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shimamitsu · 2 months

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let's learn about spanish with haikyuu!

if you’re an argentinian animanga fan, you might have seen this image before. this is a panel from ivrea’s edition of haikyuu which has gone viral a few times in our country. if you’re not a native spanish speaker and you’re interested in knowing what makes this panel so special, i got you!

as you know, spanish has many different dialects and their own regional variations. and when i say many, i mean it. here’s a list of dialects you can find in the americas only (and that’s not even all of them). of course, spanish speakers from different countries can understand each other, but these dialects vary so much from one another when it comes to slang, pronunciation, accent and even grammar that we can easily get lost when we hear fellow hispanics speak. back in the 20th century, this was a problem for foreign companies that wanted to enter the hispanic market. making dozens of different translations that catered to each hispanic country was too expensive, so they came up with a more profitable solution: they created español neutro (neutral spanish), español internacional (international spanish) or standard spanish. this type of spanish is an artificial variation of spanish used exclusively for commercial purposes. it's limited to latin american only, while peninsular spanish speakers (the standard spanish dialect spoken in spain) have their own standardized version.

español neutro is supposed to be a variation of spanish that speakers can’t associate to any specific place or region. that’s why it omits any type of slang, colloquial language or intonation that might be confusing for its audience (though it’s modeled after standardized mexican spanish). that’s the spanish we’ve seen in many books, tv shows, movies and games growing up. people don’t actually speak español neutro. but it's been around for a long time, so we're used to it by now. obviously, we can recognize why this type of spanish feels unfamiliar to us. imitating how characters speak in tv shows is even an on-going joke here.

(disclaimer before i go on: i don’t want you to think our dubs are bad because of this, they’re great. though i’d say our most beloved dubs are the ones where voice actors have more freedom and they choose to include slang and intonation. the dub for adventure time’s jake the dog is an all time favorite here in latin america, but after five years of giving life to to jake, cartoon network told his voice actor to stop using “mexicanisms” and stick to the script.)

as i said, we’re used to it. maybe too much. people are so accustomed to it that they find it weird when they read or watch localized media in their own dialects of spanish. that's where manga comes in. the two biggest argentinian manga publishers, ivrea and panini, localize their works. they’re translated to español rioplatense or rioplatense spanish, which is the standard dialect of argentina and uruguay. that’s a rare translation choice. and, of course, people complain about it. they say it's vulgar or too informal, that it's not "pure spanish" like español neutro or that it just makes them uncomfortable, and even more.

[translation of the post: Why does IVREA use so many localisms? It ruins the immersion and they seem excessively forced, you can use "girl" instead and it sounds much more natural.]

i can assure you that denji saying power es buena mina is extremely natural. it's slang, we say that all the time in everyday conversation. es buen pibe (he's a good guy) and es buena mina (she's a good girl) are common expressions. besides, denji's not the type of guy who speaks formally. this choice goes well with the tone of the work. the only difference between chica and mina is that the latter comes from lunfardo, which was the jargon of the lower classes in buenos aires in the late 19th/early 20th century. lunfardo was influenced by european, african and indigenous languages, integrating words and phrases from all of them. over time, it became part of our own vernacular, and many of its words and phrases are used now in everyday language, regardless of class. if you ever heard argentinian words like laburar, chamuyar, pibe, boludo, facha, etc., those are lunfardo.

so, let’s get back to manga. personally, i love these translations, and a lot of other people enjoy them as well. what some consider unfamiliar or weird, others consider refreshing and fun. the panel i used to introduce this post is a great example of rioplatense localization in manga. in this scene, hinata and kageyama ask tsukishima to help them study and he refuses. in the original japanese, hinata calls tsukishima kechishima (kechi: stingy + [tsuki]shima). the official english translates it to "stupishima" (though i should add that "stingyshima" is the more popular nickname, popularized by the official anime eng sub).

ivrea’s translation does the same pun here, but instead of using spanish equivalents like tacaño, mezquino, egoísta (or even more colloquial language like agarrado o amarrete), it chooses the word ortiva/ortiba.

