Star Wars and Naruto.
Jun. 6th, 2005 10:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
midnightdiddleAnother Star Wars drabble. I'm such a nerd. :)
Sometimes, between the pained, gasping breaths, Anakin dreams. He dreams of Padme, of her soft hair and pale skin, of the way she would run her fingertips over his stomach, tickling him. He dreams of her stomach, rounding and growing large, and of the way she curves her hands around it, holding the baby so carefully. Then, he dreams of the baby. The baby is five now, seven, ten. It's a son, a young boy, strong and wild, running in the tall grass and swimming in the lake. He plays and laughs and cries, and sometimes he fights with other children, flying fists and running feet, but he always comes home to Anakin and Padme, large brown eyes and sandy blonde hair. But sometimes, Anakin dreams that it's a daughter.
A pretty girl, just as beautiful as her mother. She's nine now, eleven and fourteen. She wears ribbons in her hair, large curls that brush her pale cheeks, and she's the world to Anakin. She looks up to him, trusting and pretty and so naive, and Anakin protects her, saves her from the world and the galaxy and the universe. Nothing ever hurts her, nothing ever makes her cry, because he won't let it, and she will always be happy.
Anakin's happy in these dreams, happy in a way he's never known. It doesn't hurt to breath, doesn't hurt to think, doesn't hurt to live. Padme's there, and the baby, a baby who coos and smiles and laughs, gurgling laughs that make Padme sing. Padme's presence is soothing, a balm on skin that burns, and her touch brings relief so sweet that Anakin cries. The tears drip from his closed eyes, down his scarred face, and he cries, trying to ignore the pain and the hate and the living nightmares. He tries to forget bad things, the way the emperor is there, to the side, waiting. He tries to ignore the way the years have moved so quickly, and the way that, even in his dreams, he looks at Padme through rose-colored lenses. And so, crying and breathing and hating and living, Darth Vader dreams.
What else. I watched Return of the Jedi today...and I got the soundtrack! I'm taking 'nerd' to a whole new level.
My cat's shedding like nothing else. Urk. There's fur everywhere. If I didn't love her...
Oh, I'm writing a KakaIru crack fic with WinterOfOurDiscontent. Go read it! http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2422972/1/ And...review? Or tell me what you think?
And I'm working on Tryin'. Slowly, but surely. Hope to post up another part tomorrow or so.
Sometimes, between the pained, gasping breaths, Anakin dreams. He dreams of Padme, of her soft hair and pale skin, of the way she would run her fingertips over his stomach, tickling him. He dreams of her stomach, rounding and growing large, and of the way she curves her hands around it, holding the baby so carefully. Then, he dreams of the baby. The baby is five now, seven, ten. It's a son, a young boy, strong and wild, running in the tall grass and swimming in the lake. He plays and laughs and cries, and sometimes he fights with other children, flying fists and running feet, but he always comes home to Anakin and Padme, large brown eyes and sandy blonde hair. But sometimes, Anakin dreams that it's a daughter.
A pretty girl, just as beautiful as her mother. She's nine now, eleven and fourteen. She wears ribbons in her hair, large curls that brush her pale cheeks, and she's the world to Anakin. She looks up to him, trusting and pretty and so naive, and Anakin protects her, saves her from the world and the galaxy and the universe. Nothing ever hurts her, nothing ever makes her cry, because he won't let it, and she will always be happy.
Anakin's happy in these dreams, happy in a way he's never known. It doesn't hurt to breath, doesn't hurt to think, doesn't hurt to live. Padme's there, and the baby, a baby who coos and smiles and laughs, gurgling laughs that make Padme sing. Padme's presence is soothing, a balm on skin that burns, and her touch brings relief so sweet that Anakin cries. The tears drip from his closed eyes, down his scarred face, and he cries, trying to ignore the pain and the hate and the living nightmares. He tries to forget bad things, the way the emperor is there, to the side, waiting. He tries to ignore the way the years have moved so quickly, and the way that, even in his dreams, he looks at Padme through rose-colored lenses. And so, crying and breathing and hating and living, Darth Vader dreams.
What else. I watched Return of the Jedi today...and I got the soundtrack! I'm taking 'nerd' to a whole new level.
My cat's shedding like nothing else. Urk. There's fur everywhere. If I didn't love her...
Oh, I'm writing a KakaIru crack fic with WinterOfOurDiscontent. Go read it! http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2422972/1/ And...review? Or tell me what you think?
And I'm working on Tryin'. Slowly, but surely. Hope to post up another part tomorrow or so.
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Date: 2005-06-09 05:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-09 05:31 pm (UTC)