#like kid has taste

[sturnioloho]

ive never seen this pic before oh WOW

[hedgehog-moss]

The farmer I buy hay (and some firewood) from hasn't had time for deliveries yet, and he texted me yesterday to ask what I needed most urgently, hay or wood. Selflessly, I said hay.

That /is/ the gate for hay deliveries! Great memory, Pirlouit. I see what are the important spots in your mental map.

I hope you realise that I'm sacrificing myself for you. By telling our neighbour to prioritise your food over my comfort.

But even if I didn't, I would prioritise you and your hay because I love you. I would freeze to death to ensure you are fed

Would you share your hay with me, though?

I see.

[krysmcscience]

Don't mind me, just slacking on a big Billford comic by making other far more ridiculous Billford comics and also some AU art (please excuse my slapdash human!Bill thank you please, also before anyone asks the art style is messy and all over the place because idgaf LOL)

This started out as an excuse to design a Bill Cipher-inspired "wedding" dress, but then spiraled wildly out of control. Various rambles and a bunch more human!Bill arts under the cut, including another silly little comic at the end! (Feel free to skip the rambles, I won't be offended. I know I'm bad at shutting up. XD)

I may or may not write some comedy stuff for this AU, which I'm calling 'For Better Or Worse (But Mostly Worse)'. While Ford DOES remember getting sloshed enough for one thing to lead to making out with another after karaoke, neither he nor Bill remember this wedding, At All. The Love God did nothing to dissuade them from going hog wild on their marriage spending, either, so it got...uh. Exorbitantly Expensive. As in, the grand total could probably buy the entire fucking MOON sort of expensive. (It's fine, don't worry, Bill's good enough at crime to be able to afford it.) Also, because the logic of this AU is mostly dictated by Rule of Funny, the Love God's powers are close to unlimited when it comes to matters of romance, but ONLY when it comes to matters of romance. (Like weddings!)

Want an empty human vessel to smash the soul of a triangle into for date nights or when it's convenient, or perhaps even when it's NOT convenient? Easy peasy! Want the marriage to be recognized in every corner of the multiverse from now until the end of time, thus making any potential future divorce nigh-on impossible? Can do! Want to buy an entire beach for the ceremony and honeymoon and in general, and totally not at all because it would be Super Hilarious to prevent any specific movies from being made on that very same beach in the future? Fine, whatever, it's not his finances he's ruining!

Does the Love God also provide special rings that just so happen to turn incorporeal as long as the "happy couple" doesn't remember that they barged into his dreams to bully him into presiding over their marriage? ...No comment!

He spends the next thirty years trying and failing to get in touch with either of them for payment. This is why you should always demand half the money up front, my guy!

Also it's absolutely a traditional Jewish wedding, because I like the idea of Bill demanding all the keepsakes from the marriage that he paid for, and being completely confused when one of the things he's handed is a fancy container full of broken glass. He gets it later, but in the moment, he thinks the Love God is just fucking with him some more.

Ramble over! Here's the full dress that caused the comic to happen, along with what Ford wound up wearing at the wedding (and begrudgingly agreeing to put on again later for Reasons), aaaaand also a close-up of Bill's ring:

I may have forgotten to draw Bill's hair floofier when drawing the back of the dress, lmao

Since double ring ceremonies have been leaking over into Jewish wedding customs for a while now, Ford also has a ring, but his is the much more traditional plain gold band. There's definitely a message engraved on the inside - embarrassing, cringe, or incriminating somehow - but I haven't decided what it is yet, so use your imagination for now. XD Bill, on the other hand, saw the phrase 'traditional plain gold band' and said "No Thank You" before proceeding to embellish his ring to his liking. And because he's a secret sap who adores Ford's extra fingers, the triangle points add up to twelve, as do the engraved stars. Yes, they're stars, not dots, I just got lazy. There's also six lashes on the eye gem, and probably an eye engraving on the inside with another six lashes. (Bill's got it BAD, okay? We all know this.)

