#favoritefightingfrenchgoth

[communistkenobi-archive]

Cody and Obi-wan ? + prompt 48 “Now, just hold on a diddly darn minute.”

AO3

This turned out waaay longer than anticipated. It’s more in the spirit of that prompt than anything else, but here you go!

--

48. “Now, just hold on a diddly darn minute.” - Cody & Obi-Wan

“Is that Peel returning, sir?”

Cody looked up from the chart spread on the table and squinted, trying to see through the rain. He spotted a trooper approaching the command tent slowly, a faint limp to his walk. This many weeks into their occupation, none of them ran anywhere.

He let out a sigh. “Yeah, it is.”

Stead glanced towards the barracks. “Should I wake the general?”

“No, I’ll do it.” He looked down at his chrono and held back a curse. Fifty-eight minutes ago, Kenobi had been nodding off from the other side of the command table. Only under significant badgering did he finally relent and head to the barracks tent for some rest, leaving them with instructions to wake him in four hours unless there was another attack. Cody had planned on giving him six, but it looked like that wouldn’t be happening any time soon. The commander didn’t pretend to know what it was the general did when he knelt down in the middle of their camp and began to pray, he just knew that it worked and that it took a lot out of him. 

And now he had to go ask him to do it again.

Peel scuffed his boots on the mat outside and ducked into the tent with a sigh. “Commander—”

“Another attack, I know.” 

“Just a sighting, actually,” Peel corrected him. “But they’re approaching the camp. I figure they’ll be by the front gate within twenty minutes if they keep up their current pace.”

Cody thought for a moment. “Do you have eyes on them still?” Perhaps they wouldn’t have to wake the general. Perhaps they could finally get a handle on rooting them out without—

“No,” Peel admitted, killing Cody’s hopeful line of thought. “It’s too hard to see. But we confirmed the sighting.”

“Very well.” Cody shoved away from the table and nodded to Stead. “Make sure the snipers are ready.” Then he glanced at Peel. Even under his bucket, he could tell the man was beat. “When’s your shift done, trooper?”

“Uh—” he frowned down at his wrist. “Two hours yet, sir.”

“Your duty partner still awake?”

“Cable,” Peel responded, nodding. “He was when I left him, sir.”

“Good. You can park yourself there for a few minutes, take a breather.” He nodded to the upturned ration bucket by the door. Peel didn’t need to be told twice.

Cody didn’t bother with his helmet. It was a short walk to the barracks tent, and the rain was about as close to a shower as he’d get on this planet. They’d ran out of caf eight days ago, so he’d have to rely on bad weather and blaster fire to keep him awake.

Pushing aside the tent curtain, Cody stepped into the barracks and looked around for the general. Amidst the snoring and rumbling of the other men, Kenobi was sleeping quietly on the closest cot he’d been able to find. The longer into this occupation they got, the less elegantly the general slept. By this point he was asleep on his side, face pressed into the pillow, arm hanging off one edge of the cot.

Cody sighed and walked up to his bunk, setting a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder and shaking it. “General,” he whispered, not wanting to wake the other men, but he probably could have shouted and it wouldn’t have made a difference. “Sir, I’m sorry, but—”

Kenobi groaned and rolled onto his back, his face scrunched into a frown. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet. “Cody,” he murmured, a hand coming up to rub at his face, his beard scratching against his palm. “What time is it?”

“Just past noon, sir.”

“Lovely,” he muttered, and grabbed Cody’s arm for support as he pulled himself up from the bunk. Sitting hunched over the edge of the cot, he rolled his shoulders and tried to wake himself up. “Another attack, I presume?”

“A sighting, sir.”

“Good. We might get the jump on them for once.”

All of them had injuries by now, patched up with field kits and a good attitude. Kenobi was no exception; the hard underbrush of the planet had been a curse to everyone’s ankles, his own included. Cody kept his arm braced steady as the general stood up, who had a hard grip on his vambrace as they limped towards the entrance, only pausing to grab his saber and clip it to his belt.

“Is there anything hot to drink?” Kenobi asked, shielding his eyes as they stepped outside. It was hardly sunny out, but everything about this planet was harsh.

“I could get the boys to boil some water, sir,” Cody suggested, earning a wry glance from the general.

“I’m not quite that desperate yet,” he responded. “But I’ll need food.”

