silly time

Patricia | 19 | she/her | Sarcastic_Soulmate on AO3

[sarcastic-soulmate]

yall. I got a card! I'm really happy with what I got, so send me a prompt!

[sarcastic-soulmate]

When the Force Falls Silent

Chapter 3: Walls, Crumbling

The electrifying scent of sweat had clung in the thin air between them in something thick and heady. Obi-Wan’s fingers dug into Anakin’s hips hard enough to bruise— would bruise, later— and Anakin arched into it, biting back a groan. The soft sheets caressed his bare back, but he barely noticed, too focused on the heat of Obi-Wan’s body above him, the way his robes had slipped halfway off one shoulder as he began his relentless thrust, revealing the beautiful skin that curled above his collarbone.

“Say it, dear,” Obi-Wan murmured, his breath hot against Anakin’s throat. His voice was low, rough with something deliciously darker than amusement, something so incandescently sinister that it sent a shiver straight down Anakin’s spine. “Say it again.”

Anakin swallowed. He tightened his legs around Obi-Wan’s waist involuntarily, hands fisted in the sheets, twisting them tight enough to tear. “Y— Yours. I’m yours,” he gasped, and Obi-Wan’s answering laugh was nothing short of victorious.

He pulled his head back for a moment, and Anakin pouted in protest. Obi-Wan let out a dark chuckle and stroked his finger over Anakin’s lips.

“Such a perfect, needy thing,” he whispered, before his hand drifted to the back of Anakin’s thigh, throwing Anakin’s leg over his shoulder with such strength that Anakin nearly fell apart right then and there.

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[sarcastic-soulmate]

When the Force Falls Silent

Chapter 2: Promises, Broken

The safe house had gone from mildly claustrophobic to downright suffocating.

Anakin had paced the length of it so many times he’d worn a path in the dusty floor. Three steps to the excuse-for-a-window. Three steps back. Three steps again. Three steps back.

The light outside was fading. Gold to orange to the bruised purple of early sunset.

Sunset, Obi-Wan had said. I’ll be back by sunset.

The sun was almost down.

Anakin stopped pacing. Pressed his palms against the cool metal of the window frame and stared out at the neon labyrinth of Nar Shaddaa. Speeders streaked between the towers like falling stars. Somewhere down in the depths, a siren wailed.

Something’s wrong, he thought.

He could feel that same cold dread not only winding through his chest, but lingering. Infecting. Tightening with every passing minute. He reached for the Force again, tried to stretch his senses toward the man who’d occupied his every thought for Force knew how long at this point, but his sense of him remained faint.

Not so much severed as it was… muffled. Just muffled. Like Obi-Wan was deliberately keeping himself hidden.

Or someone else was.

Anakin’s hand drifted to his lightsaber. He didn’t ignite it. Just rested his fingers on the cold metal, grounding himself.

Then he heard it.

Footsteps.

Not one set.

Several.

Moving with purpose.

Growing ever closer.

Anakin’s body went still. His training kicked in. His breath slowed, his senses sharpened, his every nerve went alight with awareness.

Not Obi-Wan, he knew.

He could tell by the rhythm. Coordinated in a way that brought fear to Anakin’s heart and not comfort. The footsteps of people who worked together, who knew exactly where they were going.

They stopped outside the door.

Anakin’s hand closed around his lightsaber. He felt as if he were in the middle of a battlefield, but at least in those times, when he went rogue, it was by choice.

He was all alone.

There were no orders to disobey.

The door didn’t burst open or explode inward with blaster fire and flash grenades. Instead, there was a knock. Polite and almost casual.

How sad, Anakin thought, to miss the opportunity for a dramatic entrance.

Maybe things like that just came naturally to the son of the Force.

Stupid or bold, Anakin wondered.

The answer came a second later when the door did explode inward.

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[sarcastic-soulmate]

When the Force Falls Silent

Chapter 1 - Darkness, Interrupted

It took two weeks for everything to fall apart.

Two weeks of hyperspace jumps and open skies, of salt on their lips and sand in their boots, of stolen kisses that tasted like relief.

Two weeks of warm hands and heads thrown back in laughter and ecstasy. Two weeks of pretending that the galaxy had stopped hunting them, that the Force had gone still just because they wanted it to.

That the future wasn’t waiting to collect its debt. That they had outrun consequence.

Looking back, Anakin thought, maybe they had. Just not for long.

That became obvious when Anakin woke to cold metal beneath his spine and the sharp, metallic taste of blood at the back of his throat.

For a breathless moment, he reached for the Force. He felt it answer, distant but prescient, a low, familiar buzz beneath the pain. Relief flickered, brief and fragile. He was alive. He was still himself.

Obi-Wan was not there.

The realization settled heavier than the restraints biting into his wrists.