Here are the initial scribbles of Bill's custom vessel in more casual attire, please ignore the wonky anatomy and the fact that I flat out refuse to ever draw him with a proper top hat:

He does actually need a cane in this vessel; since Bill tends to possess men and especially Ford more often than not, he's used to having a higher center of gravity when in a human body, so his ability to balance is pretty garbage. (He may or may not topple over with concerning regularity.) As for his empty eye socket, his bangs don't do much to hide it since he's so high-energy (dude is constantly on the move), and he also refuses to wear a patch over it, because 1.) why bother, and 2.) it's more fun to freak people out.

To better align with Ford's attraction towards the strange, the vessel was designed with super minor shapeshifting ability - Bill can look like a perfectly normal human, but he can also make the teeth and fingers sharper whenever he likes (which is mostly just when he's angry or being more of a menace than usual), as well as slit down the pupils or outright ditch the irises altogether. He can also have whatever he wants in the downstairs department, just because I'm an indecisive bitch on that front, lmao. Maybe he can have boobs if he wants them, too, but I ain't drawin' tits on no triangle, nuh-uh, no sir. His powers are otherwise limited down to what humans can do, because for some reason, the Love God doesn't trust Bill to not snap into Immediate Apocalypse Mode if he's given a physical form that's actually all his and no one else's.

Due to the body being all his and no one else's, it's also not really a standard possession so much as it is just...Bill being temporarily human. He's a lot more aware of and in tune with his human body's senses than he ever was with his "puppets", which makes things like pain a lot more intense. (He is mostly fine with this, because he's a fukken masochist.)

A bit more fashion stuff, including beach and party attire~

The beach outfit was mostly me trying and failing to nail down his body shape, which is still not bottom-heavy enough. I then decided to slap a bikini on it, before making it supremely unsexy with a pair of fugly shorts, because Bill's fashion choices are not allowed to be conventionally attractive. Meanwhile, the party outfit was mostly me looking at the casual attire I designed, asking 'how would Bill make this Worse', and then drawing the result. The mismatched thigh-highs are killing me inside! :D

No, his vessel can't actually summon fire, I just drew it for funzies before I decided on said vessel's limitations. Yes, the gold brick tattoos are absolutely a reference to the fic 'Knowing Me, Knowing You' - I simply could not resist.

I also HAD to draw Bill in one of his canonical(?) shirts, just made tank-top'd:

He is absolutely about to over-correct and fall backwards after this. USE YOUR CANE, GOOFBALL!!! (I meant to draw Bill closer to this degree of bottom-heavy in the other images, but. Alas. I am bad at anatomy, LOL)

And, last but not least before More Comic Time, I attempted to draw him closer to Gravity Falls style:

Jury's out on whether or not I succeeded, but - hey. I tried. Now have some Handyman Bill AU, but with my goofy human design, instead:

Hey, it's a 'mystery snack', and the guy wanted A BITE to eat - the joke was right there, guys!!! (Based on this post, because it just screamed BILL CIPHER to me.)

whoops i forgor bills ring and cracks ahaha too late now

I WILL SHUT UP AND STOP RAMBLING NOW K THX BYYYYYE

[mangostems]

still relatively new to tumblr/how reach works on tumblr so i’m not 100% sure how this’ll do, however i recently replayed pokémon sword and shield for the first time in a few years and this is what i gathered from it

[cryptxdslxt]

the best way i can explain whatever the fuck bill, ford, and fiddleford got going on is the song “taste” by sabrina carpenter tbh

[invye]

When They Are Drunk

(as observed by the Red Hair Pirates)

I forever love when we let the Red Hair Pirates interact with the mess that is their captain and his relationship(s), so here have some lenghty thoughts about Shanks, Mihawk and Rosinante interacting with the Red Hair Pirates while drunk in my CoraMiShanks Fix It AU under the cut:

Shanks

The Captain being drunk is neither a rare ocurrance nor a particularly interesting one. They've seen it all within a week of getting recruited, including the hour long rambles about how much he misses Hawkeyes even though they literally duelled each other two days ago. 

The Red Hair Pirates have long since established a system for when they are among people on land or otherwise have guests on the Red Force, where the crew takes turns and one or two people remain sober on Captain watch duty; much to the eternal gratitude of Benn who has wrangled a drunk and poetry waxing Shanks way too often for his poor nerves and approaches it with an practiced aura of exasperation.