Cody found an idle trooper and sent him to the supply tent for something edible, then called Peel over to follow them. He focused on keeping the general steady as he guided him towards the front of the camp. Kenobi was too exhausted to answer most of the hellos he got from passing troopers, doing his best to stay awake. His robes, once freshly starched and pressed, were now a rumpled,  splotchy light brown—a mixture of blood, mud and sweat that never seemed to wash away no matter how hard it rained. 

Cody set him down by the forward gate, just behind one of their few remaining artillery guns. It was useless by this point; the Separatists had long since pulled back their forces, and now they had to contend with the scattered wildlife instead, wreaking havoc on their camp and avoiding every possible scanner the 212th has access to. Cody preferred droids to the Screechers, but he kept that opinion to himself, knowing it would sound like whinging if he brought it up.

This close to the gates, Cody had purposefully tried to get rid of anything that could be considered a seat to keep the men on their feet, so Kenobi made do with one of the gun struts. He slicked back his now-wet hair with a tired hand, ignoring or unaware of the streaks of dirt running in thin rivulets down his face. “Let’s hear it,” he murmured, blinking heavily.

“Peel,” Cody turned to the trooper beside him, gesturing to Kenobi. “Tell the general what you saw.”

The kid stepped up with a nod. If Cody had more energy, he’d feel bad for the shiny; this was his first stint with the 212th. “Cable spotted a couple of Screechers heading this way, sir, towards the main gate. I don’t think they know we’ve seen them.”

A trooper ran up and handed the general a ration bar, who accepted it with a gracious nod. “How many exactly?” he asked, unwrapping the bar.

“Visibility is shot with the rain,” Peel replied. “We think no more than four.”

“Four,” Kenobi repeated, his brow drawn in a frown. “I can manage that. Thank you, Peel.”

He nodded and began to back away. “Of course, sir.”

“Peel?”

The trooper turned, pausing in his step. “Yes, sir?”

“The contraband cigarettes you’re carrying,” Kenobi said, making the man go still. “They’re caffeine rolls, are they not?”

“Um.” Peel glanced at Cody, his bucket twitching as he tried to figure out where to look. “I’m not sure what you’re—talking about, sir—”

“In your utility pouch,” Kenobi continued, a small smile playing at his lips. “I’d like one, if you can spare it.”

Cody kept a straight face, giving the trooper a hard look. It was always the same joke, the same punchline, but it never failed to tickle him to watch shinies try to lie to Jedi.

“Right.” With visible reluctance, Peel reached for his belt. While he dug around for the pack, Kenobi glanced back at Cody.

“Don’t tell Anakin,” he said to the commander, finishing off the ration bar. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“If it makes you feel better, sir, I don’t think he’d believe you if you told him.”

Kenobi huffed. “Quite right.” 

Peel cleared his throat, pulling out a roll. “I don’t have any… uh, any fresh ones,” he said by way of apology, avoiding Cody’s gaze and holding out a cigarette to the general. It had been lit and snuffed out several times, the tip a ragged brown. Cody had smoked caffeine rolls before; they were unpleasant enough when fresh.

“That’s alright. A light, please.”

Peel set him up with the last of his cigarette, then practically sprinted back to his scouting post with Cable. Kenobi exchanged a knowing look with Cody, taking a drag from the roll.

“Horrid things,” he commented, twisting his mouth up in distaste and watching the smoke curl lazily in the air, buffeted by the ever-present drizzle. “I’d leave the Order for a fresh cup of tea.”

“Are you well enough to do this, General?” Cody asked, frowning at how tired he looked.

“I’ll have to be,” Kenobi replied with an unpleasant cough, taking another drag. “We still need to capture one of them for study, and we can’t afford another strike. Would you like some of this?” he added, holding it out to Cody.

“I’m fine, sir, thank you.”

Cody looked towards the main gate, frowning. They’d rebuilt their barricades dozens of times, only for the Screechers to knock them down come the next morning. Thus far, they’d proven to be a lot more trouble than droids; they avoided all possible sensors and were virtually invisible in the harsh brushland, moving swiftly and silently—until they didn’t. The boys had nicknamed the things Screechers, a fitting title. Cody would have given them a much fouler name, but that would likely cause problems in their written reports.

