Enough,” Dooku ordered. “I am merely the result of centuries of the Republic failing. I have offered you to join me and if you have nothing of importance to add and will not accept a position at my side then I can’t help you.”

“I’m not asking for help,” Qui-Gon snarled, wishing he could break free of his restraints and meet Dooku on equal grounds. “I want to know if you would make a child hardly old enough to be a Padawan bleed red kyber.”

Dooku’s silence was deafening.

[ilonga]

angstpril day 30

prompt: “We lost.”

ao3

notes for this au:

Yes, this is another one of Arti's-Niche-AUs-TM-that-might-become-a-multichapter-au-someday so here's some background!

- Palpatine doesn't reveal himself as the Sith to Anakin in the office - instead, he tells Anakin that he's learned of the Separatist Council's location and sends Anakin to deal with them on Mustafar - While Anakin's gone, he calls in Order 66 by himself and the clones march on the Temple - and he also sends troopers after Padme at her apartment, considering her too much of a risk to his reign too leave alive - Padme initially escapes and Obi-wan, who manages to make it back more quickly, senses a disturbance and they meet up - Aannd Padme gives birth. Awful timing, I'm so sorry Padme - So they each kind of take a baby in their arms and run for it. Padme escapes. Obi-wan does not. So, Leia is taken by the Empire and while Obi-wan eventually escapes the clones he doesn't manage to rescue Leia - They eventually find a ship and flee off planet - And then Anakin returns from Mustafar, lands on Coruscant, and is like "??????????? what the fuck happened here"

and that's basically the set up here! enjoy :D

*

Now that they're finally out of danger, Padme allows herself to sink to the ship's floor and break. The sobs wrack her body with their force, and she can hardly keep herself from going blind with tears. "Leia," she says softly to herself, "Oh, Leia." She'd only gotten to hold her daughter once before the Empire had taken Leia from her so cruelly—she'd been less than an hour old. An hour. And now she's—

Padme doesn't even want to think the word. Suffice to say that the Empire, only hours old, has already demonstrated that it shows no mercy. 

"I'm . . . so sorry, Padme," Obi-wan says, head bowed. "If I had only been quicker—"

"No. This isn't your fault. This was the Empire's doing." And if they're talking about things they should have done better—well, she should have never risked giving birth on Coruscant. Better to be in the middle of labor on a rickety, dangerous spaceflight to have risked Palpatine's wrath. 

"How could Palpatine have done this," she says numbly, desperately trying to shush Luke as he wails. "How could we have been so blind?"

"We were so certain a Sith was behind it all," Obi-wan whispers, more to himself than anything. "We were so certain that we'd find the Sith Master and that the war would be over. That Palpatine was just a peripheral threat."

"Well, you were wrong," she snaps, so angry all of a sudden. The Senate, her life's work—it's all been destroyed. Like it was nothing. The Jedi are dead. One of her children is dead. Her husband is—most likely dead. Why else would Palpatine have spent so long cultivating a friendship with him, after all, if not to more easily eliminate him when the time came?

"Did you find—him," she whispers, too drained to speak any louder, "at the Temple?"

"Last I heard, Palpatine sent him to Mustafar, with intel on the Separatists." Obi-wan responds just as quietly.

He doesn't need to say anything else. There has been a squadron of clones stationed there since the start of the war.

Order 66 wouldn't have spared any Jedi.

"We lost," Padme says as Luke continues to cry for the sister he'll never meet again. "We lost everything."

*

Anakin comes back from Mustafar and the arrest of the Separatists to a Coruscant up in flames.

He has no idea what could be happening—one moment he was capturing the last of the Separatists, so certain that the war would finally, finally be over and now—

All the Jedi are gone. And. . . so is Padme. And Obi-wan. And Ahsoka. What is happening?

He finds the Chancellor in his office. Except the Chancellor is the Emperor now. 

And he's holding a baby in his arms.

"Anakin," Emperor Palpatine says somberly, "I am so very sorry you had to find out this way."

Anakin swallows dryly. "What—what happened?"

"The Jedi attempted a coup." What? "It had to be stopped. Necessary measures were taken. The Senate has made the decision to form an Empire, for the security and safety of the galaxy."

His head is spinning. This is all—too much.

"I. . . regret to inform you that," Palpatine sighs heavily. "Senator Amidala went into labor while you were away. She is," he closes his eyes and leans back. Anakin's heart drops down to his stomach. "dead. We all mourn her loss."

"The child," he says numbly.

"This is your daughter, Anakin." Palpatine stands up then, walking over to him and slotting the girl neatly into Anakin's arms. "Had you discussed names together?"

Anakin's arms tremble before he manages to steady them. He looks down. The girl blinks her eyes open lazily, calmer than she had been in Palpatine's arms. She gurgles.

Oh, he thinks, tracing a finger over her cheek with his flesh hand. This is his daughter. His little girl. All that's left of Padme in this galaxy. 

She's beautiful.

He blinks back tears. So he had been right, after all. It was a girl. And Padme and him will never be able to banter and tease each other over it, ever again.

They had discussed names, he remembers. Blearily, at the crack of dawn, when his nightmares had been keeping the both of them up. "Leia," he says, holding her closer.

"Her name is Leia."

[donttelljim]

Injustice

Dragon Age Origins: Awakening Nathaniel Howe/Anders Nathaniel isn’t going to let his friend leave the Wardens without attempting a pursuit. Not either of them. Super dramatic lil scene set soon after Anders and Justice leave the Wardens together. I tried to pull together a few of the different reasons Anders gives in game, in Codexes etc for leaving. Nathaniel x Anders and some minor Nathaniel x Surana. Poor Nathaniel just wants one of the problematic mages he falls for to stay 💔 ~ ⁘ Nathanders forever ⁘ ~ PG. No smut - only broken hearts. @chaos-company‘s Angstpril Day 15. Alternate prompt: Come Back. =====================================

Southern winds never made it this far into the Bannorn. Nathaniel pressed against the gale, small shards of ice slashing at his face as he struggled forwards, each step an act of labour. At his side, his wolf kept its head turned and braced against the storm, but like him, it kept on. “Good boy,” he murmured - it didn't respond to verbal praise like a mabari would, but he spoke to it for his own benefit as much as anything. 

