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gladiatorcunt · 1 month ago

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- BEDROCK | XII.

you’re a bottled star, the planets align, you’re just like mars. you shine in the sky

cw: kinktober prompt (sex toys), reader has a pussy, age gap (ur bsf ahsoka’s former master!anakin (40’s) obi wan (50’s)’s padawan!reader in her early 20’s), dub con, implied obikin x reader codependency, dismemberment fantasies, reader is lowkey a stalker freak, no direct touching between anakin and reader ofher than chest fondling, strongly implied voyeurism that’s non consensual but unavoidable and unwanted by both of you, eventual sith!anakin, obi wan haunts the narrative, frequent use of ‘little one’, dead dove do not eat, reader became a padawan in their late teens

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“You know they’re going to expect their toys to be put to good use.” Master Skywalker shrugs and tiredly grumbles down at you.

You’re sprawled out on the bed, recuperating from the first day of your undercover mission. Your own Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was on one of his infamous negotiation tours, so to speak, you had never cared for them, you couldn't spin pleasantries like yarn any better than a Rakghoul could dance.

Obi-Wan could only stomach taking you on because you parallel Anakin in so many ways, Anakin could only accept his former master taking another padawan because maybe your added seriousness will ease the aggravation caused by the one before you.

You were just happy to be chosen, as any child-waited-too-long-unwanted-teenager plucked from the tense comfort of their home would be, even if that home is only a basic imitation of a shelter.

“I know, Master.” These blasted things, growing up the other padawans would giggle with you over these provocative missions, usually a padawan donning the skin of a schutta on the end of a leash held by their Masters. “Do they have to be so… unique?”

It was as nice as Obi-Wan would’ve wanted you to be, even in these circumstances.

Would he take on Master Skywalker’s role with as much confidence and clarity as the true born son of the Force? Rumors of both the men’s appeal and promiscuity do not guarantee a willingness to rut into a padawan, a dance of demons spoken of in the archives, a beast in the vein of and important to some future single world than your own.

“Unique? How so? I know you’re not like some padawans and keep to yourself, little one, but Jedi your age talk. I’m not naive, neither is Obi-Wan.”

Master Skywalker might as well have carved the kyber crystal of his saber into your face, the flame that crackles under the surface of your skin bears his scent, stormy as his heavy gaze often is.

“Apologies, Master, i never meant to-”

“Shush.” He chuckles, “You can call me Anakin, I hope you’re aware of that. Mace Windu is not going to barge in here and strike you down for being informal. It’s just us, little one. I’m not even your real master, just doing pet sitting for an old friend.”

You blink, lava swirling in your gut at the implication of being a pet before a person. “Anakin.” Your mouth twists around the unused syllables, never having referred to a master by their first name in your entire life. “But the mission, we’re supposed to um…… you said they’d notice if we didn’t do……. anything.”

Another chuckle, another curl tucked behind his ear. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that we came to this planet as a wealthy ship salesman and his controversially younger companion. This place is too seedy to not have eyes and ears everywhere, they’d take it as an insult if we declined to use their… gifts. The success of this mission would mean another smuggler and secret trader being taken down, Obi-Wan and I both think you’re ready for riskier missions like this one. You’ll do fine, little one.”

“I’m trying to release my fear and anger into the force, Master- Anakin. I thank you and Master for seeing this in me but I've never done anything like this before. Are people really going to hear us… have sex?”

“That’s why we’re speaking so softly, padawan, it’s not the noises they’re looking to witness, but you can never be too careful.” Anakin smiles, patting your cheek firmly. “And we don’t necessarily have to do anything like that, just use the toys and leave them on the bed for servants to find, messy and thoroughly used. The nobleman will be pleased, if the information painting him as a pervert is accurate.”

Obi-Wan wouldn’t have spoken to you quite so crassly, but he does like to tease you that the sand scratching Anakin’s tongue never goes away, there’s always another grain when you think it’s spotless and clean. Like the temple or one of the many mighty metal spires, the sterile trees of Coruscant.

You nod, nevertheless. “There’s no use putting it off. The schedule we studied says the workers will stop by first thing in the morning.” Your nerves are obvious, picking your nails, biting your lip, adjusting the folds of your skimpy outfit to conceal skin it will never stretch far enough to cover.

Anakin’s eyes soften, the wrinkles in his outer eye corners deepen. “I’m only sorry I won’t be the only one to hear you cum for the first time, but they’ll never touch you, and they won’t get to know what you sound like doing everything. Trust me, little one, you’re in the safest place you could be right now, my general vicinity.”

It’s not as funny, or as hot, as you’d expect it to be. As shy as you are, you’re constantly surprised by how quick you are to embrace arousal in the urge to renounce shame. If your blood temperature rises to a boiling point, the big ball of anxious knots in your knot could be singed through until it falls apart.

You do not feel any great embarrassment of the simple truth that you have a crush on Anakin Skywalker, many do, you’d be at the tail end of a long line of various species of various ages and with various expectations of what they want their bodies to go through.

It’s silly to be possessive of a man you only share a master with, who stops by to chat when he’s not tinkering away at something or doing some death defying stunt on a mission that’s going to drive the council to insanity one of these days.

You are jealous of Ahsoka Tano however, your closest friend, even after she’s transferred to another Master, the result of some great big falling out.

It is far better that you were not assigned to be his padawan, the Force would have bled with your desire and dissipated entirely to get away from it.

Master Skywalker picks up one of the toys lying there on the bed in between you, a realistic tongue that disturbs you just a bit more than it arouses you. He chuckles at the apprehension on your face and motions for you to get comfortable. He reaches around you with one arm and bundles you up in his lap, your back to his firm chest.

He shushes your nervousness sounds and attempts to ramble, not fully apologetic as he peels back the layers of your tunic top. Your chest bounces into view, free from the confines of the tight fabric. Anakin gives you absolutely no time to be shy about them, groping one in his free hand. The force beams with his amusement when you gasp, the calluses on his fingers feel like they’re marking the skin of your mound, he kneads and kneads for a moment, perfectly content to let you squirm until you can get used to what else he’ll have to subject you to.

Maybe that’s where the hotness in these missions lies, you both want this on a baseline level but there are things you have to bend your own line in the sand to allow. Pushing your limits under the shyness-inducing gaze of Master Skywalker in these uncomfortably close walls and on a mission where you’re free to be other people might very well be your only chance. You’ve never broken a single rule at the temple, you’re a shining example of what a padawan learner should be. Master Obi-Wan often jokes that he wishes you were around to be his padawan the first time around, but there’s always a note of sadness hanging onto his stilted laughter.

You arch your back against Anakin, bracing your hands behind you and burying them in his hair. He groans as you gently tug the curls, and gives it right back to you by lowering the realistic tongue to your left nipple. You flinch, the surprisingly cold silicone model of a muscle flicks against your perky nub on Anakin’s command, and he’s commanding it to torture you to death. Relentless flicks of the toy against your nipple make you squirm again, wanting so badly to be good but you’d much rather ensure the toy was in constant contact with your chest.

It’s the perfect temperature, you run hot most days, and the brief sensation sends shivers from your head to your toes, just a hint of pleasure since Anakin stopped his own touching, sitting as still as a statue as he works the toy on you. He hooks his chin in your shoulder to gawk, transferring the device from one slick nipple to the other until both are so thoroughly coated that it drips onto your soft tummy.

“See, that feels good right, little one? There’s nothing to worry about, this is all we’ll do until it’s time for bed and then we’ll put these things away.”

You nod, whining like a spoiled noble family member now, pouting when he takes the tongue away from your nipple and throws it haphazardly over his shoulder. You cringe, wondering if the loud clang it yells into the concrete floor’s ears reached those in the shadows, you were trying to ignore them but now that there was a single moment of quiet there lecherous eavesdropping was all you could imagine.

A thick hand clamps around your chin and jerks you in the bearer’s direction, Master Skywalker clicks his tongue against his teeth, “They’re nothing to you, especially not right now. If you’d only let yourself go, they’d fade away entirely in your mind, I was trying to be easy on you but clearly you’re in need of something stronger if your head is still on the surface of this planet.”

Something stronger, being a large vibrator, 15 inches and a swirl of mint green and lavender, in the shape of a tentacle, every suction cup has the ability to well… suck. These are all things Anakin relays to you while rearranging your form to his liking, legs spread wide over his thighs, arms behind your back but not restrained, and after some lifting, your robes in a beige pile by the gaudy bed.

Master Skywalker can be merciful occasionally, he doesn’t force you to make eye contact as he lowers the vibrating toy to the altar between your legs. He also doesn’t comment on the pitiful whimper you let out, the vibrations haven’t even started, but you feel the force explode in pleasant-happy-power-trip blood orange. You drink up the calming waves he sends to you, wrapping them around your naked form like the comfiest and plushest blanket, the waves you offer to him in return are clingy little ripples in a pond. Needy repetition of hints to feelings that cannot leave this room alive.

He gets a glimpse of a fantasy, for a mere second before it vanishes out of view, a tantalizing and fascinating shooting star.