The general quickly finished what was left of the roll, snuffing out the ember on the strut he was sitting on and tossing the paper butt. Cody had gotten pretty good at reading the man’s face by now, and could tell he was mentally preparing himself. Since they’d landed on the planet, the only successful tactic they had against the Screechers was to sit the general down and let him feel around for them—with the Force, with his mind, however it worked. He was their scanner, giving directions to the troopers they sent out to find and kill the things. Three weeks ago, the general would lead the team himself to root them out in the brush, but they’d been whittled down to simply reacting to Screecher attacks with sniper fire from their scouting towers, and even that was becoming too much to bear. Skywalker along with the 501st had been slated to relieve them a week ago, but the Separatists forces the 212th had been fighting down here were now raising hell in a dozen different systems, meaning they were on their own for the foreseeable future. Cody didn’t want to think about what would happen once the general was too exhausted to scan the area anymore, but they’d have to begin planning for that eventuality, and soon.

“Help me up,” Kenobi requested, and Cody offered his arm again as the general struggled to his feet, guiding him towards the small tent they’d set up for him. The only thing beneath the tarp was a mat and a topographic layout of the surrounding area—it had effectively become their information centre. He would’ve found it funny if they weren’t so desperate.

“They’re approaching from the east, then,” Kenobi murmured, limping along with Cody. “Four of them.”

“That a problem, sir?”

“If there were eight of them, maybe. Four I can handle.” He held onto one of the tent poles, positioning himself in front of the mat. Cody helped the general kneel down on the ground, troubled by the pained hiss he gave.

“I feel like an old man,” Kenobi groaned goodnaturedly, letting out a sigh as he tried to get comfortable.

Cody pursed his lips, wondering if he should voice his thoughts aloud. The general seemed to be in a decent enough mood, but—

“And I look like one, too,” he added, glancing up at Cody with a knowing look. He smiled back.

“Not my place to comment, sir,” he replied, making him snort.

“If it’s not your place, it isn’t anyone’s.” Kenobi turned back, facing the gate, his hands settling on his knees in loose fists. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and Cody knew to be quiet then. The general’s brow furrowed, and his lips began to move as he mouthed the prayer. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me. Cody had heard it so often in the last few weeks it had begun to play back to him in his dreams.

While the general sought out the Screechers, Cody knelt down beside him and pulled out his comm. He trusted Stead to have readied the scouting snipers, and clicked into their channel, flashing the ready signal twice to alert them. 

Now they just had to wait.

Cody sat down properly beside the general, ignoring how badly his feet throbbed. He studied the map in front of them in the meantime; the contour lines wove intricately throughout the area, with multiple spots flagged by their scouting parties as being particularly harsh terrain. Hilly land combined with harsh scrub was a deadly combination without any other complications, and they were dealing with a lot of those.

The general made a noise, and Cody looked up, holding out his comm at the ready for Kenobi to begin giving instructions. Then he began laughing. The noise was so startling it took a moment for Cody to respond.

“Sir?”

“A confirmed Screecher sighting, you say?” Kenobi asked, not opening his eyes. Cody’s stomach fell.

“That’s what Peel said, sir. Are they mistaken?”

“He and Cable will have to get their eyes checked,” the general said, his mouth twitching. “They spotted lunch, not Screechers. It’s those herbivores we saw before.”

Cody let out a long sigh. “Sir, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t put away your comm,” Kenobi interrupted him, eyes still closed. They moved rapidly beneath his lids. Cody didn’t ask how the general had sensed his arm pulling away. “I’d like the men to bring a couple in.”

“Sir?”

“If I eat ration bars one more time I’ll go mad,” the general told him. “I’m sure you could use a hot meal as well.”

“I could,” Cody replied, smiling faintly.

“Hail the snipers,” Kenobi instructed, and Cody clicked down the ready status again. “I’ll tell them where to shoot.” 

#the clone wars #commander cody #obi-wan kenobi #my stuff #my writing #*dabs* #favoritefightingfrenchgoth

[vicholas]

favoritefightingfrenchgoth replied to your post “I've never been too fond on my birth name but also I've never been...”

I like René/Renée, maybe you can try to find similar names? Renata has the same origin. And I've heard of women w the name Renéa/Renea, but I'm American so idk if that's an acceptable name there

Oh I had a childhood named Renata, I associate it strongly with her so I’m not sure about it. I think Renea would be unusual but acceptable. My birth name is uncommon here so I'm used to that, but I’m not sure if I really vibe with Renea. I’m glad people here have been replying that René is cute though

#favoritefightingfrenchgoth

[howardent]

🏳‍🌈🐛

🏳️‍🌈🦔 ?