They had been tracking their quarry for days now, following the trail down from Amaranthine, deeper and deeper into Ferelden. Nathaniel had no phylactery, no templar methods to find who he sought, but he had his own skills, honed by years squiring and scouting in the Free Marches. He had found Fergus Cousland this way: he would find the healer.

It had only been this last day that the winds began. Buffeted by them head-on, Nathaniel knew it would be near-impossible for his wolf to keep following any scent, and for a while, he imagined it was simply another act of his poor luck that the weather had chosen to contest them. As hail began to whip through it, however, he began to realise this was no no natural storm at all. He knew this cold. He was close.

Encouraged, the Warden-Constable doubled his efforts, pressing harder against the onslaught. If he was right, then they didn't need to follow tracks any longer, they didn't need a scent - they just needed to find the eye of this spell.

Finally, after days of searching and these final hurried minutes of pressing, he saw him: a lone figure through the sleet, tall and slim, a staff at his back and feathered mantle at his shoulders.

"ANDERS!!"

Nathaniel called his name over the storm. The figure stopped and turned.

"Oh, bloody - GO HOME, Howe!"

Nathaniel ignored the instruction, struggling closer until Anders was no longer a grey impression in the wind, but had colours and came into view. His chest ached upon seeing him. Never before had he cared so deeply for someone he could bear so ill.

He expected a sheepish, sickly grin of cheeky apology, some quipped accusation about not being able to keep away from him, but instead, he was met by a face of stone.

"You shouldn't have come, Nate."

Anders' voice was… different, since they'd buried Kristoff's body. Since their mutual friend had sought a new home. Nathaniel had talked Justice into the possibility of finding a living host, but he had never imagined that host would be Anders.

His friend had changed. Something of the man he knew and, in a complex and vexing way, cared for had gone. Not ceased entirely, but had become buried, as though a decade of change had passed rather than a few months.

"You didn't think we could lose you both and do nothing?", he asked, smiling crookedly despite the heaviness within him. It was good to see Anders’ face again. Surely even he would see reason, now that they could talk.

"So you plan to force us to stay!?" The mage’s voice was guarded, sharp, as though he were talking about Circle injustice, not the Wardens caring for their own.

"What?” Nathaniel sounded taken aback and, in his reserved way, heartbroken. “No... Anders - “ “Afraid you won't survive without your healer?”

“Well - yes, quite honestly. But that isn't why I came. You are my friend. You are both my friends. I…” He was not good at talking about emotion. Between his family and his strict tutorship under Ser Rodolphe, there was little time for warmth. And yet, in his way, he wore his pain and sincerity openly as his voice strained to keep its composure. “You are not yourself. I did not think you should be alone."

"I'm leaving,” Anders cut across him, voice hard, hurt and decided, turning to do so. “I do not want to be followed. Do not become one more thing I have to run from." Through its sharp demands, the apostate’s voice was almost pleading.

"If you would at least tell me why -" 

The mage spun around: "You made me get rid of my cat!"

"What?!" Of all the things Nathaniel expected to have shouted at him right then, this was not one of them. The Warden did a double-take, frowning incredulously at the mage. "You gave him to my nephew! You asked if I thought they'd allow it. You were worried about hi- Wait.” He caught what was happening, almost too late. If there was one thing he had learnt early on about Anders, and had reinforced to him repeatedly, to his increasing frustration, it was that the man deflected. Humour, nonsense, flirtation - whatever would baffle those speaking to him and throw them off the answer they sought. “No - you will not get me this way. Tell the truth to me.” He fixed the mage’s eyes with his own, the gray of the sky meeting the brown of the earth beneath them. “If you are not capable of it, the Spirit must be."

As if on cue, a light crackled over Anders��� skin - a blue lightning, one Nathaniel was used to seeing travel over the body of Kristoff but had never seen on his living friend. He flinched, feeling a chill within him unrelated to the magical storm that continued to beat against them both. So, it was true… He had not doubted it, and yet, it was still hard to believe.

"Your templars,” Anders spat, voice low and level, with an echo to it that had no place on this open hillside. “So many pet templars. Did any of you ever wonder how that would be for me? I was trying to get away from them - they're in our recruits, they’re all over Amaranthine like the Pox -"

"There are a lot of them, I admit,” Nathaniel conceded, reluctantly. He had no keen issue with the Order himself, but no great love of them either, and he knew better than to defend them to the apostate. “But their allegiance has been -"

"Do you know what they put me through?!" The blue light over Anders’ skin flared to a blaze, then abruptly snuffed out, leaving the man beneath looking broken. His voice had wavered and cracked as he’d cried out, a hysteria that he often kept buried rearing its head. There was a wildness in his eyes - a true fear and a pleading for understanding. Nathaniel’s heart broken in upon itself once more, his manner sagging as, carefully, he took a step towards his damaged friend.

"I know...Or, I think I know." His voice was gentle, quieted by respect. And regret. "...I…had to. It was one of her last orders, before she left. You know how she cares for them.”

"She’s mind-washed by them even now,” Anders asserted sullenly, voice dark. “And you by her." Nathaniel went to protest, but said nothing. There was nothing to say. Anders scowled, the betrayal deep on his face, but his voice was clipped, his heart kept closed. "Your love for her will always matter more than your regard for me."

"That's - You're being foolish. I was obeying orders."

