#treeso

[askbensolo]

Is that an updated bio I see👀👀👀. Glad to see you’re still out there forging your own path in life Ben

Dang, you caught me! I didn’t know anyone was still checking my blog after all this time. Haha.

It’s been a while, huh? I wasn’t sure if I’d ever post again, just ‘cause life is busy. But yeah. I work for a news publication on Naboo now, so most of the time people are telling me what to write and how to write it. I like my job, but I was thinking about when I used to run my blog and write whatever I wanted.

I was looking through my old posts and remembering what my life used to be like. The thoughts I used to have. The things I used to be afraid of. Feels weird. Like, was that guy really me? Was I really that kid?

Actually, my roommate Treeso found my blog when we were in college and dude…I swear he will never let me hear the end of it. He walks past me when I’m chilling on the couch or something and he’s just like “Pssst Vader more like Bae-der.” Or we’ll be hanging out with the boys at the cantina and he’s all like “Hey guys let’s do a dramatic reading of Ben’s BLOOOOG!” and I die a little inside.

But hey, I own my teenage self and who I used to be. It’s just part of my story. I guess that’s another reason why I thought about posting again… I feel like the current iteration of me—the guy in his early twenties just trying to make rent and do laundry and figure out what to do with his life—deserves to have his chapter recorded, too.

[maskedhatter]

Moonlit night Hope you All enjoy #moon #spreadlove #artistofisnstagram #instart #moonart #moon🌙 #artistsoninstagram #instagram #blue #treeso # https://www.instagram.com/p/BqXWxgfFnW2/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1cvpz9mehg8yp

[treesos]

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[danoriathemedic]

Goodbye and Goodnight

Dee Dee stood, quietly at the grave of Eindra'che Ironclaw, The Mortician had a upset yet, quiet expression to say the least. Staring at the carving in the stone, the design. She peered at the name, the date of his death. She was, uncertain... She knew death came for everyone, not just from warfare, no one was immortal, no one can live for ever. But she was upset, betrayed? She was very much feeling conflicted. Oh how she wanted to tear up his grave, and bring him back, curse him, and answer her... But he wouldn't now would he?..No...No he was now a part of the Dream...a part of what he so wanted, and that was rest. She knew he always tried to hard, she always did try to cheer up Einny Ein...but even now she felt...like she failed her friend. He had not said a single word to no one...Maybe someone, she did not know, but to her, it was as it is. An end, of someone she really felt was comfortable enough to talk with, to trust, now there were very very few she did. As she would kneel down and set roses by his grave.  She glanced about, no one was here, she would then go about her task. Creating a series of sigils, with Crystals beneath the earth. She would set up something nice. She felt war was far to close, ever to near, as she would finish the task at hand. She would change out the filter's, for the Azerite, now that her body was molded to the flow of power. She felt it course through her like a live wire. Her ghostly blue eyes go to the bright arcane blue of old, as she would create the spell. Tossing the crystal to the top point of the tree where it floats now above, she would create the sigil of power. A barrier would encase the tree, the treeSo that no one could do his tree harm. Heaving, she sighs, as she then tested it, her gloves would not pass, nor her weapon. But the cat was able to cross back and forth. Nodding in satisfaction, she would find a spot to sit, Opening up an elaborate case, the item within, she cradles in her hands a violin that was beyond words to describe, but perfection in the eyes of Dee Dee. Ebony polished wood with silverline streaks, giving it a marbled touch, the sides that curved were of pure green jade, as if ivy had taken root and grown all along the sides, the leaves curving softly to almost appear to hold the delicate instrument together. The face if it near the opening on both sides of the string, was a black jade male elf bowing, to a white jade female elf curtsy's. The blacks eye was a saphire, the whites eye was a emerald. She stares at it, for a long long time. Running her now ungloved stitch scarred fingers along the surface. She'd tune the silver thread, blessed to never break, she was told were the silver of the moons tears turned to string. Once finished, she would raise the bow, like the wood, but wrapped in jade ivy, would she then begin to play a mournful song that drifted throughout the Hollow's foggy night.

The Mournful melody, haunting, sweet and delicate. Would play, like a song of worship, it would carry on the winds through out the Hollow. Her song played from the heart. A tribute to a friend, a companion, a true honorable warrior that she played in his name this day beneath the sky. As if hearing, the Moon would illuminate his tree, the tree would blossom, the the creatures of the night would come, and listen. As she played this piece for the Worgen, for Ein, her friend...

