#the kenobi show was the worst offender

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

star wars is ruining my whump dreams with bacta

#having some bacta related upsetness #because i want that raw pain and suffering #just give me some goddamn blood #the kenobi show was the worst offender #all that suffering just to be fixed with bacta #fuck no #thats now how you whump

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

Hondo Ohnaka has never been a mere comic relief character, and of all the bad takes, what he has been reduced to in Rebels and in the public mind has to be the worst offender.

This is Hondo’s introduction. It’s unsettling. It’s off-putting. It’s intimidating, almost.

In the midst of brawling, stupid pirates, Hondo is immovable, steady, and calmly playing with a mask presumably plundered from Dooku’s ship (which has to be relevant symbolically - Hondo’s true self is hidden away under layers and layers of dramatic antics, and even physical goggles obscuring his eyes, the window to the soul, and very thick skin making his expressions harder to read. Everything he says or does is a performance for the benefit of whoever he’s talking to, in the sole goal of making a profit). From moment one, he’s set apart as different - as someone not driven by his emotions, and very self-assured. Someone not to be messed with.

Dooku’s height generally makes him the intimidating one in any interaction, but Hondo’s refusal to be impressed - and the way his goons immediately flock around him when he starts talking to Dooku - sets the audience on edge. 

Who is this guy - who just refused to answer Dooku’s question, who just asked Dooku who he was - and how powerful is he, to be so at ease? Dooku has mopped the floor with Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker, why is some weird scavenger presented as any sort of threat?

Hondo goes on to immediately reveals his two foremost characteristics: his shrewdness, and his greed. (His third most significant trait being his gigantic balls.) Hondo immediately fishes for information while circling Dooku like a shark, and that information of course has to do with profit. (“Your solar sailor is very beautiful. It’s a pretty rare ship, very expensive. ...What are you doing all the way out here?”) He tries to confirm what he suspects while never directly voicing his own intentions but dropping hints => shrewdness. His mind immediately goes to money => greed. He asserts his dominance by letting his monkey lizard climb on Dooku => gigantic balls. If we’ve seen the whole episode already, then we know Hondo is aware of Dooku is (since he later confidently identifies him as the leader of the Separatists even without Dooku saying who he is), which means he’s deliberately toying with him, which is all the more troubling when you realize it works. Dooku has to play along because he doesn’t know how much of a threat this new variable might be, and Hondo gets to keep the upper hand because of it. 

Then, the show further establishes that Hondo is not just ‘some guy.’ 

See this? His men - the undisciplined, brawling scrapers - put themselves at attention without a single word or gesture from Hondo. From his clothes to his hat (=crown) in a sea of mostly bare-headed men and women in simple tunics, everything about him screams ‘pirate king’ or ‘crime lord.’ Hondo throws the mask away, showing that he’s not interested in trifles. He’s here for some serious business.

Which is why he immediately puts on the act and goes into that goofier side we expect of him when we’re familiar with the character. They need to ‘settle his fee.’ Just a ‘little something to cover his expanses.’ Dooku is ‘so obviously wealthy’ (again fishing for confirmation, baiting Dooku). He makes himself look far less threatening - on purpose. By putting his (very real) greed on show, he reassures Dooku about his motives, making Dooku blind to just how far that greed actually goes. Dooku thinks it’ll just be a matter of throwing some money at a foolish, petty crook before crushing him - because by pretending to show his hand prematurely, Hondo is hiding the sheer magnitude of his plans for profit. 

He shows how clever he is again by greeting Dooku with an actual army (with people on the ground and in the fortress - that way, Dooku is completely surrounded and would be taken out by one of the snipers on the walls before he could kill the ground troops). 

He shows how dangerous he is because he managed to pickpocket a freaking Sith Lord. And he didn’t just steal from him - he stole Dooku’s actual lightsabers. Seriously - how?! How did he even manage that?!? Did the lizard steal them or something?

He shows his gigantic balls by again circling Dooku while chatting about his plans, and by being thoroughly unimpressed with Dooku’s attempt to strike fear into his heart. 

He shows how intelligent he is by immediately refusing to let Dooku contact his own side and choosing instead to sell him to the Republic. When he says “you don’t survive in the Outer Rim by being stupid,” we’re meant to take him seriously. 

Finally, he shows that he is entirely motivated by profit. Greed is his most easily exploitable weakness, because while it doesn’t make him stupid, it makes him extremely bold - a good way to get himself burned when playing with Sith fire like he is. Ultimately, Hondo’s plan fails because he captures Anakin and Obi-Wan instead of just honoring his deal with the Republic, hoping to triple his profit - it’s his greed that does him in, not his antics, not his performed goofiness, not his excesses (food, alcohol and women being the biggest offenders) and not his presumed stupidity. 

That’s our introduction to Hondo Ohnaka. 

He goes on to survive - and best - Maul and Savage, he gets traitors to beg for their lives, he makes ‘friends’ with Obi-Wan and profits from most of their encounters, he dated Aurra Sing and was friends with Jango, he tortures Obi-Wan and Anakin for fun, he’s ready to kill children over kyber crystals, he almost sells Ahsoka to an unknown bidder, he kills circus members who bore him, he wants to cut out the tongues of people who betrayed him, he rackets farmers (and again, it’s his greed that does him in, because he could have accepted Obi-Wan’s offer and walked away without issues, but he wants more money), he suffers no consequences for trying to rob a Jedi ship, and almost anyone he’s ever crossed paths with makes the mistake of underestimating him because of the act he puts on.

Hondo is smart, ruthless, cunning, powerful, in control of himself and of his men, and hopelessly in love with money. He can talk his way out of pretty much anything, can talk his victims and enemies into pretty much anything, and ultimately survives time and time again, because he was never a bumbling dumbass.

#hondo ohnaka #count dooku #dooku #darth tyranus #meta #my meta #long post #star wars: the clone wars #swtcw #tcw #star wars tcw #video

[comeandreadawhile]

Snow Day in the Clone Wars

Submitted prompt: Clones see snow for the first time.

4k+ words this was meant to be a little thing and it just kept going. 

Pre-relationship Rexwalker, brief Codywan at the end. 

As had been the case for the majority of things during the war, Kaminoan simulations did not compare to real experiences; for all that the simulations and live training were widespread and creative, the scope of possibilities throughout the galaxy was infinite and usually unexpected.  Such was the case with snow.  

Snow—as the long necks and trainers had led them to believe—was harsh and biting.  It came on heavy winds and cut into you as if the air itself was made of blades.  It stole the air from your lungs and left you frozen, a waste of resources, once the blizzard moved on.  Snow was blinding, terrible for visibility; dark clouds blanketing the sky and ice packing itself onto your viewplate and falling too thick to show anything else in the beam of your helmet light—or a clear, frozen morning magnifying a rising sun’s rays with a vengeance, reflecting them in a way not unlike staring at the offending star itself and giving the enemy an advantage. But as with most subjects they’d been trained on, preparedness and expectations for the worst of situations had meant a lack of details—or perhaps the long-necks just saw no reason for the details—regarding the moments that were not so unpleasant and battle-ridden.

Torrent Company, who were sure the higher-ups were determined not to give them more than a few days leave at a time, had been tasked with checking in on the state of affairs between Pantora and Orto Plutonia—or, rather, to confirm with the Talz that no one had gone behind Senator Chuchi and the new Chairman’s backs regarding trade (or theft) of the planet’s resources.  It seemed for once that the Jedi would be able to act as the peacekeepers they’d wished to remain; their men, while not getting the rest that leave would’ve provided, were at least in for a theoretically easy mission, acting as precautionary bodyguards instead of soldiers fending off an attack.

And the mission had been easy, for the most part.  As easy as making atmosphere and dropping to the surface during a blizzard, and speeding—very cautiously in the low visibility—toward the village of the Talz.  The check-in had gone well, Threepio assisting with the communications and Ahsoka getting to learn from her grandmaster in his diplomatic element. With a message recorded for the Pantoran leadership, they could be on their way; it was only halfway between the village and where they’d hoped to rendezvous that the snowstorm had become too harsh for the transport ship to land or to find their way back; that left the option of finding shelter until the storm died down.  

Through some miracle—be it dumb luck or the will of the Force, it made no difference to the men—there had been a rock face they’d almost crashed into, which featured a cave that was both wide enough to fit the troops present, and deep enough to offer some warmth once the small emergency heaters were deployed and the many warmer-than-normal-human bodies were at rest in the wind-shielded structure.  As the chill of the storm was slowly staved off, just as steadily did the laughter of relieved troopers fill the air and special snow-resistant armors become a pile for them to recline against as the temperature slowly rose.  Ahsoka had stolen Rex’s for a blanket, wedging herself between him and her master to leech what warmth they had for her to steal. General Kenobi had finally made contact with Cody—who had been left in charge of the Resolute—to inform him they’d not died in a bout of diplomacy gone wrong, but simply been grounded by snow until morning.  The slightly harried look Rex only knew from years observing his older brother had melted into relief and something warmer that he was sure he knew the reason behind.

