drauthor

[drauthor]

musk is going to die in a Tesla explosion in 6 months after sticking his nose where it doesn't belong and we will never get a conclusive answer on whether it was a CIA car bomb or just a normal Tesla malfunction

[drauthor]

Already seeing people on tiktok saying “I still hate trump but he ate with this one” like … babes … you just got propagandized … that’s literally exactly what he created this situation in the hopes you would say …

[drauthor]

[drauthor]

[drauthor]

How people can mistakenly think or just subconsciously feel food works: there are “unhealthy” foods like pizza or fried chicken and “healthy” foods like fruit salad or steamed vegetables. Every time you eat an “unhealthy” food you’ve harmed yourself in some way.

How food actually works: foods contain carbs, proteins, fats, sugars, vitamins, minerals, fiber and/or other nutrients. Your body needs and uses all of them but it would like to have a little of everything every day. If you ate pizza or fried chicken for lunch then that’s probably your fat and protein for the day with extra that your body will make use of in time, so it’s a good idea to make your next meal something different like that fruit salad or steamed veggies. You can have that fatty lunch every single day if you just maintain balance and stay active enough to actually use what you’re stocking up on because foods aren’t “good or bad;” they just either fit into the rest of your diet and lifestyle or they don’t.

[drauthor]

[drauthor]

[drauthor]

[drauthor]

[drauthor]

not two of my favorite fandoms in one really AMAZING piece of art holy *f u c k*, op this is gorgeous

oh dear, I've been influenced

rambling, unedited AU scene under the cut:

This is how it starts.  

***  

Cody has heard of the Grey Wardens. His childhood had been dreams of sweeping battles and heart wrenching sacrifice narrated in his father's soothing rumble, and he hadn't forgotten the stories trickling back from Thedas of the Warden who had saved the South. She was said to be the epitome of the Wardens - gleaming armor blurring into a smear of gray and white and blue, cutting through swathes of darkspawn like a hot knife in butter.  

But—stories tend to take on a life of their own.  

He knows this.  

And yet— 

Well.  

The man doesn’t even seem aware of Cody standing a few scant yards away, let alone like he could be able to sense dark spawn. He clings to his horse’s reins, face horribly ashen. The Warden griffon is proudly emblazoned on his chest plate, scored through with gouges obvious even from a distance.  

The man just doesn't—look like a Grey Warden. 

He looks half dead.  

And that makes no sense in the sleepy town Cody’s raised his brothers in. None of whom happen to be at home, and Cody can only be relieved.  

The horse continues to approach, with or without the man’s input on the matter, and Cody resigns himself to meeting them halfway.  

He doesn’t need any more odd stains on the furniture, so better to make sure the man is alive (if he’s alive, a small voice whispers in his head) and send both horse and rider on their way. His chest tightens at the thought—the plan—but he ignores it, carefully weaving around the garden and stray toys on his way to the road. 

The closer he gets, the worse off the man looks. It’s the kind of worse Helix claims drives him to drinking so his blood pressure doesn’t set a record high. It’s the kind of worse that already has Cody rethinking the plan to firmly, but not unkindly, send them on their way to as far away from him and his brothers as humanly possible. It adds a burst of speed to Cody’s step, but he doesn’t start running until the man slips, tilts forward, and— 

shit—! 

The man is heavier than Cody expected when he pitches into Cody’s chest, all dead weight and bulky armor and the suspicious smell of copper and rot that sticks to the back of Cody’s throat and almost—almost—makes him gag. He grits his teeth through the worst of it and holds on to the man until his knuckles ache. The weight forces him to a knee, but it’s nothing Cody hasn’t handled before.  

It’s the work of a moment to use his knee as a brace, to adjust his grip on the man and unceremoniously haul him over Cody’s shoulder, one arm wrapped tightly around the man’s thighs and the other gripping at the man’s back, pinning him in place as securely as possible.  

