#but he's also an idiot

[tennessoui]

Miss Kit updates from you never fail to cheer me up, and that was a tall order this week when I spent my birthday alone because of covid and had to cancel my party because I'm still testing positive, so thank you! If you're taking Prompts I'd love to see something where Anakin is ill or injured as misery loves company, maybe the bit in cheating au where he's hospitalised and Obi-Wan finds out/is in waiting room? No pressure though, just wanted to drop in and say your updates always make me happy

hey!!!! it's been uh. a month. maybe two months. so like. i hope you're no longer testing positive :D here is a 2k snippet set in the cheating au when obi-wan rushes to anakin's side after he loses an arm fighting. also when padmé may start thinking that there's something rotten in the state of stewjon.......

(2k) (cw: i wrote this on my laptop when the i key was sticking so who knows how many i's i've missed)

(also cw: cheating)

(this snippet is sorta mentioned, might be important to read for understanding of the verse)

Obi-Wan’s hands are shaking. They have been since the missive came in for Padmé and Obi-Wan had leaned over to read it when she’d gasped in horror.

Her husband had been wounded. There’d been an attack of some sorts, a robbery or a premeditated attack or something else all together, and Padmé’s husband had heard the noise from his gallery and gone to investigate. He’d decided to break up the fight with nothing more than his voice and his own hands, and he’d lost one in the process.

He’d lost a lot of blood as well, Padmé’s husband had. A lot of blood and an arm. Padmé had been right to be so horrified, so frantic in calling for a recess in the conference, just one long enough to gather her things from her Republic-funded room, brief the secondary senator from Naboo on the state of negotiations, and then hail a shuttle to the nearest space port. She was allowed to go with little fuss.

After all, it was her husband who had been hurt so drastically he had been airlifted to the best trauma center in Coruscant. She had children to comfort and hold and feed sweet words of reassurance to.

Obi-Wan logically knows that he must stay. He’d been told as much by Padmé herself—not outright, of course, she probably wouldn’t have thought to do so, but she’d squeezed his shoulder as she left the Hall and promised to comm him as soon as she could with updates on Anakin’s condition.

It was, after all, the duties of a wife.

But what of the duties of the lover? The affair? The man who knows for certain he has managed to slip his way into Anakin’s heart, wrap himself around it until its every piece belongs to him alone, nothing left over for the wife who has rushed to his side?

His hands ache with the need to hold, to feel at Anakin’s skin, his pulse.

He makes it ten more hours into the conference before he follows Padmé’s example. He does not stop to collect his things, nor does he brief the secondary senator of Naboo, parting with a “you best have been listening, mate, or our failure’s on your head”; he flew to this planet in his own ship, and he flies it now.

He utilizes every trick that Anakin has ever shown him about how to fly fast and how to fly well. Under the guise of Obi-Wan being the worst pilot in the history of Stewjon and Anakin being unable to be cordial with someone who signaled before they changed vertical lanes, they’d spent years sneaking out to the stars for activities that had nothing to do with flying.

But perhaps against his will or perhaps because his love for Anakin had to better him in some way in order to be endured, he had also learned how to pilot the way Anakin piloted.

His hands shake the entire time. It’s the one concession he will give himself to the roar of emotions that feel like they’re tearing his insides to shreds.

His comm buzzes and when he checks it, an hour out from Coruscant, it’s a message from Satine. He doesn’t read it. He has long since stopped caring what his wife has to say about any matter, and the matter of this affair in particular. 

They had never particularly loved each other, though he thinks they both were convinced they did upon their marriage. But what he feels when he thinks of Anakin Skywalker dooms every other love he’s ever felt in his life to pale imitations.

They had never particularly loved each other, but it’s only been in the last year that Obi-Wan has felt resentment bubble up in his soul. His wife is one more thing that makes Anakin leave his bed early in the morning. Obi-Wan’s wife and, well.

Obi-Wan has been arguing with the health droids for ten minutes before Padmé appears from around the corner. She’s still wearing her Naboo regalia, though it looks much more worn. She must have arrived hours ago, yet she’s not left at all yet. This observation makes Obi-Wan’s heart seize up in fear. Has Anakin taken a turn so nonsensically towards the worst? 

Padmé looks startled to see him. She looks relieved though, too.

If Obi-Wan were a better person, he’d let the guilt of it all eat him alive. As it is, he’s not a better person. He’s a politician, and he wants something.

“Padmé!” He says upon seeing her. “How is he? Please, tell DR-023 that I should be allowed to see him.”