“No we can’t stop, you have to let it out.” You raise your hips up higher, face down ass up, your holes wink at him in intervals, angel wings flapping in the corner of his mind, like all the love he has for you will leak out into his cum and if he can just go that, then everything will be fine.

The vibrator doesn’t start at an easy to handle low frequency, your howling is drowned out by the intense humming of its second highest setting.

Your hips jolt, Anakin works the toy in slow circles over your clit, cooing when you jerk and squirm around. Your already throbbing clit is pulsing so hard it almost feels like a constant pain, but you’re so karkking wet that you push your hips up into his ministrations. You chase after the persistent buzzing with more determination than any of your meditation sessions, suddenly cumming on Master Skywalker’s lap is far more important to you than all the missions in the world. Blurry blobs with their ears to the structure around you shift to crumble beneath your increasingly loud cries.

Your pleasure snowballs, Anakin’s earlier attention to your nipples the mountain out of a molehill and his current fascination with your cunt the crashing wave threatening to envelop you in its fold. Like the ones Master Obi-Wan used to tell you about on Kamino, angry and dark cobalt blue, lapping at the ankles of the once elusive white buildings. It’s easy to split yourself into different pieces, assign each one to a part of nature because the force is telling you that your pleasure is as natural as grief and plant life and twin cotton candy pink to red suns and love and mistakes and giant bone dragons with pearls for landmark hearts.

The steady pulsing on your clit punches the gasps out of you, a steady stream of short-for-breath aimless chatter. You’re soaking Master Skywalker’s lap all the way down to the bed, if you mentioned them he’d probably tell you to leave how you ruined them. The smell and stain would only bring you greater protection from being found out, yet your stomach twists at the thought.

The force blooms violet with your fear, as if you’re deathly afraid of your own orgasm, lazy unenthusiastic rutting into your semi-firm mattress back in the dorm is nothing compared to actually touching yourself with the intent to cum. You just got too scared the first time you tried to slip your fingers in your tight snatch and frustratingly resigned yourself to never understanding what your peers go on and on about. Giggling into their portions of bland oatmeal and exchanging charged glances, hormones are far more powerful when they’re being repressed.

Master Obi-Wan had no trouble modestly applauding your emotional regulation skills, unlike his former padawan you had less trouble settling the wriggling bundle of your feelings in a see through boat and pushing it along the stream of starlight until it gave way and became one with the connecting tissue underneath.

“You’ll lose your voice at this rate, little one.” Anakin huns into your ear, his mech arm holding you so tight to his chest his ribs might crack open and swallow you whole. “You’re a better actress than I thought you’d be, unless all this whining and carrying on is genuine?”

You can’t even get a word out before he presses the vibe closer to your pussy, the swarm of tiny little mouths the orchestra and the largest one at the tip of the tentacle hugging your clit the conductor. Your breath hitches as you tremble and whine, a high pitched thing that pierces the air. Anakin grins, lips split wider than the length of the cruiser the council provided to get her, he moves the toy up and down between your folds. A fake cock warming itself in the snug hold of your pussy, sending little jolts of phantom electricity to fizz and sparkle on your tastebuds through your core up out your mouth.

“I’m- I’m not acting, Master. Kark! You’re- ngh- going to, um, y-you’re going too fast, Master, please.” You beg, throwing your head back on his shoulder and counting the dots that make up the constellations in your visions.

It’s too much pressure, Anakin plays with the silk fabric of your outfit like it’s something for his hands to do, like he’s not keeping a vibrator right on your clit and holding you down so you have no choice but to take it. You can’t help but think of the ways your real master would be different, he’d try his hardest and wait out the time the longest but would that stuffy old man end up performing this same brand of torture?

Not that Master Skywalker is much younger, from your position on his lap the signs are aging are right above your face. The cheek scar you learned months ago he’s had for decades The wrinkles, eyes, mouth, forehead, the permanent halfway tense halfway slack skin from all the stress he endured in the war, the ghosts living in his irises, his weathered hands splayed out burning hot steam to the touch on your belly. Right above your womb, he could just dig in and sink his fingers metal and skin knuckle deep.

“Aren’t you adorable? You’ve been taking it so far, you haven’t fallen yet, little star, I bet you can keep going. Stop rushing this, just relax and feel these hungry mouths coaxing you to splash against them, settle into their demanding chants.” Anakin soothes, unhurriedly dragging his blunt nails over your love handles, “I would say this body is wasted on those arid robes, on the Jedi Order, you’d be such a beautiful dancer like you were after dinner, but Obi-Wan would kill me if he found out.”

The dinner with the nobles, the party afterwards, the target had his lizard tongue hanging from his mouth when he asked you and the other “accessories” to put on a show. The force twirled in displeased crimson skies then.

You don’t insult Master Skywalker’s intelligence out loud, but you both plainly speak frequently to the same word of the day calendar.

You want to give him one of your arms, unholster your lightsaber and sever the flesh from your spirit. He wouldn’t be able to use it and you wouldn’t ask him too, he can just have it, so he can understand how alike you are, to know that you too will always wander around with a missing part of you. But how can it be truly missing if you gave it willingly? Master Obi-Wan can have your lonely other, in a fiery pyrrhic instant you are pure force and limbless.

You’d roll the turquoise pendant of the necklace he’d bring you, a souvenir from a stubborn vendor on an outer rim planet, in the lines on your palm like it’s one of his eyes.

Anakin suffocates the vibe in your pussy and doesn’t let the suction cups breathe until you’ve spontaneously combusted, before you can say knife

“It’s not funny, I really didn’t like it, Master.” You liked it too much, the flickers of yellow embers in his eyes, his grip so tight on your chub that you pictured him with sharp black claws, shacking up with a man you barely know but at the same time are too close to.

You used to fall asleep recounting the details of Anakin’s life and accomplishments, each tidbit represented a sheep for you, the biggest punishment to you back then meant being banned from the archives or blocked from news sites on the holonet.

You studied the man whose shadow you would wear over your robes like a shawl, until you were convinced you could jet set off to Tatooine and be able to point out which patches of sand his feet had tread upon. You just never once stopped to consider that he was doing the same with you, what kind of sun bothers himself with the comings and goings of a dead star so far away from their incinerating orbit.

“I don’t like that you like when i’m scared, it makes me feel… sick.” You could cum so hard you’d fall off the temple roof into Coruscant’s lower levels, be one of the ghosts wandering throughout the dreary gray tunnels but instead be moaning for cock that’d still be alive.

“I’ll hold your hair back and nurse you back to health, I’m in for it if I give old man Obi another padawan death scare.” He wiggles the digits of his mechanical arm sardonically, he knows what you mean but he also knows that you don’t mean it so he gives you the same amount of humor he sensed in your mutterings.

Master Skywalker is appreciated for his ability to be both tremendously serious on the battlefield and lighthearted with his colleagues, Anakin loves to tease shy early 20 somethings who volunteer him to be the replacement caretaker for their own master. He tosses and turns that night, not because of the impending result of the mission, all he’ll say in his husky morning voice is that he had a bad dream. You should make a break for the cruiser after embarrassingly exchanging pleasantries, Master Obi-Wan and the rest of the temple are expecting you home before your scheduled progress testing sparring session.

For now, the vibrator’s highest setting will be the instrument, the conduit to the music your moans create, interwoven with Anakin’s hot musk. Oil and dirty water.

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marvelstars · 3 months ago

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I always took Obi-Wan´s words to mean they are looking for a criminal to take them off Tatooine given they are hidding from the Empire, the fact Obi goes to talk to Chewie personally the moment he gets to the bar and knows where to find him, means he definitely has been there before, he trusts Chewie will not sell him off and he can take them off Tatooine quickly, Obi definitely was a regular given no one´s surprise after seeing Obi casually cutting off someone´s limb XD. Luke was approached because they knew he was a civil on the Planet, so someone vulnerable to scare off or try to capture if he had a bounty on him.

The bartender just reported them to the Stormtroopers with an annoyed face because he probably told Obi not to cut off limbs on his bar anymore or else be reported and Obi ignored him. :D

U can watch Star Wars so many times and it doesn’t prepare u for how dumb Star Wars is. For one thing I think we gloss over how kenobi (who has definitely been at the club. Please.) describes the mos eisley cantina as the worst most villainous place ever and then u get inside and it’s a pack of muppets vaping

#star wars #luke skywalker #obi wan kenobi #we don´t need to be told everyting #it´s pretty easy to interpret for the way the characters interact with their context imo.#Lucas used this narrative tool a lot in his first star wars movie

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imherefordeanandbones · 1 month ago

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10 people I`d like to know more

Last song: The Rolling Stones "Paint it, Black"

Fav colour: Oh god...i love every one there is on the pallet, hard to choose! But i would say RED and green!

Last book: i`m currently reading a few and some comics as well: Terry Pratchett & Stephen Baxter "The Long Earth", Michael Cremo & Richard Thompson "Forbidden Archeology", Philip Coppens "The Ancient Alien Question", John Jackson Miller "Kenobi", Star Wars "Obi-Wan, A Jedi Purpose" and the last one The Boys - Omnibus volume one.

Last movie: I don`t even remember, just sticking to books lately and some tv-series.

