Obi-Wan: [text] I know I am going to regret this, but what’s wrong, Anakin? Anakin: what do u mean Anakin: nothings wrong Anakin: y would u think that? Obi-Wan: I saw your post. Clearly you want to talk about something. Anakin: no y do u think that Obi-Wan: Allow me to copy > paste: “hungry and tired and cold but probably shouldnt expect much else today #soalone #asusual #iseehowitisudontthinkimasimportantasthecouncil #justsayin” ? Obi-Wan: A little hard for me to not feel like that post was directed at me. Anakin: well it wasnt Anakin: anyways im too cold to text rn ttyl Obi-Wan: Anakin, honestly. I will be home from this mission in a couple of days, can we talk about this then? Anakin: i dont even know if ill be home tbh im looking at apartment rentals Obi-Wan: Anakin they don’t let Jedi live off-campus. Also you don’t have enough money for an apartment on Coruscant. Anakin: i have enough for a motel on the lower levels what do u care where i live Obi-Wan: What did I do? Anakin: nothing obvs its my fault for remembering a special day that clearly doesnt matter to u Obi-Wan: It’s not your birthday. Or Valentine’s Day. Anakin: pffft yeah bc if it was valentines day id have a brand new pair of socks from u to cherish 🙄
Obi-Wan: Force, can you please just let that go already? Besides, I thought you liked the socks. Anakin: dont tell me how to feel im not the one who forgot something this important!!!!
Obi-Wan: [text] You’ve seen Anakin’s posts, I presume? Ahsoka: lol yup
Obi-Wan: On a scale of 1 to 10, how likely am I to ever figure out on my own which obscure holiday or anniversary he’s upset about me forgetting? Ahsoka: 0. he’s REALLY reaching this time. Obi-Wan: Damn it. Ahsoka: I COULD help u master kenobi but also it IS pretty entertaining, soooo…😈
Obi-Wan: I understand. Let the negotiations begin.
(Ahsoka absolutely loves using this stuff to her advantage. And you KNOW Anakin is the undefeated champion of dramatic vagueposting when he wants attention.)
(This edition of Anakin Skywalker’s Ridiculous Neediness for @darthluminescent, who is pretty much always here for Anakin’s spoiled antics.)
Title: we’ll be alright this time Summary: This is how Sasuke Uchiha falls in love. Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto. Prompt: First Love Rating: K A/N: It’s ssmonth guys sobs. I’m a lil late but it’s ok.
It starts in the hospital, the first week
into his return. Sasuke is bedridden, confined to a too-white room, still
bruised in blacks and blues—but the worst of his wounds have healed for the
most part, courtesy of Sakura’s gentle healing hands.
She’s here a lot, he realizes, as each day
passes by; not just with him, but in the halls of the hospital and the adjacent
rooms, too, treating tired shinobi wounded in war and still-frightened
civilians trying to recover from it all. The smile to her lips never ceasing,
she doesn’t seem to miss out on any pressing matter, doesn’t actually seem to
leave these walls at all—and if Sasuke didn’t so often catch her dozing in the
armchair at his bedside, he might even think she never sleeps, either.
And yet, despite her busy schedule, Sakura
always finds the time to offer him a visit every day.
Something in him softens at the thought.
“You’re healing very well, Sasuke-kun,” she
says to him, one day, as time dictates it necessary to have his bandages
changed yet again. “I’m actually pretty surprised. Are you sure you don’t have
a hidden tailed beast somewhere inside you helping to patch you up?”
The query is a teasing one—something that
Sasuke has yet to grow used to, when it comes to Sakura. She’d always been so
shy when it came to him, Sasuke remembers from their years before, so sweet and
pure, and eager to impress him; whatever brashness she held inside had only
ever been expressed with anger towards their blond best friend whenever he did
something she didn’t like—which was often. But the woman that stands here
before him now is different, despite in some ways still being the same; kind,
and bright, she smiles and jibes playful remarks, seemingly unafraid to make a
fool of herself… or, perhaps, driven with a confidence that she can make him
Sasuke honestly doesn’t know what to say
The sip of sake you had been trying to
swallow came abruptly back up your nose as the meaning finally filtered through
the buzzed haze to take root. Inuchiyo’s eyebrows knitted together even as you
stumbled, catching your arm with a single, large hand and pounding on your back
with enough force to knock you forward another step, as nonchalant as though he
hadn’t just suggested the two of you
burn down the Magistrate’s house. You wheezed around the inhaled sake, trying
frantically to get enough air to explain why that was a terrible idea, but your childhood friend continued on regardless.
