TW: discussion of something approximating suicidal tendencies but with the usual crack programming of this blog
“Ah, High General Windu”, says Fox, pleasantly. “So we meet again.”
High General Windu raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, Fox thinks, though it’s getting hard to tell with all the blood rushing to his head. “If I let you go, will you try to throw yourself out of another window?”
Fox makes a vague shrugging motion - or tries to, anyways. It’s hard to tell where any of his limbs are going, hanging upside down in the air as he is. “I am willing to discuss terms.” A bridge will do just fine.
Impossibly, the High General’s eyebrows climb even further up his forehead. “A compromise, then, esteemed Commander.” And so, he righths Fox the head way up in the air, but leaves him floating just above the ground, at which point several painted shells come skidding around the corner followed by billowing robes and screeches.
“WHAT”, says Kote, calmly, “THE BANTHA-KARKED, FORCE-LOVING KRIFF, FOX.”
“You’ll short out your helmet mic”, Fox advises him, sagely. Fondly, he thinks back to decimating his own on only his second time in the newly-christened official Coruscant Guard Scream Closet. He’d just received the comm about the Zillo Beast being transported to 000, and made sure to take his bucket off thereafter to improve the quality of his closet time.
High General Windu’s face does something complicated between sympathy and constipation.
Because the Galaxy doesn’t hate Fox enough already and Cody wasn’t enough on his own, Wolffe elbows his way through their batch to plant himself in front of him, shoulders squared and shaking with repressed rage. “If you try that again, dickhead”, he begins, in a low growl that quite frankly sounds more cringe that intimidating, “I’m going to resurrect you and then kill you again.”
“Ah, Wolffe”, Plo Koon says, in his deep, shivery timbre, “Remember our conversations about effective conflict resolution and communication of needs?”
Wolffe’s eyes narrow at Fox, because all non-Guard are sweet summer children who walk around buckets off on 000 like absolute lunatics. Fox prays they never have to find out why that’s a bad idea. “I feel”, his ori’vod presses out between clenched teeth, “that if you make me watch you throw yourself out of another window, I’m going to jump after you and strangle you on the way down, you little bitch.”
“That’s fair”, says Fox, and watches High General Kenobi bury his face in his hands. Wolffe twitches in place and makes an aborted groaning noise, the hypocrite.
“Excuse me, High Marshall Commander Fox, but I fail to see what’s so dire about this situation that the Jedi High Council and your brothers cannot help you solve”, says Windu, the only sane one left on this Force-forsaken bloated corpse of a planet. Behind the gaggle of Jedi and ori’vode already gathered in front of Fox, the rest of them come veering around the corner in a commotion that’s quite frankly embarrassing. High General Yoda is mounted on Skywalker’s back like he’s a race-Eopie, which is Fox’ only consolation.
He got up this morning at 0300, bleary-eyed and with a pounding headache as always, and all was right in the world. And then Fox got called into the Jedi High Council’s chambers and was ceremoniously informed that in the wake of Chancellor Palpatine’s unfortunate demise (hah), and through the emergency state of the Senate, as well as several invented promotions foisted on Fox to make the delegation of any and all paperwork less shady, he was now next in the chain of command and-
Well, Fox is the acting Chancellor, in short.
Haha, he had said, and been meet with several seconds of silence, until it got both awkward and exceedingly painful. Wait, he’d said. You’re kriffing serious.
Kriffing serious, we are, had said High General Yoda, and thus Fox launched himself out the first best window with a maniacal cackle of, you’ll have to catch me first!
And catch him, High General Windu sure did.
“The will of the Force this is”, Yoda interrupts Fox’ train of thought. He scans him thoughtfully from beneath his wizened brow, and hems to himself. “Shake things up, this will. Determine the fate of the Galaxy, this shall. A feeling, I have, that a good Chancellor you will make. A better one, hmmm.”
“That’d be high praise, if not for the fact that a dead lemming would make for a better Chancellor than the last one”, says Fox, drawing and indignant gasp from Skywalker. He doesn’t bother with either that or the green goblin’s cackle, lost in the deep sense of resignation that settles over his shoulders like a suffocating blanket.
“Alright, then, get me Thorn on the comm. As my first act in office, I’m firing all the Jedi. No offense, but you’re kind of a disaster. Then, someone get me to the Chancellor’s office, I’m calling Dooku to let him know the war’s off. And please get me Judicial, they’ll be up all night working on my datafolders - I’m having the Senate arrested.”