He breathes through the adrenaline and the sharp bark of pain in his bad shoulder, carefully pushing off his knee until he’s standing upright, a strange man—a strange Grey Warden?—tossed over his shoulder and a horse doing its best to make eye contact.  

“You couldn’t have picked any other house to drop your human at, could you?” 

The horse just stares.  

Cody swears he’s being mocked.  

“I’m not even a physician. You picked the worst person for the job.” 

The horse snorts in his face.  

Cody glares. “If you eat the garden, Helix will turn you into fertilizer. You’ve been warned.”  

He turns away before the horse can respond—Fox is right, he is going crazy—and dodges the toys and the garden, again, and shoulders the door open, biting back any noises that threaten to slip out when he manages to jostle his bad shoulder twice. He thanks whatever deity might be listening that Helix’s work room is only a few steps away from the front door, and he drops the stranger on the nearest exam bed, grimacing at the burn in his lungs.  

He takes a moment just to look, curious despite himself.  

The stranger’s hair is matted with filth, ash and dirt and—yes, blood. It might be a nice shade of burnished copper, or it could be the blood. There are no obvious wounds on his face, but the skin beneath his eyes is bruised and purpling and sunken, and his lips and face are devoid of any color. He looks disturbingly sickly.  

Cody eyes the armor. It could be hiding any number of injuries, and Helix gets grumpy when the basics aren’t taken care of. Cody very carefully does not sigh before he sets in on the armor, murmuring a quiet apology to armor and stranger, both. Grey Warden or not, the armor is well used and well-loved in a way that Cody recognizes, that keeps his touch gentle even as he fights with buckles and latches caked with dirt and other unholy substances Cody absolutely refuses to look too closely at.  

(He makes sure to stack the armor right, after he scrubs it clean and runs a polishing cloth over the worn metal.) 

***  

Grey Warden Obi-Wan 🗡🛡

[drauthor]

writing is so fun

[drauthor]

[drauthor]

Grey Warden Obi-Wan 🗡🛡

[drauthor]

[drauthor]

i am sick and miserable; it is therefore my duty to bring out the sick!codywan headcanons into the light:

sick!cody:

has never been sick before, what is this sorcery? clones do not get sick, you see; except for when they do, apparently

he tries to push through it, but as soon as he visits the medbay for some pain-relief, the medic orders him bed rest

he does rest, but he also barricades himself because he does not want the illness to spread more than it already is: it is risky enough to have him and the few of ghost company who also have contracted the virus down, he is not risking the rest of his men

he is miserable. he has never suffered like this before, a blaster bolt to the chest would be easier than the combination of the killer headache, the cold, the bone-deep pain and a sore throat that has rendered his voice useless

childishly, he wants obi-wan by his side. he would like his batchmates too, but the presence he longs for the most is his general. there are tears gathering in his eyes and it is humiliating, can this sickness kill him instead?

gets immensely relieved when the door to his quarters opens and it is, indeed, obi-wan carrying with him medicine and a bowl of ration-soup

contrary to his feelings, he scowls and tries to scold obi-wan for risking himself when the 212th could be left without command

sadly, his voice still does not work. that means cody has to settle for glaring at obi-wan; it is not very effective, considering the state he is in

as much as he grumbles, as obi-wan takes care of him, he starts to feel better. he does not want to admit it, but knowing obi-wan is by his side makes bearing the illness easier

he feels weak and hates it. he feels useless, seeing obi-wan take care of him, and hates it even more; hates that he cannot smooth the stress out of obi-wan's frown, that he cannot reach out and reassure his general, that he needs rest in the first place and therefore cannot share the burden weighting on obi-wan's shoulders

and he hates how despite it all, he wants obi-wan's careful, gentle hands on his forehead; how he wants to keep hearing his general's voice in that soft, reassuring tone; how warmth spreads all over from his heart to his veins and his body relaxes under obi-wan's care, because it is obi-wan and that means he is safe

he tears up a bit. he feels sleepy, cotton-like thoughts filtering through his head, a daze that does not alarm him for obi-wan is still with him