Last TVshow: Star Wars "The Clone Wars"

Sweet/ Spicy/ Savoury: Always Spicy and salty, not that big of a fan of sweets!

Last thing i googled: Taurid Meteor Stream

Current obsession(s): Since i can remember Karl Urban, Ewan McGregor and everything Star Wars, Supernatural, Science, Astronomy, and lastly but not least Pedro and his developement as an actor (love this guy!).

Looking forward to: reading new fanfics everyday, my last exams in december and finnaly taking my title as a nurse!

Want to send a lot of love to @orcasoul for the tag <3

@ladamedusoif @enchantedflameandflower @split-spectrum @marierg

Hope, that its ok to tag you and we can keep forwarding this little game:)

Have a nice day all of you, May The Force Be With You!

#tag game 🏷️#get to know me #pedro pascal fandom #karl fucking urban #ewan mcgregor #obi wan kenobi #star wars

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kingdomhate · 3 months ago

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First Date Scenarios!

Kylo Ren: Despite everything you think, Kylo Ren is a romantic. Maybe not a complete romantic, but he finds himself attracted like a magnet to wine and deep conversations. Once he sat down, at the very console that commandeered his ship, run by tech savvy officers, his gaze lingered on you, intensely. Sure, he made no real effort to dress up in a tuxedo or anything, but he was drawn to how you dressed yourself. It accentuated features about you he overlooked.

He thought you were beautiful in your most bare form, however, it seems like you radiated in this dimly lit room, and you were unaware of how he had to force himself not to stare at you. "So, Y\N. Let's start with your favorite food?" Kylo spoke out, his voice soft like a whisper but curious as a cat. Your eyes met his, sipping your wine slowly. The interest he had in yours burned almost as bright as your own.

You go on to tell him your favorite foods, colors, movies, shows and whatever else comes to either of your heads, and he shares the same. You two chat for hours, the wine bottle drains quickly and it's like you both are insatiable, it is only when one of his Admirals pops in to tell him that it is past midnight and his presence is needed somewhere else that Ren is forced out of the conversation to realize the time is way past midnight. He turned to you and walked with you a bit.

"Tonight was fun. Can we do it again, if you don't mind?" He expresses as he stops in front of you. "I really enjoyed speaking to you." You beam at him, nonverbally communicating you agreed it was a great time. Almost fictional. "Yes, of course!" Kylo donned a little smile, before you walked over to him and planted a sweet kiss to his cheek, fleeting but even after you pulled away, he could feel your soft lips on his skin. It caused his skin to heat up, and a blush to sneak up and attack his cheek and neck. You chuckle at him and tease him about it before he ultimately had to leave. His gaze was soft when he began walking to where he was needed, and directed to the floor. He felt like a schoolboy.

Anakin Skywalker: Anakin had so much planned for this date. He was determined to indulge the soft side of himself and planned a walk to a special place. He came by to pick you up in his speeder, the sky bleeding into ethereal shades of orange, pink and hints of purple as a deep shade of midnight blue planted traces of its color on the horizon, threatening to overtake the sky in time. "Hey, angel. Ready for a ride?" He asks, that grin, borderline cocky that always made you laugh because of how stupidly beautiful it was, captivating your attention before his words.

You couldn't ever deny yourself the butterflies that fluttered around wildly in your stomach at those soft and damn near seductive nicknames he had for you, they managed to make your knees weak everytime. "Obviously." You snicker, getting in. Anakin glances down at your clothing, he likes how well you pick out your outfits. It was one of the first things that enticed his fascination to about you, initially. "So... where are we going, Ani?" You inquire and he smirks. "For a little walk, princess."

As you got to Anakin's house, you were a bit perplexed. "Why are we-" Before you could finish, Anakin shushed you and went over to you, helping you get out. You both walked around a bit, and Anakin asked you questions about yourself, and vice versa. You found yourself smiling and laughing a lot, and he told a lot of stories about his Jedi life. It genuinely interested you what that life holds, and what could drive a man like Anakin, talented, charismatic and shamelessly gorgeous to chose that path. "Because I've always looked up to Jedi and the Jedi Order. My mom and I were slaves, and when Qui-Gon and Master Kenobi showed up, it amplified that admiration. Especially when Qui-Gon told me I had that potential to be what I wanted to be. It's a kid's dream to be like someone they idolize and it's difficult to describe that joy I felt when he told me I could be like him."

You process that for a few minutes, and you both stay in silence as you do. "Close your eyes." Anakin says softly, you look at him for a moment before doing as he said. You can hear his footsteps rushing to do something and then coming back to your side. "There." You open your eyes slowly to find a dazzling display of a version of a Protocol Droid. "What...?" You speak, completely at a loss for words. Anakin laughs, and rolls his eyes playfully.

"For you. He hasn't been activated yet. I made him not too long ago. I can show you how to work him, if you want. But yeah, he's all yours." Your head whips around to Anakin, his arms crossed over his chest in that confident pose. He nods to confirm that he is not lying and the droid is yours. You laugh awkwardly as you approach the droid. Anakin makes a few movements and the Droid turns on. "I am E-5O, Human-Cyborg Relations." You were at a genuine loss for words. But moved to hug Anakin tight to yourself and he hugged back immediately.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars fluff #hope you enjoy

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starlazergazer · 2 years ago

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Spare Key (Part 2)

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Summary: Part 2 to Spare Key! Could theoretically be read on it’s own though. The reader has full cut Anakin out of her life until a break in at her home leads to her in desperation reaching out to Anakin once again.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3k

A/N: I really wasn’t planning a part 2 then this idea came to me and when I thought about how much I would love to read it I knew I had to write it. Its mostly a giant piece of fluff of Anakin being there for you in a time of need and comforting you to no end so I hope you enjoy it!

Part 1 Here

This was a very bad idea.

You’d told yourself that you were done with him, that you weren’t going to do the constant cycling between hoping that somehow your situation would change and the crushing realization that circumstances mandated that it couldn’t, that you were stuck keeping Anakin at arms length, somehow too close and not close enough at the same time.

But right now you needed help and a friend, and for better or worse Anakin Skywalker somehow fell in the middle of that venn diagram.

However standing before that jedi temple, not entirely sure how you had even gotten there, you could feel the doubt start to creep in, the embarrassment. You owned a bar for mercenaries, you broke up fights between them for a living, you could handle a break in, some minor stalking, you felt ridiculous for getting so worked up.

But you were tired of dealing with this on your own, tired of being afraid, tired of looking over your shoulder, tired of putting on the brave face and pretending that coming back to find your apartment in complete disarray without anything of importance missing didn’t bother you. And if there was one thing you knew would always be true about Anakin, it’s that he will always be there for you to lean on. And any other day that mere thought alone would break you, send you spiraling into self-pity, but today it was a damn good thing.

With a deep breath you pushed your way inside, immediately noting everyone around you was donned in their jedi robes, shiny sabers bouncing off their hips as they walked, eyes immediately snapping to you as the one obvious outsider, the one who didn’t belong.

Nervously you wiped your palms on your pants only then realizing just how shaky your hands were, how dead of a giveaway they made your mental state.

Balling them up into fists in an attempt to hide them you desperately scanned the area looking for Anakin, not bothering to pay much attention to anything else as you blindly pushed yourself further into the temple until you found him, rounding a corner deep in conversation with a bearded man slightly shorter than him.

The back of your mind knew his name, eager to finally put a face to the famous Obi-wan Kenobi, the rest of you was clumsily pulling yourself towards the pair, never even stopping to consider that maybe you should wait until he was alone.

The jedi master saw you first, his eyebrows immediately drawing in confusion as you approached, his padawans gaze slowly following his until it met yours.

You hadn’t seen Anakin in at least a month, by far the longest you had gone not speaking since you had met, but as soon as you saw the immediate concern on his face nothing else really mattered.

His lips parted ever so slightly as he took you in, his hands coming up reflexively to you though you cautiously stepped back, sending a nervous glance Obi-wan’s way as you forced a more formal tone into your voice, trying to hide every sign of panic you were sure was written clearly on your face “Jedi Skywalker?”

Anakin’s brain took a second to catch up, you could practically feel his eyes scanning you for injuries, barely sparing a glance to his master as his gaze locked to yours, the two of you staying silent for moments longer than was customary. “Uh- yes that’s me”

“I need to speak with you” you hadn’t meant for the words to come out in such a desperate rush, another panicked glance sent to Obi-wan who looked utterly lost as his gaze bounced between you and his padawan “alone if that’s alright”

“Of course right this way” finally the formality flowed into his tone to match yours as his answer came out much quicker this time, again not sparing his master a glance as he turned to lead you away, his eyes staying firmly locked on you as he opened a random door and ushered you inside an empty room, a classroom from the looks of it.

As soon as the door shut he was by your side, grabbing your hands in his, rubbing what he hoped was a comforting thumb over the skin, trying his best to push down his own panic as he felt the shake in your hands “Y/N what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine” you tried to push off the question, tried to ignore the way the lump grew in the base of your throat with each word, tried to ignore just how high pitched your voice was at those words.

