#and he goes ‘are you asking to order

[heynhay]

you know i got halfway through this before realizing i probably subconsciously ripped the concept from an old tumblr post sorry

[tennessoui]

For the prompt list, nanny/single parent obikin would be amazing!!

(from this prompt list)

(the first time I answered this prompt two years ago, the nanny anakin au was born)

so to do something different, here's some gffa widowed anakin, nanny (sort of) obi-wan!

(2.5k)

It is hard to find time to grieve. There are too many things to do. Too many appointments to make, too many decisions Anakin isn’t sure he’s qualified for. Some decisions are easier than others. For example, the funeral will be on Naboo. There will be two services: a public one to honor Padmé’s public service, and a private one to honor who she was as a person. The casket will be closed, because his wife died when her cruiser exploded. There isn’t much left to bury anyway.

But some decisions are harder. Which flowers should go on her casket. What songs would she want sung and who should sing them? Would she prefer her grave closer to her ancestral home or the home she created in her adulthood?

If she told anyone the answers to these questions, it wasn’t Anakin. But then, the people who knew her best, who loved her most, died with her. Sabé, Rabé, Saché, Yané, all of her handmaidens—an assassination such broad strokes that it was impossible for it to fail.

So Anakin chooses Yali lilies, because Leia’s eyes linger on them the longest. He chooses a small Nabooian folk band to play after her service because their music is the first thing to make Luke lift his head from his coloring books in days. He formally requests that her body be buried among her ancestors, and the Nabierres agree immediately.

And he keeps telling himself that he will grieve, but there is so much to do. 

And then—then there’s after the funeral. Then there’s the rest of his life, sprawling out before him in a long, hazy road. 

There are more decisions to be made.

There are people who have opinions on them now, people who sat back and let Anakin muddle through flower arrangements and kriffing seating charts, who now step in to peer over his shoulder, monitor his every breath.

Should he really move the children back to Coruscant? Does he truly plan to continue to work as a mechanic in the Mid-Levels? Should he not think of the children, their needs? How can he support them on the thin amount of credits he makes? Would it not be better for the children to live on Naboo in the care of their grandparents and their extended family?

It would be what Padmé would have wanted.

Anakin cannot care about what Padmé would have wanted, because she isn’t here. Not to argue with him, not to make her wants known. She is dead. She doesn’t get to haunt him in the waking world too.

“What do you want?” he asks plainly, sitting down across the table from his two children. The twins blink back at him. Leia has finished her cereal. Luke has barely touched his.

“Bacon,” Luke says.

Anakin hadn’t meant for breakfast, but he figures it’s as good of a start as any. “Alright,” he agrees.

He stands once more and goes to the kitchen. It’s not exactly his domain. It was never Padmé’s either. The way Padmé grew up, food was made once you requested it—by droid, by cooking staff. Not by the hand of a Nabierre.

The way Anakin grew up, food was cobbled together carefully, sparingly no matter how much you requested it. And no matter how you cooked it, it always tasted a little like dust, which took the joy out of experimentation.

But the serving staff have been dismissed for the past two weeks to give the family time and space to grieve in private. 

(Padmé’s parents have been given a schedule for visiting hours for that exact reason.)

Anakin locates the pan; then, he locates the package of bacon strips.

When he glances up, both twins are watching him over the edge of their barstools, tiny faces showing both skepticism and incredulity.

“I want to know what you want to do,” Anakin says, raising his voice as he places the pot over the heating plate, the meat in a moment later. “Do you want to stay here with your grandmother and grandfather? Do you want to go back to Coruscant?”

The twins are quiet. Anakin twists his neck to look at them again, and they’re looking at each other, silently communicating the way only twins can.

“Where will you be?” Leia finally asks, looking at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes, bottom lip already jutting out.

Anakin blinks. “Wherever you are,” he answers.

“You won’t leave too?” Luke asks rather tremulously.

Anakin takes the pan off the heated plate and turns it off with a decisive flick of his wrist. “Of course not,” he says. “Come here.” He crouches down and barely has enough time to open his arms before the twins are there, pressing in as close as they can get to him. He holds them back just as tightly in return.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises into Leia’s hair. “Not without you two.”

—-----------------

It becomes apparent fairly quickly that this is, by necessity, a lie.

The twins don’t want to stay on Naboo, which Anakin is secretly incredibly grateful for. He doesn’t want to either, but he knows he’d just be called selfish should he express the opinion.

But the twins don’t want to go back to Coruscant either. This makes sense as well. It would be incredibly jarring for them to go back to living in the quarters they shared with their mother, her Upper Coruscanti apartments in the nicest district of the planet, without her there.