ortiba is also lunfardo. this word is the result of reversing the order of the syllables in batidor (whisk). this word formation mechanism is called vesre (revés: reverse). it’s similar to back slang in english. this is extremely common in argentina. some popular examples of vesre are garpar (pagar: to pay), jermu (mujer: woman), garcar (cagar: to cheat, to swindle). here’s an example of vesre in dorohedoro:

sopermi = permiso (excuse me)

the term ortiba was originally used to refer to informers that worked for the police, snitches. nowadays, that meaning mostly fell into disuse. it’s more common to use ortiba for people who usually refuse to take part in certain activities or plans (which has some similarity to its original meaning, someone that betrays their peers). you can also be called ortiba if you’re someone grumpy or someone who doesn’t let other people enjoy themselves. there’s not really an agreement on the spelling, people use both ortiba and ortiva interchangeably. it can also be used as a verb (no te ortives). i think buzzkill, spoilsport, killjoy or party pooper are english nouns that are similar in meaning. let’s give an example:

rioplatense spanish:

a: ¿te pinta salir hoy?

b: no, ni ahí.

a: fua, qué ortiba.

english:

a: feel like going out today?

b: no, no way.

b: wow, what a buzzkill.

so, you probably get the gist of that haikyuu panel now. hinata is calling tsukishima un ortiva because he doesn’t want to help them with their studies, and suggests they should call him ortishima. i fear this will only be funny to you if you’re argentinian, but at least you learned something new about spanish today! yippee!

#like and subscribe to my channel if you wanna see more argentinisms in manga #balling

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ruben-the-cowboy · 10 days

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RIP Van Der Linde gang 😔 you would’ve loved:

Abigail Marston - Marriage counseling, Stanley Cups, The Barbie Movie

Arthur Morgan - Slim Jim’s, Bass Pro Shops pyramid, Levi’s wooly Jean Jackets

Bill Williamson - Grindr, Shitty Gas Stations, “Don’t Tread On Me” flags

Charles Smith - Mitski, microwaved popcorn and movie nights, Bison as a protected species

Dutch Van Der Linde - Backseat Driving, Political Debate Podcasts, fruit flavored vapes

Hosea Matthews - Keurig Coffee Machines, chiropractors , Candy Crush

Jack Marston (depending on age) - Warrior Cats, Percy Jackson, Disney +

Javier Escuella - Electric Guitars, Cards Against Humanity, The Oscars/Grammys/Golden Globes

John Marston - 3 in one soap, Ford Truck Of the Month, band T-shirts

Josiah Trelawney - Magician Kits, Amazon, America’s Got Talent

Karen Jones - White Claws, Dolly Parton, Brittany Broski

Kieran Duffy - Star Stables Online, NASA space pictures, JellyCat Plushies

Lenny Summers - Kindle tablets, Soundproof headphones, Barnes and Noble

Leopold Strauss - Cashapp/Venmo, Facebook, Wikipedia

Mary-Beth Gaskill - thrift shopping, fanfiction websites, Taylor Swift’s Eras tour

Micah Bell - Ben Shapiro, Alpha Males, Playing Devil’s Advocate

Molly O’Shea - Steel Magnolias, Weighted Blankets, Themed Calendars

Rev, Orville Swanson - Bible study, AA meetings, Sacramental Wine

Sadie Adler - WLW music, Matching tattoos, Gym Membership

Sean MacGuire - Totino’s pizza rolls, Good Mythical Morning, Sugary Cereal (Lucky Charms /j)

Simon Pearson - Hell’s Kitchen, Panini press/waffle iron, Walmart Superstore

Susan Grimshaw -Life 360, Boxed Wine, Cats

Tilly Jackson - Mani-Pedis, Shea Butter Scrubs, Micellar Water

Uncle - Wheel Of Fortune, Recliners, Car seat heaters

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #van der linde gang

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abiiors · 1 year

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Limbo

for someone who adores hurt/comfort i don't write nearly enough of them.

vague descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks

wc: 2.2k

You’re stuck in a liminal space.

The airport is bustling and empty at the same time, people are loud and quiet. The lights around you are too strong, too bright. Spanish conversations fly all around you and right through you.

Your stay in Mexico has come to an end.

Stay…as if it was any more than 24 hours.

You don’t know how long you haven’t blinked in; your eyes burn, your head throbs in rhythm with the bouncing of your knees. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time.

‘Coffee, love?’ Adam towers over you, extending the second styrofoam cup in his hands toward you. He looks just as exhausted as you feel; the bags under his eyes are purple and pronounced, his shoulders look droopy like he can’t wait to just crumble into himself. And it makes sense. The boys (and you by extension) have travelled practically all across South America in a matter of days. And between all the performances and the heat, you feel like you haven’t gotten any real sleep in at least a month.

‘Thanks,’ you accept it gratefully. Your third cup for the evening, should you even be drinking it? It doesn’t matter because it’s nice to have your hands and mouth occupied. If nothing else, the coffee might make the pounding headache go away.