The one thing however that adds some fun to the mix is that after the captain finishes his hour rant about how much he loves Mihawk's creepy unblinking eyes, he turns his overflowing sentimentality on the rest of the crew. 

His chosen 'victim' would be sitting there, minding their business when suddenly there's the captain's arm around their shoulders and he slurs a monologue of compliments about their skills and abilities and gratitude for all the things they do for the crew. And during that genuinely nice and flattering monologue he'd sway closer until - boom - it's too late, they're in smooch range now and no one is safe from the Captain's Appreciation Smooches.

It used to be somewhat of a rite of passage, back when Shanks was still actively recruiting. The day a new crew member got thier first Appreciation Smooch from their drunk captain was the day they became fully and irrevocably a part of the crew.

There is a rank list hanging in the galley on the Red Force, ranking the crew members by the number of smooches they have recieved from the captain. Benn is so far in the lead, no one will ever catch up to him, but the rest of the list is surprisingly balanced, as if there actually is a system to the captain's drunk madness that informs him whom of the crew he hasn't complimented and properly expressed his appreciation for in a while.

They considered adding Hawkeyes to the list after the first time he was subjected to the Appreciation Smooch, simply to watch how long it would take for him to climb the ranks and actually overtake Benn (and because his wide-eyed expression of utter surprise and confusion was beyond hilarious). Eventually they decided against it, because while the captain still hasn't figured out the list's meaning, they're fairly certain Hawkeyes would within mere hours of finding his own name on it.

Mihawk

After all these years, Hawkeyes still manages to be an enigma to most of the crew, despite having seen him around plenty. During the times where Mihawk was actively duelling the captain, they could count the passing weeks by the sound of Mihawk's boots on the deck and his grumbles of "Red Hair promised to shut up if I joined for a drink;" every Sunday like clockwork.

But even though they have seen Mihawk drink plenty (always and only expensive red wine that the captain stashes seperately just for Hawkeyes), they have barely ever seen him drunk. Even Benn, who has known Hawkeyes pretty much as long as he's known the captain, only somewhat understands what happens behind his unblinking eyes, and he does have the somewhat regular 'honour' of Mihawk sitting next to him as they sip their wine in silence, because Hawkeyes had quickly determined that Benn is the only person on board with good taste. It's a weird form of bonding, the total silence vaguely uncomfortable to observe, but the captain gets all mushy and happy about Hawkeyes engaging with the crew (even if its technically only Benn), so they suppose it's good enough.

None of them are ready for it when at some point a switch is flipped in Mihawk's brain and he decides that the Red Force is a proper safe place. Hawkeyes allows himself to get drunk, and while he's still eerily silent and prone to staring into the void, he starts emoting. Ever so slightly, little smiles, mostly directed at Shanks. 

Lucky Roux is the first with the questionable luck of experiencing an expression of appreciation (maybe even friendship..?) from Hawkeyes. He was going around handing out little snacks to mitigate the incoming hangovers, when he walked up to Mihawk leaning against the reiling a little away from the rest of the bustle, to hand him a sandwich and encourage him to actually eat it too. Next thing he knew those yellow eyes were staring right into his soul, a hand resting on his shoulder for full two seconds of contact and Mihawk told him a quiet but genuine "thank you" before going back to staring into the void and nibbling on his sandwich.

By the time Lucky Roux was sitting back down and staring into his own drink again, he still hadn't managed to shake off the cold shiver caused by Hawkeyes' intensity, even though it was an unquestionably positive interaction. Lucky Roux gets the Captain's Appreciation Smooch that night, because of course Shanks saw that and is unreasonably happy about it.

Corazón/Rosinante

Honestly, the Red Hair Pirates still haven't quite understood how Corazón entered the whole *gestures* Situation that is the relationship involving the Captain and Hawkeyes. He's shown up one day in Haweyes' company and now he's here in all his clumsy glory, having the best of times chatting with the captain, while Hawkeyes gives them both the same sappy stare. The crew supposes its a net good and respects Rosinante's request to be called by his name rather than title as they incorporate him into the rounds of drinks.