Sure, because as much as he’d hoped Cody would confide in him if he was correct—as General Skywalker leaned against his shoulder, arching somewhat over Ahsoka who was happy as any warm child nestled between her guardians—he knew the hope was a bit hypocritical.  General Skywalker had laughed at something Fives pantomimed while recounting some wild event or another before settling back against him as if it was the most natural thing in the world, warping himself to not crush his padawan, and the small voice in Rex’s head admitted that the warmth in his chest was not coming from the small heater some feet away.  

 More than once in the night had Ahsoka woken up spooked by a noise breaking through the howling of the storm, or a particularly shrill gust whistling through the nearby smaller caves

The insulated armor suits were dragged away from the cave walls to be makeshift mattresses and pillows—she and her master had made a deal to share with Rex at the mere price of also sharing their parkas-turned-blankets—yet the thick fabric could offer little in way of blocking out the noise. Still nestled snuggly between her two most frequent caretakers, she wondered if they were having as much difficulty staying asleep as she was; every so often she felt one of them adjusting the overlapping edges of the parkas to make sure she was covered.  Ahsoka hadn’t minded, of course; Togruta were not made for cold environments, but with arguably the most blanket and a very warm Rex beside her, only the tips of her montrals had anything to say about a chill.

Had she not finally been somewhat sleeping again, she would’ve had several things to say when the sun began to rise, and with it went Rex—would’ve, had Rex not shifted the parkas back about their owners’ forms to make up for his absence.  

There hadn’t been any visibility until the storm had passed, just before sunrise, but habit dictated that at least one man be assigned guard duty in case of an unexpected need to defend or vacate.  Retrieving the emergency blanket from its canister in his kit—folded so tightly they were a pain to put back, hence why most of the men hadn’t bothered using them when they were warm enough during the night—Rex made to relieve the current guard, stepping over snoring bodies as he went.

Without sparing a glance outside, he nudged the trooper with the toe of his boot while wrapping the blanket around his shoulders.  The trooper—a shiny who still hadn’t found a name that fit quite right—looked dazed as he stared out toward the horizon, merely inclining his head with a hum in response to Rex’s prodding.

“Changing of the guard, solider,” Rex spoke quietly, not wanting to rob their brothers of what sleep they could catch.  “Go get some shut-eye before we break camp.”

The shiny opened his mouth to say something before glancing up and, upon recognizing his captain standing above him, jumped up wide-eyed. “Yes, sir,” He chimed, moving a hand to cover his mouth as some nearby brothers shifted.  He began again more quietly, “The storm settled out within the last half of the hour, all’s been quiet, sir.”

Rex nodded at the report and went to take up the man’s previous spot, expecting to hear footsteps retreating as the new addition found a place to settle between the sleeping bodies—and noticed he was met with silence.  Glancing behind him, Rex raised an eyebrow at the shiny, “Something wrong, trooper?”

“Ah—no, sir.  Just getting one last look before turning in,” he answered, pointing past Rex. The captain felt his brows draw together a moment before turning to look at what the man was pointing at, and—

Oh. Oh wow.

“From what they told us, I never expected it could be so pretty,” the trooper said, echoing Rex’s thoughts as if he could hear them.

Outside, in the first light of morning, was snow as he’d never seen during any training or mission.  The clear morning sky held scarce clouds, still without more than the crisp, gentle breeze to usher them along and painted pink from the dawn; no flurries or sleet to be had.  Instead, the overnight storm had left them the parting gift of a landscape blanketed in soft white powder, the harsh forms of the surrounding rocks and trees made soft where the snow clung to the edges and the whole of it tinted with the warm pallet of daybreak.  

After what could’ve been seconds or minutes, the footsteps Rex had first expected fell quietly against the stone, and he was left to watch the sunrise in peace.  After some time, though it couldn’t have been more than an hour, he heard some of the other early risers shifting and letting out their own claims of wonder at the morning that greeted them.  Footsteps he recognized as Hardcase’s—they dragged a bit when he wasn’t marching—stopped beside him, and in perhaps the most focused state Rex had seen him, the trooper knelt where the snowfall had ended and reached out to press his hand in it. The powder gave a muted crunch as it compacted into a perfect imprint under the un-gloved hand.

“It’s soft when it isn’t whipping into you from all sides…” he remarked.

All at once the focus Rex saw in Hardcase melted into giddy mischief.  Rex watched as he stood and trotted off to the pile of brothers Rex assumed he’d slept in.

“Fives!  Fives, come look at the snow!” The man in question groaned as he was tugged into sitting up until he looked out.  Soon enough, several troopers were curiously poking out into the snow, some testing the waters in just their blacks before their Captain scolded them to at least put on their snow armor before going out to play.  

With their still groggy generals’ leave, of course; the lazy wave Anakin gave from his bedroll and Obi-Wan’s grinning nod were accepted with several loud whoops.    

Ahsoka stirred at the commotion, the less serious of Torrent tripping over each other in their haste to pull on their snow armor and the more serious complaining about being dragged into theirs by excited brothers. The padawan stretched under the blanket of her and her master’s parkas, snuggling into the line of her master’s back to doze off while the morning was still young.  

A quiet hum disturbed her, “You don’t want to go play in the snow, Ahsoka?”

Well if the option was there—

Ahsoka stretched one more time in the warmth she was loathe to leave before removing herself and her parka from the fold, tugging on her boots and gloves before pausing.  “I haven’t had breakfast.”

Anakin re-situated his parka while nodding towards the mouth of the cave, “You go have fun, work up an appetite showing the boys how it’s done.  I’ll make you breakfast after.”

 Anakin knew what growing up in a stagnant climate was like. Everyday looked the same on Tattooine; hot, hazy, with sandstorms in the afternoon, rain on three days of the year if they were lucky.  It never snowed.  The first year on Coruscant had been exciting and terrifying in many ways, the simplest of which was Obi-Wan getting to explain the planet’s weather to him.  The spring rain had left him in awe, seeing so much water falling all at once and racing in droplets down the windows, down his cheeks and palms when he and Obi-wan were caught outside.  The winter snow had been even more surprising. While nights on Tattooine were certainly chilly, there was never enough moisture for a frost, much less snow. Obi-wan had woken him early, carried that boy to a veranda in a bundle of blankets to watch his first flurry fall, quiet but for the whistle of wind.  

He assumed the clones had and were still going through similar after only knowing a planet of perpetual rainstorm; what was it like for them to first feel dirt under their feet?  To smell grass and feel sunshine?  Geonosis must’ve been a shock in more ways than one.

Anakin watched, still bundled up and comfortably resting on his captain’s warm armor, the white fabric thick and plush beneath his head. Said captain was watching their men play, still sitting in his watchmen’s spot wrapped in an emergency blanket Anakin swore couldn’t actually be of much use.  He mourned the heat he’d amassed through the night as he stood and bundled up their winter wear, taking the armful with him as he made his way to Rex’s side.

He could hear Obi-wan moving something about behind him, likely starting tea to stave off the chill.  Their men were getting the break they needed, throwing snow up in the air and at one another, some screaming if any found its way inside not-quite-fastened suits, a few rolling around in it and making snow people where there was space to do so.  Ahsoka was laughing, more freely than Anakin had seen in a while, throwing balls of snow and dodging others with glee.  Rex was watching the scene with a small smile.

Anakin laid the winter armor across their laps when he sat and offered half of his unzipped parka, holding it out for Rex to lean into if he wished.  

“Thank you,” Rex accepted with a wider smile, draping his half of the parka about his far shoulder, pressing his arm against Anakin’s to make the coat fit over both of them.  Anakin would be sure to start a kettle of instant caf—weak and cheap but effective and warm—once he got to making breakfast, as the chill had already tinted Rex’s cheeks pink.  It was an amusingly domestic thought given the circumstances, and one he was happy to indulge in.  Rex always seemed happy to be made breakfast.

Anakin never made Padme breakfast.  Not that either of them didn’t want him to, she had just had a particular preference when it came to food and presentation.  She had a particular preference about most things, which he didn’t begrudge her for; he simply acknowledged that, a year into a war that was only getting worse, deciding to quietly annul their already quiet marriage had been best for both of them.  

