#he's so much more than a baby brother

[mvpanda1]

Uncle Arthur ❣️

[ryllen]

˚ ｡🐟

[peace-hunter]

While in battle what do the primes mostly do? Just sit N watch

yeah kinda!

unfortunately they're very limited on what they can actually do beyond giving some advice when required, which is a source of frustration for everyone involved. being forced to stand on the sidelines without being able to physically help out rapidly becomes one of their least favorite things about being bound to the matrix.

the first time Optimus gets badly hurt during battle and they realize there's absolutely nothing they can do about it is,,, Rough.

they do get to become Optimus' second (thirteenth?) pair of eyes though. literally nothing happens around him without them seeing it. he very quickly gets a reputation for having crazy reflexes and it's really hard to catch him off-guard but it's because he has thirteen ghosts following him around at all times and they're hyper-aware of anything that gets close to OP.

there's a learning curve of how much they can chime in during battle without distracting OP and making things worse, but they get the hang of it eventually. and OP learns to trust them implicitly too, following their warnings with no hesitation, which saves his life more times than he can count.

it is a little freaky for everyone around him, but they kinda get used to it. things are already so goddamn weird around here anyway.

[welcometogrouchland]

I miss them so bad (Dick and Damian)

[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.”

[moeblob]

Rey, who is in my very biased opinion, one of the funniest "girls" I have because she's just a guy, truly. Like Rey is just short for Reynold because he was recruited by a a goddess to help the hero she selected and the hero is conveniently Reynold's younger brother. So he agrees to help under the condition that the goddess gives him a female body for the other world. She's like "really odd flex but whatever" and gives him a female form and he's like "you know. I can't really blame anyone but myself for not specifying 'please don't turn me into a Lisa Frank personification'."

[puppetmaster13u]

Mini Prompt

You know what i love

Villian not-redemption. Where they go to another world, or the timeline shifts, or whatever, and find the person or people they lost And instead of getting better

They get Worse Like they continue to be nihilistic assholes to everyone But said person/people (bonus if it's a younger sibling or something similar) And they are still an irredeemable evil person They are not redeemed, in fact they've gotten MORE unhinged because they Can't Lose this Person Again

[cluescorner]

I gave myself a writing challenge and I am fascinated by it

So basically I put the robins in a randomizer to give them a new order/role (because I just...kinda wanted to see what would happen + I like role-reversal AUs) and got results that are giving me a fucking brain blast.

Stephanie, the first sidekick who defines the role

Tim, the sidekick who dies and comes back wrong

Dick, the sidekick who saves Batman from himself

Damian, the sidekick who was never supposed to be a sidekick but would go on to prove everyone wrong

Jason, the youngest sidekick who is still the Kid Wonder

...So this is fucking wild. I've got some ideas and several of these fit perfectly (Dick's role is pretty similar to his one in canon), but some of these are fucking INCREDIBLE to explore (Steph being the first Robin is something I never even considered but tbh I kinda love it).

I probably won't write a fic or anything because tbh I don't like publishing my writing that much, but I might expand this into a full AU and post about it. I might randomize other stuff too (ie, stuff that I cannot change vs stuff that I cannot keep the same) but this fucking rules as a starting point.

[ratatatastic]

"Is it hard to play against Brady [Tkachuk]?" "Yeah! Is it ever? You're talking about one of those killers, right? Okay, let's talk about Brady coming down on ya coming to pick up a puck it's—yeah, yeah. He's uh—he's a big boy, and he has absolutely zero regard for your health and safety." "Nope, dudn't care. Hey, when someone like that though—" "And that's... good for him!" "—but when you... when he's coming down on you, are you like, 'I'm gonna spin off of him' or are you like, 'You know what? I'm gonna dig the puck in the corner and I'm gonna put my shoulder right into his chest, and do a reverse hit.' Like, do you think about both of those? Or just like real quick—like, you know, when you reverse hit a guy—" "Yeah..." "—it fucks him! As a forward, man—you reverse hit me? I'm not hitting you again! 'Cuz now I'm fuckin' scared." "Yeah, yeah, I think... I mean, with him it's so important where the puck is and, you know, with guys that size—like, do you really wanna put your shoulder into him in that moment? Like is that gonna hurt you more than it's gonna hurt him? Potentially? I mean I'm more of, like uh, the 'avoid the hit, grab the puck.' You know, 'try and make a play'... Um, but yeah, I think it depends on the game, time of year, where we are, it's all important."