he feels loved and cared for and weak, and he hates it, but he loves it; and despite how unwell and miserable he is, he wishes the tenderness of the moment could last forever

and he cannot help his hand reaching out and grabbing obi-wan's with it as he curls up and presses both against his chest, too many sensations leaving him tired and spent

and he falls asleep, safeguarded by his general and a golden, bursting and blooming feeling taking over his heart

when he wakes up later, obi-wan is sitting by his bunk, and their hands are still linked together

sick!obi-wan:

this man will never admit to being sick. he is in denial. he cannot get sick, he is a general and a jedi, he has work to do

unfortunately for him, he is, indeed, sick

and weaving it off to say it is just "a bit of a headache, really, dear, no need for theatrics" is not going to cut it when his fever is reaching dangerous temperatures

which cody discovers by accident by pulling obi-wan into a swift keldabe kiss before going their separate ways

obviously, that was before cody knew obi-wan was sick. no separate ways, no sir, they are going straight to the medbay

the worst patient award definitely should go to him

he is miserable. obi-wan has suffered through colds before, and this is a thousand times worse. he is cold, has bone-deep pain, is shivering in places he did not know could shiver, has a killer headache, and a sore throat that's made every word out of his mouth hurt. the force has forsaken him

his dramatics go up to a thousand

he is ordered bed rest by the medic. unlike cody, he decides that means to work from his bed instead of standing, and cody has to confiscate his datapads

and since he apparently needs a babysitter, it is cody the chosen one for such privilege. this leads to bickering to the most of obi-wan's current abilities; which, to be honest, are not exactly brag-worthy considering his predicament

it is rather humiliating that his commander is getting him to bed, but his legs have decided to give up on him, so there is not much choice there, really

spends the time insisting for his commander to go back to work. that he will be fine if left alone for five minutes

but cody refuses each time, and takes care of him even if rather clumsily, comming the medic back and forth for instructions, and really, this is not doing any favours to the crush he is harbouring for the man

cody does not leave. he does not move from his side, a hand on his forehead taking his temperature in regular intervals, awkwardly asking if there is anything else he can do to make obi-wan feel better, and oh

because obi-wan is sick, and miserable, and in pain, and probably also half-delirious from his fever, but love expands across his chest like it was always meant to, a golden place reserved for his hard-working, steady and beautiful commander

and obi-wan dislikes asking for help. not for others, or when he sees he may not be able to help out someone alone, but he does not like asking for himself. it leaves him feeling useless, and brings out vulnerabilities from years past he has always thought himself over of

yet, it is in that instance, that when cody asks once again, "is there anything more i could do to help, sir?" he reaches out, holds out for cody's hands, arm too weak to do much but tremble, and when his own is held between cody's, he asks: "stay?"

and cody stays. when obi-wan wakes up next, cody is there. and cody keeps being there, attending obi-wan's needs and supporting him, as he gets through the sickness and until he is healthy again

and for a moment, obi-wan wishes cody would forever stay there, by his side, no matter where the war takes them or the years of peace he longs for afterwards

that is all folks! hope you enjoyed this. i tried my best but i truly could not get cody and obi-wan out of my head, and since i am bed-ridden with sickness and despair, i want the boys to at least get some comfort, too.

talking about comfort, i am tagging @codywancomfort :) i hope it qualifies? i feel like cuddling while being sick definitely falls into the category of comfort.

love y'all,

―pau.

[drauthor]

"Jedi must ignore their feelings." "That's quite a statement. Is it your own?" "Yes." Then the boy considered. "Well... Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan said much the same." "I think you misunderstood," Mace said. "Jedi do not ignore their feelings. They integrate them. Own them. They fear, but they are not afraid of fear. They grow angry, but they allow their anger to motivate only honorable action. Do you understand?" The boy nodded, but Mace knew he did not --yet. There was time. -Mace Windu: The Glass Abyss by Steven Barnes, pg 24

[drauthor]