Upon finishing, the moons light fading, she smiles, softly as she takes her mask off, slides her cowl back, as she would walk over towards his grave. Kneeling before it. The mortician would play, to the light, and to Elune. To bless her friend in the rest he thus so deserved. And may he find peace in the Dream he so sought out to find. Once finished, she would re gear and stand once more. She turns away, as she thinks back on his words last spoken. Whats important to you. She tilts her head, as she looks towards the Hollow, and then towards his resting place," My family...my friends...Dee Dee...will make you proudy proud Ein...do better, Dee Dee will." she says, as she walks back towards the gate, Carrying her case. Jim the guard had some tears in his eyes as she passed, his surprise was evident upon seeing her. And the fact she had been the one to play such a haunting song. As she returns to her Laboratory.

[geneluxury285]

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[quarryviewbuildinggroup]

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[askbensolo]

Woke up this morning and stumbled to the kitchen, and my roommate is pretending he doesn’t understand Basic. He will only speak to me in Gunganese and expects me to do the same.

Meesa not awake enough for this.

[askbensolo]

I was just scrolling through your blog a few days ago, hoping you were okay. And here you are again! How are you? What kind of stuff are you writing for the Daily Sector?

Hey anon! Yep, I’m okay! I’m actually doing a lot better these days. Heh.

Yeah, so I’m living on Naboo now, which is located in the Chommell Sector. The news outlet I write for is called The Chommell Sector Daily (or The ChommSec Daily for short). They mostly have me on local news in the Theed area, so like local politics, city life, community events, that sort of thing.

Eventually I’d love to write more opinion pieces on social issues, instead of trying to wax poetic about the Theed Farmer’s Market and Craft Fair for like the twentieth time. I’ve become particularly interested in human/Gungan relations in Naboo, for example. My roommate Treeso Wonga is a Gungan and a solid dude. I used to have a lot of stereotypes about Gungans, and getting to know him has pretty much turned all of that on its head.

I actually minored in Nonhuman Studies at U of Naboo and it was—well, it was kind of a mixed bag to be honest, but when I did actually learn things, it was really interesting and thought-provoking.

But for now, I’m writing about whatever new pizza place opened in downtown and how Theed was voted one of the most beautiful cities in the Naboo system. Real life-changing stuff. Honestly, I don’t know why they don’t just replace me with a text generation droid.

[askbensolo]

Treeso and I said we’d hang out before he left. And boy, did we.

I drink sometimes, but as a rule I try not to overdo it. I don’t like feeling like I’m not in control of myself, you know?

Well, I overdid it.

See, at the cantina, they have this thing called The Chommell Sector Flight. It’s a mix-and-match menu of 36 craft beers, sourced from each of the 36 worlds in the sector. You pick six of ‘em to build your flight of sample glasses.

Well, ol’ Treesie boy decided we had to try them ALL.

Normally, I’m Treeso’s impulse control. That sounds like an absurd quantity of alcohol, I thought. I have work tomorrow, I thought.

But this is our last hurrah before Treeso moves out, I thought.

So…we ordered six flights. Treeso put more of it away than I did, but…yeah. We took a taxi home after that. And then I laid on the bathroom floor and cried ‘cause I felt so garbage. I think Treeso had fun though.

Guess what. I still made it to work today. ‘Cause I’m insane. Luckily for me, everyone at today’s team meeting was too busy circling back, dialing in, and piggybacking off of so-and-so to notice that I was mentally floating into the far reaches of space, merely a dead-eyed husk of a shell of a being.

…Which, to be honest, isn’t too far off from my normal reaction when a meeting devolves into a debate about whether or not “piggybacking” is anti-Gamorrean hate speech.

I’m feeling better now. But…yeesh. Not doing that again.

I’m gonna miss Treeso, though. I thought I hated guys like him—the class clowns, the party animals, the gym rats (or amphibians?). I guess I can be kind of judgmental. But hey, maybe I’m not always right about everything…

…Except I’m right about how Armitage and Poe are two of the most annoying nerfherders in existence. Obviously.