#favoritefightingfrenchgoth

[bukbot]

are you goth or prep??

Once the boys had completed their quarantine period, it was raining today, the girls banana before.

#favoritefightingfrenchgoth

[icpe]

favoritefightingfrenchgoth replied to your photoset “is that godzilla, Geralt? :0”

What is Geralt wearing lmao

he is a fashion icon okay!!!!! leAVe hIM

#favoritefightingfrenchgoth #Witcher

[majorxbennyxboy]

✍🏻 !!

There's an entry from mid-late February that's been marked out, scratched through so thoroughly as to distort the pages underneath. Indeed, this page is even torn in places, between the heavy saturation of ink and the harsh pressure that was applied. There's no rhyme or reason to the lines, snatched back and forth across the paper, overlapped til it's impossible to tell where it began and where it ended.

Given the date, however, it's worth speculating that underneath the mess there's entry that goes along the lines of:

~ I received news today which far outweighs even recent events. Samuel is alive ! And after we had been resigned to believe him dead and pray for his soul. Alive , and soon to return. There is little doubt he's suffered aboard The Jersey, but I have every hope he will recover quickly. Caleb has gone to meet him, as should have been my task, had my duties not preven ~

(the entry was never completed; interrupted as it was by fretful pacing and an unsanctioned departure that ended with a standoff in the woods and a damp page lashed with a shaking quill)

#favoritefightingfrenchgoth #Journal Meme #~ thoughts of a free mun | HEADCANONS ~ #oops I officially headcanon it was around Benny-boy's birthday he got word Sam was 'alive'. sue me. #i really gotta check that timeline though idek

[hellahotlancelot]

🔥

Kraft Mac and Cheese is not good

#i couldnt think of one so i just went with this #ask #favoritefightingfrenchgoth #le mutuals

[owlwisdoms100]

favoritefightingfrenchgoth reblogged your post:dustyscaleboy100: owlwisdoms100: My Lifes Goal:...

But Your Greatest Joke Is Your Existence

#internet owl hate#owl discourse

Ha Ha Your Got Me There! Good One! And By The Way How Does It Feel Knowing That One Day Very Soon You Will Wake Up With No Skin

#favoritefightingfrenchgoth

[believe-in-john-adams]

jon atoms is not goth and undank

>:(

#john adams #favoritefightingfrenchgoth #ask

[mollafer]

Since I haven’t made a post in a while, please enjoy this meme I made especially for you :)

I was inspired by @favoritefightingfrenchgoth‘s post here.

#molly makes a meme #turn #turn amc #turn: washington's spies #washington #george washington #ben tallmadge #benjamin tallmadge #turn memes #lady yelling at cat meme #turn style #american history #revolutionary war #american revolution #history memes

[howardent]

i love u kova youre the best !!

i miss you im gonna cry i feel like we used to be so much closer i love you

#favoritefightingfrenchgoth

[bukbot]

what's your opinion on chicken nuggets?

On chicken coops with like 20 hens and after a few pieces of bread get on the season, you may be a person.

#favoritefightingfrenchgoth

[favoritefightingfrenchgoth]

i accidentally was breathing in ammonia fumes earlier which made me feel SO MUCH BETTER so 👌

#i woke up with a nosebleed and it was hard to breathe so i was like ??? then i realized that my kittens had peed in the litter box so much #that i was suffering from inhaling the ammonia in their pee and basically i was suffering in my sleep #i had to change the liner and put M O R E litter in to fill it ALL THE WAY UP so maybe #i won't wake up to cat pee torture tomorrow #The Great Life of Favoritefightingfrenchgoth #my throat and nose still hurt too

[james-madison]

@femmeamaya thanks for tagging me, haven’t done one of these in a while 

15 Questions, 15 mutuals.

1. Are you named after someone?

i think i’m named after esther from the bible but hopefully not aaron burr’s mom because then i’m fucking cursed (i already am hmm).

2. When was the last time you cried?

last monday. damn, i’m just feelin angry lately tho 

3. Do you have kids?

hell to the no to the no to the hell , we don’t fuck in this christian household

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot

not very often. sometimes im too slow or confused to get the joke and it almost becomes painful. i don’t know what the heck goin on tbh.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about someone?

i tend to look at facial structure, voice and hair, height also. 