“Thank you for the pillow last night,” he replied.  The clones were so wonderfully warm; he was tempted to lean a little further into Rex.  A quiet ‘of course’ met him just before a snowball did.  

Rex watched in something between amusement and horror as Skywalker sputtered, snow dropping from his face down past his collar, and Hardcase straightened up from having thrown the snowball meant for Kix.  Ahsoka tried to choke back a laugh, but the lilt of an accented “oh my” from slightly behind Rex’s shoulder made the padawan guffaw. A couple of the men chuckled as well, and as Skywalker wiped the snow from his eyes Rex could see the lines of his face pull into a revenge-filled smirk.  A few of the laughing men stood underneath snow-laden trees, and with a brief wave of the general’s hand the heavy branches shook and dropped mounds of frozen powder onto his men.  

A few shouts of “No fair!” went up before his general stood and stretched his arms.  Skywalker resettled the parka about Rex’s shoulders before cockily stomping off into the snow, intent on giving their men a lesson on aiming at the right targets. General Kenobi voiced a half-hearted warning about getting soaked and freezing without his coat while taking up Skywalker’s abandoned spot and handing Rex one of two mugs.  

 Rex would not get to finish that mug before being urged into his snow armor and dragged out into the fun.  To make things more fair the Jedi split into different teams, erecting their own walls of snow to take cover behind during a snowball barrage. Hardcase was dutifully making as many snowballs as he could, watching with glee whenever Ahsoka managed to get a hit on their general.  Jesse and Fives were having no trouble dodging, and they had been a great asset to Skywalker’s team with how merciless they were and how fast they rolled up their next frozen projectile.  It was all in good fun, throwing snow and being hit by it, the cold bite of the powder refreshing when it sprayed from impact on a shoulder or chest.  But as the sun crept higher in the sky, General Kenobi reminded them of their approaching rendezvous with the 212th, and upon throwing the last of their collected snowballs the men filed back into the cave to warm up and prepare to leave.  

Skywalker fell in next to Rex, chuckling as he brushed snow out of his hair and slipping on his parka once they were properly inside. The Jedi started towards their packs and rations, and Rex began the arduous task of once more folding up his emergency blanket.  He unzipped his suit to the waist and sat, needing his hands without the thick winter gloves for the task.  He nearly jumped when a pair of cold arms circled him from behind.

“We never had snow on Shili, even when I visited it was always too warm,” came Ahsoka’s voice, still slightly giddy from the fun.

Rex chuckled and continued to work, “We never had snow on Kamino, always too wet.”  Ahsoka chuckled against his back before tightening her grip.

“You guys are so warm,” she remarked appreciatively. Finally succeeding in getting one end of the blanket to fit in its tube, Rex wiggled away from her to shove the rest of the fabric in and deposit the cylinder on his pack.  Turning about to face her, he crossed his legs and opened his arms.  Ahsoka took the invitation, using her parka once more as a blanket over her legs.  He caught Skywalker glance at them and saw the warm grin that sprouted at the sight they made.  There were still snowflakes on his lashes.

Ahsoka burrowed into Rex, earning a few soft looks from their men, while her master continued preparing food.  It was a warmer variation of rations; they’d been given dried, spiced meats and soups for the cold weather.  Skywalker held out a warm mug, and the smell of caf met Rex’s senses. His insides felt warm before the first sip hit his stomach.  He was debating how much time he’d have to prepare his own food once he was free of the little commander trapping him where he sat, when a portion was set down by his thigh.  Skywalker nudged Ahsoka’s shoulder with his knee.

A similar portion to his own was lowered to the Togruta’s face.  “Here’s yours, get off Rex so he can eat his.”  Ahsoka accepted the bowl with a pout, clearly unhappy about moving so soon after getting comfortable.

“She’s fine, sir.  I don’t mind,” Rex assured, reaching for his own bowl before pausing. “Er, not to undermine you, of course.”

Skywalker simply sighed before sinking down next to him. “You spoil her, Rex,” he remarked, shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth.  As if to prove the point, Ahsoka wriggled down a bit, curling around her bowl to balance it and making room for Rex’s arms while he ate.  He heard a content hum leave her as she settled and tucked into her meal.  But—

“So do you, sir,” he replied, blowing on the steaming spoon in his hand.  He’d been awake to remember with some fondness Skywalker fretting over Ahsoka being warm enough the previous night.  Skywalker hummed in acknowledgement before quiet fell between them, the murmur of their men eating and packing up a comfortable white noise under the sounds of their spoons scraping and clinking.  Somewhere behind them a recently rebooted Threepio was asking General Kenobi about their departure time. Rex didn’t expect the silence to last around Skywalker, and it didn’t.

“It seems we’re well matched then.”

 Anakin was felt a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was pleasantly surprised. Instead of indignant choking or sputtering, a wide-eyed blush briefly overtook his captain’s features and melted into a soft smile.  Ahsoka was glancing between them both with avid interest, the last spoonful of her meal held halfway to her mouth.  

Rex was pointedly not looking at either of them, scraping the last of his bowl into one pile to scoop from.  Raising the spoon to his mouth he agreed with a barely there smirk of his own. “Seems so.”

 As if to save him from the skipped heartbeats caused by Skywalker’s comments, General Kenobi received word from Cody that their pickup was coming in half and hour, their original rendezvous point finally clear of storm and clouds—and all of twenty minutes away.  At that, remaining packing was sorted quickly and remaining food vanished even quicker.  Before long, speeders were loaded and they were off.  

If the snow had been pretty just before the mouth of the cave, it was lovely to race past.  Mountains and valleys of it seemed to sparkle in the late morning light, glistening just enough from the slight melt to look like fogged glass.  Some of the flurries kicked up by their speeders caught the light just right to glitter as it fell.  The snow shone gold and white in the sun, while long blue shadows stretched out behind the tall thick icicles they sped between.  While certainly not a break, and relieved to return to somewhere above freezing, Rex was almost sorry when they finally came to a stop in front of the transports that would bring them back to the Resolute and found himself taking in the sights one last time while the men loaded their supplies.  A blue shadow approached with the sound of crunching footsteps.

“Ready to go, Rex?”

He gave a light sigh, “Back to reports and central heating.”

Skywalker chuckled beside him, bumping their shoulders. “We’re a team, we’ll handle the reports together.”  Something about the way he said ‘together’ made that funny warm feeling return in full force, and Rex was glad his snow armor hid the blush that came of it. There was snow caked to the edges of Skywalker’s goggles and sprinkled throughout the fur of his hood that, were he bolder, he’d be tempted to brush away.  

They walked shoulder to shoulder up the transport’s ramp to rejoin their men, Threepio having awkwardly waddled into the supply area and Ahsoka asking General Kenobi where he thought they’d be sent next.   Rex turned before the doors were closed and came to a conclusion; snow could be as lovely as it was harsh, and as wonderful as it was dangerous—despite the Kaminoans and their simulations.  And perhaps, he thought—looking towards Skywalker fussing over Ahsoka’s hood—that applied to most of the Kaminoans’ teachings on clone life experiences.  

Cody was waiting to greet them once they were safely docked on board the Resolute, and Obi-wan was grateful to be back in a climate-controlled environment.  Once the Senator and Chairman had again been reassured of how the visit went, he left the war room with Cody in tow to stretch his legs after the last mildly cramped rotation.  As they walked Cody held out a cylinder, “Thought you might want this now that the call is over.”

Taking the cylinder with a curious hum, Obi-wan was met with the scent he knew as his favorite tea upon removing the cap.  A happy sigh left him.  “I missed you.”

“You were gone a day, sir.”

“Am I not allowed to miss you when we are parted, Commander?”  The answer to which was a quiet chuckle.  Turning a corner into another empty but familiar hallway, Cody spoke up again.

“Any progress on those two?”

An amused snort came from his dignified Jedi, and after a sip of tea a pleased hum followed.  “Oh my, they were almost flirting.”  A scarred eyebrow raised in response.

“Really?”

“Truly, dear.”  As they neared Obi-wan’s quarters he shifted the thermos between hands to shimmy out of his parka, before Cody took the entire cylinder and held onto one of the puffy sleeves.  “Ah, thank you.”  

“Of course.  Who was doing the almost-flirting?”  

The question was met with a fond eye roll.  “Anakin, of course, though he’s about as tactful as he was before the war.”  He entered the code to the door and sighed as it opened, “Oh Cody, they looked like a little family, like it was the most natural thing in the world.”  As he stepped through the threshold he felt a hand on his waist and a kiss on his temple.

“Rex is usually pretty good about knowing what he does and doesn’t want.  If Skywalker is making an attempt, it probably won’t be long until that little family is official.”