“Y/N” Anakin sighed softly, his expression melting as he watched your shoulders shake with tears you refused to let out.

“I-“ but you chocked on your next words, the first sob finally escaping your throat, your hand coming up to clamp over your mouth as if that would bring it back. Instead Anakin’s arms were around you in an instant, pulling you tightly into his chest, and without a second thought you melted into his touch, sobs more freely racking your body as you cried over not just the overwhelming panic but at how easy it had been to go to him, how easy it was to melt into his touch, how easy everything could have been if he just hadn’t been a jedi.

Anakin didn’t say anything as he held you, just rocked you softly back and forth, a lazy hand running up and down your back as you cried, never once pushing you to calm down or explain why you were like this, just letting you be as you were and being there for you. You wished you could hate him for it.

“I’m sorry” you hiccupped softly against his robes once your crying subsided, pushing softly off of him to get a hand up to wipe away the remnants of your tears.

Though he never let you get far, his hands staying on your arms as he let you pull back slightly, his head dipping down to your level “you have nothing to be sorry for Y/N”

You just shook your head at that, forcing out a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood after everything, trying to show him you were alright.

“what’s going on?” he asked softly and though it came out calmly you could feel the desperation behind it, the pleading, to let him be there for you, to let him in.

“Its stupid” you tried to dismiss it again, casting your eyes off of him and to the door, “I shouldn’t have come”

“Y/N-“ Anakin started to sigh but it was then that the full weight of your actions finally hit you, your eyes widening as you untangled yourself from his grasp, putting as much distance as he would allow between the two of you.

“I just walked through the jedi temple looking for you” you said it in almost disbelief “anyone could have seen my eyes, Obi-wan was right there he had to have noticed” you started to spiral, scolding yourself for being so stupid, so selfish, so shell shocked “I should’ve just gone to the police, I shouldn’t have-“

“Woah woah woah” Anakin’s soft voice broke through your train of thoughts, his hands coming up to either side of your face to cup your cheeks, holding your gaze on his “let’s get one thing straight sweetheart I always want you to come to me. No matter where I am even if it's just a papercut if something is bothering you I want you to come to me okay?”

And god how you missed the sincerity with which he spoke, the way he effortlessly calmed every fear with it, the way his skin felt so soft against your own.

“Now what’s going on?”

You could feel the panic spike again but instead tried to push it down, letting your hands come up and grab his, giving them a soft squeeze before pulling them off your face, not yet letting go of them, eyes staying glued to them as his fingers lazily intertwined themselves with your own.

“Someone broke into my apartment”

His fingers froze, his grip on your hand tensing at your words, before he let go, his hands moving quickly to skim over your arms, poking and prodding, looking for any injury he couldn’t see. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did something happen?”

Questions were flying out of him faster than you could answer, not that he really listened to those answers anyways, focusing instead on inspecting every inch of you, careful not to miss a thing.

This time it was your turn to reach up and grab his face, forcing his gaze onto yours, and for a second you just held him there, nose inches from your own, imagining how easy it would be to pull his lips to your own. “Ani I’m fine”

His eyes bounced back and forth of your own, taking a moment and a deep breath before speaking “you promise?”

Nodding your head you reluctantly let go of him, taking a step back, trying not to wish you didn’t have to. “I promise I’m okay”

“What did they take?” he asked softly “do you need anything? I can-“

You cut him off before he could offer anything with a shake of your head “no they didn’t take anything”

His eyebrows scrunched in confusion “didn’t take anything? Just broke into your apartment and made a mess?”

And you debated if you should tell him, debated how he would react, debated if you were ready to entangle his life into yours this much because you knew as soon as you told him he wasn’t going to let it go. You honestly couldn’t remember if that last part was a pro or a con.

“There’s this guy at the bar…” You let your sentence trail off slightly, watching the way Anakin’s gaze hardened on the spot, his jaw visibly clenching as he balled up his fists before him, waiting for you to continue “…I think he’s been following me”

Watching Anakin go through so many emotions at once was like watching an active volcano moments before bursting, a quick steady accumulation of anger, fear, protectiveness. Then there was an explosion “what?!?”

The question came out in a yell, loud enough that you jumped, hands immediately coming up to try and shush him, not needing any more curious glances from the Jedi in the building, Anakin simply swatted the hands away, his jaw set and his tone hard as he pressed on “you’re being stalked?”

“I mean I don’t know-“ you stuttered out trying desperately to diffuse the situation but Anakin cut you off, not having any of that.

“For how long?”

You all but whispered your answer “a few months”.

You could see him get ready to explode again, an angry hand running through his hair as he started to pace back and forth, you couldn’t tell if it was calming him down or working him more into a frenzy. “This had been happening when I met you?”

You tried to shrug it off, act like it wasn’t a big deal “he stopped when you started walking me home from the bar?”

He went silent again, you couldn’t decide if you preferred that or when he was yelling. “Y/N why wouldn’t you tell me”

“He’d stopped” you shrugged again “I hoped that meant he was done, had moved on or something”

“And after I’d stopped,” he pressed on, crossing his arms over his chest “when he started doing it again”

You hated how small your voice was when you answered him. “You would’ve insisted on walking me home for protection.”

His voice was small to match yours, gaze bearing down on you even as you tried to avoid it “would that have been so bad?”

And you could feel the floodgates start to open again because it wouldn’t have been, that was the problem. “It was killing me” you admitted softly “to have you be so close, and be so nice and funny and charming and good looking” you couldn’t help but laugh dejectedly, casting your gaze to the floor “so you…and to still end up alone at the end of the day”

You could see the same old arguments spring to his tongue, the same excuses the same empty promises, but to your surprise he held his tongue, giving his head a small shake as he looked at you “You still look shaken up, do you want to go home or-“ he let the sentence hang in the air, letting you fill in the blank with whatever you wanted.

“Yeah” you sighed softly, hugging your arms around yourself “I’m okay”

“Good” he smiled softly, nodding towards the door “lets get you home”

“Oh that’s okay you don’t have to-“

“You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you walk home alone after this” Anakin cut you off immediately, already prepared for what you were going to say. You couldn’t help but smile softly at that knowing the refusal was empty the moment it came out of your lips.

It jarred you all over again to be back home in a way you hadn’t expected it to. Anakin insisted on going in first to clear the place before you came in and he was even going to the trouble of double checking all of your locks.

But to see all your stuff strewn about like that, all your personal belongings, your whole life just lying there on the floor, you were frozen in place.

You heard the sound of a cabinet door closing and looked over into the kitchen to see Anakin pulling out your tea kettle, wordlessly filling it and setting it onto the stovetop before going to grab a mug and some tea, already knowing precisely where everything was in your kitchen.

Without asking he poured the tea and pressed the warm mug into your hand, another hand on the small of your back leading you to your couch. “I’ve got it sweetheart don’t worry” he whispered softly before pressing a quick kiss to your temple and turning to start picking stuff off the ground.

And it wasn’t fair that he knew exactly what you needed without you having to tell him, it wasn’t fair that he knew exactly where you kept everything in your apartment, it wasn’t fair that he called you pet names and kissed your forehead and quelled every anxiety, it wasn’t fair that you felt so damn selfish for letting it all happen.

Your tea was gone before you realized it, the floor clean and everything back in its place much too quickly, Anakin hovering awkwardly above you knowing it was time to leave but not yet wanting to “I think I got everything back where it was but no promises” he chuckled softly, anxiously rubbing a hand on the back of his head “your locks are good just don’t forget to use the chain and deadbolt after I leave yeah?”

You nodded back it him in what you hoped was an encouraging fashion though the doubt on his features told you that it wasn’t.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay here tonight?”

“Yeah” you tried to assure him “I want to sleep in my own bed tonight”

You could see him ready to argue back, see the way he so desperately wanted to, but again he surprised you and held his tongue, giving you a small nod, his eyes looking back around the apartment one more time before sighing “alright, get some rest Y/N”

You nodded back to him again and watched him reach for the door, not wanting him to leave, not just because you didn’t want to be alone but because you wanted him to be here with you. “Ani wait”

He spun around quickly, his eyes finding yours desperately asking you to say something to keep him there, if only for a few minutes longer.

“I-“ you felt the words die in your throat, felt the weight of the world start to crush you as you stared into the exact copies of the eyes you saw every morning in the mirror “thank you”

The corners of his lips tipped up at your words, a smile that never reached his eyes but was nonetheless genuine “anytime Y/N”

And he stayed there for a moment longer, nearly one foot out the door, waiting, wishing you would say more, before relenting, slowly turning back to the hallway.

Your eyes caught a reflection off the coffee table as the door opened fully, flitting straight to a small key left there nearly a month ago, a small key he left there that you hadn’t the heart to touch since then.

“Ani?”

And even though your call had been soft and hesitant he sprang to attention at the sound of your voice, poking his head back through the door, a hesitant foot returning to rest just inside your apartment.

“will you stay with me?”

His face broke out into a wide grin, a slight pink hue even dusting his cheeks at the question which had you smiling in response

“Of course I will”

And you tried to contain your excitement as he came back inside, shutting the door behind him, offering you his hand as he came up by the couch to help you stand.