6. What’s your eye colour?

ocean blue. 

7. Scary movies or Happy endings?

fucking both? 

8. Special talents?

artist? musics? artsy shit mostly, being mistaken for a pisces, i make spectacular memes, also how to gather people. breaking up with bois which is a big lol. 

9. Where were you born?

stockholm, sweeden

10. Hobbies.

playing games (wow), learning about history, i want to start reading more and i probably will, artsy stuff obviously, cuddling alone because im depressed but i do love hugs yum 

11. Pets?

he dead m8 

12. Sports you play/have played?

i used to figure skate and play floorball which was fun. hm

13. How tall are you?

5´4 or 164 cm man

14. Favourite subject?

history bitch, arts, philosophy, psychology, english, literature bc im that kind of person //idk

15. Dream job?

making art like daddy Vanderlyn, hisTorIaN?, architect (maybe), there are probably more occupations but i cannot come up with something more right now

Okay 15 mutuals. 

@general-george-washington @sapphire-and-gold-fire @nebulae-fae @odinburgh @starshipsandmixtapes @niftywaffle @strabius-strawberry @john-marshall @the-entire-eternal-spiral @dunaysha @senator-henry-clay @favoritefightingfrenchgoth @miss--machiavelli @jamescallender

here you go fuckers, hf 

#i was tagged #ayyayayyayeyyaeyaeyea

[majorxbennyxboy]

Why Does Ben... Why He.... Tight Pants

You see what happened wasOnce upon a time in the Continental Army, there was an Error with the laundry, a little to-do, if you will. And it was nobody’s fault! It could’ve happened to anyone! No, there’s no blame going around, but the fact of the matter is…the laundry got mixed up. And Ben, well he’s got a lot going on as well, bless his heart, between flouncing about on errands for Not-Dad, trying to manage his little flock of spies, Stressing Intensely, being both Head of Intelligence and the leader of a troop of Dragoons….it’s a Lot, and so apart from making sure his uniform is on right for the five minutes or so it can be pristine every day, it really isn’t his habit to pay much attention to his clothes. Which is what made him utterly fail to notice that, um, Wrong Britches. And he kept not noticing. Now, those in charge of the laundry, they had noticed, and been in something of a panic. They were all amongst themselves about how to broach the topic with minimum awkwardness and fix the error, but…once it became apparent Ben hadn’t Noticed, they decided to leave it alone and simply amend the mistake at the next round of laundry. What nobody counted on (least of all Ben, who remained Steadfastly Oblivious to the entire situation) was a couple of bored officers and the tendency of wildfire to spread. It started innocently enough, with some elbow jostling and snickering once the officers involved, and I’m not naming names (harrison, lafayette, hamilton, tilghman, etc. By the time the Laundry had the opportunity to fix their mistake, it was all quite out of hand and they found themselves bribed to not only not fix said mistake, but rather to keep making such errors, all for the sake of a Wager that every officer who was any officer was in on. They were hardly going to refuse, now were they? Especially with Hamilton asking so nicely, and Lafayette imploring so genially.The wager itself was simple: “When will Tallmadge Notice, or will he Notice at all?” the general agreement being that if he failed to notice before the war’s end, those betting in favor of his not noticing would win. Anyone who didn’t know about this was quickly made aware, and the amount of betting and bribing throughout camp reached a new high within the first month. Those officers with ties to the London Trade started cutting people into the betting from outside the army. As yet, those betting on Ben not noticing are in the lead, as he’s given no indication of knowing anything is amiss. Washington, meanwhile, is fully aware of this gamble, but has said nothing. According to some reports, he actually has no small sum riding on it. The real kicker, though, is that Ben actually caught on quite some time ago, but he isn’t about to approach the Laundry about it and has been very patiently waiting for them to realize their error. If he only knew the money people have tied up in this debacle. If he only knew.

#favoritefightingfrenchgoth #covert correspondence || ooc chatter #history had other plans || drabbles

[soggyslicedbread]

AAAAAAA

SOMEONE TOLD ME THEY ARE IN LOVE WITH ME AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IM SCREAMING HELP @favoritefightingfrenchgoth @eponinetallmadge @nathanhales @ask-trans-broadway-muses @pierrebeaumarchais @johnmarshall @heysnickers H E L P

#I #IM #IM DEAD #H E L P #O O F #LOVE IS A MYSTRY TO ME