#this is...okay

[ditzycrow]

Marigolds...yall alright? 

[legobiwan]

For prompts: Thrawn and Obi-Wan, did they or didn’t they. Do your worst and most subvert-y! 8D

Okay, so I think I managed to both vert and subvert in this one. I am not at all sure what I’ve just done here. This is partial!crack and partial....something else altogether???? I’ll let you all be the judge.

FYI, I am not 100% comfortable writing Thrawn but I’m giving it my best effort :D 

------

Anakin stared at the Chiss, disbelieving. 

“There’s no way you could have known all of those things...just by reading faces.” Or what was left of faces, at least. Oenti and the rest of his thugs were dead, by Anakin’s own hand.

The Jedi grimaced. No, he wasn’t going to feel bad about taking out those good-for-nothing kark’a’shuts. They got what they deserved. And besides, unlike Obi-wan, Thrawn didn’t seem to care one way or another about the collateral damage Anakin caused, as long as it was logical and didn’t interfere with Thrawn’s own mysterious plans. 

Thrawn regarded Anakin with those impenetrable red eyes. “On the contrary, General Skywalker,” his voice was cool and unbothered. “There is much to learn from the study of microexpressions, of gestures. Even subtle shifts in vocal timbre. Take Oenti here,” the Chiss gestured at the fallen man at, lightsaber wound still smoking through his gut. “The placement of his feet.”

His feet? Anakin rubbed at his forehead, taking in the scuffed, blaster-marked boots of the dead man. 

“What about them?” Anakin asked. 

“If one takes into account the angle of impalement,” Thrawn continued, either not noticing, or more likely, ignoring the very obvious way Anakin’s face creased at the word impalement. Not the Jedi way, Obi-wan’s cultured voice, somehow melding with Thrawn’s own soothing baritone, echoed in his mind. 

Vocal timbre, a bantha’s ass, Anakin scoffed to himself. 

“Then we can conclude that Oenti’s feet were directed towards his associate, perhaps in silent order or even expectation.” Thrawn quirked his head. “Most likely in anticipation of a round blaster fire that did not materialize. I do not believe these men had fully...anticipated the damage profile of your unique weapon.”

“And you sense all this?” Anakin asked. 

Thrawn furrowed his brows in confusion. “Sense? No, the Chiss do not sense - at least, not in the way your Jedi Knights might. We observe details, details which may be invisible to your...less capable humanoid senses.”

Anakin crossed his arms, stifling the urge to argue. Whatever, he huffed inwardly. He had the Force, he could sense - and observe - enough. And what he saw was that Thrawn was a condescending pain in the ass, a lot like -

A lot like someone else Anakin knew. Still, he needed Thrawn to find Padmé and until then, he’d just have to put up with the Chiss’s idiosyncrasies as best he could.

----

“Would you prefer a practical demonstration?” Thrawn flitted his eyes between Anakin and Padmé, expression still unreadable, but somehow laced with a certain bemused danger. Behind the Chiss, Padmé was narrowing her gaze in Anakin’s direction, giving a subtle shake of her head.

That look, Anakin swallowed over a lump in his throat, he knew to be dangerous.

“No!” Anakin protested, holding up both palms. “I mean...not - “ Oh kriff. It was one thing for the hyper-observant Chiss to use his skills against the enemy, but Anakin couldn’t have Thrawn turning that expertise on him. 

On him and Padmé. Not when they had worked so hard to keep their relationship a secret, even from the Jedi. 

Why had he brought this up again? Thrawn, despite everything, had been a solid ally, had helped Anakin get to Mokivj, had reunited him with Padmé. And now they were about to take down a massive Separatist plot, probably foil months, even years of planning by Count Dooku.

But at his heart, Anakin was a tinkerer, a mechanic. He wanted to know how things worked, wanted to know why Thrawn - who had no Force sensitivity whatsoever - could outclass him in almost every area of observation and deduction. 

Anakin fumbled in the pockets on his tunic, his left hand closing around a small holodisc. An idea bloomed in the back of his mind, a way of both getting the information he wanted from Thrawn and maybe a bit more...

“Here,” Anakin held out the disc, pressing the activation button. A holo of Obi-wan and Cody, deep in conversation, illuminated the dark anteroom.

“Anakin!” Padmé hissed. “You can’t show classified Republic communications to a stranger - “

“Relax, Padmé,” Anakin interrupted, waving a hand. “I cut the audio since Thrawn over here is so good at reading microexpressions.” Padmé had a point. The conversation between Cody and Obi-wan wasn’t meant for public consumption, wasn’t even meant for Anakin to hear. If the holojournalist who had snuck the recorder into the Senate building had forgotten to turn on the audio - well, that’s wasn’t Anakin’s fault. 

Anyway, he knew what the conversation was about, more or less. Some kind of secret mission on Utapau, all very hush-hush. All Anakin wanted to know was if they did or didn’t agree to the Council’s terms of said mission, which Anakin had no doubt would involve some kind of subterfuge considering Obi-wan hadn’t been kind enough to loop him in on the proceedings. 