And for some reason looking at that hand is what caused the doubts to start to creep in again, your mind racing off without your consent, words spilling out of your mouth before you could stop them “I mean but I don’t actually have clothes for you, or a toothbrush, and what if you’re needed by the order or what if they notice you’re not there. Maybe this is a bad idea, maybe we shouldn’t-“

You’re cut off by soft hands cupping your cheeks, pulling you softly forward, and soft lips pressing up against your own. This kiss, this beautiful, unexpected kiss wasn’t quick, wasn’t desperate, it was slow and deliberate, passionate even, dragging out the seconds into minutes for a moment of pure bliss before he’s pulling back all too soon, a soft smile on his face as he hovers mere inches from you searching your eyes for any regret, any resentment.

“Please” he breaths out, his eyes without shame flicking down to your lips before reconnecting with your own “let me stay”

You swallowed nervously, chest rising and falling heavily as you caught your breath, a soft chuckle leaving your lips as a smile curled them “I’d like that”

#anakin x reader #Anakin Skywalker #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin fic #anakin imagine #anakin x you #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker x you #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars x you #star wars x reader

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marvelstars · 1 year ago

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Tbh while I really love a lot of passages from Stover ROTS novel this one in which Obi-Wan says that "Anakin doesn´t understand abstractions concepts peace" is so wrong.

Anakin at 9 wanted "Freedom for all the slaves" if he didn´t understand freedom as an abstract concept he would have been ok with just him and his mother being free but no, he wanted to end slavery on Tatooine, he just lacked the power to do it.

In the war he wasn´t fighting just to protect Padmé or Obi-Wan or the Order or Palpatine, he was fighting for peace in the republic, the one thing he asked Palpatine after turning to the darkside was Will we have peace? to which Palpatine answered Yes.

As Vader he told Luke he wanted him to help him install "Order in the Galaxy" and "End this destructive conflict" which actually implies he obviously noticed the Empire had become a big part of the problem and the rebel alliance had reason for their fight, just like the republic and separatist were in his youth.

So my guess is that what Obi-Wan didn´t understand about Anakin was that Anakin had to learn to compromise his real values as a member of the Order, he compromised his wish for justice and freedom for the slaves and his mother in order to learn to be a jedi, he compromised his love for Padmé and wish for a family in order to help the order fight in the clone wars, he compromised his wish for a free Tatooine in order to help Jabba´s Son, so he compromised a lot until he compromised his soul to learn how to save Padmé just like the Order keep compromising itself during the war and that was something that Anakin keep doing even as Vader.

In fact Lucas said about Windu and Palpatine duel in ROTS "Anakin´s thoughts when Windu tried to murder Palpatine was that everybody was corrupt in the end" he would not have cared much about corruption if he only was lead by his personal relationships.

I also think that despite Obi-Wan´s care for Anakin he actually keep his Jedi identity without compromising it for Anakin´s sake, he did his best to murder Anakin once he turned to the darkside, the only reason Anakin didn´t die was Palpatine and after discovering he was actually alive, he tried to make Anakin´s Son murder him so while I believe Obi-Wan cared for Anakin at some point, his turn to the darkside and his actions in Oder 66 made Obi-Wan see him as a completely different person which made easier to hate, dehumanize and try to kill even using his own family agaisnt him.

today on "absolutely unhinged things for stover to put on paper and lucas to approve," the depiction of obi-wan's self-aware attachment to anakin here, how ready he'd be to kill yoda for the greater good, and how he'd let yoda kill him too, but anakin is the exception to their entire order and to obi-wan's moral judgment.

all three of them here, arguably the three most important jedi in the galaxy, they all know with wariness that anakin, the chosen one, has failed to grasp the central tenet of their code, and they don't know what to do about it. obi-wan thinks he failed him, failed to teach him; he knows anakin failed to learn, failed to accept it, how he'd would never let a friend go.

obi-wan here offers keen, intimate analysis of anakin's inner workings, shining a light on who darth vader really is in his heart, his loyalty beyond any moral or ethical bounds. obi-wan is painfully aware of how he is complicit in fostering this inappropriate attachment, only encouraging anakin's behavior. we see why he apologized in the kenobi show, how he was already sorry.

tbh this page changed me—my understanding of the characters, and my appreciation of the entire tragedy, like.. look how anakin has compromised obi-wan, and look at how much obi-wan loves him anyway. look at how the heart of this incipient monster is described with tender, ruthless clarity by the one who knows it best... on the next page obi-wan's literally crying about what they've done... i'm astrally projecting into the sun

#obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #darth vader #Not a fan of Obi-Wan trying to hide the fact Anakin compromised his wish for freedom for the slaves in order to serve the republic/Jedi #saying :he doesn´t understand abstract concepts lol #Obi-wan please you are smarter than that you can lie to others but don´t lie to yourself as well

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celestial-specter · 9 months ago

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Clone Armor and Poster Symbolism in The Bad Batch Season Three

(Brace yourself, loooooong discussion under the cut).

So I’ve long been fixated on the symbolism of the clone’s appearance in Star Wars - it first began in The Clone Wars, with each clone discovering their own individuality and decorating both their bodies and their armor accordingly - think of the Republic crest which decorates both Jesse’s face and his helmet, and becomes a hard-hitting symbol of the end of the Republic which accompanies his death.

In The Bad Batch, clone armor has always been used to symbolize the character’s moral position- initially the main colors of the batch’s armor are black and red, showing both their power, and the element of mystery and otherness that they hold in comparison to standard clone groups. Crosshair’s turn to the empire is shown by him shedding his own armor, and donning a new, entirely black set, with no individuality at all.

In season two, the batch began removing certain sections of their armor and added pieces of a more civilian nature, such as Hunter’s scarf. The pieces of armor that remained were painted a lighter colour, showing that they were gradually leaving their lives as soldiers, or at least those of members of an elite squad, behind them.

In contrast, if you look at a character like Rex, he is still wearing the same armor from his service in the GAR, with only a few minor yet still currently unexplained modifications. He is the one holding onto the past and his service in the army, and it is his identity which drives him to save as many of his brothers as he can.

All of these ideas are particularly apparent in the new season three character posters which have just been released.

Now, while I have previously discussed the idea that the clone assassin is Tech, these posters have me equally convinced that it could actually be Cody.

I believe that Cody has the longest history of any clone in the franchise, being the only clone of any significance in the live-action films, and being prominent in both canon and legends material. As a standard clone, he would most likely have started his commission in the GAR with the general, all white trooper armor, and then decorated it himself as he gained individuality after leaving Kamino. In Brotherhood, the novel which takes place in 22BBY, Cody is described as wearing yellow armor, but, as we see in The Clone Wars, which takes place slightly later, his armor, along with that of the 212th, is more of an orange/gold. This small change could symbolize Cody’s own choice of armor paint being subtly darkened by his experience of war - he is still a loyal soldier of the GAR, but his experiences have changed him.

The orange armor quickly became synonymous with Cody, which is why it was such a shock to audiences to see him with grey armor in The Bad Batch season two. It is a sign that his individuality has been stripped away from him by the empire, but Cody himself still retains the capacity for individual thought and decision making, as shown by his actions in the episode. I also believe that clone armor colors not only symbolize the clones themselves, but also their Jedi generals - the 212th orange symbolized the positivity and energy which came alongside serving under General Kenobi, just as the 501st blue symbolized the freedom and fresh viewpoints of General Skywalker. Therefore, Cody’s grey armor also symbolizes his grief for what he did to Obi-Wan - the man who first provided him the space to discover his own individuality is now ‘dead’ at Cody’s own hand.

I have also long believed that there is a high chance that Cody did not end up escaping at the end of this episode, and was instead captured by the empire for use in experiments.

The release of these character posters seems very deliberate - Star Wars has always been about the battle between light and dark, but due to it’s association with the force, I don’t think we have ever seen clones portrayed in posters in such a manner. The cinematography staff of The Bad Batch have been very vocal recently on the importance of lighting in the show, and I believe that the posters are no exception.

If we look at these poster in order, it is interesting that Wolffe’s seems to be darker than the one featuring Hemlock and Emerie, especially considering how stable he appeared in the past episode.

I believe that this symbolizes that there will be consequences for Wolffe for his decision to let Rex and the others escape, and that he will be subjected to the same treatment which was used in an attempt to change Crosshair, which will leave him the unstable individual we first meet in Rebels.

This idea of placing the clones on a scale from light to dark has me concerned that this season will show the end of Cody’s arc, shifting from the bright white armor he first began with, ending with him wearing the dark armor of a clone assassin.

This idea is only furthered by Rex’s group referring to the clone assassins as ‘shadows’. The reason behind the name is obvious- the clones are shadows of their former selves, having been stripped of all identifying information and individuality.

Considering that Cody’s bright orange armor has long been thought to represent the sun, it would be devastating to see him reduced to an operative with no name and no personality, his only identifying feature being dark armor he would never choose to wear himself. Though I hate to think of it, it does make sense to portray Cody in this way to truly highlight the rise of the empire in the same way Jesse symbolized the end of the Republic - if this theory does turn out to be true, Cody’s arc may have always been intended to show his progression from sunburst to shadow.