Padmé blinks, as if she can’t understand the stimuli her brain is showing her. “Obi-Wan, you came.” 

“Of course I came, Padmé,” Obi-Wan replies and knows he should say something else, but the words are tricky. He wants to say, because I love him. Because it’s Anakin. Because I know he would want me there. Because if it were me in that medical bed, I would want him beside me.

All of this is too incriminating. Padmé, though she still does not know about her husband’s infidelity, is not an unintelligent woman.

So he says, “I view you all as my family.”

This is uttered with a pointed look at the medical droid, barring Obi-Wan’s passage to the rooms of the hospital. Though heavy-handed, it seems to shake Padmé into action, and she swoops forward to key in the Skywalker room code into the droid’s bank, allowing Obi-Wan passage.

“Thank you,” he tells Anakin’s wife, and then when he cannot wait a second longer, “how is he doing?”

Padmé guides him back to Anakin’s room, and Obi-Wan lets himself be guided. “He’s—he’s going to be alright,” she says. “They—they won’t fit him with a prosthetic, not while he is unconscious and cannot consent, but they’ve taken him out of bacta and done several blood transfusions. Mine took, thank the stars.”

Obi-Wan swallows and stares forward so as not to give into the monster inside of him that roars in jealousy at the idea that Anakin and Padmé’s bloodtype match. That once more, Obi-Wan is made an interloper.

“Quite,” he replies faintly, for they’ve entered the room. There on the bed, looking much too still and ashen, is the love of his life. It takes all of his training in politics and appearance to stop himself from running to his side, grasping at his one hand, and raising it to his lips. The japor snippet around his neck burns with his need to touch and feel and heal.

Padmé, unaware of his agony, walks to the other side of Anakin’s bed, ghosting her fingers over his missing forearm with a haunted sort of expression.

“I was just going to leave to relieve the nanny,” she confesses, brushing a piece of hair away from Anakin’s face. Obi-Wan stiffens and forces himself to relax. “The twins haven’t seen him yet. I thought about getting them when I arrived, but….”

The twins live a charmed life, five years old and untouched by every great unfairness in the galaxy. Obi-Wan would hesitate to retrieve them as well, not when it would mean they would have to—at least for a moment—confront the senseless violence of their world.

“They should see him,” he tells her gently. Anakin would want that. “Please, I—I can get them if you do not wish to leave him.”

“I’m perfectly capable of parenting my own children,” she snaps. When she looks up, her gaze is hard.

Interloper.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan gentles his tone, his mannerisms, and steps back from the bed though that distance kills him. “Whatever you want, Padmé, I am only trying to support you.”

Anakin’s wife stares at him for several seconds, before glancing down at her husband. “You’ll call me if he awakens?”

“In an instant,” Obi-Wan promises, and she nods once, slowly and then with a fast upward tilt of her head. She navigates around the bed, and Obi-Wan moves closer to the very bounds of what is allowed.

He doesn’t watch her leave. He cannot tear his gaze away from Anakin’s slack face. There will be scars on it, wounds so deep that the bacta could not heal them perfectly in time to save him from the blemish.

Obi-Wan already finds them beautiful, because it is Anakin and he finds Anakin beautiful always.

He doesn’t watch Anakin’s wife leave, so he is startled to hear her speak. Startled and deeply grateful he hadn’t given into the impulse to touch her husband’s cheekbone. Stewjoni are affectionate, but not that affectionate.

“I am glad you’re here, Obi-Wan,” she tells him. Her tone is unreadable and when he turns around, her face is the same. 

“Oh?” Obi-Wan asks when she does not immediately continue. 

And then for a moment his heart freezes in his chest as he follows the descent of her eyes. Sometime between leaving the conference and arriving at the hospital, he’d taken his heavy, ceremonial Stewjoni cloaks off. His shirt is unlaced most of the way, his chest almost on display.

But she’s not looking at his skin.

The japor snippet lays lower than the shirt cuts, thank the gods, but there’s something in her eyes that looks like a denial. A rationalization. She’d seen the same leather cord around her husband’s neck for two years before he’d lost that pendant.

Before he’d given it in secret to its intended recipient and told his wife it must have fallen off in some restaurant on some planet.

He tries not to move, to hold his posture exactly as it is. Any sudden movements would read as guilt.

He has nothing to feel guilty about.

He has a whole galaxy’s worth of wrongdoings to feel guilty about.

“Why’s that?” he asks, prompts her towards speech in a voice that he prays is not shaking.