Anakin grit his teeth, the Force momentarily surging around him. He would never let himself go through another Rako Hardeen incident, never let the Council abandon another Padawan - 

“And what, General Skywalker,” Thrawn cut into his thoughts, cocking an eyebrow. “Would you like me to do with this information?”

Right. “A practical observation,” Anakin forced some cheerfulness through his suddenly dour mood. “Like you said. Study these two and just tell me if they will or won’t.”

“Will or won’t,” Thrawn seemed to chew on the words. “In reference to what?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Anakin gave an impatient gesture, not wanting to reveal any more than he should. Truth was, he playing fast and loose with Republic intelligence, doing so in front of a Senator. That the Senator in question was his wife and would never actually turn him in for what he was doing didn’t completely settle the nagging hook of guilt deep in his gut.

Thrawn considered the two men in the holoimage for a moment. “I take it,” he began deliberately, “you already know the outcome of this conversation? Or is this to be considered...” Thrawn searched for the right word in Meese Caulf, “sen’depen?”

“No, no freelance work for the Republic,” Anakin partially lied. It wasn’t for the Republic, it was for him. For protection - his and Padmé’s. “So, are you up for it?”

A look of pure bewilderment crossed Thrawn’s features. Anakin let out a half-laugh, having forgotten how literal Thrawn tended to be. For all of his observation skills, for all of his tactical mastery, the Chiss sometimes seemed at a loss when confronted with more idiomatic phrases, even in a language he was supposedly fluent in. 

“Up for it?” he echoed, punctuating each word.

“Will you do it?” Anakin rephrased, avoiding his wife’s icy glare from across the room. 

Thrawn gave one of those irritating partial smiles. “There is no need to ask, General Skywalker,” he said cordially, “as it’s already been done. Take, if you will, the auburn-haired man’s slight flush, growing from the bottom of his neck. The slight pixelation over the dark-haired man’s carotid artery, indicating some sort of visual disruption - “ Thrawn turned to Anakin. “An elevated pulse.”

“In addition,” the Chiss pointed at both men’s feet, “as we saw with Oenti in the Black Spire, the placement and direction of feet give us another visual clue. In this case, both men’s feet are nearly linear, toes angled at the other’s, in direct conflict with their avoidant gazes. It is my conclusion, then, that this is not a matter of will or won’t, as you so worry, but an internal matter, best left to the regulations of the Republic army, of which I am unfamiliar.”

What? “Regulations?” Anakin chirped. Had he missed something? The supposed secret on Utapau was - as far as Anakin knew - being conducted with the approval of the Council. No, no way. No way Obi-wan would go behind the Council’s back like that, no way he would rope Cody of all people into doing so.

“Most militaries,” Thrawn explained evenly, “have certain restrictions on...fraternization between officers in times of war, as it can be both a distraction and leverage for the enemy.” 

Frat-er-niz...Anakin’s mind tripped over the word, his thoughts tangling in his bewilderment, toppling downhill straight into a duracrete wall. Was Thrawn actually saying that - that Obi-wan and - 

Anakin risked a glance over at Padmé, whose eyebrows had gone so high they practically disappeared into his hairline. 

“I take it you were unaware of this development?” Thrawn asked, unbothered, or more likely unaware of the bombshell he had just dropped on Anakin and Padmé.

Anakin rubbed at the back of his neck, which had suddenly gone desert-hot. “We - uh - that is - we knew, but - “

Bootsteps and low voices echoing in the long hallway saved Anakin from having to come up with a better answer, which he definitely didn’t have. All three beings in the room shifted to battle alertness, Thrawn and Anakin coming to either side of the automatic doors leading into their hideaway, weapons in hand as Padmé crouched behind a small step, blaster poised at the entrance point. 

Thank the Force, Anakin thought, grateful for the opportunity to escape Thrawn’s increasingly uncomfortable line of questioning, not to mention the millions of implications raised with the utterance of a single word. Fraternization. It was like one of those alarms for fancy speeders, the ones that blared some high-pitched, obnoxious announcement almost as irritating as their upper-crust, Coruscanti owners. It was too much to think about right now. He couldn’t deal with the mines, with Duke Solha, with whatever mysterious operation the Separatists had going on here and handle some Chiss mind-reader while considering Obi-wan’s...Anakin grimaced in embarrassment - recreational activities. 

The Force pinged in warning, Anakin’s precognition already guiding his steps, present and future overlapped on one another, like a broken holofilm. The doors open, blaster shots aimed at Padmé, above her head. He flicked his lightsaber on, already blocking the fire a second before it erupted in loud cacophony.

Thrawn was wrong, that was all.

Fraternization.

Impossible, Anakin shook his head, lightsaber raised in a high arc, enemy fire deflecting back to the intruders.

It’s Obi-wan, Anakin rationalized. When did he ever go against regulation?

[dcmonicmiraclc]

pjo+hoo lgbt moodboards: pansexual annabeth chase

“Monkey bar," Annabeth said. "I'm great at these." She leaped onto to the first rung and start swinging her way across. She was scared of tiny spiders, but not of plummeting to her death from a set of monkey bars. Go figure.”

[captaingambit]

Hm might have been used to make someone else feel better and hm interesting