“Wouldn’t be too hard. Come on, let’s go, let’s go find some matches.“
“No!” You swerved, and reached for
him, “Noooo, no no no.” His hand was still on your arm, but you
turned into it to seize the front of his robes, “No matches, bad—.”
You lost your balance again, and his other
hand found your shoulder, holding you steady against the influence to
sway. For a brief moment, you blinked at him, having sort of…vaguely forgotten
what you had been talking about, and trying to understand why his expression
was so troubled.
“Listen…that, that rat bastard, he tried—”
Inuchiyo began, smile gone. You didn’t like that expression. He looked like a
forlorn puppy—that made you giggle, albeit guiltily—but it also made your heart
hurt, so you rose to your toes, hand lifting to pat his head, which he jerked
back in surprise, “—Hey!” though you just leaned forward. “Cut that out!”
His hair was surprisingly soft, and so you
ran your fingers through it, letting the dark, silken strands flow over and
around your fingers, and repeating the motion. So soft! “Your hair’s a…a birdnest,” You mumbled, and your other
hand joined the first to try and smooth it, but getting equally distracted
playing with it instead. A mirthful giggle squeaked past your lips. Toshiie
spluttered, cheeks brilliantly red—had they been like that before? “You gotta…work
on your sa..sake tolerance, ‘nuchiyo.”—and the hands on your shoulders spasmed
“What? Hey! I don’t wanna hear that from
you, Miss Stumbling Sandals, geez.” He turned his head to the side and your
hand slipped free—you missed the sensation, and tried to reach again, but
already on your toes and leaning forward, lost your balance completely. He caught
you as easily as an afterthought, and equally carelessly bent over, arm
shifting around the curve of your hip to your thighs, and tossed you up to his
It was your turn to shriek in surprise, arms
scrambling for a grip and settling around his head, earning a muffled protest
you didn’t hear. Inuchiyo spluttered, then sighed. “Inuchiyo, pumme down!”
“No, you’re drunk.”
“I’m better at it.”
“Only ‘cause you…you’ve got more practice.”
You thought you heard a murmur of let’s keep it that way and leaned over
to be sure. Your hands pressed onto their grip and suddenly you were distracted and pleased to have access to his hair again, which you gleefully returned
to playing with—“Quit that!”
your fingers through it one last time, peering down, and you sulked for a
moment before blinking around at your new vantage. “Hey…woah, Inuchiyo, you’re really…” Your head tilted curiously, “You’re reaaaaally tall.”
This earned a smile. “What, you just noticed?”
“I can see the Magistrate’s house!” You were
looking at it, so didn’t see the sudden scowl below. Something flickered
through your mind, a memory, or a thought, and you seized it, lowering your
hands to his shoulders, “Inuchiyo! Inuchiyo let’s…let’s burn it down!”
A ferocious smile, and he shifted his grip,
lowering you so when your head turned his forehead met yours. You smiled and
leaned into him, arms going lax into a sleepy grip around his shoulders, and
the ferocity faded into something helpless. You forgot, by the time he answered softly, what he was agreeing to. “Yeah, okay.”
You cheered anyway, “Woohoo!” His hands opened, then closed, restless but
occupied with keeping you off the ground, but as though they wanted to do
something else, and his eyes left your face to look in troubled exasperation at your
hair. You, following the line of his eyes, let your head drop, and tucked against his chest, snuggling to the warmth of him and calmed by the strong, steady beat you found there. “I’m sleepy.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I know. We’re going home.” You
dreamed of fields of soft grass and smiles, and the low, guilty-but-not murmur
of your ma is gonna kill me…
More of Lee’s Rambles (or see /tagged/masterlist or just /masterlist)
Could you write a little blurb about how Y/N is shy about Harry going down there? Thank you Susie...
Running into the house after a hard day’s work had become much more enjoyable now that I had something to come home to. I quickly deposited my coat and shoes on the front mat before bounding up the stairs to our newly minted bedroom. I couldn’t wait to finish off our first full day living together as a real life couple.
He looked up from his spot on the edge of the bed where he had already changed into some sweats and a t-shirt before sitting down to tap away on his phone. The moment he heard my footsteps though he looked up with a huge, welcoming, happy smile on his face. He promptly set his phone down,
“Was wondering when you were going to make it home.”
I didn’t hesitate a bit as I walked towards him. I slotted myself between his legs and set my hands on his shoulders,
“Traffic was a bitch.”