Rosinante only ever drinks a single drink if his kid is with him. (And boy does the kid have opinions; he once prognosed when exactly he expects the captain to die of liver failure down to the month, which was only made more horrifying by Hongo solemnly nodding along in the background. At least Hongo had then continued to explain that he already had been slipping the captain a regimen of meds to prevent just that for years.)

As the kid grows older and is less present however, Rosinante allows himself to indulge. Turns out for all his clumsiness, he mixes the most amazing cocktails.

Speaking of his clumsiness, they still haven't figured out if drunk Rosinante is more or less clumsy than usual. They have seen him fully drunk walk a perfectly straight line, only to stumble over literally nothing and take a perfect swan dive right into the next group of people. At least once he's down, he stays down. Most of the time draped over at least three different laps, slurring out endless apologies, but not making a move to leave. They've quickly understood that Rosinante has been severely lacking positive physical contact in his life and let him stay where he is until Mihawk or the captain pick him up eventually. If they tried to move they supposed Rosinante would too and that would only result in another round of spilled drinks. Also they can't help but admit that Rosinante's presence is somehow calming and comfortable, so no harm done.

the end of the night

No matter what, a night of drinking would inevitable end with the captain, Hawkeyes and Rosinante piled in a heap in the corner. The captain happily snoring away, Hawkeyes somehow managing to lean against the next wall all proper and cool looking in his sleep, arms crossed and hat pulled down over his eyes (no one will ever point out that he drools for fear of death), Rosinante curled over them both like a very oversized cat, his feather coat doubling as a blanket.

Seeing them, the Red Hair Pirates are happy that things turned out like this. They all are maybe a bit too aware of just how dangerous a world they are living in, and just how close they've all come to death before.

Hey, by the way, when has anyone last checked in on the kid? Didn't Rosinante say something about Law recruiting himself a crew of his own? How's that going?

[bunnieswithknives]

The idea of Dale not feeding himself for possibly days on end is terrifying when you consider that might result in him not feeding the actual newborn baby he's in charge of for similar amounts of time.

Dale is absolutely not in charge of feeding Dev. Devs primary caretakers have been au-pairs.

Dales eating disorder is just about the only trauma he's made sure Not to pass on. Even if he denies it he is aware that his eating habits are fucked, he just cant bring himself to do anything about it. If there's one thing Dale always makes sure of its that Dev at least has access to food.

[lymooniee]

She's so cool bro what the flip, I can't usually draw robots but made an exception for her...

[birdiegray01]

Just thinking about how Jason, Tim, and Steph tried or are trying to be the perfect Robin/ Dick Grayson for Bruce but Damian is trying to become the perfect Robin/Dick Grayson for Dick.

[waterloo-to-anywhere]

imagine being infatuated with a guy for more than half your life. and his name is carl.

[seaquestions]

blake lets him keep it. this is a dire lapse in judgement on his part but they're just gonna have to live with it. (ids in alts)

[akechi-stole-my-heart]

i maintain that the reason goro sucks at cooking is bc he absolutely cannot for the life of him experiment with it. he can follow instructions fine but if there's vague terms or if something says to eyeball it he's completely lost. that, and goro cannot stand having to do multiple things at once and will absolutely burn a building down because he wasn't keeping a close enough eye on the stove. this is what makes akira so good at cooking, on the other hand--he thrives at experimenting and taste testing and the chaos of the kitchen is something he lives for.

HOWEVER. goro is very good at following a step-by-step guide. he is extremely meticulous. he is capable of being precise with measurements. so once he's introduced to it, goro becomes an incredible baker. it even becomes therapeutic, a method of relaxing after a long day. akira hates baking for the same reasons goro loves it, but loves having yummy tasty treats, so baking becomes goro's forte.

unfortunately, being the friend who brings baked goods to every hangout means goro is not escaping the has-a-sweet-tooth allegations anytime soon.

[cervideity]

jackpot

The Enemy was published 15 years ago today! Wow! You should go and read it! Check out this scene for yourself! Nothing goes wrong!

[ramblebramblefun]

Izuku bounces on his feet as Kacchan steps off the platform, unable to keep the smile off his face as red eyes catch sight of him. He waves, a tad manically.

"Kacchan!" He yells, ignoring the looks he gets. "Over here!"

