dearest @xeniaraven tagged me in this: show us 7 sentences from your latest WIP. thanks dee! <3 <3 <3
here’s a snippet from the qp obidala & very heavy background pining!obikin au where padme lives post mustafar and things don’t get back together quite so neatly:
“Obi-Wan,” she whispered, “I think I’ll be quite alright.” It was a lie knocked back after a glass of Corellian brandy, but it was one that needed to be told. “Please. You’re going to need rest.”
There’s a cool defiance in his eyes, one that reminds her so very much of Anakin that her heart screams for him. “If you insist, Senator.”
-
Padme’s halfway to Obi-Wan’s chambers when the ship-splitting scream of Anakin rushes her steps from an elegant glide to a rushed, frantic sprint.
i don’t remember whether i’ve done it / tagged anyone but no pressure tags of course for: @boonki @sonderwalker yo idk man i’m tired lmao
omg thank you for the prompt, I’m so excited to write it.! Your turn- 4 and 15 for the concerned prompts!! ❤️
welp this turned into a monster which you can find here!
Summary:
According to Stewjoni folklore, it was bad luck to tell someone you loved them.
To eight-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi, tucked away in a corner of the Archives that Master Nu hardly frequented, it made perfect sense. Promises compel and entrench in a way that statements can never truly encompass. There is something weighty that a simple phrase like I love you can never encapsulate. And that was that.
Really, he had no cause to revisit such an opinion.
we are eleven, evergreen
little things. our hands clasped tight:
felt tip body paint adorning our figures
and a mark of departures. if inked skin
held absolute truths, i was yours.
we both know better.
blame tumblr. it brought me to ruin.
just like you did, tearing blades of grass
from its roots. we climb high to the top of the tower -
there’s a frog there. it lies still.
‘froggy’, we called it.
it breaks me apart like -
i saw your head bent down, face flushed
and cheeks stained. i wanted to hold your hand.
we were both there when glass pierced your skin -
stemmed from jerky movements.
she said you didn’t want me to see you cry.
i thought it was because you wanted to be strong
in front of me. but now, aware of my sharp tongue
i wonder if you had been afraid.
i remember your last words to me that day
i can’t stay because someone simply asked me to.
but if you could,
if you had been in charge of your own destiny
would you have stayed?
would you have stayed for me,
for us,
the promise of what was to become?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Fandom: Star Wars
Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Anakin Skywalker
Words: 7,532
Rating: Explicit
They’re six inches apart. Anakin has somehow grabbed hold of Obi-Wan’s collars and he is pinned against the wall. Obi-Wan feels himself sag. “As punishment, I watched her die,” he says. For a man mourning, his voice is steadier than he thought it would be. “You know that.”
Anakin’s chuckle is filled with metallic mirth. “Now you know how I felt.”
Obi-Wan is acutely aware of his confession, the oh that escapes his lips, how his heart spirals deeper into his stomach, but it’s the memory of unbeing that hits him in the jugular. His former Padawan’s grief punches him simultaneously in the gut and their anguish reverberates mercilessly across the Force. “Anakin, you don’t really mean - “
Summary: AKA what happened on one of the nights when Ben & Devi lived together
Words: 560
The evening starts as it normally does. Devi wrestles her way into Patti's kitchen to try and see if she can get away with cooking (she can't) and then concedes to spag bol and garlic bread (or something equally flavourless). Devi throws a paper ball at Ben when they exchange flashcards for a quiz and he gets a question right that she doesn't, or groans deafeningly when he makes a damn good point on the essay she knows she can't replicate. They decide after a couple of hours that work sucks and continuing is futile, so they roam the house in search of something to do.
Tonight, they watch a movie. Ben's favourite is Shawshank Redemption. As one of the pacts they've made since their cohabitation (including not going to the caf together, or going to school together, or going home together), was that they watched something different every night. Devi's managed to get Ben to watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians, or Riverdale, or Teen Wolf (the movie, duh), but he'd put his foot down in History when he'd very angrily texted her 'you've chosen 3 times, i'm choosing later!' and she'd texted back with 'K.'
"I dare you to stay alert for the entire movie," Ben says, his smirk wider than an estuary.
"You know," Devi starts, leaning back on the cinema seat, "there are Bollywood scenes longer than this entire movie. I don't know why you think I'm going to struggle."
"Lack of musical numbers?" Ben supplies. "This movie is literally the opposite of colourful."
(It makes him think about how Devi's life is bold, italicised and underlined, and he wonders how it's taken this long for it to become a mess.)
"Grayscale, then?"
Snorting, Ben says, "Sure." As he scans the screen for the right film poster, he absentmindedly voices a thought, "Shira would have never let me watch this with her."
He doesn't notice how Devi's head jerks up from her phone. "How come?"
"She said if it didn't have Noah Centineo in it, it's not worth watching." Damn, they rearranged the whole selection screen and now everything was impossible to find. Wonderful. "Thank God we broke up so I can watch movies with substance again."
He doesn't notice the way Devi freezes. "W - what? When?"
"The day after my birthday. She fell asleep on me and told me I smelled like farts." He puts the remote down; maybe if he waited a minute he'd be able to find the movie. "And that was just like... bullshit I didn't need to put up with anymore, you know? I'm sixteen. I can wait to find a girlfriend that actually likes me."
He notices Devi frown at him, "I'm sorry, dude. You feeling okay?"
Ben shrugs. "Eh, the only difference is I don't have to pretend to know what brow sculpting is. It's fine." Finally, he sees the familiar backlit poster with that Papyrus copycat font that made him feel so joyous. "Thank God! You ready, Vishwakumar?"
He turns to face her the same time she flashes him with that coy grin of hers that kinda, sorta gears him up for something. "Hell yeah."
(Halfway through Andy's exit from prison, Ben realises that he's part of the decoration that makes up her life too, and it's not as bad as he thought it was going to be.)
Pairings: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov; Otabek Altin/Leo de la Iglesia
Summary: Yuri organises a stag do.
Words: 451
“Victor, I thought you said this place had a fuckton of zombies!” Yuri hissed in Victor’s ear. “I can count them on one hand, you moron!”
“You did ask me for recommendations,” Victor snorted, trying not to grip onto his coat too tightly. And in retrospect, he knew he would be right. He fought a trembling chuckle as Yuri scoffed, mumbling something about how everything sucked and God, wasn’t he a shitty best man and hell, he bet that Otabek was regretting this right now.
Watching the engaged couple in front of them merely clutch onto one another, like he and Yuuri were doing right now - except they were married, and husbands, and they had been for years - Victor doubted that they were anywhere near displeased. From Yuuri and Phichit’s combined experiences, it was considered odd in America for couples to combine wedding parties the way Otabek and Leo had (yeah, no one saw that coming). The only consolation was that he was ripped out of his comfort zone only once, because what with Makkachin’s old age he’d rather spend his nights splayed out on the couch and watching cringy soaps, thanks.