[askbensolo]

Whew, what a crazy week. Things are finally winding down. Spent most of today helping Fannie get settled, and also tracking down random knickknacks Treeso left behind so I can pack a box to send to him. I’d forgotten about his Gungan army miniature collection…he used to hide the figures in random places to annoy me. I just found General Jar-Jar Binks hiding in my underwear drawer.

I have so much room in the bedroom now. But I can’t take up too much space, ‘cause I’m gonna have to share the room again come September. (With whom? Great question, you have one day left to cast your vote…)

Fannie’s taking the living room. Honestly, it’s a pretty sweet deal for her—the air conditioning unit is in there. Because, for some reason, it’s the year 29 After the Battle of Yavin and we have flying cars and droids nearly indistinguishable from sentients, but I live in an apartment that can’t have air conditioning in both rooms—something something landlords. Yeah, yeah, Mr. Property Manager, my apartment’s a historical unit, a well-preserved relic of Theed’s rich heritage, blah blah blah. I’m a corporate news underling now; I know how to market stuff too.

Ugh, and it’s getting so hot here. When I leave for work in the morning I’m already covered in sweat. I’m gonna have to become one of those douchebags with the tank tops cut all the way open on the sides, since I would like to wear something around the house at least vaguely approximating a shirt, if I’m living with a girl.

I haven’t told my parents yet about Fannie moving in. I one-hundred-percent guarantee that they will make it Weird and A Thing.

But I did mention it to Rey, who, fortunately, gets that we’re just friends. Even if her reasoning is that I’m “super dumb and butt-ugly,” and Fannie’s “too pretty for me.” But hey…I’ll take it!

[askbensolo]

So I previously said that I’m no longer sweater boi, since I started working out and got jacked and confident, but it has come to my attention that I basically live in my UNaboo hoodie, so…I guess I’m still sweater boi.

Not for the next few months, though. It’s starting to heat up here. Treeso said that’s one reason he’s looking forward to moving back to Otoh Gunga (also known as Gungan City). The entire city is underwater, so it’s a lot cooler down there. He said he might even move this summer if we can find someone to take his spot quickly enough.

I didn’t mention the roommate thing when I visited my family last weekend. I didn’t want Mom’s gears to start turning. Because I am not moving back home—I hate my old room and all the memories attached to it. And I love my family, but I like my space.

Weird, huh? I spent all that time as a kid agonizing about having to one day leave my parents, just to grow up and agonize about the thought of having to move back in.

[askbensolo]

Hoooooo boy.

Dang I'm real sorry you had to go through that Ben, that sucks all over.

I have to say though, I think you maybe dodged a blaster bolt here.

A relationship ought to be made up of people with good communication and similar values and expectations, and if those arn't there, there really isn't much point to it.

It seems like both of you definitely have a roadblock in communication going, and while that could definitely be overcome, truth is it sounds like Fanny has very different wants/needs/expectations for her future.

She seems to definitely expect there to be some sort of physical relationship eventually. Wether she just expects it due to thinking that's just how "relationships" work, or something she actually wants for herself, just on her own time table, it does sound from what you wrote that she is at least more interested/affected by sex then you are.

It also sounds from her saying she wants to wait for her first kiss to be with someone she's engaged to, and that she's liked you for years but was willing to suffer in silence that she's a romantic at heart. She will want you to do romantic things for her in order to feel loved and appreciated.

And if neither sex nor romance are things you feel like you could ever want, I wouldn't go through with this. Both of you will just end up miserable, and neither of you deserve that.

Best of luck man, and sorry again that you have to deal with this

Hiiiii I'm sober tonight but I had a pretty good day today so I think I can handle this one on jellyfruit sparkling water alone.

So…the idea of romance is beginning to grow on me, even if it’s hard for me to pick out what makes it different from friendship. I can kind of sort it out by asking myself whether the things I’d like to do with her are different from things I’d like to do with my college buddies, and—yeah. Yeah, they are. Sorry, Treeso ol’ pal, but I’m not about to slow-dance in the kitchen with you—not without an unhealthy amount of alcohol, anyway. I’m probably never gonna be as much of a hopeless romantic as Fannie is, but…I think there are things I could learn. I even think I could kiss her one day. Just…just not yet.

But…sex is different. I don’t know if…I can ever do that.