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #star wars #tbb crosshair #the bad batch spoilers #star wars spoilers #star wars tbb #star wars the bad batch #sw tbb #sw:tbb #commander cody #clone assassin #captain rex #the bad batch theory #the bad batch season three spoilers #star wars analysis #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #the bad batch theories

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darth-kote · 1 month ago

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The Bug Collector - Codywan, (~10.5k words, rated t-m for descriptions of fear and slight violence)

𓇢𓆸

The very first time Cody lays eyes on his general, he also happens to be met with a sharp glean in his visor: a ray of light bouncing off the silk of a spider's web that had been set up in the tree behind the Jedi, similar to the way the rest of Cody's men are setting up camp just east. He's thankful his helmet's over his head so his darting eyes don't act as a dead giveaway to his distraction. First impressions last, the voice of Alpha reminds him, causing him to straighten his back and stand at attention. "CT-2224, Sir." He needs to be good at this, to make his general happy. He doesn't want to think about what Nala Se might do to him if he isn't up to her standards. "Reporting for duty. The rest of the men are unloading the weaponry and setting our post." He maintains his posture, and his eyes never leave the spider for long. That is until his Jedi turns around to face him.

"Ah, good." The man before him had seemed smaller to Cody before; with a brown cloak draped over his figure, he'd been almost formless. But now, the hood has been pushed back, revealing a full head of hair the color of a... well, Cody didn't know what to compare it to. It was unlike any clone Cody had met; he imagined a wild beast would be proud to don the mane. It's like gold and blood and iron. His eyes, oppositely, are like pools – not raging waves, but crystal clear, calm pools. "I've been awaiting your arrival." Cody is brought back to the moment by a kind smile, the sort that has only ever been offered by his little brothers when they wanted his attention. "It's good to meet you, eh.."

"CT-2224." He reminds his general.

And there it is again, that smile. Cody hadn't said anything to earn that, and the sense of confusion must somehow become apparent to his Jedi, as he explains. "I remember the number the Kaminoans gave you, yes. But is there something else you'd like to be called?" Cody understands the prior hesitation now, and he feels like a reject clone for being so slow to compute. Now, though, he is left torn between the fear Nala Se has instilled in him and the Jedi's magnetic draw. It feels like a hand has been extended toward him even though they are still separated by meters. The spider still rests, fat, in its web, and Cody is relieved.

Cody swallows, tipping his chin down in contemplation. He knows the Jedi has no facial features to go by - only his body language, which he is mostly thankful for. The name Cody, Kote... it is something only his brothers call him by, and never within earshot of an outsider. He isn't sure if he should trust the Jedi general so quickly, especially with something so close to his heart. But he figures that if he is blindly willing to die for the man, he'd better kriffing know his name first. He deserves a proper prayer said for him when if he dies, at least. "Cody."

Now, the Jedi's face contorts with a wide, toothy grin. "Beautiful. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Cody." The name rolls off his tongue like it's the most natural thing, and it causes something inside the clone's gut to quiver. He's used to the number assigned to him, the awkwardness and mismatch he feels in his bones when someone uses it in conversation – like his body knows the label is a restriction. It feels like what he imagines a restraining bolt to feel like on a droid, intrusive and cold. "Obi-Wan Kenobi," he says and holds out his hand.

Cody gathers the sing-song to be the Jedi's name, and he grasps the held-out extremity without hesitation. He smiles back at the man despite the expression's lack of reception, feeling welcome in every sense of the word.

𓆙

Cody's gut instinct had been right. Obi-Wan has proven himself quite trustworthy to the clones and to Cody himself. He's been the general's right hand for just short of one standard year now, and the battles they've fought together have been hard on both of them. Cody has seen many brothers come and go, just as Obi-Wan has witnessed more Jedi fall than he ever brings up in conversation with Cody. They've deliquesced into a comfortable dynamic nurtured by long meetings in each other's quarters, shared laughter in the depths of hyperspace, and acts of utter selflessness.

Obi-Wan prays over the bodies of Kote's brothers, entertains their questions about his jetii lifestyle, and even encourages them to create a culture of their own. All of this proves he sees them as equals – as living beings that are connected to the Force despite what anyone else might try to have them believe. He once told Cody, to his face and without a drop of hesitation, that he deserves to be humanized. It shouldn't have kept him awake as long as it had the night he'd heard it... but he'd be lying if he said it didn't gain the Jedi his utmost respect. Of course, the Jedi treats just about every living thing with complete care, which Cody never forgets after getting the shab off Geonosis.

"No, no. Sir," He says disapprovingly, helmet cradled in his arm as he enters Obi-Wan's quarters to restrategize for the next campaign. A heavily fortified glass container sits atop the general's desk, and the Jedi is in front of it, watching the contents squirm and thrash intently. Cody chuckles dryly, then, "Tell me I'm dreaming. It's just a... bad dream." He carries on talking to himself, trying to soothe the pit of anxiety that's starting to form in his chest. He's never mentioned his fear of bugs outright; it's pathetic that the Republic's "finest clone" could have a fear as maladaptive as his. Besides, blasters usually made them easier to deal with. The worst is when they (the bugs) come into his territory.

"Not a dream, Cody," Obi-Wan replies, causing a new wave of worry to wash over the clone from head to toe. What if it gets out? What if it bites him? Or worse, his jetii or brothers?

"Don't let your worries get the best of you." Kenobi turns around in his chair, and Cody can see his hair and beard aren't as well-groomed as they might typically be in the war room or when he prepares to speak to the Council. In no way is he a mess (Cody doubts that's even possible.), but he is in a more defenseless state than Cody has ever seen. The marshal commander can tell from the stray flame-like hairs and the verging-on-bloodshot eyes that his Jedi has been sitting over the desk for some time. "This," he motions back to the jar behind him, "is one of the worms used by the Geonosian Queen to... force her will upon her people. I'm sure that if we can return it to Coruscant, research could be done to reverse its effects."

Cody is now squatting low near the wall, his eyes going back and forth between Obi-Wan and the grotesque being beside him. "There's not much difference between us and them, you know." The Jedi's words catch Cody off guard. Sometimes, the general has a way of knowing exactly where his commander's thoughts are. He's heard, time and time again, that the Jedi don't have mind-reading abilities, but when Kenobi pulls something like this, he has a hard time not getting suspicious.

"As far as I'm concerned, we are very different from it. It crawled into... brains, Sir. I saw it, we both did. My brothers they-"

"Weren't themselves, yes." Cody watches the Jedi rise from his chair and waltz to the kettle atop his counter across the room. "I'm not saying they're harmless; nothing alive is. I would just like to have more research done on it, in case something like this happens again. This worm may be the key to similar cases in the future." Cody nods, trying to see from Obi-Wan's perspective.

They both stay quiet for a moment, the only sounds filling the bedchamber being the water starting to boil for tea and the brain worm's slimy squirming. It seems rather docile in the container, but Cody knows that if Grievous were to intercept them, the jar would surely be knocked over and the bug released. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, not wanting to think about what if. He is here, sitting safely on the floor of his general's quarters, back against the wall, armor on, his helmet less than an arm's length away if he were to need it.

"I won't let it out of my sight," Obi-Wan once again breaks his reverie, stepping closer and offering a mug of steaming liquid. Cody has tried it a couple of times, and he prefers caf's stronger bite to tea's mellow kiss, but he is glad to have something in his hands to keep him grounded – to warm his lips, which had started to tingle from the coldness of space. Cody sips it, forcing his facial muscles not to give away his disdain for the beverage, and he makes sure to thank the Jedi standing above him. "I assure you, it'll reach the capital without any of us being harmed." He says it with such conviction that Cody begins to feel the knots in his stomach unravel, just loosely. And there is a lilt in Obi-Wan's tone that causes Cody to feel warm inside, and in a distinct way that is not from the tea. He takes another sip before setting it down to grab his datapad.

Obi-Wan chuckles as Cody glues his eyes to the screen. Something about the general vowing, no matter how indirectly, to protect his brothers and himself... makes Cody feel like a pile of macerated fruit: sweet, sticky, sickly. He reminds himself that any Jedi would do the same, it isn't in their Code to stand by when tragedy strikes, after all.

"Now, then, Commander," Obi-Wan sits on the floor beside him, his datapad and tea in hand. "Let's begin."

𓆨

Cody loves being on Coruscant. It's never been where he sees his future when he's done being a soldier, but he finds it much more endearing than the vacuum he's usually surrounded by. There are people, music, literature. And since the entire planet has been terraformed into a city, there is hardly ever a bug in sight, at least not the non-sentient kind that have a way of immobilizing him in fear. Hardly.

Things reach a breaking point one day when the Commander goes for his helmet and watches a long silver centipede climb up the side and make itself at home within. He retracts his hand as if it had been burned by hot coals, and he backs away from the geometric face he's used to associating with his identity. He doesn't like the juxtaposition, the fear striking him at the thought of approaching a bucket that's protected him from so much.

Cody could admit that he hasn't always been the luckiest man, but this? It's starting to feel like the Force is toying with him.