He gripped my sides, his head tipped up to look at me,
“LA traffic is always a bitch.”
I stared down into the face of my love for a bit before lifting my hand into his hair. A content smile formed on my lips without my direction,
“I missed you.”
“And I missed you.” He twisted me back and forth in his hands, “Want to me to make you some dinner? Or we could get something delivered? I could get take ou-”
“I have all I need…right here.” I whispered softly.
Her mouth was dry and the taste of blood was still present.
Her eyelids were heavy and it felt as if she would not be able to tear them
open. The swelling around the left one was much more prominent than it had been
when her wounds were still very much fresh; it remained closed despite her
efforts at opening it.
Michonne found the room to be well-lit; she had no idea what
time of the day it was, or, in fact, what
day it was. She stirred and felt a hand grasping her right one as rough fingers
softly traced over her arm. Shifting her gaze and turning her head ever so
slightly, she saw Rick at her side. He offered her a smile and the warmth and
happiness in his eyes made her feel safe.
She went to speak, but her parched lips and throat made the
greeting come out gravelly.
“Hey,” she managed, before Rick reached down to the floor
and grabbed a bottle of water for her.
“Hey,” he replied, undoing the lid. Michonne struggled to
sit up. “Hold on.”
He placed the bottle into her awaiting hand and proceeded to
put another pillow under her head in an effort to prop her forward.
“I can sit,” she said hoarsely, not wanting Rick to fuss
“I know,” he relied, somewhat amused by her persistent stubbornness.
“But let me take care of you.”
Michonne conceded and gave him a thankful grin. Her body
ached all over, and her head was pounding. Her face felt sore and heavy from
the swelling; her bones felt tired. She was weary, but happy that she was still
Rick took the water from Michonne, retrieved the plastic
straw from the neck of the water bottle, and brought it to her lips. She took a
sip and felt the cool liquid slide down her dry throat.
“Have a little more,” Rick urged, holding the bottle to her
mouth again; she obliged.
“Carl?” she asked, her memory still unclear from her head trauma.
“Where is he?”
“He’s fine,” Rick replied while he took hold of her hand again;
his thumb trailing lightly over hers. “Helpin’ with the clean-up right now.”
“What happened? Did we get a win?” she asked; the concern for
their community was etched across her bruised and beaten face.
“Yeah,” said Rick, his eyes glazing over as he thought about
the loved-ones they had lost. “We drove ‘em off, and we’ve got a long way to
go, an even bigger fight ahead of us, but you don’t have to worry about that
He shifted closer, leaned down and pressed a languid kiss to
her forehead, carefully avoiding any injuries.
“You focus on feeling better, okay?” said Rick while stroking
“Okay,” she said, with a small smile that caused her face to
twinge; she lifted her free hand from her tummy and tentatively pressed her
fingertips to her face. She winced when she applied some pressure to her cheek.
“You’ll be fine when the swelling goes away,” he said, squeezing
her hand; he hated seeing her in pain.
“Does it look as bad as it feels?” she asked somewhat
jokingly, trying to lighten the mood when she noticed the rueful expression he
“You’re beautiful,” Rick whispered, not missing a beat, as
he pressed a loving kiss to the back of her hand. She felt a warmth wash over
“Stop making me smile,” she joked. “It hurts.”
“Sorry,” he offered, brushing her hair back once more.
“How long have you been sitting here?” she asked, still
feeling slightly disoriented.
“Since we brought you here and got you cleaned up,” he
“How are we looking?” she asked, needing to know their
current situation after their initial skirmish; Rick pressed his hand to his
“We…we took a big hit,” he explained. “But I don’t want you
worrying about that right now. Maggie, Ezekiel, they’re handlin’ this. They’re
helpin’ our people see what needs to be done…”
“Rick,” said Michonne. “You should be out there with Maggie
and Ezekiel. Everyone needs you.”
“You need me, too,”
he said, as if being anywhere but by her side made no sense.
“Rick,” she said
softly. “I’ll be fine.”
He remained silent and stared at his beloved.
“You’re our leader,” she continued, with pride encompassing
her expression. “You’ll take us forward.”
“Hey,” he said softly, gesturing between himself and
Michonne. “We are the leaders. Me and
you, together, and we will be the ones to show our people
the way ahead.”
“I know,” she replied, feeling her heart swell with
adoration. “But they need you right
now. Remind them that they made the right choice to fight today. Mourn with
them, and show them that we can win. All of us, together.”
Rick nodded his head.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it; I’ll go now.”
“Good,” she said, resting back into her pillows.