Obi-wan folded the parka over the chair and accepted the thermos when Cody offered it back.  Unscrewing the cap once more he ventured, “Would you want to go with them? After the war?”  

Cody pressed their foreheads together and two gentle hands rested on Obi-wan’s shoulders, “Only if you come with me.”  A warm moment passed before Obi-wan chuckled.

“You’re such a sap, dear.”

“Skywalker could stand to take notes.”

#star wars #The Clone Wars #tcw #rexwalker #codywan #captain rex #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #various mentioned troopers #mostly fluff #no plot really :/ #no beta we die like stormtroopers

[labyrinth-runner]

sfdz;gdflkgfhgi I forgot to include my caveat. I wanted 4, Obidala, with Padme being the CEO for 50 days sorry sorry 💖

50 Days of Fics: Day 46

Hehe good byeeee dresses.

Prompt: I organize a petition to get you, the ceo, to live off of my wage for three months and since it’s getting media attention, your PR manager suggests you accept the challenge and you keep coming into my department to ask me how to do things

Obi-Wan was tired of watching the CEO walk in every morning in her flashy dresses with her personal assistants trailing after her. He was especially tired as he struggled to pay that month’s rent yet again.

He looked around at his fellow workers and thought up a terrible idea. What if she had to take a walk on the other side? He spoke up, getting his coworkers on board. They were all in the same position that he was. They needed to make them understand that they were not paying them a livable wage in Coruscant. The petition was leaked before Obi-Wan could bring it to the CEO, but he never expected to become a sensation overnight. 

He was giving speeches on the steps of the building about the petition as the CEO was hounded on her way in the next day. He was still out there as she made it to her office. She stood at the window, watching him.

“Versé, this is a nightmare,” Padmé sighed.

“I know they say any exposure is good exposure, but this is decidedly a PR nightmare,” her head of PR said.

Padmé rubbed her temples as she sighed. “What do you suggest I do?”

“Honestly, boss? I’d do it. I’ve skimmed the petition. It’s just three months and they’re allowing you to pay your rent ahead of time so you don’t lose your apartment. You just...” Versé trailed off as she tried to break it to her gently.

“I just what?” Padmé asked.

“You can’t live in your apartment. You have to swap homes with one of the workers for the three months to truly try and live on their salary,” Versé explained.

“So, paying their rent as well as mine? And then living in someone else’s home?” she sighed. This was all too much. However, she couldn’t let her image suffer. “Fine. Who should I swap places with?”

“Perhaps this Obi-Wan Kenobi. He has become the face of it all,” Versé offered. She handed Padmé his personnel file for her to look over. 

Padmé took the file and skimmed as she looked out at the man who was single-handedly ruining her life right now. “Alright,” she sighed. She chucked the file onto her desk and made her way back outside to the growing crowd.

“CEO Amidala! What do you have to say about this?” A reporter called out as Padmé came to a halt next to Kenobi.

“I say that I have never been one to back down from a challenge. I’m not about to stop now. I accept the terms of their proposal,” she held her hand out to Kenobi. “Starting tomorrow, we swap lives.”

Obi-Wan looked at her in interest. He could tell that her prize-winning smile didn’t quite meet her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to do this, he mused. He just backed her into a corner, and this was her biting back. Well, so be it. It would be interesting to say the least.  He took her hand and shook it, turning to smile at the cameras as they took the photo that would seal their fate. There was no turning back now.

Padmé spent the rest of the day getting her affairs in order, even talking to the accountants about what expenses she would have to forgo for the next quarter, like dry cleaning, maid services, and eating out. They helped her set up a budget. As they left, she sighed. She was hoping she hadn’t bit off more than she could chew.

She woke the next morning with her suitcases waiting by her front door to move into Kenobi’s apartment. She gave one last wistful look at her home before she left. Instead of taking a town car to work like she usually did, she had to take the subway. It took her forever to maneuver through the turnstile with her luggage. She ended up missing her train and groaned. She sat on her luggage as she waited. This was already off to a great start.

Kenobi kept an eye out for his boss. When she didn’t show up on time, he was worried that she’d decided to back out. He went upstairs to ask his assistant where she was and they told him she’d missed her train trying to get the luggage through the turnstiles. He groaned, rubbing his temples. Had no one ever told her that she could go through the gate? He sighed. Of course not. She had probably never taken the subway before in her life. 

Padmé finally walked into the building an hour later. She’d missed two conference calls and she desperately needed a coffee. 

“Cordé, can you get me a latte from down the street?” she asked as she breezed into her office.

“Miss, you know I can’t. That violates your budget,” her assistant replied.

Padmé sighed. “Of course. Well. What can I do instead?”

“There’s a coffee maker in the break room.”

She nodded, dropping her coat on the rack and parking her luggage next to it. She made her way down to the break room to find the coffee pot was empty. Padmé opened the lid, trying to analyze where everything went. 

“There’s coffee in the top, but why isn’t it in the bottom?” she asked.

Obi-Wan was walking by when he noticed her struggling. He was going to just continue on by, but sighed. It was his fault she was in this mess anyways. He felt responsible for her.

“Need a hand?” he asked as he entered the room.

“I can do this!” she shot back, fidgeting with the coffee maker to make it seem like she knew what she was doing. She fooled no one.

He shook his head at her and came over. “If the grounds are wet then you need to replace them because they’re old.”

Obi-Wan took the piece out and dumped the grinds, explaining everything he did as he went alone. “The coffee is kept up in this cabinet. You fill it to about this line in the filter. Then, you put it back in and make sure it has water. If it doesn't, just use some tap water to fill it. Next, you press this button and let it run. It takes about five minutes to brew a full pot.”

“Thank you,” Padmé said quietly.

“I know you missed the train. Next time, ask to use the gates when you have luggage,” he replied.

She sighed. “This isn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be. I’ve been... out of touch with this side of things for a while.”

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“I’m listening.”

“Whenever you find yourself stumpe or struggling, you can call me and I’ll help however I can,” he replied. 

“You’d do that for me?” she asked in awe.

He looked down at the coffee pot. “It’s done. Cream is in the fridge, sugar is in the cupboard above the sink.”

Padmé watched him leave before making her cup of coffee. It didn’t taste terrible.

At the end of the day, she and Obi-Wan swapped keys and addresses before parting ways.

“Call your house when you get to my apartment,” Obi-Wan told her before they left. “I want to make sure you get there safely.” She kept replaying his words in her head on the train ride to his house. He didn’t need to care about her like that, but he did. It was touching. She unlocked the door to his apartment. It was quaint and clean. Very monochromatic in design. She snooped through his things, opening various cabinets and closets. She smiled as she opened the fridge. With a shake of her head, she called him.

“You went shopping for me?” she asked with a smile.

“I figured I’d give you an idea of what kind of things you could buy on your budget,” he replied. He was glad she couldn’t see him, because he was blushing. “Your apartment is quite nice. I’m sure mine is a horrific downgrade in comparison.” “Nonsense. It’s cozy. It’s perfect for our little experiment.”

“Is that all this is to you? An experiment to see if you could hack it?” Obi-Wan asked. “Do you even understand the reasons behind it?”

“Of course. You’re trying to prove a point that you need to be paid more,” she replied.

Obi-Wan sighed. She wasn’t wrong, but he hoped she would have more of a good sense to realize that it was more than just that. “Precisely. Well. Goodnight, Ms. Amidala.”

Padmé felt her heart thump at his tone. Had she offended him? “Good night, Mr. Kenobi. Enjoy my mattress.”

She hung up and turned back to the apartment. She was hungry, but she wasn’t quite sure how to use his stove, so she decided to make a sandwich instead. Padmé ate her sad meal before crawling off to sleep.

After a week of sandwiches, she finally got enough courage to ask him how to use the stove. He had laughed at her when she had asked at work, but came home with her nevertheless and taught her how to use it. She made pasta for the first time, and was surprised that it actually came out nicely. While he was there he also showed her how to use the oven.

“Well, there you go,” Obi-Wan replied, going to pick up his jacket.

“Wait. You don’t have to leave. I can’t eat all of this by myself,” she replied.

He hesitated for a moment and came back to share her meal with her. It wasn’t quite how he would have made it, but it was good for a first try.

After two weeks passed, she had run out of food. All she had left was a single egg. She had her budget, but as she walked around the supermarket, she was surprised by how expensive everything she had wanted to buy was. With a sigh, she called him and he came over to help her shop. 

The weeks passed by and they interacted more and more as she learned how to be self-sufficient again. The worst of it had been her experience washing her own clothes... they had shrunk and she needed him to bring over some more so that she had something to wear. She opened the door in a pair of his sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt.