Historically, Anakin thought that happiness announced itself with warning signs, cracks and hesitations and the irritating, foreboding sense that something was about to shatter into a million miserable pieces. But this happiness arrived whole and radiant, wrapped in beaches and starlight and Obi-Wan’s voice uttering his name like he was so sacred even the Force itself paled in comparison.

That should have been his first clue.

He forced his breathing to steady, counting the rise and fall of his chest, the way he had been taught by Dooku as a child. The room was small, windowless, dimly lit by a single strip of white light overhead, its hum grating against Anakin’s skull.

Other than oil and recycled oxygen, the room smelled of something vaguely scorched.

He just hoped it wasn’t himself.

A holding cell, then. Not a prison meant to last, at least, he didn’t think it was.

Anakin’s head throbbed as he shifted, testing the limits of the cuffs. They were anchored to the wall behind him, durasteel, magnet-locked. Thoughtfully done. His lightsaber was gone. His boots too.

Two standard weeks ago, Anakin had woken up tangled in Obi-Wan’s arms, salt still clinging to their skin and laughter soft between them, the galaxy held at bay by nothing more than stubborn hope.

Anakin closed his eyes.

He had known that this wouldn’t last. The peace they’d carved out for themselves— bloodied, desperate, theirs— it was foolish to assume that it would be anything more than momentary in their current political climate.

He was still the son of the Force. Still a Jedi, still a General, still the Chosen One, whether he wanted the title or not.

He just hadn’t expected events to unfold quite like this.

Anakin wasn’t in Scarif, the Republic as far as he knew was crumbling, and Obi-Wan was gone.

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[theunfairfolk]

ive forgotten the origin of "she blank on my blank til i blank" and i dont even begin to know how to look it up

[zzoupz]

bless know your meme

[paper-mario-wiki]

i will ALWAYS go up to bat for the academic necessity of KYM. memes have become such an important cultural language in the past decade and losing the origins of these neo-idioms would be such a tremendous and needless loss.

[spacemancharisma]

hey uhhh but fr the concept of fallen angels existing but risen demons being an impossibility is kind of a great summary of sin in christianity

[ashelyskies-deactivated20241121]

holy shit

[spacemancharisma]

no, no, come back here and tell me how stupid it is to talk about how the power dynamics inherent to christianity are built upon the rhetoric that failure is unavoidable and there is never enough you can do to make up for it

[unlikecharlie]

Listen I am an Ilya&Yuna&David parents-favourite child truther and I will fight anyone about it, and I will also readily admit I might be projecting a bit much here BUT

Give me an Ilya who absolutely loves Shane's parents. Who feels loved so so much. Who enjoys spending time with these people and cant stop marvelling at how well they've taken his and Shane's relationship, how quickly they've accepted him into their lives, how readily they carved a spot out just for him, how genuinely they love and care about him.

But it's not quite enough.

And he feels guilty about it and he hates himself and he thinks he's too greedy, too selfish, always wanting more, never having enough, never satisfied. But-

But.

No matter how much they love him, no matter how much he loves them. Yuna and David are not his. Not really. They're Shane's. Always have been, always will be. And while they could never even contemplate it and Ilya would sooner cut an arm off then put them in such a position (and it's not like he wouldn't want them to make the same decision anyway, he would make it too), if they had to choose between Shane and Ilya, they would choose their flesh and blood son over him any day.

There's this degree of separation. Minuscule, certainly, but it feels like a chasm sometimes. The knowledge wedged firmly between Ilya and the Hollanders that he is not theirs and they are not his.

Because Yuna brushes his curls out of his face with a fond, squinty eyed smile when he's being particularly sweet to her and Ilya’s heart pangs with faded, barely there memories of his mother doing the same when he was a child.

Because Shane rolls his eyes at her and groans about how embarrassing she's being and a small part of Ilya is jealous, just for a moment, because Irina isn't there to be embarrassing to Ilya anymore and he aches and he wants.

Because David listens to Ilya rant over a bowl of ice cream about how he fucked up during the Cens' last game and the man smiles kindly at him as he pats his shoulder gently and tells him, "You'll get it right next time, son," and Ilya has to blink really hard and shovel some more ice cream in his mouth so he doesn't start bawling because even when he played well, his father never had a kind word to say to him.

Because Shane scooches his chair closer to David's at the breakfast table so he can look over that day's crossword and work on it together, and Ilya's brow furrows, heart heavy, as he wonders why his father could never be bothered to include Ilya in anything he liked, why he never tried to show an ounce of interest in the things Ilya liked.

Because the thing is... having a second family, a soul family, a found family, is great. It's the greatest gift on earth. And it matters so fucking much. But there will always be a part of you that wishes you'd had that from the start, that can't help but wonder why you got saddled with the parents who didn’t care or why your own had to leave you so soon or what you did wrong as a child to get what you got but right as an adult to have now what you didnt then.