And you're right. That's a whole ‘nother thing to think about in this whole mess. At first, I thought Fannie and I were alike, since she's so…you know…vanilla. But I know she wants to be married, and she wants to have children, and...she probably wants other things too, like you said.

Part of it is just how I've always been. As if there was some kind of developmental stage that just never occurred for me (psychologically, I mean). But I think some of it has to do with...Snoke. He took residence in my mind for years, and although I was sixteen when he first made contact, who knows how long he was there before that? And then eventually he won my trust and affections, and began to meet with me outside of my mind...and even though the memories are fuzzy...I remember certain things. He used to hold me in his arms while I cried. Cradle my face in his hands. Run his fingers through my hair. I kissed him on the cheek once, in the sunken hollow of his scars. Don't get me wrong, he and I never did anything weird together, but—

...No, what am I saying? Everything I just said is super weird. Aren’t I insane, trying to claim it wasn't weird I kissed an ancient raisin freak on his nasty, crusty face when I was a teenage boy—

But it was also the things he did to me mentally that stick with me. He used to probe my thoughts at night, and even though he could do that without actually touching me, it was...just as bad as it sounds. I remember being scared and skinny and sixteen, lying on my back and staring at the ceiling, trying to keep still while he entered my head. Trying to relax so that it wouldn’t hurt as much. I’d feel his presence pushing against the perimeter of my mind, harder and harder, until my resistance snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit, and then it was like my soul ruptured and bled out all around me on the bed while his cold bony hands were feeling around my brain, and pulling stuff out, and examining things, and rearranging them, while I kind of went into shock and laid there frozen with tears streaming down my face and waited for him to be done—

Actually no I don't want to talk about this anymore. Throwing up in my mouth just a little bit.

...Sparkling water break. Ahh, the refreshing taste of carbonated water that was once in the same room as someone imagining a jellyfruit.

But, yeah…I just can’t think about being naked with someone, without being reminded of how that felt.

Um—I wasn’t physically naked with him. Again, I hate that that’s something I legitimately need to clarify. Just…naked in every single other sense of the word, to the point that I may as well have been.

And…it’s hard for me sometimes, because it sort of makes me feel like…like I’m not a guy or something. I mean, I know I’m a guy, I just mean…most guys aren’t afraid of sex. Quite the opposite, in fact. You remember I was homeschooled, right? Well, I learned a lot of new things in college. And I learned to pretend like I wasn’t afraid, you know, when the fellas were hanging out and swapping stories, and I’d just sit there, and try to laugh at the appropriate times…

I kind of told Treeso a little bit, since we were close buds. Not about Snoke specifically, but just…that something bad had happened to me when I was a teenager. Treeso was a solid dude, despite presenting like your typical frat bro, and he started taking me to the gym and joked that he was gonna make sure I got jacked so no one could ever hurt me again. I don’t think Snoke would be deterred by my biceps…but I did get a lot more confident.

And more physically attractive. I mean. Come on. I know I look good. I like looking good. But it never changed how I felt about…you know.

So…yeah. I never really worked on addressing this particular little trauma, since A) um…AUGHHHHHHHGHHGHHH and B) it didn’t seem like a problem, since I was so sure I was gonna be single forever. When this whole thing with Fannie started, I thought about it only a little...and part of me was like, hey, maybe she’d be okay with not...really...doing that?

But…that’s kind of a huge ask, isn’t it. It doesn’t make sense to me, but sex is kind of a big deal to most people, huh.

...Who knows. Maybe it would have been to me, too, if I hadn’t been…if Snoke hadn’t…

...I mean...what if this isn't just "how I am"? What if he made me this way, and now there's just a crucial part of my adult self that never got to form, that's broken, that I’ll never experience the same way other people do, that I can never get back, and...that I can never offer her…

...Oh Force. The sparkling water cannot save me. I know I like her. I know I love her. I'm even pretty sure now that I'm in love with her. But everything's all wrong, and I'm all wrong, I'm so screwed up, I'm screwed up in ways I've never fully realized, and probably screwed up in ways I don't even know yet—I mean look at me I’m not even a real man I mean what an absolute loser how can I look so damn good without a shirt but totally freak at the thought of getting in bed?? I'm such a weak kriffing beta failure I freaking hate myself and I bet she’d only end up hating me too and—and—and—okay, calm down, Ben, calm down, keep it chill…

…Okay. So. Clearly, this will not be my last time thinking about this. I am very tempted to throw it out of my brain and never think about it again, but…no. This feels…important to me.