"Like a sick puppy.” Again, Nathaniel fell silent. It was all the confirmation Anders needed: his face hardened further, the picture of jaded hurt - an emotion he had carried with him for a long time. "Face it - she cares more for a lunatic that wants her dead than she'll ever feel for any of us. Why else does she let them overrun us like this? But…she has, and you will not fight her on it. So…I’m done here.” “By the Maker, Anders.” Creases of pain etched into Nathaniel’s face, his voice restrained and yet also raw. “Come home. We can resolve this. If the templar recruits cross you, I will police it. You know I will always heed your word on that -” Any remaining patience left Anders’ face. “I’m not discussing this with you. I have to go.” The mage’s voice was flat, resolute. “I have to find Karl.”

Again, Nathaniel did an incredulous double-take, his face an affronted sneer of confusion. This was new. “Who's “Karl”?!” The mage smiled sadly, something of the man Nathaniel had known shining through - teasing, flirting, softened, yet always distant.

“He's why you and I never got interesting, love,” he smirked, and then, as soon as it had arrived and soothed Nathaniel’s spirit, the smile disappeared once more. “And he’s why I have to go.” Anders turned, not offering another word, and began to walk away. “ANDERS!” Again, the rogue shouted his name over the wind, this time in a growl of anger. But, he made no pursuit - he did not grab at him or attempt to force him to listen, force him to make sense. He knew that would be a final, cruel injustice after the life his friend had lived. He simply watched in wounded disbelief, his hurt and confusion seething until, finally, melancholic acceptance arrived and reminded him that this was, after all, in keeping with his fortune. This was life - why be surprised by its consistency now?

His father had favoured his brother. Surana had chosen her abdicated prince. There was always someone else.

Nathaniel remained where he had been left and watched until the figure faded entirely from view. He wasn’t sure if he was waiting for something - for a final look back, or for a hoot of laughter and a reveal that this had all been some cruel jest - or if he simply couldn’t bring himself to end this before it must. Finally, however, when the last impression of the mage had vanished and there was no longer any point standing in this cold, he turned his back on the apostate and began the many-day-long journey back to Amaranthine.

He had anticipated to return with company - he had even packed provisions for it. At his side, his wolf padded; the rogue tore scraps of dried meat and dropped it to the creature, to let it know they had found their mark, that it had done well. Mission accomplished… As the pair stalked back across the Bannorn, the storm about them began, gradually, to dwindle. The more space put between them and the ice-mage, the calmer it fell, until at last, all lay still. Silent. Dull.

Healers and stormthrowers  - Nathaniel had known two of them, and both had maimed him as much as they had been a balm. Now, he had neither. The wild hills of the Bannorn suddenly seemed incredibly flat.

[sunnymiles]

angstpril day 2

i scribbled this in my notes app @1am like the chaotic monster i am ... ~enjoy~

-

alt prompt: "i'm sorry"

[summary: anakin tries to make amends for his past choices which were at best questionable]

-

"You have to give her time."

I know.

"I just want her back."

More than anything.

Obi-Wan's smile is reassuring, but it does nothing to ease the pit lodged in his stomach.

"She talks to you." The words snap out, angry and biting. In another life they would have soothed the constant seething in his chest. Now they taste bitter, a reminder of things Anakin would like to forget.

"I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"It's alright." Obi-Wan's hand pats his shoulder, and phantom warmth seeps through.

Oh, the things he'd do for a real hug.

But Obi's here, with him. Here in the way Anakin constantly took for granted.

He remembers Obi-Wan waiting for him, proudly offering to welcome him into the Force. The sight of his mentor swathed in light, hand outstretched, had sent Anakin reeling.

The small smile of forgiveness on Obi-Wan's face, being in the presence of someone he could trust-

Anakin had forgotten what it feels like to not be alone.

Pieces of nightmares spent on ships too cold, too unfeeling, flash through his mind. Traitorously crying out for a master that had betrayed him.

Though, Obi-Wan had never really left him- the mocking voice in his head, perpetually haunting him like a conscience. In the ever-present way a master should be there for his student. Like the person he should be for Ahsoka-

"It's just- it's hard."

Obi-Wan nods, the solemn weight of his gaze suddenly much too heavy.

Anakin glances down at his fidgeting hands, unable to meet his mentor's gaze with his next words.

"I'm grateful for you." Since Endor, he's tried to tell Obi-Wan as many times as he can. The vulnerability is new and different, but he's trying. His master deserves that much.

Because Obi-Wan had stayed with him.

There are no words to express the utter gratitude he holds for his friend. The man who had loved him like a brother, and the one he had broken in return.

"And I you, my padawan." The old adage never fails to bring a proud smile to his face.

His master motions with a flippant hand, "You should be on your way though. Good luck."

"I thought there was no such thing as luck."

He merely shrugs, "Things have changed." A glimmer of that old smirk appears, and then Obi-Wan fades.

The first time he had vanished, Anakin had cried. Full, gut-wrenching sobs. Afraid he would be alone again, no one to turn to for help, mortified with the knowledge that Obi-Wan had left him-

Now he knows for certain, Obi-Wan will be back.

But, the most difficult part of his day arrives.

He concentrates on her familiar presence- now closed off and apathetic- before starting the trek.

This will be the 48th day.

The 48th day to earn her forgiveness. Or her anger. Or her grief. To earn an acknowledgment of his presence would be victory enough.

The day he had reunited with Obi-Wan in the Force, felt peace for the first time in decades, he had wondered how he had deserved it. One good deed can't erase half a lifetime of pure rage.

And yet, this place is both paradise and penance.

Ahsoka lies far away, there are no maps here, but she is furthest from him- always.

He spots her montrals first, poking through the endless fields of gray.

"Hey Snips." He plops next to her, careful not to touch. Today he'll try for normalcy.

"Obi-Wan sends his regards." Nothing.

Her legs are crossed neatly under herself, back held straight and tall. Closed eyes, the usual, not able to face her failure of a master, and shallow breathing.

She could be meditating, if he didn't know better.

Their tattered bond works both ways. He can sense her well enough to find her, and she knows when he's coming.