Unfortunately, it does no such thing because it’s just weak bean water. Both you and Adam sit side by side, not talking and barely even interacting. You want to ask him where your boyfriend is along with the rest of your friends. Matty and Polly have long since curled up on some of the reclining chairs, you suspect Ross and George are off for a smoke with the others. And that leaves you with Adam who’s on the brink of falling asleep himself.

One more hour till boarding starts.

You try to close your eyes, try to get at least an hour of broken sleep but the weird rhythm of your heart won't let you relax. So instead you go back to staring at nothing and bouncing your knee up and down. The ebb and flow of the pounding in your head is the only constant companion.

—

Ross’s hand is warm on your back as he guides you to your seat. Your entire body feels heavy; heavier than it has felt all day. There’s pressure on your chest and the out-of-rhythm beat of your heart doesn’t help matters.

His eyes are already fluttering shut even while he stands upright. The rest of the boys are in no different state and your heart breaks for them. So you can’t exactly blame Ross when he passes out as soon as he gets into his sit. His massive body is sprawled out, legs stretched out as much as his seat allows him to. There are tired lines on his face; it has been a long month, longer still for you because you haven’t been able to sleep properly in the last few days and now as you prepare yourself for a 38 hour long journey, you regret not getting proper rest.

Nothing that can be done now, unfortunately.

The cabin crew do their usual safety demonstrations that barely anyone pays attention to and the plane starts to taxi.

The thought of being stuck in the air like this for hours upon hours before going through the whole process all over again for the connecting flight is absolutely terrifying. Just thinking about it deepens the pit in your gut and now with almost everyone around you passed out from exhaustion, there’s no one who will stay up with you to calm you down.

The plane tilts as the front wheels lift up. You’ve never been one to be scared of flying, it’s usually a very normal, generic experience but the shit combination of exhaustion and anxiety and panic has your stomach churning.

So you dash to the bathroom as soon as the seatbelt sign is off.

The weak, disgusting coffee from before sloshes in your stomach along with the remnants of whatever pathetic dinner you had the night before (a panini? Some pasta? You can’t exactly remember). You kneel in front of the toilet, waiting for something to come up but the only thing that’s constant is the hum of the plane and the thudding of your heart. And then the tears begin.

This is so pathetic, so so childish and immature. Everyone has had the same rough few days, the band more so than the others. And yet the only person currently crying in the bathroom is you.

With renewed annoyance, you roughly wipe at your eyes and your nose with your sleeve. You just need to wash your face and get some sleep. You just need to suck it up and deal with it. Yet the panic and nausea don’t subside.

After a while the disgusting reality of being sat on the floor hits and you scramble fast to close the lid and sit on it. There’s no way you can face your friends right now and on the off chance that anyone is awake at this point, you don’t want to explain why you can’t seem to get a deep enough breath. So you just grip the sink tightly and fight to get things under control.

Which is how Adam walks in on you in the bathroom sobbing your eyes out.

There’s the initial shock and the apologies that follow when he thinks he’s just walked in on you on the toilet. But it only takes him a second to realise that’s not the case. That you’re in here hiding from the rest of them.

‘Hey…’ he speaks gently and tries to crouch in front of you but the bathroom barely has space for it. ‘Love, what’s the matter?’

‘I don’t—sorry,’ you sob out as you try to maintain some control, ‘sorry, I’m okay, I’m fine. Just give me a minute.’

He buys none of it. Mostly because he’s not stupid enough to believe you’re fine while you’re sobbing your eyes out right in front of him.

‘Do you want me to call Ross—’

‘No, don’t!’ you burst out, startling him a little bit. ‘I mean…he’s tired, you’re all tired. Don’t wake him up…’

Adam tuts in pity as your voice breaks on the last word. It’s so clear to him that you need your boyfriend but he knows you won’t put your needs before anyone else’s. That’s always been your best and your worst quality.

‘You’re tired too,’ he points out and you can only shrug your shoulders.

‘I just need to relax. I’ll get over it, Adam, I promise.’

He doesn’t look like he believes your watery smile for one minute but he nods once and closes the door on his way out.

Left alone in the silence of the bathroom, your heart squeezes once again. You would have liked the company and now surrounded by the faint whirring of the plane, you can’t help but let more tears slip. Your breath comes out in sharp, short bursts as you try to get things under control. It’s only fourteen more hours, only fourteen more…if you could just breathe through it and close your eyes and just sleep a little…

‘Baby?’