Her eyes snap up to his face. They’re unreadable. She is unreadable. She is the last thing that stands in the way of Obi-Wan being able to cradle Anakin’s head in public, kiss him in broad daylight, and if he loved Anakin less, he would tear off the necklace and throw it to the ground in  front of her feet, dare her to rationalize that coincidence away, the same way she’s rationalized all the touches she’s seen, all the heavy looks, lovers’ feuds, piloting lessons.

But he loves Anakin.

And if a team of droids refuse to operate on him without his consent, he can’t just go and reveal their affair to his wife without the same.

“Why’s that?” he asks again, when she doesn’t say anything. He crosses his arms, higher than he usually would, in case the japor snippet is peaking out from the edge of his shirt collar.

“They said he was calling for someone,” Padmé Amidala-Skywalker says, soft as rain and bells and lace. “They thought it must have been his wife. When I told them I was his wife, they called me Mrs. Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s shoulders tense with the effort not to look at Anakin. He wants to see him suddenly so bad that it hurts, but he forces himself to hold eye contact. “How strange,” he murmurs instead of the myriad of things he wishes to say. “I’ve always thought the name Obi-Wan to be quite masculine.”

Padmé says nothing, but she does leave.

It feels less like a surrender, more like a retreat.

[jugglingjujube]

also just remembered the time he said i wasn't filipino despite the fact my mom was born there????????

like buddy you can't really be that stupid

[therelentless]

ooc;; nandor was so powerful as a human and it’s so powerful as a vampire 🥰

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

I remember discussing Tintin casting choices with a friend from Germany and remarked how it was odd he often has an English accent in adaptations rather than a Belgian one, and my friend just replied "that's because Tintin gives incredibly strong English boy energy (derogatory)"

Here in the UK there's a lot of weird classism tied into accents. Today accent diversity and representation in broadcasting is actively pursued but in Tintin's time there certainly was a preferred accent to have.

imagine this exchange happens between pages 28-29 in The Crab with the Golden Claws

[crawley-fell]

[egophiliac]

C'MON TO THE THEATER!

I love these guys so much. forget NRC, I want to attend their terrible disaster school for disaster children that might actually be plastered on top of the smoking remains of an actively sinking ship. I may or may not actually learn anything, but I will have the time of my life.

[skullism]

rereading aftg and realising just how oblivious neil was is truly hilarious

just a few pages ago renee told neil andrew is gay and neil literally had to lie down to process it, now he's admitting he watches andrew at the gym and is impressed by how much he lifts??? dude. you are down SO bad

[starwarjotta]

Day 3 - cloak thankfully Obi-Wan's robe cloak is big enough to wrap around a certain Commander who might've been tossed into the freezing river during a mission oh and when there's a chance to make something even more Codywan? ofc I'll do it, here's a bonus

it was a long mission, okay

[shripscapi]

I don’t usually share my oc stuff on tumblr but I like this one and I worked hard on it so I am going to anyways <3

[lazylittledragon]

alt dads ft. eddie finally realising how bad he fucked up

[goddess-of-silvers]

I know everyone’s mad at Aziraphale right now because of how the season’s ended but I don’t think we’ve talked enough about the fact that Aziraphale has been keeping a diary for centuries (based on the fact the entry we see is from volume 603) and he literally starts his entries with “dear diary, last month Crowley and I both happened to be in Edinburgh”.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 187

Clockwork would openly admit that he couldn’t see Danny’s timelines. Not since the moment he stepped into that portal and became something more. A child of Infinity, of the very Realms itself. 

But he’ll also admit that it always meant that the child surprised him all the time. This just happened to be a startling surprise, and an admittedly amusing one, even if Danny was openly complaining about the situation. 

“It’s not fair! You have to be able to fix this, right? Right?!” the ghostling, quite literally now, practically yanked at his cloak. “Clockwork, I was going to graduate, I can’t be two! Please, you’re the master of Time, you can fix this right!?” 

No, no he could not, seeing as young Daniel was in fact, immune to timeline machinations, doubly so for his own. To the ghostling’s open distress, which he did his best to soothe. What he could do instead, was stop time in his home dimension, and instead let him age back up again. 

Which the young halfa wasn’t happy about, but it was the best thing they had, so Clockwork supposed he had a ghostling now. A tiny adorable ghostling who kept pouting each time his much younger body had any sort of effect on his behavior. 

He’d never exactly had a ghostling before, nevermind one who was part human, but he would admit he honestly was enjoying it. Most time was spent alone, something he hadn’t realized until Danny ended up crashing into his unlife. 