She'll speak to Obi-Wan, has forgiven him for his role in the trial. Echoes of their laughter ring in his ears from time to time- mocking. Aayla and Plo-Koon meet weekly with "'Soka", and the jealousy burns bright in his chest.

No, Ahsoka only ignores him. He deserves it, knows he does for what he's done, for what he did to her-

"Snips, I-I'm so so sorry." The words linger, ones he repeats daily.

She won't respond. Until he gives up or she gives in, this game will go on.

But, stubbornness is a lineage trait, and Anakin has swathes of it. So he'll keep trying. For her.

For them.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ahsoka."

Her back stays turned.

[indigostars]

angstpril, day 5: amnesia

Obi-Wan woke up with his head pounding painfully. The light above him was too bright, and he shut his eyes in an effort to ease his headache.

Someone exhaled a breath, sounding almost snappish. A second later, a male voice drove knives into his skull.

“Open your eyes, Obi-Wan.”

And he did, slowly this time. A blurred figure of a young man with tousled blonde hair sat beside Obi-Wan’s bedside, looking thoroughly annoyed.

Obi-Wan clumsily tried to sit up. His arms were weak and shaky, and he fell back onto his pillow after a few moments. The young man just watched, not making any attempt to help.

Cheeks heating up, Obi-Wan averted his gaze and mumbled, “Where am I?”

“Medbay,” the young man said shortly, “and you’re going to stay here until you learn some common sense. Which is something you seem to be lacking lately.”

“What happened?” Obi-Wan asked. Having no memory of what had happened to him was alarming him.

The other man tilted his head. “You decided to take on the Separatists and a bomb. By yourself.”

The man, who looked like he’d recently grown into adulthood, was making absolutely no sense. Obi-Wan blinked a few times, trying to not look as confused as he felt. He could tell that he failed, because concern was now replacing annoyance on the young man’s face.

“Obi-Wan… are you alright?”

“I’m — Who are these Separatists that you’re speaking of?”

“You don’t—” began the young man — Jedi, Obi-Wan realized, because he could see the lightsaber hanging from his belt.

“Where’s Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan blurted. “Is he coming?”

The other Jedi’s eyes widened substantially, his mouth opening and closing in surprise. Finally, he managed to choke out, “Master, Qui-Gon… he’s not coming…”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said. “Why not?”

The young Jedi seemed to be at a loss for words. “Uh, he… well…” 

Obi-Wan groaned. “I hope he’s not arguing with the Council again.” He let out a laugh. “Did you know that he wants to train another boy? Some pathetic lifeform from Tatooine… I can’t seem to remember his name at the moment, though.”

The color drained from the other Jedi’s face, lips bloodless. Obi-Wan squinted at him, rubbing his face. His head really hurt.

The Jedi stood up abruptly. “Sorry — I, uh — I have to go.”

“Wait,” Obi-Wan said, just as he reached the exit. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize you, and I apologize. What’s your name?”

“It’s not important,” the Jedi muttered. “I shouldn’t have been here. I’m sorry.”

Then he left before Obi-Wan could say another word.

[renegadeontherunn]

angstpril day 11: collision

I’m using the alternate prompt: so close, yet so far for today! hmm yes have some early Ahsoka & Anakin arguments. maybe poor communication is a lineage thing. 

“—and then saber practice at noon.”

Ahsoka picked at her toast, head resting on one fist. “Okay,” she said.

“I think we should hold off on starting your new classes until we’re finished with our next assignment in a couple days.” Anakin poured himself more water, and repositioned himself where he was sitting on the counter. “That way you can start fresh when we get back.”

“Master Drallig said I should start right away.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

Ahsoka gritted her teeth. “That’s just what he said. I don’t know.”

“No, this way’s better.”

She held back a sigh. “Okay.” 

“Oh, and I know Thursdays are takeout-night, but I’ve got a meeting with Senator Amidala.” He looked away. “Important stuff, you know how it is.”

Ahsoka stopped herself from yelling. What? But you promised! And you missed the last three takeout nights! And we were supposed to get ice cream to celebrate me finishing this rotation of classes. But all she said was, “Okay.”

Anakin hopped down from the counter. “Do you want to meet at the training rooms or here?”

“We can meet there,” Ahsoka said, voice bland. She put her plate in the sink.

“Okay,” Anakin said shortly. “See you at noon, then.” He stepped toward the door. 

Ahsoka’s head whipped towards him. Was he mad? What for? “What?”

“What did I do?” he asked, but his face was stony. 

Worrying for a moment she’d misconstrued things, Ahsoka blurted out, “Oh. Nothing, I—” She stopped. The are you mad? hung from her lips.

Anakin left without another word. 

Ahsoka glared at the door. What was that? Had she done something? All she’d said was “Okay.” How was that wrong?

Whatever. She had a meditation session with Barriss that she was already late to. Ahsoka could worry about it later. It was probably nothing. They’d have saber practice at noon and everything would be back to normal. She’d just have to go to the refectory for dinner and eat there instead of on the couch with Dex’s takeout boxes littered around the room. 

But meditating with Barriss only set her further on edge. What was Anakin’s problem? Clearly he was mad about something, but Ahsoka didn’t know what and she was terrible at sussing those things out. She didn’t know him well enough yet to understand all his moods or subtle tells. Was he being passive aggressive? Or was she actually reading too much into things?

“What is it?” Barriss asked her softly. They were tucked away against some trees Ahsoka was pretty sure were from Kashyyyk. It was one of her favorite spots.

Ahsoka blinked her eyes open, abandoning her pretense of perfect meditating Padawan. “Nothing, just—Master Skywalker and I are in some weird potential fight thing. I think. Maybe.”

Barriss looked highly confused. “Have you spoken to him about it?”

Ahsoka shrugged, not really in the mood to discuss it. It would take too much energy to recount the situation that morning and she doubted she could articulate the full experience. Barriss would probably just tell her to talk to him or maybe that it was something she’d done. And Ahsoka certainly wasn’t in the mood to hear that. Whatever, she thought again. It was fine.