Kacchan is followed over by several other, familiar looking people. A man that can only be Chargebolt leans forward.

"Oho! Who's this?"

"My pet stalker."

"Kacchan, that's not very nice," Izuku says absently.

Kacchan ruffles Izuku's hair with more force than necessary.

"I'm not very nice."

"That is true!" Chargebolt grins, stroking his chin faux-thoughtfully.

"So," Kacchan says next. "What's new in nerd-land?"

"Oh! Um, well... Did you read that paper I sent you?"

"That thing on fuckin' Freezerburn?"

"Yeah, about the indicators! Like how you've got your mom's skin-"

"I don't want to hear about my mom's skin." Kacchan groans.

Too bad.

"- Your mom's skin" Izuku continued, "as well as your quirk in your palms and-"

Izuku cuts himself off this time. Red Riot (his hair's not that bad, Kacchan) is waving his hand in the air like a student. So was the Alien Queen, with a shit-eating grin on her face, and then Chargebolt also started to flail about and nearly hit-

"Oh my god! Are you Cellophane?!"

"Not if he knows what's good for him." Kacchan mutters.

"It's an honour to meet you! I'm a big fan! I really loved what you did last week in that fight with Athenium- actually, um, wait, I think I have-"

He starts to rummage through his bag, but Kacchan is faster and snatches his notebook out with a hiss.

"No. They don't know you. We're not doing this."

"Kacchan." Izuku frowns.

"No."

Red Riot seems unable to contain himself any longer.

"Bakubro, who is this guy?" he shouts, at the same time as Alien Queen cheers.

"This must be that guy that Katsuki's always-"

Kacchan whirls around and slaps Izuku's notebook over her mouth, because he is an oaf with no respect for other people or their property. Izuku is what, Kacchan?

Whatever. Izuku brought extra notebooks today, just in case. He pulls one out, and a pen, and then Cellophane takes the pen? And Izuku's notebook? Oh, he's signing the notebook, that's nice of him.

"Here you go," Cellophane smiles, handing it back.

Izuku already has three Cellophane signatures that Kacchan mailed to him through Auntie, because Kacchan is the best but also weird, but this is cool too. Izuku will have to cut it out and paste it in his album later.

What he actually wants to know is-

"Um, what's your name? I can't call you Cellophane when you're on vacation..." He flips open to a new page, ready to start writing...

The silence stretches too long. He looks up to find Cellophane looking at him uncertainly.

"Actually..." Cellophane starts slowly-

"That's what we wanna ask you!" Chargebolt shouts excitedly, and then Kacchan steals Izuku's notebook, again, and his bag, and Izuku has more important things to worry about than social niceties.

"Bakugou Katsuki!" he screeches. "Get back here!"

He starts running after Kacchan, who must have lost his mind on the train ride over if he thinks Izuku is going to let him get away with this. He'll tell Auntie! He will!

Auntie will just laugh at him if Izuku tells her that Kacchan has taken up purse-snatching but she'll laugh at Kacchan too, and then Kacchan will be really annoyed, just like Izuku is right now, and he's taking up running as a hobby first thing tomorrow because he's tired now already and curse Kacchan's longer legs, Izuku is going to cut them off-

They leave the Bakusquad blinking in their dust.

[tennessoui]

I'm begging on my hands and knees for more Twilight au, and those are words I never thought I'd say! Anakin being able to resist compulsion, and Obi-Wan seeming instantly obsessed, and poor Shmi! Pretty please 🥺🙏

hey!! sure! here's some more!

(2.5k)

Having a sheriff for a mom sucked a lot when he was a kid growing up in a small town. There was probably nothing Anakin was rebelling against more at eleven, at thirteen, at seventeen than the rule of law his mother represented. 

All things considered, she was pretty good at separating her home life from her worklife. It was Anakin who was bad at respecting the separation, Anakin who couldn’t keep son out of delinquent.  There’s only so many times he could be pulled out of wreckage and bars and buildings with Keep Out No Trespassing signs on them before he got The Sheriff at home and out in public.

He’d hated it growing up and had come to grudgingly respect it later and in fits and starts. His dad dying had, terribly and ironically, helped a lot. His mother had had a stroke just before and then Anakin had been faced with the possibility of being an orphan, and the terror of that had mellowed him out.