Anakin wishes it were as simple as sticking a pin on a planet and deciding to uproot the entirety of his family to live there. 

But it’s not.

Perhaps if he were still young, nineteen, newly free and in love with the taste of that freedom, it would be.

But he’s a widower now. He has his children to think about, their futures. Any planet he chooses must have what they need as well. 

And they are four year olds who have just lost their mother. Their needs are numerous.

What makes the decision for him in the end is that his boss knows a man from Stewjon, who is willing to hire him. Who is willing to pay a premium for his expertise with mechanics.

Anakin doesn’t know the first thing about Stewjon, other than that it’s an ocean planet in the Inner Core and his dead wife always said the Senators from Stewjon were so frigid and tight-lipped because they spent the first few days of each visit trying not to be seasick on the Senate floor.

Anakin isn’t sure why this is the very first thing he tells the man—his potential boss—he meets behind the counter in the mech-shop on Stewjon.

He’s left the children with their grandparents for the week—long enough to fly from Naboo to Stewjon, meet with his potential employer, interview, apply his work practically, and fly back out.

He’d explained to both twins why they had to stay on Naboo. He’d explained many times. That hadn’t changed the betrayed look Leia had worn as she saw him off. It hadn’t wiped the tears from Luke’s eyes.

“Ah, well, I can’t say I’ve heard that one before,” the mechanic says. He sounds amused, and Anakin is incredibly shocked to hear a Coruscanti accent. Everyone he’s spoken to since arriving planetside has had such a heavy brogue that he’d honestly struggled to understand their directions to the shop—Kenobi & Sons.

Anakin lets himself look again at the man behind the counter. He’s rather clean for a mechanic, he decides. His beard is red, a common factor around these parts apparently, but his beard is short and neat, trimmed to accentuate the strong lines of his jaw. His eyes are a stormy blue, the kind of blue that matches the Stewjoni ocean.

“Between you and me though,” the man smirks and leans onto the counter with his elbow. His tunic is dark gray, white starchy fabric peeking out beneath the v-necked collar. “I’ve never been a fan of Stewjoni politicians anyway.”

“Oh?” Anakin asks, sidling a step closer to the counter. The man has the beginnings of gray at his temples, and his eyes are lined with wrinkles. They don’t make him look old though, Anakin decides. They make him look…well-lived.

“I’ve not a head for politics much at all,” his future employer shakes his head slightly with a small smile. His eyes flick up and down Anakin’s face, lingering on his lips and then lingering longer on the scar over his brow. Anakin feels rather flushed under the inspection, and he shifts his weight forward until he’s leaning up against the counter too.

There’s something about this man that’s rather…magnetic. It pulls him in. It makes him want to linger.

Good characteristic for a shopkeeper to have, though Anakin privately decides that the man before him has a face that’s wasted on mechanics, buried under some ship’s underbelly in a backroom.

“Me neither,” he admits, a moment too late to sound anything but highly distracted. It makes the man smile again though, a flash of straight white teeth.

“Is there anything you do have a head for then?” he asks. His tone is light, airy, rather teasing.

This is the strangest interview Anakin has ever had.

“Um,” he says. “Well. There’s mechanics.”

“Oh?” The man’s eyebrow lifts at an elegant angle. He props his chin on the palm of his hand and looks up at Anakin through his eyelashes. “Then why come here to us then?”

“Um,” Anakin says, and not because the man looks rather unfairly flattering like this, amber eyelashes in sharp relief against the blue of his eyes.

They’re interrupted by the sounds of clattering in the backroom, stomping and cursing. The man before him straightens with a slight sigh and picks up the closest flimsipad. “And what brings you in here today, sir?” he asks rather loudly, pitching his voice back to the other room of the shop pointedly. “Problem with your speeder? Serving droid? Cruiser? If it’s your astromech droid, I regret to inform you that I’ll have to refuse you service on account of the fact that I don’t particularly care for them.”

Anakin thinks he splutters, but whatever noise he makes is definitely drowned out by the rather irritated shout of Obi-Wan! that comes from the back.

A moment later, a man storms through the door, looking annoyed. "We will service an astomech if that's what's broken, Obi-Wan."

Now this is a man that Anakin can believe is a mechanic. His nails are blackened with oil, and his bare, burly arms carry smudges of the stuff. He’s much broader than the man—Obi-Wan—that Anakin had been talking to. He’s bald with a reddened scalp and a rather large red beard that’s the antithesis of the other man’s in every way. His clothes are dirty, loose, and the color of ash. He looks older too—whereas Obi-Wan could easily be in his thirties, this man must be pushing fifty.