But by the time saber practice rolled around, Ahsoka still hadn’t decided whether she wanted things to blow over or if she wanted to fight it out after all. She groaned as she entered the training rooms. Fight what out? What were they even meant to be arguing about?

Anakin’s face was pinched when she walked in. Great. So it looked like they were fighting it out.

“What?” she asked without preamble. Best not to beat around the bush.

“What?” Anakin repeated. “Why are you always asking me that?”

Ahsoka’s head jerked back. “Asking you what?”

Anakin brushed a stray hair out of his face. “I can’t do anything without you thinking I’m mad. It’s like I can’t even talk to you.”

“What? When has that ever happened?”

Anakin scoffed. “I don’t have a running list. But it has. I have necessary duties, Ahsoka, ones that don’t always involve you.”

Ahsoka frowned, hating the tone he was taking with her. She wasn’t some stupid crechling. “I know that.”

“So what’s your deal?” He looked at her at last. “Is takeout night really that important to you? Cause maybe this meeting is important to me.” 

Ahsoka’s mouth dropped open. “What is your problem? I don’t care about takeout night or even that we were supposed to be celebrating.” She ignored that the room had grown silent even as she felt everyone’s eyes on the two of them. “Or about your stupid meeting with a senator. Maybe I’d just like a Master who wasn’t so moody.”

Anakin’s eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

Feeling her pent-up frustration—the kind that was due to more than just Anakin—simmering on her tongue, Ahsoka continued. “You’re mad about something all the time. And I can never tell what it is because you refuse to communicate and you just—” No, no, no, don’t cry. You’re angry. You’re not upset. You’re angry. “You just swallow your words and cut off conversations and you’re just—ugh!” Ahsoka had a split second hesitation where she wondered if she was about to go too far, about to do the thing she’d gotten in trouble for so often as an Initiate: speaking without thinking, saying something she’d regret. “Do you even want a Padawan? Cause it certainly doesn’t seem like it! Are you even trying to be a good Master?”

Fuck. 

Anakin stared at her, his face deathly pale. 

Why couldn’t she have just kept her stupid, immature mouth shut? Force, she was such an idiot! 

Silence buzzed in Ahsoka’s ears.

No wonder it didn’t seem like he wanted a Padawan! Probably because he didn’t want this Padawan! Probably because the Padawan he did have was a failure to the entire Order! 

“I—” But she stopped. What could she possibly say after that?

Ahsoka blinked stinging tears out of her eyes and when her vision cleared, Anakin was gone.

[not-all-dead]

angstpril day three: “I can’t.”

CW: infertility, miscarriage, 1 (one) swear word

fic under the cut

They’d been together for a few years now. Kya knew Lin had been averse to having children when she was younger, but couldn’t help but wonder if she’d feel that way now that they were older. Even so, she hadn’t brought up the topic until a few weeks after her 34th birthday.

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about kids,” Kya said casually from the kitchen.

“What about them?” Lin responded dryly, turning the page of her newspaper and shifting slightly in her seat.

“Well… okay, don’t get mad at me, but I’d really like to have one with you,” Kya watched Lin carefully, trying to read her stony expression.

Her heart sank slightly when Lin simply continued reading the paper, not acknowledging her statement in the slightest. She sighed and picked up her coffee, walking to sit across the table from Lin. She didn’t want to pressure her, but she thought there could have at least been a two sided conversation on the topic.

“Lin, it’s fine if you don’t want to, I just need to know that,” She reached over to push the paper gently to the table.

Lin finally lifted her gaze to meet Kya’s, still saying nothing. After a moment of silent staring, she pushed away from the table, moving to stand at the kitchen sink. She dumped what was left of her coffee down the drain, mug clanking loudly as she set it down. Kya got up to follow her, noticing her hands gripping the edge of the sink tightly as she leaned against the counter next to her.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Kya mumbled.

“I know you don’t want kids, I should’ve known better than to think that maybe…” She continued, trailing off when Lin shook her head.

“It’s not that, Kya,” Lin said, her voice strained.

“What?” Kya looked at Lin, her confusion mounting when she saw a tear fall from Lin’s eye.

“It’s not-,” Lin said, interrupting herself with a sigh.

“I want kids, Kya, I do, but I-,” She let out another shaky breath.

“I can’t.”

Lin’s face twisted painfully and she shook her head before walking back to the table. She sat back in her seat, covering her face with both hands. Kya followed her again, this time taking the seat beside her. She grabbed one of Lin’s wrists and pulled it down, lacing their fingers together against the cold table.

“Lin, what do you mean you can’t?”

“I mean there’s something wrong with me, Kya, I can’t have kids. I didn’t want kids when I was younger, but that didn’t mean I didn’t try, for Tenzin’s sake. But every time, I…” Lin let out a soft sob.

“I lost the baby. Four times. I can’t have kids, Kya, it’s impossible,” She let out another sob, turning her head away from Kya.

Kya felt her heart breaking for Lin. She couldn’t imagine how awful it must’ve been to lose the babies, whether she was ready for kids or not. She felt even worse for bringing it up, reopening a wound that no doubt took years to recover from. She sat there silently rubbing her thumb over Lin’s knuckles for a long moment before coming up with an idea.

“What if… What if I carried the baby? It sounds like your eggs are fertile, so it would be your uterus that would be the problem. If I carried the baby, that problem would be gone, and we could still use your eggs,” Kya proposed, looking hopefully at Lin.

“What? That’s not possible, you don’t-,” Lin turned back to face Kya, wiping her tear-stained cheeks.

“How could you carry the baby, Kya, you don’t have…” She trailed off, knowing Kya understood without having to say the words.

“Actually, I do! When I was travelling, I met a team of doctors and healers that specialized in helping people like me. They did a surgery to implant a donated uterus at the same time they did the rest of my surgeries, and it was completely successful. I thought I might want kids someday, so it just seemed like the smart thing to do. They did warn me about going through a natural birth though, so I’d have to have the baby taken out surgically when it’s time,” Kya explained excitedly, her grip on Lin’s hand tightening.