Ross’s voice is soft and sleepy as he dwarfs the entrance to the bathroom. In his disoriented state, it takes him a good second to figure out the sight in front of him. Even after Adam woke him up and asked him to check on you, he didn’t realise it would be his bad. He didn’t expect to find you on the verge of a panic attack.

He almost goes through the motions on autopilot; running to you and scooping you up in his arms while shushing you. If Adam couldn’t fit into the bathroom with you then there’s no way Ross can…and the door stays awkwardly open. Fortunately, your cries are a bit muffled by his shirt.

Even his hand rubbing your back in soothing circles only does so much to calm you down until eventually, you feel Ross breathing deeply next to you. You know it’s his way of getting you to mirror him and it has worked countless times in the past. So you force yourself to try and match him.

It goes just as expected at first; deep breaths that turn into panicked and choked gasps halfway through. And yet every time there’s a setback he shushes you and patiently starts all over again. His grip on your shoulders is gentle yet firm each time he takes an exaggerated breath and slowly but surely, your blurry vision starts to clear and the fist around your heart loosens its hold.

‘Should we try going back to the seat?’ he searches your eyes for any more signs of an impending panic attack while he waits for an answer. When you nod, he wraps an arm around you and gently ushers you back to your seats.

Once again you’re aware of how warm and loving his hand feels on your back, something that grounds you further before he hands you a bottle of water to sip on.

‘Why didn’t you wake me up, love?’ his hand rests on your knee, fingers moving in soothing shapes that tickle and distract you from the headache that’s intensifying. ‘Come on, talk to me.’

‘You were so tired…’ you confess in a small voice, ‘I didn’t want to be a bother…’

All he has to do is tut and give you a look before everything else comes spilling out.

‘I don’t feel well,’ you admit to him like a child; shaking your head and biting your lip to stop it from wobbling. ‘I feel so anxious and tired and nauseous. Everything feels off, it’s like I’m so exhausted but I can’t sleep,’ another small sniffle, ‘I just want to sleep.’

He listens patiently until you’re done listing off everything that’s wrong. And at the moment, thirty thousand feet above in the air, it does rather seem like everything is wrong with the world.

Except…except maybe when Ross moves his hands to gently comb your hair back. The last thing you see is a frown on his tired face before your eyes flutter shut. His fingers move through your hair again and again, nails gently scraping on your scalp, applying just the perfect amount of pressure. And for the first time in days, a sense of calm descends over you.

‘That looks like it feels good, love,’ he whispers softly after a bit and you reply with a small hmm. Because it does feel absolutely magical.

Maybe it’s not the ultimate cure for the anxiety you have been feeling but it’s certainly the best thing you’ve felt in the last few days.

‘How about we try to sleep, yeah? I know you said you can’t but I'll play with your hair for a bit. Does that sound good?’

‘It does. But…’ you hesitate a bit, ‘you’re tired too. I don’t want you staying up for me.’

‘Who says I’m staying up?’ he replies instantly and pulls you into him as much as the reclining seat allows, ‘we are both taking a nap.’

‘Oh.’

He laughs a little at that. ‘Now unfortunately I can’t serenade you without getting dirty looks,’ he jokes, ‘but we can cuddle…well, as much as these seats allow us to.’

‘Oh you were planning on serenading me?’ you giggle lightly and immediately get shushed by someone in the back. That however makes you both erupt into silent laughter; shoulders shaking and hands pressed tightly to your mouths like children who have sneakily stayed up way past their bedtime.

‘Okay okay,’ he takes a deep breath and presses a small kiss to the crown of your hair, ‘close your eyes and take a deep breath for me.’

You do as he says, relaxing a little more when a whiff of his (somehow still fresh) cologne hits you. The pressure of your chest lingers still but it’s nowhere near as prevalent as before and now you just feel stupid for not telling him sooner.

But now is not the time to overthink and dwell on that as you finally, finally feel yourself getting sleepier and starting to yawn. You could cry with relief at how good it feels to have him play with your hair and to have him lull you to sleep.

‘Ross?’

‘Hmm?’ he answers sleepily.

‘Thank you. So so much.’

He’s quiet for a whole minute and if it weren’t for his moving fingers, you would have been sure that he’s fallen asleep. ‘I can think of a few ways you can thank me,’ he replies in a quiet, suggestive voice, ‘tomorrow.’

‘Oh my god, ROSS!’ you slap at his thigh which makes him burst out laughing for three whole seconds before you’re slapping your hand on his mouth.