Give me an Ilya who loves the Hollanders and has a family in them and knows it but who can't help but feel like an outsider still at times, at random moments when something they do just hits this side of wrong and it makes Ilya want to cry and hide.

And give me a Shane, a Yuna, a David who hold him through it and love him just as fiercely and unconditionally as before, who don't hold it against him.

Give me a Shane who feels so broken up about it, so irrationally guilty for having had such wonderful parents his whole life, who tells Ilya one day, very quietly with tears in his eyes, "If I could give them to you, I would."

And give me an Ilya who snaps his head up with a terrified look in his eyes and scrambles to hold Shane's face tightly between his palms as he says, firmly, "No, Shane. I would not wish this on you. Ever. Not you." Because he'd rather feel like this forever than have Shane know even a tenth of the pain of not having parents (good ones or not at all).

And then give me an Ilya who fights through those feelings just enough, just for a moment, to find that love and acceptance he never thought he'd get to feel and admit that, "Besides, you already gave them to me. You've given me so much."

[dragon-in-a-fez]

"you don't know what you have until you lose it" works for things that suck too btw. sometimes you need to experience life without something for a while to realise oh damn that was some bullshit

[underratedgrapeju1ce]

i'm so fucking over it

[bad-faith-misinterpreter]

Oh so you'd rather use eugenics on animals and abuse them instead? 🙄

[underratedgrapeju1ce]

i was about to get violent then i saw the handle im crying

[god-of-identity]

i’d care if the person i reblogged this from vanished

idc if you reblog this from me but reblog it every time you see one of your friends or mutuals have reblogged it

[thecooler]

They should invent a falling asleep that is easy

[monstermouse]

invent a staying asleep that is also easy

[unwholesome-gay]

they should also invent a waking up that is easy

[rosefinchie]

how it all feels lately

[oneawkwardcookie]

I look in people's windows In case you're at their table What if your eyes looked up And met mine, one last time?

Prompt fill for @mxrrorbcll, as part of @911actions Gotcha for Gaza event. Submissions for the event are closed, but please continue to support this cause (contact your representatives, attend protests, etc.) and donate: whether that’s to one of the charities working in Palestine, Esims, or a GoFundMe.

[sarcastic-soulmate]

To Covet a Sunbeam

Chapter 2: Ignite

The hum of the ship filled the cockpit, as well as the occasional flicker of lights over the consoles. Kenobi’s hands rested lightly on the controls, but Anakin couldn’t stop noticing the way his sleeve brushed just a little too close to his arm, how the faint warmth seeped through the fabric.

Anakin tried to tell himself he was imagining it. His chest was still racing from running, from the adrenaline, but then Kenobi shifted slightly to lean over the navigation panel, eyes scanning something Anakin hadn’t even seen yet, and… too close. Too close.

Kenobi’s breath was hot against his cheek, and for a moment Anakin felt like the air had been sucked out of the cockpit. He swallowed thickly, trying not to make it obvious, trying not to betray the sudden tightness in his throat.

He had been so focused on the urgency of escaping together that he hadn't thought about what would come next. About what would happen once they were alone together, once they had all the time in the world and no limit to how they'd spend it.

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[jessiarts]

Based on actual events

[disneyprincessdxminatrix]

Once again @everyone: REBLOG stuff you like!

And DONT REPOST stuff that’s already here! WHY do we even have to go through this again huh? DON’T. DO. IT.

And if you share something from a different platform that isn’t on tumblr already you ASK the creator for permission and then give CREDIT!

[anannua]

reblog, don’t repost, this

[kintatsujo]

Terminology reminder: reblogging is Tumblr's in-site sharing system but REPOSTING is saving a picture from a post and then making your own post

I have seen genuine confusion about this in the past (largely from ppl more used to other sites that don't have a reblog system) that's the only reason I'm adding the explanation

[sarcastic-soulmate]

To Covet A Sunbeam

Chapter 1: Kindling

Dust choked the air, thick with the ozone crackle of lingering dark energy. The very stones of the Jedi Temple groaned and shuddered, as the fortress of light was now crumbling from a deeper sickness. Beneath its shining floors lay something older and far darker, the heart of the ancient Sith shrine, buried but never truly forgotten.

Now, that ancient power was awake. Perhaps it had never been as suppressed as the Order believed. Or perhaps the fury of two Sith Lords battling within the Temple’s sacred halls had finally shattered a millennia of delicate balance.

The result was the same. Raw, untamed energy rooted purely in the dark side of the Force surged upward. Stone split with a sound like a scream as the buried darkness finally began to claw its way free.

The scream of alarms tore through the duracrete corridors, a piercing wail almost lost beneath the thunder of Vesper’s— no, Kenobi’s and Anakin’s boots. The air was a suffocating fog, clouds of it swirling translucent in the frantic light of emergency strobes.

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[aropride]

sex actually isnt real they made it up for ao3