“Oh, I also had my sperm frozen before having the surgeries, so the baby can be entirely ours,” She added with a smile.

Lin stared at her for a minute, mild confusion mixed with what was almost hope on her face. She squeezed Kya’s hand back, her eyes filling with tears again. Kya panicked when she started crying again, thinking through what she’d said to try and figure out why.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I shouldn’t have-,” Kya stuttered, quieting when Lin shook her head.

“Kya, stop,” Lin laughed through her tears, a smile spreading across her face despite the sobs that shook her body.

Kya watched Lin sobbing with concern, giving her a minute to calm down before pushing her further. When Lin was breathing normally again and had dried her face, she looked at Kya and answered before she could ask.

“Sorry, I just got overwhelmed. I love you Kya, so much, but I was… I was scared you’d leave me, I was scared I wouldn’t be enough. Just like I wasn’t enough for Tenzin. Ever since I lost the first baby I’ve been ashamed of my body, I felt like I wasn’t good enough. I’m just… Kya, that sounds amazing. I would love to have a baby with you,” Kya felt a wave of relief crash over her, followed by a surge of joy.

She couldn’t believe Lin actually wanted to have a baby with her. This time it was her who started to cry, a goofy smile on her face as she did. Lin laughed at her excitement, pushing her chair out from the table again.

“C’mere,” She said, stretching her arms out.

Kya got out of her seat, gladly curling up in Lin’s lap and hugging her tightly. She’d never been so happy, possibilities of their future playing out in her mind and only making her happier. She couldn’t wait to grow their family, and was exceedingly joyous at the fact that that family would be with Lin. Her Lin. She sighed into Lin’s chest, smile huge and cheeks wet with tears.

“You’re amazing,” She whispered, earning a chuckle from Lin.

“So are you,” Lin responded, kissing her softly on the forehead.

[awaytobeunshaken]

Angstpril 2023 - Day 26: Loss of Control (alt)

Ashton held their hammer cocked for a swing as the creature prepared for another dive, but Orym soon surged in front of him, shield high above his head. “Spread out!” Ashton yelled. “We don’t need that thing breathing on both of us!”

A fucking dragon, of all things. Granted, it was a young one, Orym had insisted, not as capable as a bigger one might be, but it had managed to take everything they’d dished out so far, and Ashton’s lungs were still burning from the cloud of fumes it had exhaled.

Orym wasn’t moving, so Ashton began to sidestep from behind him, hoping to find a position near the dragon’s flank. Before it could finish its dive, however, Ashton watched a pair of crossbow bolts rip through its wing, sending it tumbling to the ground. It tried to draw itself upright, but Ashton had positioned himself well and leapt forward to drive a pair of hefty strikes into its hip, hearing the bone shatter beneath his hammer. Orym was close behind, plunging his sword into the shoulder joint and dragging it downward, half-severing the limb from the body. A blast of magic from Laudna’s direction slammed into its neck, and that’s when Ashton saw the figure emerge from the brush to jam a pair of daggers into its spine.

Ashton raised their hammer again as they approached, thankful for the help of course, but still reasonably wary. “Holy shit!” the newcomer shouted as they looked up, daggers falling from their hands. “Ash?”

That was a voice Ashton hadn’t heard in a long-ass time. “Zee?”

ao3

He’d had plenty of time to think of what would happen if he ran into any of the Nobodies again, and over the years his thoughts on the matter had ranged from anger, to resignation, back to anger, and eventually to maybe wanting to see them again. Whether to make check in on them, or just for closure, Ashton wasn’t sure.

“Fuck, man, I thought you were dead. Bennett! Sally!” Zee called over their shoulder. “Get the fuck out here!”

“Ash?” Orym’s voice piped up from beside them. “Is this…”

“One of your so-called friends?” Laudna finished. Sally and Bennett were making their way out of the brush by now, Bennett shouldering the crossbow that had done most of the work for them.

“And this your new gang?” Sally raked her gaze over Laudna, then Orym, before turning to Ashton. “They could both use some meat on ‘em.” Ashton’s two companions glanced uncomfortably between the three nobodies but were letting Ashton take the lead so far; these were his people. “Zee’s right though; you were in fucking pieces. What happened?”

Ashton shrugged. “Milo managed to haul me back to their place and get me fixed up.”

“I’ll say,” Bennett chimed in. “Fucking sick!” He leaned in to get a closer look at the glass in Ashton’s head, then reached around and clapped them on the shoulder, leaving Ashton wincing in pain. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”

“This thing fuck you up a little, before we showed up?” Zee asked, poking the dragon’s hide with their toe.

“Nah, just an old ‘falling off a balcony’ injury acting up.”

“Oh, you mean the one where these assholes left you for dead?” Orym’s sword was still sheathed, but his had rested on the pommel like he was itching to draw it. Ashton and the Nobodies might have been joking around, but Orym was deadly serious. “Are you gonna tell them about Hexum, Ashton? How you spent two years as her fucking errand boy to pay off their debts?”

“It’s fine, Orym. None of that matters.” It wasn’t supposed to be like this, these two parts of his life weren’t supposed to interact like this. The Nobodies were crass and irreverent, and Orym was so fucking kind and earnest, and both of those things were great, but not together.

“It does fucking matter, Ash. You don’t need to brush off what happened to you just because they don’t give a shit.”

“Like I said, you little shit, he was fucking dead.” And the sound of her backhand across Orym’s face seemed to echo against the dragon corpse behind them.

“Don’t you fucking touch him!” And Ashton wondered if the surprise in her eyes was from his hammer hovering inches from her face or whatever light show his head was giving off.

The fearful expression didn’t last long, though. “What, are you two fucking or something?” she sneered.