Another annoyed grumble. This time it’s undeniably George.

‘I meant you could buy me dinner. It’s not my fault your mind’s in the gutter!’

You roll your eyes at him and snuggle into his chest once again. ‘Sure you did love, sure you did.’

#ross macdonald #ross macdonald fanfic #ross x reader #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald writing #the 1975 #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #ross the 1975 #the 1975 imagine #female reader #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #fluff writing

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kage-gfx · 5 months

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2023 Topps.

#trading card design #graphic design #tradingcarddesign #wrestling trading cards #panini america #jey uso #jalen hurts #connor mcdavid #paulo banchero #orlando magic #wweraw #main event jey uso #philadelphia eagles #Edmonton oilers #nhl #nfl #stanley cup playoffs #super bowl #nba finals

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cant-get-no-worse · 11 months

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something about Spain NT (2008 - 2012). red and gold. 2010s hair cuts. the most eerie mix of jocks, lover boys and noodle nerds mastering their positions. internal drama. Torres goal against Germany setting off everything. enemies to allies to friends to winners. long haired lesbian Sergio Ramos, David Villa making the girls swoon. paninis. camera filming close ups of the team standing still during anthems and lowering down 10 centimeters when it got to Xavi. relentless obsession. silver and blue confettis in 2008. uneasy RMA v Barça truce in the quest of completion. Waka Waka, total football, endless possession phases. dark blue kits. Iniesta’s last minute winner, Dani Jarque siempre con nosotros. Busquets and Casillas kneeling in front of each other, wordless, crying in disbelief. the weight of the world suddenly being lifted off of you — your world ending in a gold zenith. a country exploding of joy at the same minute, streets like living lungs all night long. congratulations from Spanish speaking countries from Europe to Lat America. Casillas, gold medal on his neck, voice wavering, kissing his girlfriend in the middle of the interview. plane pictures. Mourinho making up speeches to rile up the RMA players against their international Barça teammates to break the 2010 World Cup comradry. penalties against Portugal in 2012, Alves’ miss. first country to win a Euro back to back. pictures. euphoria. downfall. La Roja.

#i'm in my feels can you tell #spain nt

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tennessoui · 2 years

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you were talking about catty obi wan a few days ago which reminded me a little bit of the smithsonian au we havent heard abt her in a little! i love it so so much especially that one snippet you have at the party where obi decides hes leaving. that one makes me feral bfhddjjf out of pure curiosity if you were to write another little segment what would you write for that one?

here is another little segment! autumnally themed (the aforementioned 'cuffing season' ficlet, but make anakin and obi-wan literally unhinged and criminally oblivious)

(2.8k)

“Padmé,” Anakin Skywalker throws his wrapped sandwich onto the table before swinging the chair around so he can lean his front against the backrest, work slacks tightening indecently along the stretch of his thighs.

Obi-Wan puts his half-eaten salad panini aside. His mouth is suddenly very dry, which happens sometimes when he eats bread. He takes a sip of his American lemonade, a product that still fascinates him.

“Hello, Anakin,” Padmé greets from the head of the little table. “How have you been?”

“I think I’m lonely, Padmé,” Anakin declares. He’s not looked at Obi-Wan once, which really is just rude. “I think I want to get a girlfriend.”

“Pass,” Padmé says and bites at the tightest curl of her curly fries.

“Not you,” Anakin hurries to say. “We tried that already. It was awful.”

Padmé arches an eyebrow.

“You weren’t awful,” Anakin says even faster. “Just—together—we weren’t—“

Obi-Wan’s stomach feels awfully tight. Perhaps he has overeaten or the sandwich from the food court Panera has not agreed with him.

“It’s autumn,” Anakin says sullenly as he starts ripping the plastic covering off his lunch.

“Who’s Autumn?” Obi-Wan hadn’t meant to say anything. Drat.

But the question stands. He hasn't heard of any new employees at the Air and Space Museum. Perhaps Autumn is a construction worker, Heaven knows they’ve been hanging around there for the better part of two years. Maybe Autumn is a girl from Texas. Maybe Autumn is a woman Anakin’s met on one of his nights out on the town that always show up on his Instagram stories, not that Obi-Wan watches those. Maybe she’s an attractive, busty woman who works as a consultant in Navy Yard.

No, Anakin wouldn’t go to Navy Yard on principle. Adams Morgan. Maybe he met Autumn at a bar in Adams Morgan. Maybe—

A hand lands on his forearm. “The season, darling,” Padmé tells him in a very mocking tone.

