ooh more prompts! How about speechless for the disaster trio?
yes, haha!!! thanks for the proompt!! // from these prompts
speechless: ahsoka can’t talk because of a sore throat
Anakin knew that Ahsoka was miserable, although he wasn’t sure what she was more miserable about—the fact that she had a sore throat, or the fact that she had a sore throat and was still at this stupid party with kids who were Ahsoka’s age and unable to make any real conversation.
That was harsh, Anakin thought, annoyed. To have them both be here when Ahsoka could hardly say two words together without her face twisting or needing to drink water. And it wasn’t exactly easy for Anakin either—he hated the silence that stretched between them, one that was only punctured by Ahsoka’s occasional cough or a yes/no question.
“You holding up okay?” Anakin asked now.
Ahsoka looked at Anakin, her lips pressed together as though to say, what do you think?
“I don’t think she liked that question,” Obi-Wan said. He had returned with drinks—well, tea. Ahsoka took it with a halfhearted smile.
“I know, I know,” Anakin said. “Figured it was worth a shot.”
“Seems like a terrible shot,” Obi-Wan commented.
Ahsoka nodded.
A few kids passed them, one of them a girl who turned once to Ahsoka. Anakin noted the girl’s shy smile before she joined her friends. When Anakin looked at Ahsoka, she was pointedly staring up at the ceiling. Anakin looked over to Obi-Wan, who he noticed had been watching too. They locked eyes for a moment, and Anakin wondered what Obi-Wan would say—but Obi-Wan just looked at his drink.
“You know,” Anakin said after a few moments, “you don’t really have a lot of opportunities to meet other people your age.”
“I—” Ahsoka started, her voice cracking. She turned away, coughed. She glared at Anakin.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said.
“Sorry,” Anakin said, looking between his former master and apprentice. “I didn’t know you’d try to defend yourself.”
When Ahsoka kept glaring, Anakin smiled. “Listen—what I mean is, you don’t have a whole ton of opportunities to meet other people your age and have fun.” He pointed to himself. “Now, me? I’m plenty fun—”
Ahsoka rolled her eyes.
“—but I have a feeling that you might need other friends,” Anakin said.
Ahsoka looked at him. She pressed her lips together again. Then opened her mouth, ready to say something, and then closed her mouth.
She walked away, and Anakin blinked. He turned to Obi-Wan. “Was that offensive?”
“Not particularly, but she might just be trying to avoid conversation,” Obi-Wan said, sipping his drink.
“Very funny.”
But no, Ahsoka was just tapping a waiter’s shoulder. She held her hand out, and after a few gestures, the waiter passed Ahsoka a notepad.
Anakin smiled to himself. Of course she would figure it out.
Ahsoka marched right back, already scribbling something on the notepad. She turned it to Anakin, and in her scrawling handwriting, Anakin read: AND WHAT ABOUT YOU?
“I have friends,” Anakin said easily.
Ahsoka frowned, then scribbled something else on her notebook. She turned it back around to Anakin: OBI-WAN’S OLDER THAN YOU
“Hm,” was Obi-Wan’s only comment.
“Rex and I are around the same age,” Anakin replied.
FAIR, BUT THAT’S ONLY ONE. YOU SAID FRIENDS, PLURAL.
“I thought we were talking about you, not me,” Anakin said. He plucked the notepad out of Ahsoka’s hand, ripped out the first few written pages. He passed it back to Ahsoka. “And anyways, it seems like you’ve figured it out—go…talk to someone. Write to someone.”
Ahsoka blinked. She started to write something down, but Anakin shook his head.
“Go,” he said, shoving Ahsoka lightly. “Pretty sure that girl’s dying for some conversation right now.”
Ahsoka’s cheeks deepened in color. She looked at Anakin, already opening her mouth again, closed it. She looked at Obi-Wan.
“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin looked at him in surprise, but his former master was smiling at Ahsoka. Okay, then.
Anakin cleared his throat, turned back around to Ahsoka.
“That’s an order, Snips,” he said. “Go make friends. I swear I won’t get lonely.”
Ahsoka hesitated. Then, with a small smile, she turned around and walked away.
Anakin smiled a little after her. She’d be better than him with the whole people thing, he knew. As he watched Ahsoka talk—well, write—to the girl (and the girl, to Anakin’s relief, only smiled and spoke back), he figured that would be a good thing.
Thinking about the countless times art and music and cinema and literature have saved and comforted me during difficult times i really owe my happiness to everyone dedicated to their craft
What is your dad’s weird hyperfixation??? They all have one
put in the tags.. your comfort movie, the show that you never get tired of and the celebrity you want to hug the most ✨
take this mando fandom discourse quiz
anakin: i’ve decided i’m never going to be happy again. all my faith in humanity. gone. i hate it here.
obi-wan: give me a minute.
anakin: wait. wait, obi-wan no–
ahsoka, returning with obi-wan: hi master!
anakin, fighting back a smile: fuck
alrighty everyone, answer some mildly chaotic questions, and i’ll tell you which a+ star wars trope you are
I once received a DM comprised of just that sentence. Nothing else. No constructive criticism or any reason as to why this person clearly agreed with my own view of myself.
For someone who has never told anyone in their real life that they write anything, reading something like this from an anonymous user only solidified in my mind the fact that this person was right.
I’m not a good writer.
After an embarrassing amount of minutes passed, in which I thought about deleting every story I ever posted, I decided to delete the message instead. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean I could delete the feelings it caused or change the fact that I’m not a good writer.
Two weeks went by and I didn’t write anything, let alone post. Then I received a comment on a story I had posted three years prior, one I’d written after a death in our family. The comment read, “Thank you for sharing this heartfelt story. I really needed this. I just lost my mom and this really got me today.”
I stopped thinking about being a good writer after that. I thought instead, “what if I had deleted my stories and that one person three years later hadn’t read it that day?”
Here’s what I realized: no one is a good writer.
Good means to be approved of, but stories aren’t created from approval. They’re built from life experiences, feelings, and emotions Therefore, the impact of anyone’s story isn’t good or bad. It’s a million other things.
Heartfelt.
Sad.
Funny.
Inspiring.
Romantic.
So to all the story writers out there, hold your head up, write what is in your heart, and never doubt that there isn’t at least one person out there that needs to read your story.
So, no.
We’re not good writers, but why would we want to be?
i just made a uquiz for the first time!!! it is so fun to make oh my gosh :) sorry if it’s inaccurate but i tried hahah!!! have some free psychoanalyzing <3
which iconic piece of star wars music are you?
reminder that Sam Wilson
is still helping catch bad guys
can speak Arabic???? HELLO??????
is saving people's lives
when he sees things are going south at home, steps in to help
sent bucky texts probably to check in on him
has the time to be fucking hilarious during an intense fight
gave up the shield because he didn't feel worthy of it even though everything about him screams otherwise
has a lovely relationship with his nephews
handles disrespect gracefully even though he had every right to punch that fucker in the face
talks to redwing. like doesn't remote control him, he legitimately talks to him
ALSO HE FIXES REDWING. TECHNOLOGICAL GENIUS
AO3 | Adri | They/them | Yes hello Star Wars owns my soul | Said soul is also owned by ROTTMNT, LEGO Monkie Kid, Amphibia and Danganronpa, among several other things help
77 posts