“Who - is - arresting - “, Bly pants, hands on his knees from where he’s just come sprinting around the corner with his Jedi.
Underneath his bucket, Fox smiles a smile that’s all teeth. “The Senate”, he says, sweetly, wondering if he’s just imagined the shiver that’s gone through the room. “I’m suing the Senate, and taking them all into temporary custody for abuse of sentient rights.”
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Fuck the Trauma Bond
A Lucas and the Party version of this
…
Lucas was bouncing the ball on the pavement of the basketball court at the playground. It was surrounded by high chain-link fences and the hoops on either end were worn and rusted and the pavement itself was cracked worse than the Upside Down ground.
He had never looked happier.
Dustin and Will looked on from where they sat at the top of the slide on the playground. Lucas was tossing the ball around with a couple of other kids from school that neither of them knew.
But Lucas knew them, and that was all that mattered, apparently.
Max, El and Mike were a little farther back from Lucas, past the lame excuse of a basketball court and in the street, where Max was showing Mike how to skateboard while El loitered and watched.
It was absolutely sweltering. Ranging from 92 degrees to the Devils fucking asscrack, in Dustin totally correct opinion.
He was bored out of his mind but didn’t mind watching Lucas bounce the ball. He looked happier bouncing an orange sphere than he did playing DnD, which unsettled Dustin in a way that made him lightheaded.
“Hey, Will.”
Will hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t look up from his sketchpad.
“Does Lucas look happier?”
Will looked at Dustin with a raised eyebrow before focusing in on Lucas.
“Huh. I mean sure.” He shrugged. “But it’s cause it’s basketball. Lucas really likes basketball. And if he really likes it then why not be happy while doing it?”
Dustin flipped the thought a few times in his head.
It wasn’t that he was mad about Lucas playing basketball. He got over that a while ago after Lucas and Mike had a full-blown argument/mental breakdown that included Mike’s abandonment issues and Lucas’ FOMO (fear of missing out).
But Dustin also wasn’t outright vocally supportive. He didn’t go to the games, he didn’t hang around for Lucas’ practices. He would (probably), but even after Eddie’s name was cleared and he was painted a hero but the government goons, Mike and himself were still targeted heavily in school alongside the rest of Hellfire.
“I don’t really see the appeal, I guess.” He told Will, instead of voicing his inner thoughts.
Will shrugged. “You don’t have to. It’s Lucas’ interest. But simply showing you’re willing to listen to him about said interest can go a lot farther than you’d think.”
“Are you saying I don’t listen to him?”
“I’m saying you guys dismiss him.”
“Dismiss him?” Dustin watched Lucas more intently.
Will hummed. “Literally yesterday. He was talking about his encounter with Steve and how they’d made a really cool new play and you guys all so obviously tuned him out that when he stopped you guys just kept nodding because you hadn’t noticed.”
Huh.
That was really shitty.
“Did we really?”
“Yep.”
“Damn.”
“Damn indeed, Dusty-buns.”
Mike, Max and El joined them a couple minutes later.
“What’re you nerds talking about?” Max asked, sitting at the bottom of the slide with El while Mike climbed up to sit behind the boys and lean on Will’s back.
“How we’re apparently really shitty friends,” answered Dustin with his chin in his hand. He was still watching Lucas. One of the guys playing— a curly blond kid a head shorter than Lucas— pulled him into a weird hug thing where they slapped each other’s backs and immediately went back to playing.
“What?” asked Mike, muffled from where his head was shoved into Will’s shoulder.
“Lucas likes basketball.” Dustin confirmed.
Mike and Max looked at him.
“Yeah? We know that, Henderson.” Max snarked.
“And we know nothing about anything including him and basketball.”
They both seemed to pause.
“What do you mean?”
“Will says we’ve been dismissing him every time he brings it up.”
They both looked at Will, Mike peeling himself off of his back to do so.
Will shrugged and harshly erased something on his paper. “You do.”
“Which is why it’s stopping now.” Declared Dustin.
Mike blinked at him owlishly. “Um, dude? We can’t really go to him games or practices. You know we’ll both get mauled,” he muttered quietly.
The other three looked between Mike and Dustin.
“You’re both having problems still?” Will asked, looking stricken.
“I thought Jason dying would mean they’d fuck off.” Muttered Max.
Mike scoffed. “Just cause Carver’s dead doesn’t mean shit. They still think Eddie’s the Devil and that we’re his fucking worshipers or whatever. They chased me all the way to the back of the school on Wednesday.”