“Oh, thank goodness! I don’t know what happened. I followed the instructions on the bottles,” she explained.

“But did you follow the instructions on the clothes?” he asked.

Her eyes widened. “The clothes have instructions?”

“The clothes have instructions,” he chuckled.

She sighed. “Why is everything so hard?”

He smiled softly and hugged her. “You’ll get the hang of it. If you can run a multi-million dollar company, you can run your own life.”

She rested her forehead against his chest. “You’re right.”

As if she suddenly realized the position they were in, she pulled back and cleared her throat. “Well, thank you for bringing me clothes. I apologize for wearing yours.”

“Don’t. They look good on you,” he smirked before leaving. 

Padmé blushed as he left.

The rest of their happy experiment went well, to the point where by the end of it, she didn’t actually need him around. However, she’d make up excuses to ask him over. He caught on fairly quickly to her schemes, though. On the last night of the three months, they sat on the fire escape of Obi-Wan’s apartment, wrapping in one of his blankets.

“Well? What did you learn?” he asked, leaning his head against hers.

“I learned that this really isn’t a livable wage and that I need to increase it,” she replied. “I also learned how to become more self-sufficient. “

“Mhmmmm,” he murmured.

“And... I learned that I might have to fill out some human resource requests,” she murmured.

He looked at her in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“In order to date an employee, I have to report it to HR,” she replied with a small smile.

His eyes widened at her implication. “Me?”

“I mean, if you want to,” she said, recovering, “I know you probably just helped me out of obligation.”

“I mean, yes, at first, but I’d be lying if I said you hadn’t grown on me,” he smirked, pulling her closer to his side.

“I’m glad you challenged me to do this,” she replied, nuzzling into his side.

“You and me both,” he replied.

#50 days of fics #day 46 #obidala

[stoiccthulhu]

Update time...actually, why should these be titled? I mean, whats the point of writing a title to these if all I’m going to do is ramble on and on with no specific topic of discussion, just several things on my mind?

Election day 2020 happened yesterday and I voted for nobody. And if I would have voiced my polling choice I would have voted for the candidate I see as being the best option in line with my thoughts and opinions concerning the state of the world at the moment as well as the future.

You can insert whomever you want to believe that would be based off an assumption and a look at my internetting footprint, but you would be wrong, but that’s part of the fun of interpreting what I’m writing down for you in the future. Trying to figure out what I’m actually saying. While it makes complete sense to me, because you don’t have the hidden key phrase you can’t decipher what it is that I am putting to digital paper.

I get it, I’m an asshole.

And this isn’t, completely, a justification towards my actions but a direct result of your intervention within my life that has caused this behaviour. Think of it sort of like a self-fulfilling prophecy. You interpreted me, came back, and intervened in any little way imaginable. Negatively or positively, but no matter your justification, it was still an intervention that didn’t need to happen because, as Malcolm once said, “Life, finds a way.” And just like destiny, it will find a way. But enough of all that crazy talk, you’re here because you want to hear all about my political leanings and to unravel the mystery as to this anonymous random on the internet’s preferred presidential choice in the election that has already passed.

But before I do that, let’s get some shit off my chest because I tend to swear and if you don’t like it, go the hell away. I’m sick of people being sensitive over everything. As if they’re looking for any reason to complain or get offended nowadays.

“The internet has given everyone in (the world) a voice, and evidently everyone in (the world) has chosen to use that voice to bitch about (anyone they find offensive)” -Holden McNeil (with some modern revisions)

And that’s why I’ve chose not to be PC in this thing, whenever I feel the urge to put pen to paper, relatively speaking.

Like, let’s see who I can offend right off the bat.

Women need to start getting punched more and treated like human beings instead of china dolls. If you’re a pro-gender equality advocate, and you’re a woman, you need to be willing to be punched in the face for doing ANYTHING a man would otherwise be punched in the face for. They also need to be held accountable for the shit they do to everyone. I am a strong supporter in believing that no matter what women say about women controlling the government and such, while women have great communication skills, they have the worst track record when it comes to not being aggressive, biologically speaking.

In the wild, whom are normally the more aggressive of the genders? Whom is usually the one more protective of the young? more willing to go out to hunt?

To be fair, I have a very limited knowledge when it comes to the animal kingdom. But, I mean, the Black Widow is normally depicted as being a deadly female, the female preying mantis devours the head of her mate after they’re done mating. There are so many, example, of females being worse than males in nature its hard to ignore. And, to add religious believers to the list of people offended, if you’re not ignorant to science and knowledge, or at least the pursuit of it, we evolved over a long period of time from apes, which, by nature, makes us, humans, not white people, black people, yellow people(to stick to the color scheme), brown people(gotta throw the other Asian people’s in there as well), animals. Highly evolved and communicative animals, but animals none the less. Was that supposed to be one word? Nonetheless?

Doesn’t matter. So, if you stick with my logic, you’ll see that women are terrible. Terrible. But, because men like to have sex with females as opposed to men for the most part in today’s society women have a stranglehold on the pelvic reason of an entire world, which means they can make anyone, for the most part, do anything they want and see things their way, even if they’re saying the sky is as green as the skies of Namek. An example of this is perfectly laid out in a clip from That 70′s Show. Kelso and Hyde prove women can’t play fight because they’ll turn it real, for whatever reason, just because they’re girls. To prove this, Kelso and Hyde play fight, and it looks bad, but they stop, laugh, and hug it out. Then Jackie and Donna play fight, starting out playfully, but then turning it into hair pulling and needing to be pulled apart. Both visibly angry.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUwxxJvtQnI

(OK, my memory was bad, it was Eric and Hyde, and it was set up differently, but the concept is still there.)

And I get it, they’re actors, being paid to do what the script is telling them to do, but it is true. Girls are worst during puberty as well, from what I’ve heard. And I get it, I have a biased standpoint being a male, but in today's culture that shouldn’t matter, it’s about what’s being said, not my gender.

Now that women are out of the way, lets also as black people, but not specifically black people, its more of a systemic form of racism that I believe shouldn’t exist. In which, if you are not of that specific race, you are not allowed to say the n-word. What makes me giggle right now is that with just that sentence every single person reading this probably got a bit riled up. A bit ruffled in the feathers because I’m not a black person. And if you weren’t, you are now, knowing what you know now.

So let me provide you with some context so you can understand how I’m not racist at the same time as saying what I said above.

I enjoy rap music and hip-hop, as do a lot of people throughout the world, black or otherwise. Which, in this current climate, would be considered one of the forms of cultural appropriation we tend to sweep under the rug because it doesn’t fit our narrative of being offended about something. Because I like rap music I tend to learn the word to all of the songs I enjoy listening to. Because I learn the words to the songs that I enjoy listening to I sing along. But, because I’m not black, I have to ruin my flow to edit myself just because the artist chose to use nigger in their song. Which, as an artist, is their choice.

Now, why should I have to edit myself? I have tried to replace it with “wigger”, but because of the closeness of the words, I felt that would still be offensive if I was ever overheard by the wrong black person who, understandably, would be mad if they heard a pasty white boy say the word nigger without any context.

I just think, unless the person is using the word in a hateful way, directed at the person the speaker either personally knows or is conciously speaking about, as in “i hate that nigger” or “you’re a nigger”. If it’s something like that, totally beat the shit out of that racist.

But if you’re singing along to Wu-Tang, and you say:

I be that insane nigga from the psycho ward I'm on the trigger, plus I got the Wu-Tang sword So how you figure, that you can even fuck with mine? Hey, yo, RZA! Hit me with that shit one time! And pull a foul, niggas, save the beef for the cow I'm milkin' this ho, this is my show, Tical! The fuck you wanna do on this mic piece, duke? I'm like a sniper, hyper off the ginseng root PLO Style, buddha monks with the owls Now who's the fuckin' man? Meth-Tical It shouldn’t be labelled as being racist.

There is more rattling around in my head right now, things that I’ve been thinking about for years, and things that have been bothering me for just about as long, but for now those were the two that fell out when I vomited all over my keyboard.

And if you’re offended. Get over it. You need to start.

Oh, I almost forgot. I was going to tell you whom it was I was going to vote for yesterday if I had voted for anybody. Jokingly I wanted to write-in “Obi-Wan Kenobi”. But in truth I was going to vote for Biden. Not because I thought he was the better candidate, but because there was not a good option at all, he was just the lesser of two evils. This election has made me decide I want a third option when it comes to my politicians, or at least, get rid of political parties all together. We spend so much time infighting and holding each other back instead of up no real change has happened in the past decade? Longer? And whatever change that does happen gets nitpicked apart so much it becomes a shell of its former self. But, enough about that. I have a baby demanding eggs and waffles and I still need to tag this.