Sorta.

He still hates a lot of things about his mother’s job. Especially the fact that she’s the sheriff of a very small town.

And when people talk, she listens.

The thing about small towns is that everyone’s always fucking talking. And other people are always fucking lsitening so they can talk later. One big fucking community, which means when Anakin comes home from his weird doctor’s appointment with Dr. Kenobi, a few hours later because he took a detour biking along the edge of the seaside cliffs just to spit in the good doctor’s metaphorical face, Shmi Skywalker already knows more than Anakin ever planned to tell her.

Like, for instance, “Sheila says that Dr. Kenobi thought it would behoove you to spend some time at the local library volunteering.”

Anakin pauses, backpack half-slung off his shoulders. He hangs his stuff up slowly, careful to keep his tone very light. “Did Sheila say what I told him after he said that?” 

His mom’s silence is very loud.

“I don’t want to do i—”

“I asked the new librarian about it on my way home from the station. She thinks it’s a wonderful idea. Apparently we used to have a program like that in the forties but it died out during the war.”

“Mom, come on—”

“It’ll look good on resumes, saying you created and supported a local reading program.”

“Yeah, but I’m a bit too old to be applying for babysitting positio—”

“It’ll look good for me as well,” Shmi says in her sheriff voice. “Elections are coming up soon. It’ll be good, if my kid was involved in the community.”

Anakin’s glad that his back is still turned to the living room, where his mom is sitting. “Are you gonna run again?” he asks, paying special attention to his tone this time.

“Why wouldn’t I?” his mom replies. “I’ve been sheriff for a decade and a half.”

Anakin lets his eyes fall closed for a second, knowing that his face can’t be seen. This is how they end up half the time: Shmi’s ardent belief that she is invincible, going up against Anakin’s desperate desire for her to be so.

And they just don’t talk about it. As if they’re actually in agreement.

He knows how this is going to shake out.

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?” His mother asks.

Anakin’s eyes remain closed. “I guess so,” he says.

—--------

Mrs. Kenobi—call me Satine—is sort of scary up close. She’s tall. She glides between bookshelves. Anakin’s never met someone who glides before. And she’s so intensely, incredibly, blindingly perfect that Anakin would rather be anywhere but in her vicinity. There’s something incredibly unnerving about the symmetry of her face, the sharpness of her cheekbones. She’s obviously an absolute knock-out, just drop-dead gorgeous, but it makes Anakin’s skin crawl and his heart beat fast, but not in a good way or a normal teenage boy way.

Anakin tries to keep the unease off his face as Satine leads him through a tour of the library, a gentle hand on his forearm. That’s another thing Anakin doesn’t really like. She’s wearing satin gloves. He doesn’t know anyone who wears gloves anymore.

It’s just all a bit…unsettling.

“I put in a few words around the school yesterday afternoon,” Satine tells him. They pass by the mystery section, the fantasy section, and take a hard right into the young adult section. The shelves are smaller here, and Anakin feels rather stupidly gigantic as he and Satine walk through them. “To some parents picking their children up after school. They agreed it would be good exposure to bring them to the library for an hour or so of reading before supper.”

Anakin highly doubts it will be, but Satine hasn’t really asked him.

She sweeps past his figure and pushes open a pair of double doors with a flourish better suited for a Russian tsarina hosting an elaborate ball than a small town librarian showing off a small, cramped, and dusty room filled with padded seats and threadbare rugs.

And then, as if she has been waiting to put the last nail in the proverbial coffin, Satine adds, “A few students from the local high school will be here as well.”

“Sorry,” Anakin says, “are you saying I’m going to be reading to high school students? Can’t they do that themselves?”

After all, Anakin went to high school here. Academics hadn’t been too rigorously challenging, but they’d taught the fucking basics.

Satine raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow in his direction. “They’ll be volunteering as well.”

Oh. Right.

“It looks good on their college applications,” Satine waves a hand through the air and the words linger there. Anakin looks out the rather dirty window, jaw clenching. “I’ve already chosen a handful of books I think the young ones will enjoy.”