He snaps at Obi-Wan in a language that Anakin doesn’t understand. Obi-Wan shrugs and hands over the flimsi pad without argument.

“Um, actually,” Anakin says, feeling incredibly wrong-footed. “Which one of you is Kenobi?”

“I am,” both of them say. Obi-Wan’s smirking slightly. The other man’s voice is louder, carrying that Stewjoni accent so obviously lacking in Obi-Wan’s speech.

The older man closes his eyes as if he’s praying for patience. “We both are,” he says. “Though if your ship’s malfunctioned, sir, I’m the Kenobi you want to see. This one’s good for naught but magic tricks.”

“I have been told I’m rather good at other things,” Obi-Wan turns his smirk full-force at Anakin, dropping his eyes to Anakin’s lips once more.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker,” he says very quickly in a very normal tone of voice that is most definitely not a squeak. “I’m here to interview for a position. As another mechanic.”

“Oh,” the older Kenobi says.

“Oh,” the younger Kenobi says in a much different tone.

The older Kenobi pinches at his nose for a moment before turning around the counter and offering his hand. “Ben,” he says. “Ben Kenobi.”

Anakin takes his hand and shakes it, eyes traveling back to Obi-Wan. Is he supposed to shake his hand too?

“I’m the Son in the sign,” Ben says gruffly as if that answers his question.

“I’m the reason it’s plural,” Obi-Wan adds, busying himself with the contents of the counter. From what Anakin can tell, the man is just messing up the carefully organized piles of receipts. 

He decides that he would rather not get the job than point this out to Ben.

Ben huffs out something in Stewjoni that sounds downright insulting, but that doesn’t stop Obi-Wan from smiling sunnily up at Anakin. “My brother enjoys bitching and moaning that I came back home when I was seventeen, but he’s awfully quick to foist his children off on me when he’s called to shift at the rig offshore and Marci’s off-planet too.”

Anakin blinks. He feels like that’s the safest answer.

“Only thing good that blasted Jedi Order ever taught you was how to handle younglings,” Ben says, and then spits on the ground as if the words themselves have left a bad taste in his mouth.

Anakin blinks and wonders if he should say something to remind the brothers that he’s here. For an interview. “And my magic tricks,” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes slightly before catching Anakin’s eye and winking. With a wave of his hand, a flimsi-sheet flies over the counter and into Anakin’s chest. He catches it unthinkingly. “Would you like to sign in, sir?” “Get out of here,” Ben barks, snatching the flimsi from Anakin’s hand and pushing it back to the counter. “Like I said, the only one’s impressed with that is the younglings.”

“I don’t know, your man looks impressed,” Obi-Wan says slyly, even as he pushes himself away from the counter and around the edge of it.

Anakin isn’t sure what he looks like. He doesn’t think impressed is the word he’d use though.

When Obi-Wan brushes past him, the static electricity in the air jumps between their shoulders. Anakin feels as if he’s been shocked.

Obi-Wan must feel it too because he stops only a few inches away and looks at Anakin. For the first time, his expression is open. Curious. Considering.

“Get!” His brother insists, and Obi-Wan obeys, throwing one last look over his shoulder at Anakin before he slips out the door.

The shop feels somehow much bigger now that the other man has left. Ben sighs and rubs a hand down his face. He looks older now. More worn. “So that was my brother,” he tells Anakin wearily. “Who you would most likely see frequently if you were to take this job. I would understand completely if you would like to start by talking compensation.”

[the-casbah-way]

i’m assuming jamie was written out for real-world logistical reasons but i don’t think he could or should have come back anyway. when the attack dog goes rabid and gnaws through his own fucking leash there's nothing much anyone can do but stand there and watch. you can train a dog to bite for you but once they've got enough of a taste for blood they're going to stop giving a shit about who they've got between their teeth so long as there's something to tear into. maybe malcolm never had jamie on a leash in the first place. maybe jamie didn't bite because malcolm asked him to. maybe he just liked the taste of blood. malcolm hired a loyal dog and got what he paid for because at the end of the day jamie stayed so loyal that it became the death of him. loyal to the party. not malcolm

[mewniemoon]

Narinder as a dad would simultaneously be both "Kids are indestructible, they got rubber bones. Throw em off the roof for landing-on-thy-feet practice? Sure why not, theres a matress at the bottom they'll be fine, walking it off builds character, Shamura raised me and I turned out fine." and "These are my precious vunerable tiny darlings, my little meow meows, my kibby cats, and I will protect them with my entire being. The worlds cruel and unjust and if you even look at my baby shittens I will vaporize you to dust with my rage alone." And these are both true at once and can flicker on and off at any second.