“Then I’ll be back to check on you later,” he said; she
smiled at his obstinacy.
“Okay,” she offered, eyeing his expression as he stood; he
moved with difficulty and she then noticed he had changed his shirt.
“Rick,” she said. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?”
“Ah, it’s nothin’,” he replied. “You get some more rest. I’ll
be back soon.”
Rick leaned in close, held Michonne’s hand over his heart, and kissed her forehead
once more; they held each other’s gaze a moment longer before he whispered an
earnest, “I love you.”
As promised – not Kansas City OTRA, but very much inspired by it. I’ve had this as a WIP since April or so, so it’s nice to have it out. That said: I’M NERVOUS AS ALL GET OUT cause they kind of… are… there’s a crude topic in this. They’re just having a go at each other, though. ACK *flips tables* Enjoy, everybody, I’m gonna hide now. x
It’s the last song when security finds you and escorts you
from your seat and through the crowd. You’re a little disappointed that you
don’t get to see the show finish, but knots of excitement are twisting in your
belly as you are herded past barricades where no one else is allowed to go.
Music and fireworks, almost obnoxiously loud, are muffled backstage, and you
hear voices, familiar by this point and one more so than the rest, saying
earnest goodnights and wishes of love and safe returns home to the crowd that
so worships them. Preparation to tear down and packup equipment has already
started around you, and you pause in the wings, shaking your head when security
tries to usher you to move.
He’ll be there. He’ll find you.
Sure enough, he’s all legs and hair when he appears at last,
leaping over a thick wire before it can catch his boot and twist his ankle.
He’s got a towel in his hand, but it’s useless on his long, wet, curly hair.
He’s all but drenched from head to toe, with most of his grey t-shirt stained
with sweat and clinging to his body, and while the heat is mainly to blame for
that, the water he’d been spitting and throwing hadn’t helped (although, it had
probably cooled him off).
He’s tanner than you remember him being last, but that’s
what months of outdoor shows and sightseeing on off days will do to him. The
muscles on his slick arms look just a little bigger and more defined, too, and
even the most casual twist or bend of his heavily tattooed left arm makes ink
practically jump every time.
His eyes, though, are most striking, and they’re only for
you as he continues his beeline in your direction.
“You’re soaked, love,” he teases you through a cheeky grin
and popping dimples with a voice like honey and sandpaper.
You won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his
“Some twat kept spitting water at me the whole night,” you
inform him, opening your arms for him.
Harry grins wider – a cocky, satisfied grin. “Yeah?” His
hand slides possessively around your waist for the first time in ages and you
fold your hands behing his neck. “Tell me his name an’ I’ll get him.”
how can i get vagued by plebcomix asking for a friend
1. message her telling her you’re really sorry about all the hate she’s getting over tumblr user genderists and tell her she doesn’t deserve it
2. have an earnest and loving conversation with her in which she pours out her fears & insecurities
3. start talking to her on a regular basis
4. admit one day, after many months, that you think you have feelings for her.
5. arrange to meet her irl. tell her you feel a connection with her that you’ve never felt with anyone else. kiss her on a ferris wheel and buy her ice cream.
6. after a year or so, move in with her.
7. one day, take her on a date to the beach. as you walk by the surf hand-in-hand, the fading sunlight bleeding pink and red where the water meets the sky, lower down onto one knee in the sand. tell her she’s always been the one for you, that there’s no one else like her, that she makes you laugh and cry and think. take out the ring box you had been keeping in your pocket and open it. the ring is silver with a sapphire stone– tell her the blue matches her eyes, and that you know she hates the diamond industry. plebcomics, you say, will you marry me? as she weeps and says yes over and over again, slip the ring onto her finger and kiss her hand tenderly.
8. buy a house and adopt a dog together. live in marital bliss. make her eggs benedict on sunday mornings because it’s her favorite. go on hikes with her; make a pact to visit every national park together before you die. laugh together when she teaches the dog to play dead whenever she says “bang” and points her finger like a gun. braid her hair for her every evening while you talk about your days. tend your garden together and bring in fresh, sweet tomatoes to make salads and tomato soup with.
9. tell her you want a divorce. that you’ve never loved her, you never have. turn your back on her while she cries.
10. chuckle quietly to yourself when a twelve-page comic is published on her blog a week later about the fucking sjws always breaking her heart and making her think she was worthy of another person’s love and care and tenderness and lying through their teeth for so many years and oh god vanessa why did you have to do make her think you loved her? she sits alone on the sofa, a shell of the woman she once was.