Note to self. Need to buy more sparkling water.

[askbensolo]

Ben, did you ever eat bugs when you were younger? Y'know like you were channeling your inner Anakin

Yes. Yes I did. As well as other things. Truly wonderful, the mind of a child is. I don’t know why I did that, but hey, the heart wants what it wants…

Oh my gosh. Dude. Wanna hear a college story? ‘Cause I ate a live bug in college. In fact, I ate five of them.

I’ll set the scene. Good ol’ UNaboo. Junior year. My first year, actually, since I transferred in. A fall semester party. The Osk Trill Osk frat house. Enter Ben Solo, twenty years old, tall but scrawny, still in his ugly sweater era, dragged into the tableau by a twenty-one-year-old Treeso Wonga, his new friend from NHS 101: Introduction to Nonhuman Studies.

“I don’t think my mom would want me here,” Ben says, fear in his eyes, a college junior with a freshman soul. “Is it like in the holofilms? Are people gonna be, like…doing stuff?”

“Relax, Solo,” says Treeso, pushing him forward with a solid hand to the back. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We’re here to have fun!”

Osk Trill Osk is a co-ed, mostly-Gungan fraternity. Ben, at this time, has mostly only ever interacted with humans and near-human species, and even those he has barely interacted with. We’re looking at a guy who was homeschooled from age five, practically lived in his bedroom till nineteen, and can count all the friends he’s ever had on one hand. And now he’s standing awkwardly in the middle of a loud and crowded room with a bunch of eighteen-to-twenty-two-year-olds, but he feels like he’s twelve.

The others are friendly enough. They offer him drinks and they offer him things that aren’t drinks and one girl who’s maybe already had a bit too much to drink thinks he’s cute and offers him something else. But the looming threat of Leia Organa-Solo hovers over the boy, along with his own anxious inhibitions and fairly cautious nature, and he declines them all.

“I’m, uh, not twenty-one yet,” he says, naively thinking the excuse is watertight, but a rousing chorus of “neither are we!” shatters the illusion at once.

“I mean, I like following rules,” he says instead, with eyes so big you could read the humiliation in them from a lightyear away—but no one else in the room is in a state to be that observant. Nor are they in a state to spend even one of the brain cells they’re all trying to kill off on thinking about what a loser Ben is. But Ben, however, now has many brain cells that have devoted themselves entirely to this purpose, and he spends the next hour stressed-out and sober, thinking about what a loser he is, and how he can prove he’s not.

Enter the blue slug-beetles, which someone suddenly brings in a crate of, much in the same way one would bring in a six-pack of beer. There is a series of cheers from the Gungans in the room.

The slug-beetle is a bright blue insect about the size of the palm of your hand, and has the curious distinction of being native to both Naboo and Tatooine, with the ability to thrive in both wetland and desert. On Naboo, they are found in the eastern swamps, crawling in the mud amidst the roots of the pelote trees. They are a Gungan delicacy, and Gungans, with their strong teeth and long tongues, are well-suited to cracking the beetles’ hard shells and slurping up the juices. Treeso and several other Gungans begin to do so immediately, while some of the non-Gungan guests look on, some with fascination, some with disgust.

Ben Solo is not a Gungan. He is, however, an absolute freaking idiot. Through some insane inspiration, he decides that he is going to prove how cool he is by being the first human to eat a blue slug-beetle. He puts his hand in the crate.

It’s alive, first of all. These slug-beetles have been prepped for consumption by the removal of their wings, the stubs of which are clipped off in straight lines and flitter nervously as the beetles struggle vainly to survive another day. But even without flight, Ben’s beetle squirms in his hands, its several legs tickling his palms as he tries to prevent its escape.

This moron, frantic not to embarrass himself by having to chase a slug-beetle around the room, finally gives up on figuring out how to eat it. He settles for slapping his palm against his mouth, throwing back the beetle like a handful of pills. The legs tickle his tongue instead of his hands. In a panic, he champs down on it to end its life, and swallows it, the hard fragments of shell scraping the insides of his throat on the way down.