Will winced and Max glowered. Dustin felt the slide shake a little.
“El, relax. It’s not that bad.” Dustin watched El’s gaze soften slightly and the slide stopped rumbling. She looked at him sadly. They’d all heard about the bullying in Cali at some point. Dustin smiled back but it didn’t reach his eyes.
He turned back to address the whole group.
“Sure we can’t go to every game, but maybe we can get Steve to go with us to some. You guys know he wouldn’t let anything happen. And besides— Steve likes sports to.”
That struck a thought in his mind: how many times had he dismissed Steve?
He pushed it back for now.
“And even without going to games—“ he pressed on, “—we can still try and listen to him more.”
Mike and Max nodded slowly. Dustin takes it they hadn’t realized they hadn’t been listening before.
“And speaking of,” Will said, placing his sketch pad and pencils into his bag. “Here comes the man of the hour.”
Sure enough, Lucas was walking backward to them while waving to the guys who were leaving the park altogether. They were all waving back and laughing.
“Hey, guys!” Lucas jogged up to the slide.
“Hey, stalker,” Max greeted cheekily when Lucas bent to give her a kiss.
“Hi, Lucas!” El cheerily added. “Did you have fun?”
Lucas smiled. “Yeah! Daniel— the dude who was wearing the red hoodie like a damn maniac— was stupid fast and really cool! He showed me how he pushes off his feet for speed and when I—… never mind.” He tried for a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Dustin frowned.
“Why’d you stop? Keep going, dimwit. When you what?” Mike prompted.
Dustin snickered when Will slapped his arm lightly.
Lucas looked stricken for a split second before his face broke out in a grin.
“Well—“
And the rest is history.
.
Bonus:
When the first game came up, only 3 months later, Steve took the whole Party— older teens included.
They took Eddie’s van, the kids piled in the back while the teens took the actual seats.
When they got to school it was hectic chaos of Steve taking a headcount and leading everyone in. They struggled to find seats where their whole group would fit and in the end they sat on the bottom line of the bleachers with half of the them on the floor.
It was actually fun, much to Dustin’s and Mike’s surprise. Even if the looks shot at them and Eddie from some of the players were downright hostile.
Steve went with them every time they got up to do anything. No one left without someone else there— so Mike wasn’t alone when Adrian Gonzales tried to corner him by the concessions. And Dustin wasn’t in as much trouble when Treyton Klink pulled him by the shirt into the bathrooms.
So yeah— it wasn’t the best. But that was ok, because the hug Lucas gave them afterwards was worth it. Dustin would go through hell (again) to get another hug like that.
Mike looked about ready to agree with the flush that now littered his face and shoulders.
Will laughed at him and poked fun at him about the blush the entire ride home. Max and Lucas himself eventually played in with it as well, only worsening the blush and making the teasing better.
Lucas was over the moon for the rest of the night.
They slept over at Casa Harrington (as the Party so lovingly called it), piling blankets and pillows and dragged mattresses and discarded cushions on the living room floor while Lucas went on and on and on with Steve for what felt like forever.
Dustin wouldn’t have it any other way.
Especially with the matching smiles on their faces.
Dustin’s never seen them so happy, and he caught Eddie staring at Steve the same way Max was staring at Lucas, so Dustin figured he agreed.
He’d endured literal hell for his friends; what’s so wrong about one interest?
Dustin’s dreams were filled with buzzers and cheering and scoreboards. But that was a problem to complain about tomorrow.
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so, i was thinking today in the middle of math class and i figured that Jason’s death was completely and totally necessary.
don’t get me wrong, it was sad as fuck, but it was oh so necessary. and here are my points.
1. He had no one anymore. Leo was “dead”, he and Piper had broke up (and she was a bitch to him after that), Coach Hedge and Mellie stopped liking him since his break up with Piper, Reyna never really forgave him and Thalia was with the hunters.
The only person he was “close” to was Nico. Like, Hazel never truly forgave him for doubting of Nico’s rescue mission. Frank liked him a lot, sure, but in a “i like the president” way, not as friends.
“But Percy and Annabeth” no. They were too busy studying to go to college together to have time for friends.
He was alone.
2. He had nowhere to stay. You see, most of the people in CJ stopped admiring him after he went with the greeks and people at CHB never really liked him that much.
3. He was overworked. He was just so busy the whole time with lots of shit and he put others in front of himself absolutely anytime, ever. He literally died pointing towards the exit. And he never hated any of the people that were jerks to him.
He’s perfect, but no one realized it.
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