Honestly he would openly admit that he absolutely adored his little ghostling. Who was now around four, at least physically, and had gotten into the adorable habit of curling up in the pendulum in his chest. Which was honestly the safest spot in Long Now, he’d admit. 

The singular issue however, with this habit, was that when someone attempted to summon him, they got his ghostling as well. And well, normally he could very much control himself for these summonings that happened every few hundred or so years, but well. There was a reason why even the Observants had stopped popping in the moment they realized he had a ghostling. 

Nesting ghosts do not mess around should they feel one is messing with their very vulnerable child, and really it’s not his fault the mortal cultists woke up and startled Danny. Perhaps deleting them from the timeline was a bit too far, if the other mortals rapid paling was to go by, but oh well. 

[call-me-strega]

Dc x DP Prompt #8: Best Friend’s Brother

Preface: this prompt can be used with different characters but I’m writing it as Dead on Main bc that’s my favorite. Also the colleges I mention are real colleges from the DCU

~~~

Danny Fenton was 18 when he moved to Gotham for college.

It was the only place with a half decent engineering program that would take a kid with his record; drop in grades, unexplained absences, missing class, a disciplinary record, etc. Plus there was a decent saturation of both magic and ectoplasm in Gotham’s air. After he got accepted he decided to tell his parents he was Phantom. They reacted surprisingly well all things considered. They were horrified to learn they’d been hunting their son but it quickly turned into acceptance to listen to what he had to tell them. Now they turned their obsession from hunting ghosts to learning more about ghost more humanely. He also managed to get his former rouges to agree to call off any major shenanigans in favor of less destructive outlets. (He got Ember a TikTok and a YouTube channel, he set up a drag racing circuit in the realms for Johnny and Kitty, let Technus enter the internet as long as he stayed within Amity’s grid or help Ember manage her stuff, allowed Desiree grant wishes for Make a Wish Foundation kids so long as she didn’t horribly twist them, etc.)

Now with the town not at constant risk of danger and his parents agreeing to really handle any rouge ghosts, Danny could leave Amity with a clear conscience. His friends were also growing up and heading to their own colleges. Tucker was heading to Ivy University in New England, which rivaled MIT in terms technological prestige, and Sam decided on Vandermeer University in Pittsburg, which had a reputation for being a very liberal, anti-authority campus. Although their trio would be spread out, Danny found comfort in the fact that they’d all moved from the Midwest to the Northeast.

With promises to stay in touch a visit. Danny got set up in GCU’s dorms, ready to move into the next chapter of his life.

~

Danny Fenton was 20 when Tim Drake (age 19 but nearing 20) officially became one of his best friends.

They had been introduced to each other by their mutual friend Sebastian Ives for a new Warlocks and Warriors campaign. Their friendship extended beyond WnW when they ended up on the same Applied Physics and Mechanics class. It was cemented when they got pair up for a project in class and had to spend lots of time around each other.

Danny didn’t mind that Tim tended to be a bit flaky and Tim didn’t mind that Danny was possibly not 100% human. They didn’t ask each other too many questions about that stuff. They knew the other had something odd about him and that was fine with them. It was nice to have a causal friend they could be normal with, without being questioned about their more peculiar behaviors.

They officially became best friends when the built a Rube Goldberg machine with a working trebuchet within an hour of the three they had to complete it for their Applied Phys-Mech final. Danny introduced Tim to Sam, Tucker and Jazz. Tim introduced him to Steph, Tam, and Cass. They texted and hung out fairly often. They truly did consider each other one their best friends.

~

Danny Fenton is 22 when he meets Tim’s family.

Tim’s 21st birthday is coming up and he has plans with his family the day of and is going out with his friends, including a couple from out of town, that night. They want to take him out for his first drink and it’s fortunate timing since it’s the weekend so nobody has to worry about classes. Everyone who was going was already informed that Tim would be spending most of the day with his family before Steph and Cass would bring to the club everyone was meeting up at. Which is why it’s purely a coincidence when he runs into them at BatBurger during the lunch rush.

Danny had just picked up the part-time job to earn a little extra cash to pay for his hobbies. Tim new about it but didn’t know the exact location he worked. That’s why they were both presently surprised when they heard each others voices in the drive through. When they pulled up to window Danny saw his friend leaning over a tired looking black-haired man, trying to stick his head out of the drivers window to give Danny a maniacal grin.