[omtai]

i really wonder what makes customer think that when you put on a polo shirt with the store’s logo that that makes you all-knowing and all-powerful. I am being paid ten bucks to be nice to you. Give me a break

[nell0-0]

Emmet thinking: "Something is srsly wrong with Ingo. Do these peopel have something to do with it? Do they know whats wrong with him? Did they have something to do with it?"

Irida thinking: "God this guy is pushy. Is this what Ingo left behind? I'm not going to stop him from leaving obviously, but if THIS is how he can be expected to be addressed back home..."

Ingo thinking: "Man, I have so much shit to do. Maybe I could get Emmet and Irida's help doing it. They seem to get along."

What did the poor guy ever do to you

Ngl, this sounds like fanfic material. A one-shot at the very least. Too ansgty for me though, I prefer the funny and chaotic.

For context: 1 | 2

[softquietsteadylove]

Hii, can i request a drunk confession au? pretty please 🩷🤍

Thena who doesn't really drink much, wants to change things a little and drink more at this party the eternals have to attend, but she can not hold her alcohol to save her live and get terribly drunk.

The woman can barely stand, is talking nonsense, can get hurt if unsupervised, it's a miracle she didn't pass out in a ditch yet, so it's Gilgamesh duty to get her to her room safely.

When they are near her room, Thena starts telling her new friend her secret, she is in love with Gil!! but he can't know, she thinks he is soo charming and nice and beautiful and he is really stong and soo attractive, but he can't know.

And Gil is there blusing, because the love of his live just confessed her love to him but he can't do anything about it because she is very very drunk, so he just says "Gil? Never heard of him but he sounds nice, you should talk to him"

"To Gilgamesh!"

Cups of mead were raised in the air to celebrate the victory of the Strongest Eternal. Truly, it was a celebration of all of them--one's success was everyone's. The Eternal himself was happy to brush it off with a modest smile and a charming blush.

Thena smiled, raising one in her own hand, although she never actually partook in drink. She wasn't one for it--didn't like the taste, had no stomach for it. Her blood was too fast in her system, at least that was what she thought. Warriors did not need revelry.

Gilgamesh happily accepted three mugs and gulped them each down. He was good with revelry, and lucky he seemed so made for mirth and celebration. The townspeople happily jostled him in good humour.

Thena tilted her head as Kingo made his way over. There were times when Kingo could feign annoyance or reluctance to partake in their celebrations at times, but he and Gil had much in common in their characters.

He gave Gil a solid pat on the back, of course waving his hand from having slapped the metallic back of his armour. Kingo gave her a genial smile. "Come on, T, I thought you'd be in a good mood."

"I am."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Y'know, not being in a bad mood doesn't make it a good one."

She offered no further comment, looking at Gil again. He was attempting to move away from being the centre of attention. He was made for good times, of course, but he had a shyness to him, too. He was slowly gravitating in their direction.

"Loosen up a little, T," Kingo advised her quietly, and at a distance she would strictly forbid for anyone but him and her sisters. "It'll make him happy if you relax some."

She bristled under her skin. He was right. And after the fight they'd had today, she wanted Gilgamesh to find some reprieve from the ravages of the Deviant world outside Babylon's walls. She smiled at him from afar, even taking a sip of mead (it tasted awful).

"Hey," Gil smiled at her as he finally reached her side, replacing Kingo as the latter went to bug their smallest sibling. "I thought you didn't like ferment?"

She did not. But she smiled at him, "surely it is beloved for a reason."

He shrugged, taking another sip of his own. "It can be nice after a tough day."

She felt as if every sip she swallowed could be felt like a hot rock, travelling down her throat and then dispersing through her veins. Not even their senses could communicate such things, but she certainly felt herself succumbing to the fever of it. "You should rest."

He looked around the room, people partaking in the party and high spirits. "They wanted to celebrate us. It's silly, but they all worked hard to make this stuff. Seems a waste if we don't stay for even a little of it."

Such a soft heart, her Gilgamesh had.

Thena tilted her head, letting her eyes travel over the form of her partner for every and all battles. They had worked as well together today as any other. She had been airborne when she had seen Gilgamesh deal the last, finishing blow. It was impressive, even for an Eternal.

He was quite good at grasping her waist to throw her up in the air.

"The people here are nice," he commented very simply, but very honestly. He raised his cup for another sip.

She found herself mirroring his actions, as if it were the same as matching his rhythm in a battle. It was becoming easier with each sip. "They are."

Sersi was having a wonderful time, dancing with the women. Ikaris was hovering awkwardly, unknowing of how to insert himself but always looming over their sister's back.