“Orym,” Ashton sighed, pointedly ignoring the question. “I know these people, you don’t. I don’t need you getting all indignant on my behalf.”

“Well, someone ought to, if you’re not going to.”

“They’re right, though. I was dead.”

“No.” Orym’s face fell. “You were injured, dying, but Milo managed to save you.”

“I died, Orym, or may as well have. And they brought me back. And I never really thought about it that way until I saw the same thing happen to you guys. I might’ve had to do the same. And I’d have hated myself for it.” Ashton turned back to the Nobodies and shouted, “And no, I’m not drunk. These people have made me weird.”

After some discussion, and a fair bit of trepidation on Orym’s part, the two groups agreed to travel together, just in case a baby dragon wasn’t the worst thing lurking here. They didn’t get a chance to talk privately to Orym until everyone was setting up camp for the night.

“I had asked Joe to let them know I was looking for them, back before we left there. This wasn’t out of nowhere. It’s all… it’s complicated.”

“Yeah. I get that. I shouldn’t have snapped back there.”

“It was kind of cool that you did. I don’t get people looking out for me like that too often. And I’m, uh, I’m sorry Sally hit you.” He put a hand to Orym’s chin, examining the red mark on his cheek, careful not to touch it. “She’s not gonna do that again.”

“No,” Orym agreed with a chuckle. “You looked like you were gonna smash her face in.”

“Hell, if I’d have run into them on my own, I might have done it. Fuck, life was so much easier when I could just fix things by punching them.”

“Sorry you met us, then?” And they could tell Orym was only teasing.

“Not a chance.”

[amamicorp]

Happy @oumamiweek everybody, here to post yet another fic! This one is for Day 5's prompts: pre-game / post-game. I opted for pre-game, because if you've been here for previous event posts you know that i did almost the entirety of angstpril for postgame. plumbed those depths pretty thoroughly just recently.

This fic in particular is an introspective, pining sort of piece. I wanted to play a lot with the first person perspective and repression, which is always a good time. Fair warning: there is no Rantaro actually present in the piece. Oh well.

[pat-the-togorian]

Pat's Angstpril Day 11: Self-Sabotage

CW: Torture, Blood

Rema’s Force Signature had never seemed so conflicted. Almost like something was tainting it…

Rema?! I messaged frantically, trying to boost her with my Light. Rema’s presence lightened a little, but it didn’t get rid of the Dark. 

“So, let me tell you about this friend of mine who looked exactly like you…” the tormenter started in again as she shuffled through her box. “We always played together! Of course, he didn’t talk either… he was a cat, after all…” 

I shed a tear thinking of the innocent animal. 

“Do you usually scream in pain? She’s no fun…” she pointed to Rema, who appeared unconscious and bloodied.  

“Wh-why would you do a thing like that? What do you want?” I blurted. 

Her head rose in a flash. “Ooh, so you do talk!” She got right up in my face. “You’re much more interesting, indeed…”

“What do you want?” I cried. “I’ll—”

I thought better of saying “I’ll do anything.” 

“You really are so cute,” she fawned. “But to answer your question, it’s nothing bad! Rema would agree, but she’s… out of it right now. I just want to play, though. There’s nothing wrong with playing, is there?” 

Rema, are you alright? I messaged her, but her consciousness was fading. “I don’t think we like the same games,” I choked out. 

“Oh, she’ll be fine,” she intercepted my worried gaze at Rema. “It’s just a sleeping serum! And for now… it’s just the two of us. Cats like to play, don’t they?” 

“Not when it’s with you,” I ground out, new determination sweeping me. 

Her mood reversed in a flash. “What do you mean? You wouldn’t mean… you don’t want to play… Wouldn’t you?”

“I’d prefer if you got help!” I fired back. I hope you’re proud of me, Rema… 

“Help? Damn, you’re so adorable… but I have all the help I need—” Her finger brushed the center of my forehead, “---right here!”

“Wh-what can I do for you?” I faltered. Rema, please wake up! I knew I needed to delay the inevitable as long as possible. 

“You really are so sweet! So I’m gonna tell you a story, and you’ve gotta listen, okay?” 

She drew a small knife from her box and grazed my neck, sending out a trickle of blood. 

Why is it always my neck? I thrashed and gulped. 

“I’ll take that as a yes!” She giggled. She swiped her hand across my neck to clean the blood, and I snapped at her. She licked the blood off her hand. “Such a sweet taste…just like you are…” her face grew stormy. “But you shouldn’t have done that.”

She picked up another knife and slashed my lip. I snapped at this, too. 

“You’ll regret that!” She drove another small dagger through my paw and I couldn’t hold back a scream of pain. Despite the agony, I felt Rema’s Force presence strengthen again. I’ll hold her off for you, Rema… 

“Let her go!” Rema barked as she struggled with her binders. Wait… “her?” 

 “Awake already?” my tormenter turned back to Rema. “Such a shame… we were just getting to know each other.” 

“Rema! Thank the Force,” I called to her. Something was still wrong with her Force presence, but I was grateful all the same. 

“Don’t worry, FE-212, I’ll get us out of here—” she panted, "--e-even if-if it takes my life!” 

“Well, you can certainly try!” Our captor laughed. “Now… about that story…”

@formeralleycat

[writing-is-thorapy]

Angstpril Day 29: Going Dark

Yes, I know it’s Day 30, but guess what? I had zero time to write this yesterday so here ya go. I’m very excited about this one, so I hope you enjoy!

CW: Canonical Child Death

The war is over. 

The war is over. 

Ahsoka can hardly believe it. After years of fighting, years of needless death and destruction, of blood, sweat, and tears, of hopelessness and anguish, the battles were done. 

She’s being summoned back to the Temple immediately, along with the other Jedi. 

And yet… she isn’t really a Jedi anymore. 

All in all, she’s unsure what to feel. On the one hand, there’s a sense of tremendous relief. But on the other… she barely remembers how it felt to live in times of peace. What will she do? Does she want to return to the Order?