#election day #election day 2020 #jurrasicpark #ian malcom #joe biden #joe biden 2020 #biden #biden harris 2020 #donald trump #donald trump 2020 #trump #trump pence 2020 #jay and silent bob strike back #holden mcneil #political correctness #pc gone mad #feminism #nature #that 70s show #kelso #hyde #foreman #jackie #donna #fez #playfight #rap #hip-hop #wu-tang clan #enter the wu-tang (7th chamber)

[illegalsouniverse]

Atticus & Echo: Intro

Seventy Nines buzzed with a vibrant energy, a commodity that was slowly on the decline as the war continued onwards into what felt like oblivion. But this place was .  . . an escape. That was probably the best term for it.

     The pounding music, the intensity of the flashing lights, it almost mirrored an illusion of the battlefield, and yet . . . it was treated entirely the opposite way, with a calming environment where soldiers could relax and let loose. Instead of ducking for cover, clones could lounge about and leisurely sip their drinks as they absorbed the pulsing noise rather than try to hide from them.

     That’s where most of the 501st now resided. Sitting together in a cramped booth, Fives found himself and his batchmate Echo wedged between Jesse and Kix while Rex was perched at the head of the table in a single chair he’d pulled to the table for himself. Not a moment later did Hardcase come scampering back to their table, Fives and Kix’s refiled drinks clutched between his jittery hands along with his own. Once placed on the table Fives quickly snatched his half-empty drink before his vod could spill anymore, making a mental note to send Kix to retrieve their next round considering the medic’s infamously steady hands.

     Over the loud music, Jesse muttered some kind of joke that caused Echo to chuckle, but over the ecstatic music, Fives couldn’t quite make out what he said.

     His attention was caught when Rex swiveled around in his chair, clearly catching sight of someone at the packed bar nearby, the Captain’s face immediately lightening up. “Hey, boys!” He cheered, barely turned in their direction as he addressed them, “there’s someone here I want you to meet!”

     With that, Rex cupped both hands over his mouth and shouted loudly over the thumping beat; “Atty!”

     Fives caught sight of a head swiveling towards their direction at the shout of the name. A short woman of surprisingly strong build, with dark brown locks tucked into two high buns that sat at the top of her head. She wore a pair of baggy-yet-classy pants that Fives thinks was meant to be some kind of fashion statement that she actually pulled off rather well. Her eyes seemed to catch onto the collection of half-kitted blue armor and a familiar blonde clone that made a friendly smile cross her lips as she started towards them.

     Fives turned his head to share a curious glance with his brother, but was shocked to see Echo’s eyes remained completely and utterly stationary on the approaching stranger. Fives knew that look in his vod’s eyes before that woman even reached within a ten feet of their table. And something foreign churned in his stomach when he glanced back at the charming smile that came nearer and nearer — the kind of smile that, with the more you looked at it, felt like a loth-wolf smiling at its next meal.

      Distrust, that was the sickly feeling that was beginning to brew inside him. He didn’t trust her, and he didn’t even know her name.

     Fives opted to remain quiet as he watched her come up next to Rex, placing a friendly hand on the Captain’s shoulder as she greeted them with a, “Hiya boys!” Based on her accent, she wasn’t from Coruscant, but with their vast galaxy that didn’t tell Fives too much.

      “Gentlemen,” Rex said, the word half a taunt, half a warning. “This here is Medical Officer Atticus Titan, she’s just been reassigned from the 212th to the 501st.”

     “Nice to meet you all,” She wiggled her fingers as she continued to beam that blindingly clever smile. “I’ve heard quite a few things about you lot.”

     Jesse, who was sitting on the opposite side of her cocked a brow, asking, “What kind of things?”

     Atticus pressed her lips together, as if concealing a giggle as she replied, “Let’s just say the only thing General Kenobi told me when signing off my transfer papers was “Good luck.””

     That elicited a chuckle from everyone at the table, so Fives forced a smile to his lips, although beneath it his doubts only continued to swirl.

     She glanced down at Rex, who had placed a gentle hand on her back, telling him, “I better rejoin my group,” Rex nodded in understanding, and Fives watched cautiously as she bent down and whispered something in the Captain’s ear that made his face go rigid for a second, but an expression he covered almost as quickly as he showed it.

     He could see Jesse and Kix share a suspicious look at the exchange, mind following the same track as Fives. They hadn’t missed how Rex called her “Atty”, a clear nickname for her first name. The lack of professionalism in how he addressed her was rather telling, and the table quickly came to the same conclusion. That this Atticus and their Captain were possibly — oh, how did Hardcase so wisely put it . . ? Ah, yes. “Scrubbing his blaster together.” That was how he put it. 

     When Atticus stood up straight again, she flashed another brilliant smile as she bid them a, “Have a good night, boys!” before walking back to where she’d come from.

     “I requested him to join the 501st a whole cycle ago,” Rex explained to them, “He’s the best damn medic I know.”

     They ignored Kix’s slightly offended scoff, instead focusing on Fives’s next question, ““He”? I thought you said “she”?”

     Rex shook his head, “Atticus is gender fluid,” he began to explain, “His terms change. Sometimes he feels more feminine, other times more masculine, his pronouns change with it.” Fives realized that must have been what he’d whispered in Rex’s ear.

     Hardcase’s brow creased, “How do you know when he changes? Doesn’t that get difficult?”

     “Not if you’re a di’kut about it,” Rex scolded as Hardcase received a smack to the back of his head by Kix next to him. “Atticus is pretty understanding, he’ll correct you if you make a mistake, but won’t get pissed or anything. And usually the more time you spend with him, the easier it is to tell on your own.”

     Jesse arched an eyebrow as he glanced over at Titan, who was now standing by the bar again, laughing at something some fellow clone from the 187th had said to him. “You’ve been spending a lot of time around ‘em then, Captain?”

     When their eyes fell back on Rex, and even under the warm hued lights they couldn’t miss the scarlet that painted his tan cheeks.

     Kix arched an eyebrow as well (a seemingly common trait in the Fett genes) asking Rex, “You hit that, Captain?”

     Rex rolled his eyes, but his blush did not fade. “No need to be so crude, vod.”

     “So you did hit that,” Hardcase summed, and when Rex failed to answer, their small table erupted in a series of proud cheers and encouraging pounds on the table.

     “Alright, alright,” Rex cut off their celebrations in his honor with a quick wave of his arms, bringing his brothers to silence again. “It was a while ago, it’s been over for some time now.”

     That’s when Echo spoke up for the first time, Fives nearly jumping out of his skin, completely forgetting about his batch mate sitting next to him. “What happened?” he asked quietly, the timidness to his voice almost completely earned him his name. Fives knew why he was so shy about his inquiries into this Atticus, and he didn’t like it one bit.

     Rex took a sip of his drink as he shrugged. “We kinda just fiddled out. We agreed we were probably better as friends.”

     “And are you?” Kix asked curiously, Rex giving him a taunting glare.

     “Do I look overly heartbroken to you?” Rex shot back, making Jesse shrug in response.

     “No more then usual,” That evoked another laugh from the 501st, however Fives found it harder to focus on their continuing conversations as his suspicious gaze continued to trail Atticus across the 79s for nearly the rest of the night. He didn’t like him, he was an unknown.

     Who was Atticus Titan?

     Atticus didn’t like being drunk.

     Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. He didn’t like not being drunk enough.

     The occasional taste of burning liquor that caused your senses to tingle and your chest to lighten was fine. And the times where you consume an entire bar until your mind acts on impulse and you can finally just let go, that is also fine. But it’s the in between that he so often found himself caught in that he loathed the most. Not being drunk enough to actually be fun, and not sober enough to be thinking straight. That’s when your mind takes the worst turns, and the darkest plunges. And boy, did he have some dark alleys to turn down.

     Shaking off the oppressive hopelessness that tried to plague his mind, Atticus managed to open up the door to his small apartment that sat just on the border of lower and upper Coruscant. Inconspicuous, and he liked to keep it that way.

     Shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up with shaking hands, his deep sigh was cut off by the loud pinging of his personal holocommunicator, the noise only seeming more annoying in his not-nearly-intoxicated-enough state. Fishing it out as fast as he could, he stepped into the middle of the living room before answering it.

     And the cold, brutal eyes that appeared sobered him up faster than any bucket of ice water and stim pack ever could.

     His head dropped quickly in submission as he greeted the hologram with a timid, “Count Dooku.” The bow of the head felt wrong, it fell against every ideal Atticus had ever held for himself before then, but the fear that raked across his body easily drowned out any sense of defiance that might still linger.