Anakin, committed to his fate, pads over to the titles placed carefully ontop of a short, stout side table. 

“Peter the Rabbit,” he reads off the top. “Peter Pan. Alice in Wonderland. Treasure Island. The Prince and the Pauper—look, you’re the librarian here, but don’t you have anything written this century maybe? Harry Potter, even.”

“These are classics,” Satine tells him, her nose raised into the air as if she has encountered something particularly foul-smelling. She turns away, presumably to return to the front desk so she can welcome half the fucking town inside the library so Anakin can read them fucking Anne of Green Gables and become a better person.

“These are fucking boring,” he mutters to himself, flicking the cover of the first book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz open. Publication date: 1900. “I’d rather be in Kenobi’s office getting lectured at.”

There’s a sharp noise of disapproval from the doorway, and Anakin’s head snaps up to see the tail end of a very heated look from the librarian before the door closes behind her.

He shivers, alone in the emply room, and it takes several long minutes for his heart to settle back into its normal pace. 

—----------

After the fourth kid sneezes, Anakin closes his book with a snap and stands from the very small chair they’ve got him sitting on. “Come on,” he tells the cluster of children he’s been assigned to. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Are you kidnapping us?” One of them, a snot-nosed kid who’d started the sneezing says, rubbing at her cheek beneath her glasses. “Cause mommy says that’s not allowed.”

“I’m not kidnapping you,” Anakin snaps back, barely holding in his natural follow-up to the sentence which is of course, I don’t want to be around any of you in the first place. “Also, just for future reference, you shouldn’t ask if someone’s kidnapping you after you already start following them.”

The girl scowls and reaches up her hand to hold onto Anakin’s. 

For the love of Christ.

“We’re just going to go into the main part of the library,” Anakin tells his children, all six of them. “They have windows out there.”

They have windows out there and they also have parents. Parents who absolutely should be doing other things with their lives and precious hour of extra freetime.

Parents who are clustered instead around the library’s front desk as the town’s newest librarian holds court.

“Is reading time over?” one of the kids asks him, turning his head to look up at Anakin.

Anakin thinks about it. “Do you want reading time to be over?”

The kid thinks about it back. “Yeah,” he decides. “You don’t do the voices good.”

“It’s a boring book,” Anakin tells the kid. “Voices aren’t going to make it better.”

“Voices always make it better,” another kid says. “They make everything better.”

“Oh look,” Anakin says. “Is that your father?”

He gestures vaguely towards the cluster of drooling middle-aged somethings focused on Satine.

The kid peeks around his thigh and then shakes his head. “No,” he says. “That’s Dr. Obi.”

“Dr. Obi!” The kid holding Anakin’s hand says, and she lets go.

Anakin gets a bad feeling about this, a feeling that only doubles when he turns around to see Dr. Kenobi sauntering towards him, hands tucked into the pockets of a long dark jacket that makes him look even more pale than he already is.

He scowls automatically as the man gets closer. “Dr. Obi.”

Dr. Kenobi spares him a look that’s far too amused for Anakin’s pleasure before he crouches down to the level of the kids. “Hello there, young ones,” he says, opening his arms to accept a hug from the traitor of a girl Anakin’s just spent thirty minutes reading to. “Are you eating all your vegetables? Even the brussel sprouts?”

“I like brussel sprouts,” one of the kids reports sounding proud, and that starts a cacophony of opinions about brussel sprouts from all around Anakin.

“Wow! One of mine just absolutely hates them,” Dr. Kenobi says. “She refuses to eat them, so you’re very brave, Michele.” He lets go of the girl and turns his golden-brown gaze up to Anakin. “And what does Mr. Skywalker think?” he asks, raising a hand for Anakin to take. It’s very obvious he’s asking for a hand up and Anakin is obeying before he thinks about it. He snatches his hand free almost too soon, but Dr. Kenobi doesn’t even have the grace to lose his balance and fall over. 

His hand is like ice in Anakin’s, and Anakin stuffs his fingers into the pocket of his jacket automatically a second later.

“Do brussel sprouts help with circulation?” he’s biting out before he can stop himself. “Cause you may need some then.”