Druig and Makkari were both having fun taunting and riling the various tradesmen sitting around the edges of the room. Now, that was a pair made for mirth and merriment. Even more so than Kingo and Sprite, who were having a drinking contest, much to some horror in the eyes of those who did know that Sprite was the same as her siblings in every way that mattered.

Ajak was watching from above, a funny look on her face, before disappearing, probably to wherever Phastos was hiding.

"Y'know I asked Ajak," Gilgamesh began quietly, having followed her gaze up to their leader before her departure. "She said that there were a few injuries, but no one died."

That was good news, worthy of revelry. Some battles would always have casualties, but every day in which they managed to escape with minimal loss was deserving of celebration.

"Thanks to you," she volunteered rather eagerly. He took another sip, and so, as did she. "You killed that thing all but single-handedly."

"Ah," he made a sound to excuse her flattery, taking on a bashful grin again. It pushed up the apples of his cheeks to the corners of his eyes. The lines indicating his good mood were tempting to her fingers. "None of us fight single-handed. It's all of us, together."

"Hm," she agreed, to a point. Indeed, they all fought together out there, as a team. But she often was of the opinion that Gilgamesh carried more than his fair share of the work on his wide shoulders. Wide, strong shoulders. She tilted her head. "Ikaris could do more."

Gilgamesh immediately snorted some laughter but turned his head towards her. "Thena!--you can't say that about your brother."

She rolled her eyes, happily swaying her head to and fro. It felt loose on top of her neck. "It is precisely because he is my brother that I may say that."

He partner merely chuckled, hiding it in his cup. Was it not yet empty? Hers was. "Okay, fine, just don't let Ajak hear you saying that. She'll make you two go on a bonding walk again."

It had been less of a walk and more a watch duty during which they had been all but physically shackled together. They had done their duty, surveilled the area. Then, once again within sight of Babylon Temple, Thena had kicked him from behind and clear through the city walls.

She had been scolded by both Ajak and Phastos, but she had no regrets.

She sighed, examining the bottom of her clay cup with only a stray drop swirling around within. "I would rather walk with you."

Gilgamesh said nothing of the plain but oddly sentimental remark. He looked at her, catching the way she was examining her vessel. "You okay?"

"Hm," she said again, and Gilgamesh always understood her little noises. No one else would. She tossed the cup onto the nearest table. It did not fall, but she hadn't done so with particular care either.

"Hey." Gilgamesh reached for her hand. He wasn't reprimanding her, but it was more than just curiosity in his voice. He grasped the hand that had tossed her cup away like a pebble.

She watched his hand apprehend hers. It was gentle, and soft, just like everything he did with her. Gilgamesh was kind, of course, but it was not mere kindness when he held her hand like this. Like he had been doing ever since they touched down on the planet.

"Look at me," he whispered. The chatter of the room faded and she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek as he drew her face closer to his. The warmth of his palms added to her feeling of basking in the sun, like a lizard on a hot rock.

She swayed in his grasp, no longer caring if her knees were up to the task of walking. Perhaps she was more fatigued from the fight than she had first anticipated. What funny thought; she laughed.

"Whoa, hey," Gilgamesh moved closer, catching her against him before she could lean too far off her feet. He held her carefully, even casting glances around them. "Thena, you don't seem good."

She felt good, though, borderline ecstatic. It felt wonderful to be leaning on him like this, and her head felt as if she were being carried, rocking back and forth with the breeze. She pulled her head up, taking in Gil's concerned look and deep brown eyes. "Do you always look like this?"

His face contorted. It was a handsome face. "We gotta find Ajak."

Thena pointed, although she frowned when Ajak was no longer looking over them from the mezzanine. "She's gone somewhere."

"Okay," her companion said gently. He moved her more within his grasp, although still encouraging her to try and use her feet. "Let's get you to bed, huh? That sound good?"

"Bed," she remarked. They each had their own rooms in the temple. She would rather just sleep on the Domo. But Ajak said it was better for them to integrate themselves...somewhere...or something.

"Bed," he repeated, guiding her quietly towards the edge of the room to the nearest corridor. "You can get some rest, Thena."

She blinked. Her vision felt bleary, her feet as if they weighed...too much. "You know me."

He chuckled next to her. Her palm could feel the rumble of his chest against the plate of armour. He had a big, strong chest. "Yeah, I do know you."

She blinked, finally in the corridor. At least there was more air. "Do you know everyone?"

"Well, not everyone," he continued to laugh, as if she were oh-so-very funny.

She sighed, tilting her head against his shoulder. It was comfortable, and it allowed her to peek at the moon on their way to wherever he was guiding her. "Do you know Gilgamesh?"

