i stared at this coloring for so long i can't even tell if it's good anymore

anonymous asked:

Theory, what if Ahsoka had raised the twins? or at least one of them?

Well, this is how it starts:

She hovers in the shadows of Sky–Padme’s funeral. The Emperor paraded her corpse around like a victory flag, showing off her still heavily pregnant belly and she wished more than anything that she had been there, done something. She should have been there. She could have protected her, would have stayed with her out of the way while Anakin and Obi-Wan dealt with things. It would have been like old times.

(Only, she wasn’t a Jedi and yet the clones were everywhere, killing them all, oh what had been done to them? And if that man was the monster, then what did he do to her Skyguy? Padme was dead.)

Queen Apailana wept as she walked, flanked by her handmaidens, and she could just make out the small forms of Padme’s nieces, wrapped in mourning colors and solemn faced. She didn’t know which humans were Padme’s parents, having never met or seen holos of them, and it makes her uncomfortable to admit it. People were weeping all around her, gungan and human alike, and just as she was about to leave to indulge in her own mourning she caught the sight of Bail Organa out of the corner of her eye.

He looked awful, like he hadn’t slept in ages, and though his face was dry he felt…bruised and wrung out in the Force. Next to him was his wife, the Queen of Alderaan and in her arms was a small bundle of cloth.

(She made herself go into the temple, even though it was swarming with Imps. She had to see, had to know. She’d made it through the upper levels, where knights and padawans had laid slain and the upper crèche where the younglings lay, eyes open and sightless. Blasters didn’t instantly cauterize wounds so the place was covered in blood and it was seeped in darkness and hate. So much hate. She’d screamed when she got to the first infant room, whirled around to throw herself into a pillar, tears running down her face. It was too much, it was – she would have vomited if not for the blaster fire.)

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bellamyblake  asked:

“you’re in the hospital for the holidays so i came in while you were sleeping to decorate your room i love you merry christmas” aawww this pls and van bellamy be the sick one in hospital? THANK YOU

HERE YOU GO! An early Christmas present, maybe? <33

If you can’t say it at Christmas, when can you? (I am actually yours).

When she heard the news, the first thought that popped into her mind was none other than: if he dies I’m going to kill him, which is, in fact, quite terrible, but what was she supposed to do, considering that their relationship had consisted entirely of a mix of throwing jokey death threats at each other during an intense game of Battlefield 4 - him finding her bra behind the headboard of his bed and her recovering his long lost UCLA sweatshirt under the backseat of her car without telling him.

Which now proves to have been a good choice, as the reality of Octavia’s words on the phone slowly starts to sink in. Quietly, Clarke rummages through her closet, the piles of clothes that have built up there in less than a year, and for a moment she is afraid that it somehow is no longer in her possession. Maybe he found it one morning and brought it home? - No, he wouldn’t do that and not text a picture with a teasing description, she figures. Sure enough, her fingers find the fabric upon a few more seconds of digging. Immediately, she brings it to her nose, inhaling the scent of his spicy cologne, which still lingers. It’s stupid, but that is what causes the first tears to grow behind her eyelids.

Honestly, Clarke should not be crying, nor putting on his sweatshirt - instead, she should be heading to the hospital right now, preparing her voice for the strain it might be put under as soon he is well enough to listen to her screaming at him: “YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT. THERE’S A REASON WHY YOU SHOULD KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD, AS WELL AS THERE’S A REASON WHY TREES ARE NOT FUCKING PLACED IN THE MIDDLE OF IT!”

Oh how she enjoys yelling at him, mostly because it turns him on. If they see one another, anger is ideal, as weird as it sounds, since they have found that angry sex is just so worth it. She’s used the feeling of his touch ghosting on her skin for weeks, and counting the marks he shamelessly leaves on her spine; certainly not curling up on the couch in a shirt which is at least two sizes too big, sobbing. 

The sex, essentially, couldn’t have mattered less when everything she remembers now is how she sometimes rests her feet in his lap, if he doesn’t tickle them, that is - and all the mornings after where he actually stayed, waking up early to cook her pancakes and bacon - them chasing each other around his apartment with bags of flour.

In the end, nothing else matters. Frankly, it is cliché that she hasn’t realized it before he got in a car accident and almost had himself killed. She stopped watching cheesy chick flicks in high school, so perhaps her life is slowly turning into one?

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cheshire-kas  asked:


No lie, Kas is my chaos twin and she helps me write the things I want by screaming prompts at me so I have an excuse. Most of our conversations are things we want to do and then me screaming ‘KAS PROMPT ME!!!’

So here, have more BillDip Husband Au with Toby in it.



“Hey Mabel.” Wendy Corduroy walked into the Mystery Shack in the early morning hours, sun still hardly up, which was a rarity in itself, as was the four-year-old daughter strapped to her back. “Dipper called not too long ago saying he needed me in today, what’s up?”

“Ant, Ant!” Wendy rolled her eyes and released the bouncing girl, who toddled over to Mabel’s open arms, both giggling and hugging like crazy.

“Hey there Firecracker! How are you this morning?” Rosy only yawned widely, red hair a mess of curls around her head, as she snuggled into Mabel’s shoulder and fell asleep almost instantly. “I guess that’s how you are, and yeah, all of the boys went off somewhere.”

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