Obi-Wan can feel his cheeks heating at the same time Anakin says accusingly, “Darling?”

“Why do you want a girlfriend because of the season? Do you plan to have a boyfriend for the spring and a partner in the summer?”

Anakin shoots him a very dirty look before glaring at the hand Padmé has rested on his skin until she removes it to eat another curly fry.

“Have you never heard of cuffing season?” Padmé asks him with interest. “Do they not have that in the United Kingdom?”

“I think it’s less of a British thing and more of an old man thing,” Anakin replies, kicking out beneath the table and brushing past Obi-Wan’s foot with forceful intent.

Padmé cuts in before Obi-Wan can respond which is, probably, for the better. “Cuffing season in America is what people call it when you date someone for a short period of time so that you can partake in the typical couple activities of the next few months. Pumpkin patch picking, horror movie watching, couples costumes, thanksgiving dinner, ice skating….”

Obi-Wan furrows hooks eyebrows in confusion. “Can’t you do all that with a group of friends?”

“Not romantically,” Anakin replies. He’s bitten into his sandwich and is partly through with chewing. There’s mustard on his chin. Obi-Wan decides not to tell him.

“So you want a girlfriend for a few months? And then what? Dump her in January?”

“Exactly,” Anakin says. “But I suppose I’m open to the possibility of dating a girl for cuffing season and then marrying her later because she turned out to be the love of my life. Sounds romantic, doesn’t it?”

For reasons Obi-Wan isn’t going to think about too hard, it quite literally sounds like the worst thing imaginable. Anakin, married?

“And how will you convince some poor lass to date you?” He asks, perhaps more waspishly than he intended.

Anakin’s mouth falls open in offense. “I could get anyone I wanted to date me! And I don’t recall asking your opinion, Kenobi.”

“It’s called a conversation, I believe. When one person says something and another responds. Or do you just talk to listen to your own voice?”

“I like listening to my voice much better than I like listening to yours.”

“That’s unusual. Most all of the Americans I’ve met think my voice is lovely. They certainly seem to enjoy it during—“

“And I’ve lost my appetite, thank you both,” Padmé sighs and stands, crumbling up her paper container of fries and hamburger wrappings. “Anakin, I’m not going to set you up with one of my friends. I don’t want you to put your dick near any of them. Obi-Wan, our break ends in ten. I’m not making excuses for you if you’re late getting back online.”

Obi-Wan misses the first part of what she’s saying because he’s too busy glaring at Anakin, who is glaring right back at him.

The man really could find a partner within a week if he were really serious about looking. He’s quite attractive, with his blond curls and bright blue eyes, the cut of muscle discernible through his work clothes. Sometimes at after-work happy hours, he’ll unbutton his shirt a bit, roll up his sleeves to play a game of darts in the back at Bar Deco, and there’s no way to prove that attendance to those happy hours have skyrocketed since pictures of Anakin focusing intently on the dartboard, corded forearm tense as he prepares to throw what was surely a bulls-eye had been posted on the intranet, but Obi-Wan knows it has.

He’s made sure not to miss a single one since then, just out of scientific curiosity.

So if Anakin is going to find a girlfriend who will become a wife probably, then Obi-Wan wants to meet her. As soon as Anakin has, but that seems highly unlikely. He’ll settle for—

“Well, are you doing anything this weekend? For pumpkin patch walking and perhaps a haunted house tour?” He asks Anakin, who chokes on his turkey club.

“Are you…sorry, are you volunteering to be my romantic—date?” Anakin asks once he has finished coughing into his napkin.

Obi-Wan waves a hand through the air. “Don’t be ridiculous. But if you’re available and can find a date by Saturday, I’d love to experience this aspect of American culture.”

“You want to…third wheel on one of my dates?” Anakin puts his sandwich down completely, which is probably for the better so as to avoid any more choking incidents.

“Well, I’d bring a date along too,” Obi-Wan points out. If Anakin can find a date then so can Obi-Wan. He hadn’t realized how lonely he also felt until this very moment actually.

Good thing he’s clocked out for this lunch break. He’d hate to have such personal realizations while on company time.

“You’re seeing someone?” Anakin’s tone is sharp again and bordering on accusatory. “Padmé didn’t say anything.”

“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment, no. Though if you are free, on Saturday, I’m sure I can find an interested party.”

Anakin pushes his food away from him, looking like he’s going to be sick. “I bet.”