"Uh... "

The delay was too long. Anyone who didn't know Gilgamesh was living a life bereft of joy. Thena leaned heavier on her walking assistance. "Gilgamesh is...the very best on the planet. On this planet, or any!"

He swayed from her outburst, trying to hold her both carefully and delicately.

She looked at him again. Her hand even came up to touch his cheeks. She liked the hair around his lips. It drew attention to them. "He is the very best. Kind, sweet, very funny. And he's handsome."

Her companion turned a peculiar shade of red. "O-Oh?"

She nodded, distracted for a moment by her hair swaying into her view. "He's kind, and sweet, and he's funny."

"You did say that."

She pursed her lips. Did she? "And handsome. And strong--he's quite good at lifting me, throwing me."

"Throwing you?"

"When we're fighting together," she sighed again. It was a happy sigh, though. "Fighting is when I may touch him all I like."

Again, he turned a shade of red.

"Off the battlefield I must control myself," she lamented. Not that she was always desiring to touch him. Or perhaps she was, based on what she was saying. "But something about him is so magnetic. One wishes to be as close to him as possible."

"Is that so?"

She stared ahead. They were at her room. It was her bed in front of her. But she didn't like her bed. "Oh."

"Are you okay?"

She looked at her friend again. He was lowering her to sit on her bed. But she didn't like sleeping. It was hard work. And sometimes she would sleep in Gil's bed instead. She preferred Gil's bed. "I miss Gil."

Her companion lowered her arms gently, setting her hands on her lap. She liked his arms. They were thick, but also soft. "You, uh, you should tell him."

"Hm," she pursed her lips. She didn't want to, for whatever reason she could not recall at the moment. "I don't think I should."

He was lying her down on her side, pulling her linen blanket over her. "Why not?"

She tried to tilt her head at him but it was already on the pillow. She wished it was on Gil's chest. "I don't know how to tell him I love him, I think."

"Well," he chuckled again, before leaning in and pressing a kiss on her hair. "I bet he'll understand, no matter how you try to tell him."

That was true, Gilgamesh always understood her.

[acircusfullofdemons]

Was writing something up for RoseWood and realized. Emory and Myriam never ... got fired. Myriam turned Emory into a cat and Emory invertedly caused Myriam to be tried as a Witch -- but Richard never FIRED them. He never told stop working at RoseWood?? Which like. Getting turned into a cat and poltergeist respectively might make work difficult ... but I guess not impossible in Richard's eyes.

I think somewhere down the line either Myriam quit or Richard did fire her as she ... can be difficult, without getting too much into it. Emory still very much works for him so like. imagine. you just got employed by a mysterious vampire and the first coworker you meet is a cat. would you stay yes or no

[echo-stimmingrose]

Thinking about Pjo Zeus trying to subtly get rid of his children as soon as they pose too much of a threat like my Thalia headcannon. And how Jason cannot fly but rather control the winds underneath him. So say he's in the air one day, where he's supposed to be safe, in his dad's domain, when all of a sudden the winds stop listening to him and he's powerless with nothing to do but pray desperately for his dad to help, only to remain unheard as he falls to his inevitable demise.

[laugtherhyena]

Playlist listened to while writing; https://spotify.link/WzxvdTKBCJb

Holy shit dude, the ceo of rei angst wrote some rei angst what the HELL!! We have to kill her guys she cant keep getting away with this.

Anyways im gonna be writing about a lot of these nerds. I just love rei. This is really rushed and I am really sleepy so it is not my best writing.

Also i cannot write teruya so you will habe to ppppUT UP WITH IT.

Warnings for like. Violence and my attempt at writing a breakdown.

-

Rei held the rusty pipe like a baseball bat, swinging for a homerun as she smacked off the head of someone she once knew. Someone who had abandoned her long ago.

The rotting head of what used to be her mother rolled on the ground, sickly green skin squishing against the ground and stared up at her with lifeless eyes.

“I didn’t want to see you again like this,” Rei hissed as her chest heaved, “i wanted to see you staring with regret as you saw your daughter on top of the world. I didn’t want to kill you or see you dead.”

That had been the second time she had run into her zombified mother. The first, she had been a coward, unable to kill her and her father– the two people she hated most, the two people who had abandoned her and left her on the streets.

Where had all her rage gone that time. When had she become soft.

-

Midori clung to Ryutaro with all the strength in her frail body. “My brother,” she whispered, “i saw my brother’s corpse down there. Kakeru… he… they got Kakeru… they killed Kakeu…”

He didn’t say much in return, but he did pat her hand briefly– the only comforting action he could manage while carrying her.

“I see a store up ahead. Let’s stop by there for supplies.” Keisuke pointed out to the leader of the bunch.