There's no room in Cody's mind for logic now, and he can feel his heart beginning to pick up its pace. He hates how his body reacts when he sees a measly, killable bug. He wants to be courageous enough to take it outside and set it on the ground like Waxer or Trapper would, or the follow-through to put the creature out of its misery like Hardcase had demonstrated many times when they happened to be on a mission together. He's too cowardly to proceed with gentleness and too empathetic to proceed with malice. Cody sighs, keeping his eye on the helmet as he backs himself into the corner. His comm, luckily, is attached to his armor, and he needs only flick his wrist to reach out to a savior.

"Come in, General?" His breath is shallow, wary that his most minute movement could trigger the crawler to come for him. He feels sweat at the back of his neck. After a moment of static: "Obi-Wan?" It has to be him. Sure, it might be embarrassing to admit the reason for the urgency in his voice, but he couldn't tell a brother. They'd never see him the same; he is supposed to be strong so that they could be too, and he's sure he would no longer be a respectable Marshal Commander if this secret were to reach the lower ranks. Or worse, Nala Se.

An uncontrollable shiver runs down his spine, just as the voice he'd been hoping to hear crackles over the commlink, tinny but familiar. "Cody? I apologize for the delay – Jedi business," the words are so casual that the clone almost forgets his urgent business that needs tending to. "Are you there, Commander?"

Cody shakes himself and feels his muscles tense when he sees the bucket teeter as the centipede's weight shifts toward the visor. He forces himself not to take his eyes away, despite the tide of nausea that rises in his throat. "Yes. I... ran into a bit of a problem, Sir. Would you mind stopping at the barracks?" The quiver in his voice causes him to screw his eyes tightly shut, disturbed by the loss of composure. He feels pathetic and weak, and secretly wishes they were on the battlefield so he could prove that he has the mettle to withstand more than most.

Obi-Wan is silent on the other end for a moment, the ambiance of the Coruscanti streets being the only sound resounding over the speaker. "Of course. In fact, I was already headed there." Cody feels the pressure in his ribcage begin to ease just slightly. He doesn't care to ask what business Obi-Wan was originally coming to take care of; all that matters is that he's en route, and the bug would soon be removed from his space.

When his Jedi does arrive, Cody is still standing firmly in the corner. The door opens without quiet hiss, and the two men meet eyes from across the small room. Cody can see the question on his general's face – the singular cocked brow and his twitching lips are the only signals he needs. At first glance, the room looks completely typical: nothing is knocked around or broken, all of Cody's belongings are still there, and, of course, Cody himself stands unharmed. A flash of what seems like surprise enters the Jedi's eyes as he takes in the sight, as if he had been expecting much worse. "Well," Kenobi begins, a relieved chuckle in his tone, "I've certainly seen you in worse condition."

Cody tries to smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes, which are still flooded with dread. "My helmet," he points to it, hand unsteady, "get it out." It sounds desperate because it is, and he watches the Jedi's face shift into a more curious expression, thick eyebrows knitting together as he steps toward the center of the room.

Cody backs himself into the wall and watches as the Jedi carefully walks toward the overturned bucket. When he's right above it, a flicker of delight enters his eyes, and a smile dances on his lips. Of course. He nearly reaches to touch the kriffing thing but seems to remember Cody's presence because he turns to meet the clone's eyes. "Cody?"

The commander swallows hard, his throat dry and taut; he hates whatever it is in his brain that pulls such a reaction from him. "I'm terrified." His voice is breathy and nearly gone. It's an admission at its core, and Cody feels vulnerable like never before.

"That's why I'm here." The statement is matter-of-fact as though it is Obi-Wan's sole purpose to save Cody from his fear. He takes an empty jar from the counter, tilting the helmet slightly and calmly until the centipede topples over due to gravity, its legs and antennae nearly indistinguishable as they tap on the glass. As soon as it's in the jar, a lid is secured on top. "I'll release her in the garden. She'll serve us well there. Better than in here, surely." He smiles and looks through the convex glass with what seems to be admiration.

Once his curiosity has been quenched, he slips the jar into the folds of his robe and turns to face his commander again. Cody is silent. The Jedi had made it look so easy. Probably because it is easy. Cody is the outlier here, not everyone else. He is humiliated at how he'd behaved, and even more so because he still wouldn't deem his helmet safe to wear if anyone were to ask. A thorough cleaning will certainly be in order once he is alone again. He feels ashamed and frustrated. "Thank you," is all he says.

Instead of accepting the words at face value, Obi-Wan offers a hand to the man. "We all have something we're afraid of, Cody. But you mustn't let your fear rule you. It's no way to live." The words are brimming with understanding, and it makes Cody wonder what it is the Sith-slaying jetii could possibly be afraid of.

Rather than prying, he somberly takes the Jedi's hand and queries, "How do I overcome it?" He's warmed by the smile that is given in response. Obi-Wan guides Cody to sit at long last.

"You won't like what I have to say," Obi-Wan shifts his weight and crosses his arms, looking at Cody with a sliver of a challenge in his eyes. "It takes being around the things that fill you with fear to overcome them – realizing the endless possibilities in your head cannot all occur in reality. It's something we Jedi focus on heavily in our training. Allowing fear to rule encourages the Dark Side to prevail. You see, our fears can lead us to impulsivity, greed, and suffering. When we overcome them, we can make decisions with a clear mind and heart."

Cody understands. Or at least he thinks he's beginning to.

A yawn suddenly erupts from his chest, the cortisol thrumming through him. He looks around, a last defensive move, to make sure no other bugs have made their way inside somehow.

"I'll leave you to rest," the general smiles, his hair tousled handsomely. As he makes his way toward the door, just as it slides open at his suggestion, he leaves Cody with this: "If you should need my heroics again, Commander, don't hesitate." And then the room lost all its warmth, just the barracks of another sad soldier.

𐀔

Cody takes a deep breath in as he looks out over the rolling green hills and valleys of Kiros before him. The Togruta colonists, now safely out of Separatist hands, are being trained in basic combat by none other than Cody and his brothers. Whether it is by their own choice or the Republic's, the marshal commander isn't sure, but he's glad to know he won't be leaving them defenseless.

He has been on planets similar to Kiros before, practically unaltered by the people who inhabit them, although it is rare for him to have the downtime to explore his surroundings. He usually does so only to gain intel or perform recon. It's typically a strategic necessity alone. But before and after training, which finishes in the early evening, Cody finds he is free to fill his time however he chooses.

The thing is, he's never been granted this freedom before, and if he isn't careful, he might find himself standing in one spot for hours just contemplating his next move. The vacant holes in his schedule could be debilitating, but he quickly fills his time with busy work and solo missions of little actual importance.

Before any of his brothers, he rises with the star on the eastern horizon, much before their designated hours thanks to the planet's axial tilt. He's grateful to have a tent to himself when, by the second week, he doesn't stop waking in a cold sweat, the tendrils of his nightmare lingering in his mind. The ghostly sensation of some insect crawling over his skin cannot be erased from his memory.

He doesn't attempt to go back to sleep like he had done the first several nights. Why suffer with the silence and his rampant mind when there was plenty to distract him outside?

He rises from his cot and glances at the reflection of his face in the visor of his helmet as he passes it; he won't go without it, but first, caf. He taps the button on the dispenser settled atop a crate, the smell of the brewing beans making him instantly more alert.

On this particular day, he plans to trek across the river surrounding the Togruta settlement to explore the bank and nearby plains; he wants to be sure no Separatist weaponry or droids have been left behind. At least that's the make-believe errand he's assigned himself since he doesn't operate well without one.

Once his tin cup is empty, he sets it upside down to drain like he does each morning whether on Coruscant, The Negotiator, or even Kiros, apparently. He slips his bucket on, the world muffling as the last of his senses are stripped away, then steps into the foggy morning air. Training would not take place since the colonists have decided to spend the day mourning those whose lives were stolen from the galaxy not so long ago. The Jedi and the Clones agreed it was the least they could do to give them space to grieve, though the latter's opinion didn't much matter to the Republic when deciding how its property would be utilized. Fortunately, Obi-Wan's position in the Council had swayed the Chancellor's the Senate's decision to give them all a day of rest.

The clouds hang low as Cody moves through the camp, his brothers sleeping bodies all around him. It is undeniable that he feels responsible for them and assumes the role of their protector with no hesitation, but it also feels nice to know they are all safe and that his wandering off for a few hours at most would do no damage. He deserves it, though it is difficult to remember that fact at times.

Snoring and the creaky shifting of weight begin to ebb into the ambient sounds of the planet granting them fleeting sanctum from the war. Cody is thankful - if not for himself, then for his brothers and their jetii. They deserve a moment of relative peace.

As he follows the dirt path that leads outside the perimeter of the colony, he notices the birds of the planet are perched in the trees above his head, their sleepy cooing not yet turned to morning chirps. He appreciates the colors of their feathers, the purples and blues of which he had no knowledge to draw from to make a fair comparison. He allows himself to lean into the small smile blossoming over his face as he continues to walk on, the moat-like river's babbling becoming louder with each step.