“So?” Obi-Wan prompts when it doesn’t look like Anakin is going to say anything else of his own volition. “Saturday?”

“I have plans,” Anakin says.

“Oh,” says Obi-Wan. He feels strangely disappointed for several seconds. But of course Anakin has plans. His weekends are probably full for the next several months. A man like Anakin would never have time for a man like Obi-Wan. “Never you mind, then.”

“But—next weekend, I’m free. If you don’t mind waiting a week before going on your date.”

Obi-Wan blinks. He’d briefly forgotten about bringing another. “Yes, I should be available.”

“Great,” Anakin replies with so much enthusiasm in his voice that it must be faked. “We can hammer out the details later then.”

“Perfect,” Obi-Wan agrees. “I hope the weather holds up.” How banal! Talking of the weather! “With skies this blue, I can almost see why you love them so much.”

Much better.

Anakin blinks and then throws his head back with a laugh. Obi-Wan is struck dumb at the sight, though he recovers quickly.

Best not to stay around though, should Anakin decide to do anything else so ill-advised.

He stands and gathers his own lunch trash. He’ll probably be very late back to his office, but perhaps he’ll be able to blame his tardiness on a couple of hordes of tourists. They all seem to have come out of the woodwork to enjoy the weather in the Mall.

“Would you care to hear some romantic advice from an old man?” He asks. “Though it may be horribly outdated, I wouldn’t know.”

Anakin narrows his eyes, probably sensing a trap. His curiosity gets the best of him though. “Sure.”

“Perhaps wipe off that smear of mustard on your chin before you try to pursue a romance with anyone. I’m sorry to say, but yellow isn’t your color.”

He chuckles at how fast Anakin’s hands fly to his face, clutching a napkin. “I’ll have you know, everything is my color!”

But Obi-Wan has already started to walk away, satisfied with getting the last laugh.

——————-

“Padmé, you have to help me,” Anakin begs into his phone. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

He can tell from the noises in the background that she’s only half-listening, chopping up ingredients for dinner. That’s fair. They’ve been on the phone for two hours.

She hasn’t offered any advice or any useful action items, of course, even though Anakin has given her plenty of time between segments of speech in order to intervene with any sort of aid.

“Ani, I quite honestly don’t know what you want me to do. You’ve gotten yourself into another incredibly peculiar and downright unfortunate situation.”

“And usually you help me out of those!”

“What are you telling these women? You’ve never in your life had trouble finding a date for an evening. What about Cassidy in the Botanical Gardens? I’ve always thought she would be interested in you.”

Anakin groans and collapses onto his mattress, still half-dressed in his work clothes and half in his exercise wear. He’d wanted to go on a run to clear his head, but then he’d thought that perhaps Padmé would be able to help him in his plight.

The plight being, of course, that no one wants to date him apparently.

“Cassie declined,” Anakin laments.

“Cassie has been panting after you for at least a year. There’s no way she’d decline. What did you say?”

“Well, she seemed interested when I asked…but maybe she just doesn’t like haunted houses? I told her that Obi-Wan asked me along on a double date to a haunted house and a pumpkin patch, and she sort of…said never mind?”

Padmé is very quiet for several moments. “What about Angela? I know Angela has implied that she likes you very loudly. Basically not implying anything except the sex position.”

Anakin frowns at the ceiling. “I asked. She thought maybe Obi-Wan wouldn’t want her to come along, they apparently don’t get along or something? I don’t quite understand it. I mean, whatever their beef is, not the not liking Kenobi part. Anyway, that’s basically what I told her and that it would be even more fun if Obi-Wan and her didn’t get along, because I love pissing him off, and she got sort of upset and um.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “And what?”

Anakin rolls over onto his stomach. “She dumped her lemonade on my lap? And said that it’s an asshole move to ask someone on a date just to pull someone else’s pigtails.”

There’s an even longer pause, before Padmé bursts out laughing.

“Stop it,” Anakin says. “It’s not funny. And now I don’t have a date, and I’m expected to go out with Obi-Wan tomorrow. He’ll be absolutely ruthless if I show up without a date! Please help me, Pads! I’m about to go out running in the street and asking every stranger under forty I see if they would like to date me for one day, specifically tomorrow, because I have this asshole coworker whose sole purpose is making my life a living hell by asking me to go on a double date with him and someone he apparently just asked out a few days ago because he’s so stupid and handsome and charming apparently that he can get anyone to date him at the drop of a goddamn hat because he thinks he’s God’s gift to women and men, apparently—”

Padmé has stopped laughing. “I can see why Cassie and Angela said no if you gave them the same speech,” she says. It’s not very comforting, so he stays silent and frowns into his pillow, deciding not to tell her he'd also been shot down by Rebecca, Virginia, Victoria, Sidney, and Rose.