Setsuka patted the clown on the back and gave him a smile. “Sounds good, lead the way. Maki, do you need me to carry Yamaguchi for a bit?”

Midori wrapped her arms and legs around Ryutaro a bit tighter at the suggestion, very much attached to the guy who had found her and saved her from zombies.

“I’ll be fine until we reach the stop.” The blonde nodded his acknowledgement to the bluenette, forcing a smile as he struggled to catch up.

The group walked in silence for a bit, the only sounds being the orchestra of distant zombie groans.

“Miss Yamaguchi,” Hikaru said after bit, his tone fatherly like usual, “may I check your pulse soon? And may I check if the swelling on your ankles has gone down?”

“Yeah, that… sounds good. Thank you, Uncle.”

-

Kanata removed the bandages from Ayame’s arm gradually.

“There isn’t any sign of infection, Hatano. Kinjo and Maki are still out, so… uhm… can I get you something to eat?” The surgeon spoke softly as she stared at the sprinter.

“I’m not hungry…” Ayame mumbled.

“Inori!” Tomori slammed the door open, her eyes sunken from lack of sleep, “i think i got bit. Check! Check, please!!”

Kanata bit back a sigh of exasperation and forced out her cheerful smile. “Of course. Where do you think you were bit this time?”

“My ankle. They went after my ankle so I couldn’t run! They’re going to eat me. I’m going to die, aren’t I? Oh, god, I’m going to die!” The cheerleader’s words were jumbled together and practically nonsensical. She grabbed onto Kanata’s shoulders as she spoke, her nails digging into the other’s lab coat and pressing her skin uncomfortably.

“Miss Tomori,” Kanata winced, “please let go of me. I will check your ankle, but I am sure you are fine.”

“I’m not fine!” Kizuna wailed before glaring accusatory daggers at Ayame. “If you… if you hadn't gotten yourself bitten! If you had just seen that bitch for what she is! We wouldnt be doomed! You’ve doomed us all!”

Ayame took the words without fighting back. What had been the point in fighting anymore? Kizuna was right. She had doomed them all.

“Miss Tomori, please… Taira had us all fooled… if Miss Hatano is to blame, then so are the rest of us…” the blonde murmured. “Please sit down so I can check your ankle…”

-

Mindless. Kinji was mindless. His faith had only been able to spare him for so long.

His teeth were decayed now. His skin was green and purple and yellow. His eyes were dull. His cheeks were sunken.

It was incredible that his mind stayed intact long enough for him to bury as many as he did. The only bodies he didn’t put 6 feet under, the only bodies he couldn’t handle burying, were those of the people he knew.

But what was the point?

-

Yuki held his stomach as he choked up and spat out the last meal he had, beans that had barelt even begun to digest.

“Urgh… gross…” he mumbled to himself.

Shinji was away at the moment, scouting out for the next safe place for them to go and likely trying to find his family in the process.

The lucky student fought back envious tears. At least they knew there was a chance that Shinji’s family was alive– they found his mother, Aiko, brutally murdered in the Maeda household. Her corpse was bloated and rotted when they found it.

The sight still haunted his dreams. He couldn’t even keep.meals down since he saw it.

-

Mikako peered into her brother’s lab. He hadn’t eaten in quite some time, nor had he slept.

“Yamato…” she whispered hesitantly.

He spun around with a dart ready in his hand. He only lowered it after he registered it was her.

“Mikako, I’ve told you to leave me alone. I need to find a cure, or no one will be safe.” The inventor turned back to his work and threw a crumpled up piece of paper to the side.

“I’m sure someone else is searching for a cure, Yamato. Why not try to make a vaccine? Some sort of immunity would help while someone else finds a cure.” The exorcist suggested.

Her brother didn’t seem to have heard. That, or he was ignoring her.

“Ah… nevermind.” She straightened her back and spun on her heel to hunt down their other classmates.

For the newcomers, Satsuki was putting on a performance– juggling empty bottles and broken gadgets whilst telling jokes. That could not be safe, but Haruhiko seemed to have his eyes on her.

The bunker door heaved open, and Teruya’s team came in, carrying boxes full of food and other supplies.

“We’re back with dinner!” The merchant shouted.

Mikako rushed over to take the box from him.

“Thank you, Otori, this should be good for at least a week. You and your scavenger team did good.”

He grinned at her and handed his box over. “Thanks! We uh…” he hesitated, “We saw Taira and Maeda… err… Utsuro? On our flight back… they looked like they were heading somewhere… dunno where…”

She bit her tongue and nodded thankfully at him. “Thank you for telling me.”

-

Thats it. Im hungry good bye.