Kenobi’s head tilts very slightly to the side as his eyes catch and hold onto Anakin’s. “Oh?” he asks lightly. 

“You’re cold,” is all Anakin mutters in return. He swipes his other hand against the back of his neck. “”S poor circlutation, isn’t it? Something in your diet maybe?” Dr. Kenobi blinks at him and then breaks into a wide smile. “I can assure my diet is very…circulation-mindful,” he says. “Blood health positive.”

Anakin’s mouth thins into a line. He guesses that’s what he gets for trying to give health advice to a doctor, especially a doctor like Kenobi who just so happens to be devastatingly attractive and also smart.

And also an asshole. And also married.

Speaking of which. “Are you here to fend off your wife’s admirers with a scalpel?” Kenobi’s eyebrows raise. “Young ones,” he turns his head away from Anakin, down to the children.

The strangest feeling breaks of Anakin the second Kenobi looks away, almost as if a strange pressure he hadn’t even realized had been building was suddenly dissolved.

The very small beginnings of a headache begin to thrum in his temples.

“Young ones, it’s time to find your parents, isn’t it?” Kenobi says, and like fucking magic, the crowd of six children around Anakin disperse, children swarming away from him towards the group of adults surrounding the front desk.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Anakin blurts out, even though he’d meant to ignore Kenobi now that he doesn’t have to make nice in front of small kids. Not that he was really making nice in the first place. But now he definitely doesn’t have to.

Kenobi gives him a half-smile, eyes heavy-lidded. “It’s a special sort of skill that takes, above all else, much practice.”

Anakin scowls. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Does Kenobi think he can’t commit himself to something even as mundane as a fucking commanding persona? Does he think he doesn’t have it in him to be–-

Kenobi’s eyebrows go up again. “Has anyone ever told you that you are exceedingly defensive?” 

“You’re extremely nosey,” Anakin snaps back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t you have better things to focus on right now anyway?”

He gestures loosely towards Satine, who has started playing with one of the mother’s bracelets as the other woman stands and looks at her rather dumbfounded.

Kenobi follows his gaze and then lets out a huff of laughter. “Satine can take care of herself,” he says, even though it hadn’t really been Satine that Anakin was worried about.

He’s about to open his mouth to say so when Kenobi turns back to him. His eyes are piercing, a dark, captivating sort of gold. 

“Do you find my wife beautiful, Anakin?” he asks.

Anakin blinks. His headache is getting worse, which is probably down to what can only be a trick-question fashioned to look like a grenade lobbed at his feet. “I don’t think there’s a good answer to that,” he mutters, rubbing absently at his forehead. “What the fuck.”

“An honest answer is a good one,” Kenobi says lightly. “Tell me honestly.”

The words feel pulled from Anakin’s stomach, and he’s opening his mouth before he realizes it. “No,” he says. 

Kenobi’s eyebrows crinkle together. “No?”

Anakin curses his stupid impulse control. “She’s beautiful,” he adds quickly. “Really. But…it makes me uncomfortable.”

Kenobi’s lips purse, and then there’s something like disappointment in his eyes as he examines Anakin. “Ah yes,” he murmurs. “I’ve been told my wife can make countless young men feel rather uncomfortable. It’s normal in men your age, Anakin. Sexual ar—”

“Uncanny,” Anakin blurts out. He doesn’t mean to, but he also doesn’t want to listen to  Kenobi trying to lecture him on fucking arousal in the public library. When it’s not even relevant. “She’s so beautiful, it’s uncanny.”

“Uncanny.”

“Yeah, like. Monstrous.”

Kenobi’s mouth falls open, pink lips parted in what looks like honest surprise.

Anakin’s own eyes widen as it hits him that he’s just called Kenobi’s wife a monster to Kenobi’s face.

“Shit,” he says. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m going to go.” 

He throws a look at Kenobi, whose eyes are lit with something a lot like interest and then across the library to where Satine’s head is turned, cocked, and eyebrows up high on her forehead, as if she’s just heard everything he’s said.

He decides rather immediately that he’s going to take the backdoor exit.

[copper-ice-cube]

Main D20 Seasons Ultimate Ranking: part 10

** see tags for more specifics

Bonus: which PC duo is your favourite?

(Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part XI)