He quickly introduced the other passengers of the car as his dad, Bruce, and three of his brothers Dick, Jason, and Duke. He mentioned he had a fourth brother, Damian, who was still at home. Danny couldn’t really see everyone all that well on account of they were inside a car but he happily greeted them as well. They laughed and Danny wished Tim a happy birthday saying he’d see him at his celebration later tonight before handing them their food. He could the rowdy boys ribbing their brother as the car drove away and Danny resumed his work.

That incident seemed to have opened a gate because now Tim felt more comfortable inviting him over when his brothers were still around the house. He occasionally talked about his family more and Danny returned the favor letting snippets of his own family spill a little more. Occasionally, he’d see Tim’s family outside of his interactions with Tim.

He’d run into Damian, and sometimes Bruce or Dick was with him, at the museum or in the park while the younger had been walking his dog and stopped to say hi a couple of times. He chatted with Dick a couple of times when they were both in line to get coffee at a cafe. He saw Duke on a college tour once and waved at him.

The family member he probably saw the most other that Tim (and by extension Cass) was actually Jason. He’d ended up ditching BatBurger to get some more practical experience at an apprenticeship at the auto shop Jason went to to get his motorcycle serviced. The two of them got along pretty well and would often make conversation when Jason was waiting on his bike to be ready or to get his bill.

At first is was small talk about little things like how he and Tim were doing in class or how their days were going but they soon grew to have genuine interests in each other. Jason let Danny talk about space and mechanics and even gave his own thoughts sometimes, once helping Danny realize he was over complicating the circuit board of the device he was building. In return Danny let Jason ramble to him about literature, even taking the initiative to read a book Jason mentioned so he could talk to him about it better. Their conversation tended to be on the briefer side but were always enjoyable to both parties.

Danny actually liked being around Jason a lot but didn’t really bring that fact up a lot around Tim as it didn’t seem necessary. Tim was pretty glad that Danny got along with his family but he preferred to keep them in separate places in his mind. Danny knew and respected that, only really mentioning that he’d seen them recently and that they’d told him to say hi on their behalf (or die in Damian’s case occasionally).

~

Tim Drake was 22 when he came to a horrific realization.

Well, perhaps horrific was a bit of an exaggeration. Tim wasn’t necessarily horrified by the revelation. In all honesty he didn’t know how to feel. He felt an odd mixture of protectiveness, possessiveness, confusion, and optimism(?).

You see, Tim and Danny had been hanging out in the campus center, studying and goofing off when he got a text from Jason saying he was coming to pick him up for family dinner at the manor since he was closest and Dick was busy picking up Duke and Damian from their after school clubs.

“What’s up?” Danny asked him curiously.

Tim set his phone on the table and started putting his stuff away. “My brother is coming to pick me up for family dinner so I gotta head out soon.”

“Ah well I should probably get going too. Tell Dick I said hi.”

“Actually, it’s Jason. Dick is picking up Duke and Damian,” he said shoving his textbook into his bag.

“Oh? That’s nice of him. Hey do you wanna just head out together?” Danny asked, fidgeting with his hoodie strings.

Tim noticed a slight strain in Danny’s voice at the mention of Jason but didn’t comment. He just nodded his head sure and walked outside with Danny. They got out to the street when Tim realized he’d left his phone in the library. He faced palmed and asked Danny if he could hold his stuff so it wouldn’t slow him down as he ran back to the campus center to get his phone. Danny agreed to and hold his stuff and wait for Jason while Tim went back.

After getting his phone Tim started heading back to where he left Danny when he saw that Jason had arrived that Jason had arrived and was talking to Danny. He was about to call out to them when he noticed several things in quick succession. Danny was fidgeting with his hoodie, something he tended to do when nervous. The tips of Danny’s ears were a light shade of pink (it isn’t cold out yet?). Danny looked deeply absorbed in his conversation with Jason in a way that reminded Tim of how he talked about space. And Jason seemed just as absorbed in the conversation as well.

The gears in Tim’s head went into overdrive and he realized ‘Ah- Danny has a crush on Jason’. His eyes widened as his head whipped around to examine Jason again. He saw a look of genuine fondness in his eyes. Thus Tim was confronted with the aforementioned horrific realization and complicated feelings. Tim didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or both.

‘My dumbass best friend has a crush on my brother. And worse(?), my idiot brother returns those feelings.’

[nightgoodomens]

I love that David Tennant’s lovely little retirement plan is to do a Good Omens theatrical tour with Michael Sheen that basically never ends.

“I am not joking. I’m not joking about that.”

[holopossums]

he's more than just a guy to me. maybe some sort of creature

[goth--moths]

Is this anything