Aw yeah infection Au moment! I do remember you saying a while back that you wanted to write something about Rei in this Au and MAN her part has gotta be my favorite out of these little snippets.

I really like taking a look at how a bunch of the cast is doing, seeing the way you wrote them in those situations was pretty fun! It reminded me how much i like the idea of Setsuka's like group with the 6.5 cast and how Kanata probably wishes she has a degree in psychology to properly deal with Ayame and Kizuna (she may feel as if she's not doing enough for them seing as her kindness can only bring her so far when dealing with their turmoil)

[dairyfreenugget]

The second hand gender euphoria from talking about my blobro's gender and self-expression is so real

[doecrossing]

just sat through the most horrible, awkward, tense dinner I've ever experienced in my whole life

[stringless-arthur]

Your favourite Puppetshade Chronicles headcanon pretty please?

hi!! brilliant question umm (: i don't think about headcanons a lot normally buuut i Have been thinking about puppetshades a lot lately so. um. here is Something

my main thing (that i also incorporate into my character designs lol) is that each of the puppetshades have a special pair of glasses. oki has round red tinted ones because they're very vampire to me, skyler has star shaped dark blue tinted ones because he is very star shaped things to me. magic. yeah, and piper has like rectangular light blue tinted ones (i have a pair like this lol) (i Could have given her heart shaped ones!! to correspond w the love theme!! however i forgor and also skyler already has glasses with a fuck ass shape. and let me tell you those things are Hard To Draw. and besides i gave piper heart shaped earrings (: ) AND we've not met them yet but. dottie has goggles actually becauseeeee i dont know actually and cindilou has like. ok hold on i actually drew cindilou yesterday i can show you

lots of effort i put into this one it's true. um. the second i heard "mecha assassins guild" i imagined her w these lol. she also has a mechanical arm ☝

[purpledusty]

Leon: So, truth or dare?

Chris: Leon, this is NOT a slumber party

Leon: Sure feels like one

Jill: Kennedy, we are in a prison cell

Claire: I choose dare

[tennessoui]

Palpatine in the Anakin leaving the Order/planet and Obi-Wan going with him story must be FURIOUS, especially when it becomes apparent that Jedi frequently visit them and Anakin and Obi-Wan, like, pick them up at the space airport with a glitter sign.

lol palpatine finally gets anakin to tell him where obi-wan has moved him to, and he starts talking about visiting seeing that his new guardian is so against anakin flying back to coruscant for a meal with palpatine.......

anakin is like um well i need to ask obi-wan i can't just invite you myself he's done a lot of work to make our place very homey yesterday he came home with throw pillows and---

and palpatine is like i really do not care about kenobi's throw pillows

but anakin is like 'and they match the blue of the drapes which i think is a very nice touch even though i really wanted the accent color to be yellow, but i think the blue reminds him of our lightsabers, you know---

and palpatine is like i could not care less. perhaps this is something i should see in person

and anakin is like well i'll ask!!

and he tells obi-wan his friend the senator palpatine wants to come visit and obi-wan gets a very pinched expression and then moves them to a different part of town a few days later. when anakin asks why, obi-wan tells him the backsplash in the kitchen wasn't doing it for him

[suffarustuffaru]

Just wanted to say thank you for the ottosuba posting you've done lately. The English speaking fandom is absolutely barren with Otto content, let alone ottosuba content. So to have someone as awesome about it as you post via Tumblr posts, fanfic, fanart, etc. on a good(-ish) website like Tumblr is like finding a diamond in the rough. Anyhow, looking forward to any future ottosuba content from you!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

anon you made my day fr these are very high compliments T^T <3 i appreciate it a lot pfft a part of me is always like "I CANT REVEAL HOW MUCH MY BRAIN IS ROTTING OVER THESE CHARACTERS..." bc i get a little embarassed a little shy bc what if i am posting the same things too much...??? but then i simultaneously go "lol my blog my rules anyway im gonna make a gazillion billion content *clicks post*" which is how all the otto and ottosuba content gets churned out alsdflj. especially bc - like you said - the english speaking fandom is a BARREN DESERT when it comes to otto and ottosuba content T^TT ive been thinking about it lately bc they seem to be a lot more popular in the japanese speaking fandom i think, but theres next to Nothing with the english speaking fandom :o interesting difference there.

but regardless :o yeah i keep making otto and ottosuba content bc i am in Desperate need of it... its a desert and i gotta feed myself too HAH theyve always been interesting to me but in the years ive been into rezero that Interest has skyrocketed bc of all the interesting developments pfft (and also the lack of english fancontent for them HAH). i just think theyre so underrated in the english fandom.... thank you for liking my stuff anon <3 :DD