The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.30.24 (x)

man who thoroughly enjoys when another man has absolutely zero regard for your health and safety

[mvpanda1]

😉

[eosofspades]

btw i genuinely believe that if you're considering having kids or you want to have kids, you need to actually try a full-time caretaking situation and see if it works. bc i love kids i LOVE hanging out with them, and i was thinking maybe one day i might want to have my own, and then i started working as a full-time caretaker for a toddler for like six months and i was like ohhhh yeah ok so i was right this is 100% not the lifestyle for me. and that was just a full time job not a 24/7 situation.

[denkies]

I remember being so distraught when we thought Hirotsu and Gin died, and then when it's revealed that Tachihara was the perpetrator, i was literally like "nvm theyre fine. That's his family, he wouldn't kill them no matter what" and i was right.

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Devastating news: my brother is a normal person. It doesn't run in the family, I'm just a weird freak for no reason

[giddlygoat]

my brother can make me laugh without moving at all. he can make me laugh on command, just by existing, and there is no physical tell or indication that it is about to happen. it’s like he can will me to laugh and i will. of course we’re not telepathic, but we do speak in unison sometimes. we improvise like no one’s business. we could fool anyone into believing we are psychically linked. when i try to explain it, i sound silly saying it out loud, but i really CAN tell what he’s thinking. we exchange so much information just with a look. he can make me cry laughing and he doesn’t even have to move

[dirtytransmasc]

maybe it's because I'm in the "I'm so obsessed and hyperfocused on my little guys I will make any song seem like it's about them even if it couldn't be any father from actually relating to them at all" stage of my Theon and Asha hyperfixation but like...

I feel like 'I bet on losing dogs' by Mitski is about them.

it's about Asha and her relationship with Theon.

he's her baby brother. the baby brother who looked up at her smiled when she had gone in his room, intent on strangling him to stop his cries. he's her losing dog. the dog she keeps fighting for when no one else will. she never gives up on him, not truly, even when he is so clearly doomed, because she loves him, she won't give up on him.

and Theon is, in so many senses, a dog. he's been passed around from owner to owner, home to home, trained and beaten and domesticated, made to behave how his owner at the time sees fit. he's a good dog, a good beaten dog.

and now, in a way, he's Asha's dog. she doesn't want him to be her dog, she wants him to be her brother, and Theon's trying, he really is trying, she knows he's trying, but part of him will always be doomed to be a dog waiting to be hit, waiting for a command, waiting to be trained.

he's her losing dog, she knows it, knows he's doomed, deep down, there's little hope, he'll die a damned dog, but fuck it she doesn't care, he's her blood, her baby, he will be by her side no matter what. she'll always go back for him, she'll always fight for him, she'll always tell him to stay, she'll always give him a chance, she'll always try.

~~~~

[thisisadonaldduckblognow]

i also think the take that leo’s post-movie character shift long term is to distance himself and ~hold himself separate~ from his brothers and treat them a little differently and train all the time etc simply Doesn’t Track btw

doing it as a major initial overcorrection bc of guilt and having to be like intervened with, i can see happening, and overall getting better at buckling down/communicating w his team for sure yeah

but like the idea that that is a change he makes to himself forever going forward (especially if it means his brothers/april not clocking it and calling him out on that nonsense, especially especially if it involves splinter noticing it and ENCOURAGING HIM to keep holding himself apart like that’s so not rise splinter at all) just does not feel right

for me it undermines the core statements that the series and movie are going for: you are not alone, we do it together, he hasn’t seen what we can do when we work together, this isn’t about you (i think this one in particular bc what is withdrawing from your loved ones and holding yourself in a different category bc Must Be Leaderly if not making things about yourself just in a different way to how you were doing it before?)