That last question, she decides, will wait for another time, when the war’s end has truly sunk in. 

However, Ahsoka does know that she wants to see Anakin again—not only so that they can really discuss things, but because of Maul’s words, which hover over her like a storm cloud. 

He was simply trying to get a rise out her, she decides. His declarations of Anakin’s role were pure nonsense.

She refuses to acknowledge the fear and foreboding lodged in her gut. 

%#%#%

An hour or so out from Coruscant, a sharp pain erupts in her head. Screams of agony and horror echo across the galaxy as thousands and thousands of lights flicker out and die, each one as agonizing as the last.

Something is wrong.

Something is very, very wrong.

Desperately, she attempts to reach out to Anakin, and is relieved to find him alive, though his presence is more clouded than usual. 

Then she tries Obi-Wan… and can’t find him. 

She tries again.

And again.

Nothing. 

He’s gone. 

Ahsoka chokes down the sobs that threaten to burst forth. She can’t panic, can’t break down. Not yet. She needs to figure out was has happened, and must remain calm and focused like she has been taught.

She blocks out the Force, blocks out the pain, and settles in for the longest hour of her life. 

%#%#%

The Temple is on fire.

Huge and thick clouds of smoke billow out the top of the looming ziggurat as flames engulf the sacred halls.   

Ahsoka feels her heart shudder, her breath catch in her throat.

The last time she saw the Temple on fire, she was expelled from the Order. 

Taking a deep breath and summoning her confidence, she flies her ship to the Temple hangar bay. 

%#%#%

The Temple feels like death.

As Ahsoka sneaks through the side entrance, a wave of anguish hits her, nearly bringing her to her knees. She steadies herself and continues on, noticing the dead bodies, both Jedi and clone, that mar the Temple halls. 

Did the clones kill the Jedi? Why? 

Ahsoka steps inside the Council Chambers. 

Dead bodies litter the floor, and it takes her a second to realize that they are the bodies of younglings, each marred by a single saber wound. 

In the middle of the room, a lone figure stands, shrouded in a dark cloak with the hood up. In front of him, a larger body lays unmoving, but Ahsoka is unable to tell who it is.

The individual seems to sense her presence, for they whip around to face her, hand near the lightsaber on their belt.

It’s Anakin—but not.

The Anakin she knows always wears his heart on his sleeve, unlike the expressionless disposition she sees before her. 

The Anakin she knows doesn’t have golden, glowing eyes. (Sith eyes—but no, he can’t—)

The Anakin she knows would never condone such atrocities, let alone participate. After all, she thinks, who else would have done this? 

Not Ventress, who was off doing… whatever she’s doing. Not Dooku, who was killed by Anakin, or Grievous, who was killed on Utapau. Not any of the Jedi.

“Anakin?” She says, a note of hysterical incredulity in her voice. “Did… how…”

“The Jedi tried to overthrow the Republic, Ahsoka,” he responds, voice flat, not a hint of relief at her presence, not a hint of the warmth that was present only days before. “They had to be destroyed. They were traitors.”

“T-traitors? Anakin, the Jedi would—they would never! And-and the younglings? I… What would Obi-Wan think?”

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” Anakin snaps, eyes burning with fury. He shifts to the side, his cloak swishing around his ankles, revealing more of the dead body before him.

Auburn hair. 

Light cream robes. 

Blue-grey eyes—that now stare sightlessly ahead.

Oh Force. 

“How could you?” She shouts, unable to stop the tears from flowing down her face. Not even her very worst nightmares, her greatest fears, could compare to this. “How could you kill him?”

“Obi-Wan was a traitor!” Anakin roars in response. “He tried to kill me!”

“He was your Master! He was my Grandmaster! You guys were-were the Team! You were-you were brothers!”

“HE WAS NEVER MY BROTHER! He never cared about me! I was nothing but a tool to him!”

“You know he cared! Nearly every time I was around you two, I could tell. Anyone could.”

“And yet he stood against the Republic. He stood against me.” Anakin brandishes his lightsaber and points it at Ahsoka’s neck. “So you can either join me, or end up like him.”

Looking into his yellow eyes, the glow only accentuated by the dark bags under his eyes, she realizes that Anakin is completely serious.

She may very well die by his hand.

Ahsoka’s heart shatters as she realizes Maul was right all along. 

She has very little to lose—the Jedi are dead and gone, her Grandmaster is dead, and her Master is dead in every way that matters.

She might as well die among family. 

Ahsoka takes a deep breath and meets Anakin’s eyes. 

“I won’t join you.”

Disbelief and betrayal flicker across his face before giving way to anger. 

Anakin raises his lightsaber poised and ready to strike. He starts to swing for her neck and she instinctively closes her eyes and flinches, waiting—but nothing happens.

She opens her eyes to him lowering his weapon, gaze flicking over her shoulder.

“Traitors aren’t granted a dignified death by lightsaber,” Anakin smirks, the expression painfully reminiscent of happier times, simpler times (and isn’t terrible, she thinks, that moments in between and amidst relentless war and death are the ones she looks back on with fondness?). “They’re executed by a firing squad.”

Ahsoka whips around and is immediately bombarded by blaster bolts, fired by men who were once willing to die for her.  

(She hadn’t even noticed the blue paint on the armored bodies that littered the Temple halls.)

She doesn’t even have a chance to ignite her sabers. 

She looks up at Anakin, her Master, her brother, her executioner, and notices the tear tracks on his cheeks. 

With the last of her strength, she reaches toward Anakin, whispering, “you… promised…”

Ahsoka dies with an outstretched hand.

%#%#%

He stares at her fallen body, riddled with smoking holes. He feels the sharp pain of the broken bond, of the death of his Padawan, but quickly dismisses it. She was a traitor and was punished as such. 

Darth Vader grabs her lightsabers and walks out of the Council Room, thoughtlessly stepping over Ahsoka’s corpse.