     “Titan,” the old man replied, his cold voice filled with such a pretentious tone, as if he were speaking to a mere insect. (Perhaps in his mind, he was.) “What have you to report?”

      Atticus didn’t dare lift his head as he replied, “Nothing as of yet, Count. I’ve just been assigned to the 501st–”

     “You haven’t failed to get close to the clone Captain Rex, have you?”

     Atticus caught the inside of his cheek between his teeth, gnawing nervously as he tried to summon an explanation, finally replying with a quiver in his voice, “N-No, Count. It’s–It’s complicated–”

     “Complicated how?” Count interrupted yet again, the venom in his voice only growing, “Your mission is a simple one. I do not have to remind you of the consequences should you fail, do I?”

     Atticus shook his head furiously, “N-No, Count, no. I got close to Rex, as you ordered, but we, uh . . . I wasn’t yielding enough results from our relationship, so, I-I’ve decided on a new approach–”

     “What kind of approach?” Dooku huffed impatiently.

     “I-I have been assigned to the 501st,” Atticus explained, “General Skywalker’s Battalion. Perhaps there I can work my way up the ranks and–”

     “This was a dangerous change of pace, Titan, that could compromise your whole mission.”

     Atticus’s head dipped lower in submission, his lip quivering as he tried to muster all the courage he had to reply, “I-It won’t, Count, I promise.”

     “It better not,” the Sith snarled, “For your sake . . . and for the sake of your brother. His livelihood depends on your actions.”

     Atticus tried his best to prevent the tear that threatened to spill at the mention of his little brother, “I-I understand Count . . .” His mind battled for a moment before daring to ask, “M-May I see him, p-please–”

     Count Dooku did not answer his question, instead warning, “Do not fail me, Titan,” before cutting off the transmission, and leaving Atticus alone in the dark.

     The holocommunicator slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor loudly, but it fell on deaf ears as his heart pounded against his chest, the wave of emotions he had fought so strongly to keep at bay breaking through like a tsunami against an already bulging floodgate.

     He didn’t know when his knees gave out, just that when they made painful contact with the floor, it barely registered as he slumped forward, forehead colliding forward as he began to sob into the carpet.

     He . . . he was so afraid. What was he going to do? What if he failed? What if he was caught? The Republic would kill him, at the very least . . . and his little brother, who he’d been looking out for the past ten years since their parents were killed . . . he had already failed him. He couldn’t let him die, he won’t.

     Perhaps cutting things off with Rex had been a mistake, but it was a moment of weakness. He let himself get wrapped up in feelings, and instead of doing what a proper spy should do and continue to exploit that man’s emotions, he’d let him go.

      Stupid, foolish, idiotic, Atticus caught himself scoulding himself internally. Your brother will die if you don’t get it together.

      But, Maker, he was just so scared. And . . . and so alone.

     No, he won’t let it happen. He wasn’t alone as long as his brother was still out there. He was going to save him, finish what Dooku wanted and take him home. Atticus wouldn’t give up, he couldn’t.

     And he won’t.

#fic

[cassielavery]

Christmas 2019

Christmas is the one day of the year that it isn’t completely odd for Benjy to wake up before Cass. Not completely odd but still a bit jarring for Cass to reach out to his left just as he’s starting to blink awake and not find his husband, snoring quietly into his pillow. But as it is 7:36am on December 25, 2019, according to the digital alarm clock on their dresser, Benjy will most assuredly be in the kitchen, either fussing over the finishing touches to the gifts Cass isn’t allowed to help wrap or frantically putting more easy-bake sugar cookies in the oven because the four dozen they decorated with Luke last night won’t be enough for some reason.

Cass smiles at the memory of last night, their first Christmas Eve with Luke. They’d kept it low-key, of course, staying in pajamas all day, only leaving the house to take Darling and Honey outside. At one point, Luke had insisted that they order pizza and hate-watch The Phantom Menace, which was apparently a tradition he had with his little brother Jake. Of course Cass and Benjy had found that out completely by accident when Luke let it slip when Jar-Jar Binks made his first appearance.

“Jake used to loooove Jar-Jar,” he laughs from where he’s stretched out on the couch before glancing over at Cass watching him and clamping his mouth shut.

Neither of them press, Cass eventually turning from his nephew to face the screen but more focused on tracing Benjy’s fingers when Luke speaks up again.

“We used to watch this every year,” he says quietly, his gaze focused on Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi entering the underwater Gungan city. “Christmas break is the one time I’d watch it with him.”

“That’s cute, Luke,” Cass smiles at him and Luke shrugs but a small grin tugs on his lips as he pets Darling curled next to him. Jake was the youngest of Cyrus and Rebecca’s three children, three years younger than Luke and obviously the one ally he had in that house. He didn’t talk much about any of them but Cass had seen a framed photo on his desk of Luke with his arm slung around a slightly smaller clone of himself who he assumes must be Jake. Both boys are smiling ear to ear with Jake gazing up at his big brother with clear admiration in his eyes.

“Yeah, cute that your brother likes the worst character in the Star Wars franchise,” Benjy pipes up, frowning at the television and interrupting Cass’ train of thought.

Luke sticks out his tongue at him. “This coming from a guy who’s favorite ‘film’ takes about an hour to start.”

And it pretty much went downhill from there.

Eventually, Cass forces himself to get out of bed if not for the need to tend to his bladder but out of curiosity to see what exactly Benjy is up to and whether Luke has even woken up yet. However, the bladder does have to come first. As well as putting on pants and a sweatshirt just in case his nephew is up.

When he makes his way downstairs to the kitchen, he sees them before they see him and the sudden warmth in his chest is overwhelming. His husband, his favorite person in the world leans against the kitchen island, his pink kimono thrown over navy blue pajama pants covered with dogs in Santa hats, frowning slightly as he talks to Luke who laughs and flips more pancakes onto a platter between them. Dark curls peeking out from underneath his hood and perpetual dark circles under his eyes, Cass is once again reminded of himself at that age. Except he didn’t smile nearly as much.

Thankfully, that changed.

Luke is just about to say something else to Benjy when he catches sight of Cass lurking in the doorway and if possible, his smile actually grows wider.

“Morning, Cass!”

At Luke’s greeting, Benjy springs up, followed by Honey who had been apparently just out of sight behind the island, and bounds over to Cass to fling his arms around his neck. He could live a hundred years and still never understand what he did to be the object of Benjy Fenwick’s affections.

“Look up.”

Cass lets out a fake exasperated groan and leans forward to press his forehead to Benjy’s, giggling a little as Honey bites at his sweatpants. “Don’t wanna.” Why look up when those star eyes already have everything he wants to see?

Benjy scrunches up his nose and dodges Cass’ attempt to steal a kiss. “Look up first.”

Cass hums, settling for a kiss on the cheek before finally relenting. “Let me see, it couldn’t possibly be...ah.”

Sure enough, a sprig of mistletoe hangs above them in the kitchen entryway. Identical to every other doorway in the house down to the perfect red bow that secures it in place.

“You’re a menace,” he grins back down at his beaming husband.

“Yes, but I’m your menace.”

“Thank god for that.”

This time, when he dips down for a kiss, Benjy returns it enthusiastically and Cass practically lifts him off the ground. Only to be interrupted by their nephew loudly clearing his throat.

“Just wanted to make sure you remembered I was still here,” he smirks, flipping more pancakes onto the platter.

“Mmm, couldn’t forget you if we tried, Luke,” Cass grins, giving Benjy another peck on the cheek and scooping up Honey for a quick kiss before letting her go off to bother Darling in her bed in the corner. In spite of not being able to spring up with the rest of them anymore, her tail still wags happily when Cass bends over to scratch her ears and whisper a soft Merry Christmas into her fur

“And God knows we have tried.”

“Oh shush, you,” Cass laughs, rolling his eyes at Benjy as he crosses the kitchen to give Luke a one-armed hug and yanks his hood down to kiss his sleep-mussed hair. “Merry Christmas, kid. Pancakes look delicious.”

Even that small praise makes Luke’s cheeks glow red as he works the spatula around the last few rounds of batter speckled with red and green M&M’s. “I think there’s still some coffee on. If Benj didn’t drink all of it.”

“I don’t know whether to be proud or offended that you think I have the capacity to drink two carafes already this morning,” Benjy says, resuming his position at the end of the island. “Even I have limits.”

“Mm sure,” Cass chuckles and gives Luke another squeeze before going off to see if indeed there was any coffee left. “So what were you two talking about all serious just now?”