“You could just cancel on Obi-Wan,” Padmé suggests.

Anakin bites back a scoff. Yeah, right. Why would he cancel on Obi-Wan? Then the man would know that he couldn’t find a date and that he was embarrassed about his own undateability. He’d really never let it go. He’d probably be hearing about how Obi-Wan had already picked out his nicest autumnal sweater and scarf when Anakin canceled for the rest of his life. Obi-Wan would probably remind him on his deathbed, he was a real asshole like that.

Cancel on Obi-Wan? As if.

“I can’t do that!” He tells Padmé. “Please, please. If you ever loved me at all—”

“I didn’t, that’s why we had to stop sleeping together because it got awkward every time you said it during sex—”

“--then you would give me the number of any one of your friends who is in the city and available tomorrow for pumpkin patch picking and haunted house going.”

Padmé seems to be debating something to herself because she doesn’t say anything for a very long time. “Fine.”

Anakin sits straight up in bed. “Really?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything.” “You have to think—using your very big brain—about why you don’t want to cancel on Obi-Wan.”

Easy. Anakin was just thinking about that. “Done. Because he’s an asshole and like a shark but instead of blood, he can smell weakness a mile away.”

Padmé sighs and then there’s the distinct sound of a wine bottle being uncorked. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she seems to tell herself. “But fine. Fine. Her name is Sabé. She owns a bar in Georgetown, which is also where she lives.”

Anakin fights back a groan at this. Georgetown is the worst area to travel to because there are no metro stops. He’ll have to drive to pick her up, if she agrees. But Padmé will get her to. He trusts Padmé with his heart (and future happiness) even if he doesn’t love her anymore.

Anyway, maybe this will be the best meet-cute in D.C. history. What if Anakin and Sabé actually fall in love because Anakin needed a date because of Kenobi and all of the women he’s ever talked to at work declined because no one wanted to spend time with Kenobi outside of work?

“Tell me more about Sabé,” Anakin requests. “What does she like?”

“Heavy metal music, her motorcycle, getting tattoos, a good curry, pumpkin spice lattes, horror films from the Golden Age of Hollywood, long walks on the beach, etcetera etcetera.”

This woman sounds great. Obi-Wan is going to lose his mind when he sees how cool Anakin’s date is. He’s going to be so jealous. Anakin’s already half in love with Sabé just from thinking about how jealous Obi-Wan is going to be.

“That’s great,” Anakin says with a wistful sigh. “Give me her number, I’ll ring her tonight. Maybe we can meet up before tomorrow.”

“Slow down, lover boy,” Padmé says. It sounds like she’s smiling. “Don’t you want to know how I met her?”

Anakin’s brows furrow. “I guess?” Padmé has a lot of friends in a lot of different walks of life, her knowing someone who owns a bar and has tattoos isn't unbelievable.

“We hooked up in the back of her bar a few times while I was getting my master’s at Georgetown. She likes long walks on the beach, mango margaritas, baking, and women. Exclusively women.”

Anakin flops back to stare at the ceiling as his daydreams dissolve until only Obi-Wan’s smug face remains. “You suck.”

“Still want her number? I can guarantee she’ll agree. She’s got a master’s in psychology, I’m sure she’ll find this whole thing fascinating.”

Anakin doesn’t know what’s so fascinating about pumpkin patch picking, but whatever. He’s sort of desperate. “Fine. Yeah. Thanks for letting me borrow your lesbian friend for a day.”

Padmé cackles. Anakin can’t believe he’d ever loved the sound of that laugh. “Oh, Ani. You’ll be borrowing my girlfriend.”

#asks #smithsonian au #padmé hangs up and gives sabé a glass of wine #and she's like 'sorry to have to cancel our date tomorrow i know we're celebrating our 6 month anniversary'#and sabé is like aw that sucks why?#and padmé is like 'well you could view it more as....an anniversary present. i've just gotten you the most interesting lab rats'#'you'll just have to pretend to be straight for a few hours.'#sabé (huge butch): i don't think anyone could think im straight #padmé (huge bitch): just tell the redhead that you're the blond's girlfriend and he won't be able to think critically for hours #idiots to idiots intensifies #obikin

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