And guess what? Nobody freaking saw.

Damn.

So then. Of course. What other conclusion is there? He has to do it again. Reluctantly, he reaches once more into the crate of crawling beetles.

Mind you, this buffoon is fully sober. He has nothing and no one to blame for his stupid decisions. He’s just…like that.

He picks up the second bug. Probably, he should have stopped and waved and said something like, “Hey, guys, watch me eat this bug!” (though in retrospect, I’m kind of glad he didn’t), but this dude had pretty bad social anxiety at the time, and such a prospect was unthinkable.

So…Ben Solo eats his second slug-beetle. And again. Nobody freaking sees him do it. Although it does go down a little smoother.

Well. Now he’s committed to the bit. Committed enough to grab a t-h-i-r-d slug-beetle, but for some reason not committed enough to say “hey guys watch me eat this bug” because that would involve calling attention to himself, which is exactly what he’s attempting to do, except no, he doesn’t want to make himself noticed, he just wants to be noticed.

Third slug-beetle goes down—similarly unseen. It’s looking like Ben prayed too hard at the beginning of the party for people not to look at him, because, yeah, that’s exactly what’s happening right now. Sure, he could just call it there and shrug it off and laugh at himself for eating three slug-beetles for nothing, but…you know? The sunk-cost fallacy is one hell of a drug.

He’s getting the hang of it. Down goes the fourth beetle. One of the Gungans looks at the crate and goes, hey, where’d all the beetles go? They went fast, huh? And Ben Solo’s like, oh, someone’s looking, now’s my chance. He grabs the fifth bug and puts it in his mouth and imagines the sweet, sweet taste of notoriety.

Well, he was getting the hang of it. But at this point, this stupid neophyte college boy is sweaty and dehydrated and has nothing in his stomach but hydrochloric acid and five blue slug-beetles and a bunch of social anxiety and his body decides, yeah, okay, show’s over, we’re done here. Pack it up, boys.

So, everyone’s watching when Ben Solo slaps his hands over his mouth and stumbles over to a conveniently-placed garbage can and keels over and…you know, un-eats all the bugs.

“Yooo, I thought you said you weren’t gonna drink!” says Treeso, pulling back my hair while I freaking die, and someone else says they can see why I don’t drink, since we’ve only been there an hour and I’m already losing my guts. And from that point on everyone thinks I’m just, like, the worst lightweight ever.

And? To this day? No one will kriffing believe me that I ate five bugs. Like…seriously?? If I was gonna lie about myself for clout, you really think that that’s what I’d be going with?? Ben Solo, the bug-eater???

Anyway…yeah. I present myself before you. Ben Solo, eater of bugs.

[askbensolo]

It’s become my morning routine.

Two tablespoons of pre-ground caf beans (yes, pre-ground, sometimes even flavored, ‘cause I’m a heathen)

Place in my mini Corellian press (which only makes one cup, but that’s enough)

Set the kettle, listen to the water rumble like how the Force sounds in my dreams

Wonder why she sits on chairs like that, her knees tucked underneath her, like a nesting tip-yip

Pour the water over the grounds, let it brew, watch her meditate and wonder what it would be like to feel the Force inside me, if I’d find the missing part of myself—or no, maybe that part is better off lost

Wonder what it would be like if this summer stretched forever and every morning began with her sitting at my kitchen table

Realize I’ve watched her for five minutes, not necessarily thinking about her the whole time, but thinking about a whole bunch of different things—depress the plunger, watch the thin layer of foam rise to the surface

Get the blue milk from the fridge, remember the mysterious green milk Luke used to serve at his academy and shudder

Get two mugs: the matte black one with the chip on the rim from when Treeso dropped it (mine) and the pink one with the disgustingly adorable tookas that Treeso gave me as a gag gift (hers)

Pour 95% caf and 5% milk in the black mug (mine)

Pour 5% caf and 95% milk in the pink mug (hers)

Take the caf and not-caf to the table and spend the next ten minutes with my friend

[askbensolo]

Last night, me and Fannie and Treeso stayed up really late playing Podracing Simulator. Fannie has, like, never played a hologame in her life (she said she had one of those virtual pocket pets once and it died and scarred her forever), so she was a total noob and I felt like one of those dudebros who boost their egos teaching girls how to play hologames.