“Oh I was just telling Luke that all the presents under the tree are actually for another Luke we know,” Benjy shrugs as he snags a pancake and takes a bite. “You know, let him down easy.”

“Ah right, sorry, Luke.”

“Right, and I told Benj that I don’t even mind if I don’t get any presents because that’s not what Christmas is about.”

“And then I called him a liar.”

“You called our nephew a liar?”

Benjy shrugs as he finishes off the pancake in his hand in two bites. “He’s 16. What else could Christmas be about?”

“Goodwill towards men perhaps?” Luke pipes up dryly.

“Oh,” Benjy grins wickedly at Cass. “I know all about goodwill towards men.”

“Benjy!”

This, this is what Cass lives for these days. The playful bickering between his husband and his nephew. Honey climbing on top of Darling only to roll off of her and get up in her face to bump noses as if to check that this is still acceptable before starting the cycle all over again. Even light blue mug in his hands, painted by Zane for his birthday last year. It’s everything.

They soon all go into the living room, each with a plate of their own, and pile onto the couch for presents, the majority of which, of course, are labeled for Luke. The matter of presents actually had been a hot topic of discussion for Cass and Benjy since the beginning of November. They’d missed fifteen Christmases and sixteen birthdays along with countless other milestones that could never be duplicated, but they still wanted to mark their first Christmas together while remembering those moments they’d lost. It was hard to think about that part of all this. Obviously, Cass had figured that Cyrus and Rebecca would have children but had accepted long ago that he and Benjy would never be in their lives. He had been more than happy to just give all the love he could give to the kids whose lives he did get to be a part of.

But now, he gets to grin at his nephew, the son of his brother who told his kids that he was dead, and nods toward the tree.

“Well, go on.”

Instead, Luke balks, tapping his fingers against his plate and chewing on his lip before standing back up suddenly and setting his plate of barely touched pancakes on the coffee table. “I uh have to get something.” He gives Cass a nervous smile. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh.” Cass glances at Benjy, who just raises his eyebrows at him, and looks back at Luke. “Okay. Whatever you gotta do.”

They both watch as Luke dashes up the stairs to his room, Cass slumping back into Benjy’s arms the moment he’s out of sight. “He’s okay, right?”

“Baby, he just went to go get something,” Benjy says gently, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I know, I know. I just-I don’t want to miss anything, with it being, you know, the first Christmas...”

“And you’ve literally done everything so we don’t miss anything.”

Cass cranes his neck back to look Benjy in the eye, needing that extra reassurance when it comes to Luke sometimes. That they’re doing everything they can to undo the hurt that seems to come from being a member of the Avery family. “Yeah?”

Benjy smiles and rubs Cass’ shoulder, his voice dropping as they hear Luke on the stairs again. “Yeah.”

Cass tries not to let his surprise show when he comes back into the room with his laptop clutched to his chest, radiating nervous energy as he opens it up on the coffee table.

“I um didn’t wanna wait anymore,” Luke grins at Benjy over Cass’ shoulder.

“Good, because I’ve been barely holding it together over here.”

“What are you-?” Cass sits up to look between Benjy and Luke, nearly giving himself whiplash in the process. “Wait for what?”

Benjy just grins at him while Luke busies himself with pulling up something on his computer before focusing on his uncle.

“I wanted to make sure I said all the things that I wanted to say.”

Cass nods slowly, as if that is supposed to mean something to him. “Right, sure.”

“Because I know I won’t say it right if I say it now,” Luke explains, wringing his hands together, or Cass supposes he would be explaining if he had any clue what was going on here.

“You can tell us anything, Luke,” he replies carefully, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands folded in front of him. “You know that.”

Luke smiles and sits down on the floor in front of the couch. “I do.”

Before Cass can say anything else, Luke presses the spacebar on the laptop and a sheet of paper with the words “TO CASS LOVE LUKE” written on it in red ink appears on the screen. After a few seconds, the sheet of paper drops away to reveal Luke in a green flannel and black beanie sitting at his desk in his bedroom and smiling at the webcam.

“Um, hey Cass...and Benjy, since I guess you’d be there too,” video Luke chuckles and waves at them. “Um...I’ll try to keep this short so I don’t uh cry or something, but I had a few things that I wanted to say...and then something I wanted to ask you and I wanted to do it right...if I could.”

Video Luke swallows, glancing off-camera, and Cass glances at real Luke, his hands clenched tight together under his chin.

“It’s been kind of a weird year,” video Luke says, this time his laugh an obvious effort to disguise the emotion in his throat. “I suppose that’s putting it lightly, but weird by our standards might be a little different than families that uh aren’t ours. Well...I guess they technically aren’t ours anymore anyway.”

Video Luke shakes his head and quickly swipes at his eyes. “Fuck, what did I literally just say? This is the third time...geez, okay, get it together!”

He scrubs his hands down his face, clears his throat, and stares evenly into the camera.

“I’m just gonna keep that all in there and we don’t have to talk about it,” he huffs a small laugh. “But um, the point is, that’s what I came from...to you. And it could have been, I mean let’s be real, I didn’t really know anything about you, you didn’t know anything about me. This could have been just disaster compounding on disaster. But uh...it wasn’t.” Video Luke looks away from the camera again, shy smile spread across his face with a few lingering tears just barely visible on his cheeks. “It was everything. It is everything.”

“Oh my god, kid.” Cass hears Benjy’s hushed voice and catches him squeeze Luke’s shoulder out of the corner of his eye, but he’s frozen in place, hinged on every word Luke says in the video.

“So, um, you made this a home for me within like, days of me being here,” video Luke continues, “I can’t imagine that was easy...because of all people, you know...you know better than anyone what it could be like so...I guess that leads me to my question.”

He pauses as he reaches for something out of sight, the sound of papers rustling over the speakers, and lifts a sizable stack so Cass can just make out the words in bold across the top of the first page.

STATE OF CALIFORNIA APPLICATION FOR ADOPTION REGISTRATION

When the same stack of papers are set in his lap, Cass finally tears his gaze away from the computer to look at his nephew, only realizing now that he has tears in his eyes and Benjy is gripping his hand in that secure way that always keeps him grounded.

“I know I only have like less than two years until I’m an adult and she already legally emancipated me and whatever but,” Luke shrugs, “I guess I’d rather have a family. With you guys. So...will you adopt me?”

Everything Cass wants say gets stuck in his throat, coming out as a weird strangled noise instead that makes Luke smile.

“Is that okay, Uncle Cass?”

Is that okay? Jesus Christ, what could possibly be more okay? He didn’t think he’d ever feel like this again, after Benjy and he ran off to city hall to get married moments after it was announced on TV that gay marriage was legalized. Another person expressing such unconditional trust in him--it’s too much but Cass wants more than anything to be worthy of it. Not trying to speak this time, he sets the papers aside for now and sinks onto his knees in front of Luke, who is now crying a little bit too. There’s a split moment of recognition between the two of them, even with their vision blurry from tears. He was in this same position once, cease and desist notice wrinkling in his fist, leaning heavily against the counter as his knees threaten to give out tight and dialing the number of the one person who’d given him so much hope in a few short months and now needed him to get him out of his deepest hole yet. Luke’s younger than Cass was, but now he gets to put so much ugly hurt behind him, not forgotten but healing, and Cass and Benjy get to help him start anew.

With a shaky gulp of air, Cass grabs the teenager in a tight hug right there on the floor, cupping the back of his head as he breaks down against his chest. They stay like that for several seconds, Cass rocking Luke side to side and rubbing his back through his sobs, his lips pressed to the side of his head. He glances over at Benjy, tears streaming down his cheeks as well, and reaches for his hand again, only speaking again when Luke has calmed a little against him.

“You knew?” he asks his husband with a watery smile.

“Yeah.” Benjy lets out a choked laugh, his finger tracing over Cass’ wedding ring. “I told him it might be nice to have someone to take care of us when we’re old.”

“I didn’t think that far ahead yet,” Cass chuckles, resituating himself and Luke so Luke can lean against him while Cass gets off his knees that are already starting to ache.

“Yeah, well I’ve had more time to think it over, Cassie,” Benjy grins as he scoots off the couch to join them on the floor. “And I have to tell you that I think the pros greatly outweigh the cons here.”

“Mm, I think you’re right,” Cass smiles and looks down at Luke who is watching both of them, still a little teary-eyed and clutching onto Cass as if Cass had any intention of letting him go anytime soon. “You’re perfect for us.”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

“So Luke?” Cass gently swipes his thumb under his nephew’s right eye.

“Yeah?”

“You wouldn’t by chance happen to have a pen on you, would you?”

#drabble #benjy #luke #christmas 2019