And then she ended up smoking us every round somehow.

I think the Force was guiding her.

I thought Treeso would flirt with her more, but he didn’t. He was kind of obsessed with her lightsaber, though. Not that I blame him—lightsabers are cool. But I was pretty annoyed at him when he asked if he could play with it and accidentally burned a hole into the wall. You bet your butt I’m gonna make him cough up some of the deposit before he moves out.

Anyway—this morning when I came into the kitchen to make my caf, I forgot Fannie was sleeping on the couch, so I accidentally walked in shirtless and wearing just my boxers. I got all the way behind the counter in pre-caffeine zombie mode, and then the sound of the boiling water woke her up and she stirred and her head popped up from the couch.

We stared at each other. Her eyes were huge. I sank down below the counter.

“Uh…close your eyes and I’ll be right back.”

Awkward. Could be worse, though—my dad sleeps commando sometimes, and the fact that I even know that at all tells you everything.

But she was very polite and didn’t say anything about it and neither did I.

I’m gonna take her to the Theed Farmer’s Market and Craft Fair today (the one I’ve been assigned multiple community articles on, as if it doesn’t happen every single week). I think she’ll like that a lot. And then we don’t have any solid plans after that, but I figured we could play it by ear and explore, and I could show her random places I like.

And talk. I want to try to figure out what’s going on with her. I know I wasn’t a very good friend before, due to my notorious inability to answer messages in a timely fashion, but…we used to be close, and I still care about her.

I’ll let you know how things go!

[askbensolo]

Asked Treeso if we could let Fannie stay over for a weekend.

“Sure. Is she cute?” he asked, grabbing a longfruit from the counter and slinging it into his knapsack as he passed by.

I snorted into my cup of caf. “I mean…shoot your shot bro, but she’s a Jedi.”

“Aw, dang,” he said. “Jedi are celibate, huh?”

“Well…not anymore. What I mean is, be careful ‘cause she could slice your hands off.”

Treeso leaned against the wall by the door to tie on his sandals. Most Gungans don’t wear shoes, but Treeso always said he hated how dirt felt between his toes. “Hey, I like my hands, Ben. I’ll leave her alone. She a human?”

“Twi’lek,” I answered, eyeing him suspiciously.

“What? You didn’t tell me that,” he said with a stupid grin. “Well…maybe I won’t leave her alone.”

“Oh, come on, dude.” I grabbed an apple from the counter and flung it at him. He caught it, laughing.

“Hey,” I called. “Treese. Remember that time in senior year? At the Life Day party? With Kailana? I am not saving your butt like that again, Treesie boy.”

Treeso laughed harder. “Dude. You were the best wingman of all time, Benny boy. I owe my life to you. For real for real.”

I gave a nod and raised my mug to him in salute. “My honor.”

He sighed a little, our college memories still lighting up his face as he paused at the door.

“…I’m gonna miss you, bro.”

It was a rare moment of authenticity from a chronic jokester. It was too serious—I had to lighten the mood.

“Aww, you’ll see me tonight, buddy,” I teased. The apple came hurtling back at me, and I caught it and put it back in the fruit bowl.

But I felt it too. He was a good friend. After graduation, everyone I knew left Naboo and scattered across the galaxy—but I still had Treeso with me. Treeso, who had gotten me into lifting and introduced me to the boys at the cantina and listened to me rant about school and work all the time. Treeso, who I died laughing with when we downloaded a bunch of mods and speedran Podracing Simulator till 3am on a random Sunday night. Treeso, who had the emotional intelligence of a rock, but who’d sat with me and cracked bad jokes while I broke down on the couch. He wouldn’t be far away, of course…but Otoh Gunga was just far enough.

“Well…I’ll see ya tonight then, Benny.”

“Hey. Treese,” I said. “We should make sure to hang out before you leave Theed. Paint the town red. Have one last misadventure. Don’t you dare leave without giving me one last chance to suffer your company.”

“But of course not, Solo.” He flourished a bow. “We’ll plan it out once we know when I’m making my grand exit.”

I grinned. “Alright. Now get outta here, slimeface. And make sure to lock the door this time, unless you’re gonna make me walk over there and do it for you again.”

“Okay, okay. Smell ya later, gundark ears!”