When he pushes through a final stretch of overgrown grass and comes to the water's edge, he surveys his surroundings like any good soldier. The river flows quickly, splashing the banks and wetting the top of his boot, but he knows it is not strong enough to keep him from crossing. He ensures his blaster is safely secured to his person before stepping into the current.

He can feel the water pushing against the plastoid as he takes slow, steady steps, and it flows freely into his armor once the gaps above his calves and thighs are below the waterline. Despite the shocking cold, Cody grits his teeth and trudges through the lapping stream until his knees hit the opposite bank. He turns around and rests awkwardly on his backplate until most of the water has vacated his suit. He stares at the sky, the dark greens and grays beginning to bleed into a sobering yellow. He stands with the rallying of the sun.

Once firmly on his feet, he begins to search the ground for any mines or other traps possibly placed by Separatists and never removed or detonated. He goes on for a few meters, spotting nothing, which he'd expected. Dooku had taken what he came for and left. This is simply Cody's excuse to wander.

He comes to the cliff's edge, and he feels beckoned closer until he can crane his neck to see directly below. The land is ripe and green. He muses about how his stomach remains unflinching despite the drop he could take at any moment, while an arachnid or any of its peers would send chills down his spine. He stares out over the precipice longer than he'd allow if he were on a mission with his brothers. But now, as Kiros' sun lends its warmth to the dirt and animals, he removes his helmet and takes a deep breath in, savoring the crisp air as it enters his lungs unfiltered.

It's then, as his peripheral vision is filled in, that he sees a distant hunched silhouette to his right, veiled by high-growing flora and the fading morning mist. The brown cloak, down on the figure's shoulders and hanging like a crescent down its back, reveals a muss of red hair. Cody's heart leaps into his throat, wanting to call out the Jedi's name instinctively. He fights the urge and instead makes his way quietly toward where the man sits, settled on a rock beneath a shady tree with his legs crossed. He doesn't intend to surprise him – assumes it to be impossible. He is instinctively pulled toward his Jedi's presence and wishes to be nearer, by some logic he doesn't quite understand. Perhaps it's because he is one of the only people to treat his brothers and himself with any consideration.

Perhaps it has something to do with the Force. He doesn't question it, opting to blindly follow orders instead.

He leans against the trunk of the tree, the twisted bark something Cody has never seen before. But the sight he truly cares about has nothing to do with the vegetation. And the sight below the cliffs has long been forgotten.

He stares unashamedly at Obi-Wan, remembering other times he has seen the man in the same position. In most instances, Cody had walked into the general's quarters to find him on the floor, unmoving and absolutely focused. On what, he never knew, nor did he venture to ask. His facial muscles always seem relaxed when he is in this state, and the beauty of it is something Cody has never craved to disturb. Each time, he retreats to the bed or the kitchen chair as he gives the Jedi space to rouse on his own, sometimes dozing off to sleep as he waits, but prepared to work when his name is spoken in that familiar soothing timbre.

Standing here now, he takes shallow breaths, almost afraid he will give his presence away if he inhales too greedily. He feels like he's watching something private while still struggling to find the strength to look away. He wonders if Obi-Wan can feel his eyes on him, has since the first time he caught him like this. Something in Cody knows it's useless to ask, just something his ego brings up to numb the guilt of partaking in such intimate acts as watching his Jedi for a summation of hours. To convince the shame to recede, he tells himself that the purpose of his creation had been to keep an eye on the man, to protect him; for he is a key element to the Republic's agenda.

He feels a hot blade of frustration slice through him at the realization that the man leaving the camp had not been on his radar. Especially at such hours, when no one was awake to accompany him. Perhaps the nightmare hadn't been such a nuisance since it had led him to discover Obi-Wan.

A shift in movement between them catches Cody's eye, and he forces himself to look down to see the abdomen of a plump bee sticking out from the center of one of the horn-shaped flowers scattered about the meadow. Its striped orange and black coloring is like a bright ember against the bruise-hued flowers it swims in. The commander's heart rate spikes helplessly, and he freezes like he has since Geonosis.

"Breathe, dear," Obi-Wan's voice, as Cody has come accustomed to, pulls him back to the world around him and out of his mind. His eyes remain on the pollinator as it dances from flower to flower, her sistren nowhere to be seen. At least it's not an entire swarm. The voice of his Jedi, ever calm and guiding, fills Cody with a warmth no sun could compete with. Despite the wretched bug before him, he tears his attention away from where it rests to find those blue eyes piercing into him as if they were made from the same power source as the lightsaber stowed at his hip, not mere mortal cells. He sighs in relief at the sensation that washes over him.

"Come, sit with me." It isn't said in the tone he chooses on the battlefield, but Cody knows an order when he hears one. He maneuvers around the bug and its feast, not wanting to disturb it and get a stinger in his throat or temple. The thought of it dying afterward terrifies him more. The bee drifts closer to Obi-Wan, who watches Cody sit on the stone before him, ignoring the buzzing creature beside him. They are across from one another, but the Jedi is settled above him like a prince among his people, a lecturer with his students. Cody feels a surge of submission, something he is not used to. He knows Obi-Wan sees him as a worthy partner in the combat zone, but he'd have to admit how difficult it is not to feel like a shiny all over again under the other man's gaze. He glances down to study a patch of moss that has grown attached to the boulder supporting his weight.

"See, you've nearly forgotten her already," he smiles and waves his right hand toward the bee, bumbling about in the flowers. "She wants nothing from us, and neither we from her." Cody likes being grouped in with Obi-Wan. "She gets her meal, and we're able to meditate. Harmoniously." The Jedi looks around the space as if there is something Cody isn't seeing.

"Meditate, General?" The word has been used by the jetiise throughout his time around them, but it never held much meaning to Cody. "Is that what you were doing?" His mind returns to the image of Obi-Wan with that tranquil expression.

"Indeed. It's pertinent that we Jedi take the time to clear our minds and refocus. Of course, it's not just us who can practice. Anyone can benefit from quietening the mind..." He trails off like he's thinking of someone else who could use such a practice, and Cody detests the brief but unmistakable burn of jealousy he feels at not being at the forefront.

"Would you ever want to try?" It's what he'd hoped to hear, and now that it's on the table, he's quick to help himself.

Cody nods stiffly, cautious but eager not to disappoint – to be better than whoever had just been on his Jedi's mind. Ideally, traitorously, he'd like to be the only thing on the man's mind. He forces his eyes to stay steady on Obi-Wan. He focuses on the sepia speckles that adorn the jetii's cheeks and nose bridge, noticeably darkened due to the prolonged terrestrial stay. Cody blinks slowly, burning the sight into memory for when they'd return to space and the freckles would go pallid again.

"It's nothing too complex," Obi-Wan begins, his tone becoming that of a wise monk. "Start by closing your eyes." Cody appreciates the air of gentleness and straightens his back instinctively at the words of direction, eyelids clumsily falling shut, the muscles refusing to relax without a fight. Without sight, he can't help the consternation that rises to his ribcage; he only ever closes them to rest to fight the next day. He wouldn't be Marshal Commander of the Galactic Army of the Republic if that weren't the case. And Obi-Wan's recommendation for him to be in the position was enough proof for Cody.

"Perfect."

The word hangs around them for some time, and Cody's mind performs an instant reboot trying to process it. No one's ever used that word concerning him or anything he's done. He knows the Jedi - his Jedi in particular - have a way with words, and he tries to dismiss it as null and void, a mind trick to get Cody to continue complying with this so-called meditation. He inhales, a shaky effort that nearly fails.

"Keep breathing, Cody." He follows orders and exhales before taking another breath in. He tries not to wonder whether Obi-Wan's eyes are also shut, or if he is vigilantly watching his commander do as he says. Then, "Focus on the feeling of your lungs expanding and contracting without effort."

He has never attempted to zero in on something as infinitesimal as his breathing. Even when his helmet's on, the amplified sound of his new ventilation system is consistently overshadowed by what he sees through his visor.

But the trust he holds for Obi-Wan overrides all Kaminoan programming, at least momentarily, and Cody does as he's asked. He breathes in deep to the point his lungs ache beneath his muscles and bones, the dull sort of pain that reminds him he's alive, organic.

A breeze washes over the field, causing the tree's leaves to rustle like an ancient lullaby. The clone exhales as the wind tousles the short-cropped curls ornamenting his head, an unfamiliar but welcome sensation. "Feel what is here and now. The rock holding you up, the wind on your skin." Cody isn't sure, having no visual cues to confirm his suspicion, but he thinks he hears a smile in the general's words.

The thought flees as he mentally reaches out and focuses on the stone's coolness; his perfect posture falters helplessly as his mind unwinds. There's nothing but right here, in this moment with Obi-Wan, who echos this sentiment when he speaks. "There's nothing here for you to fret over, nothing to fix or fear."

Cody's eyebrows twitch as he digests what has been said. Obi-Wan doesn't rush into another teaching point and lets the man sit with the blade of his words plunged into his chest. Cody doesn't know what it means not to scan for tasks that need completing or enemies that require defeating. He feels a tightness in his chest that could rival the grip of a Sarlacc, and an unexpected wetness burns at his lashes.

He isn't sure what the tears mean, and the confusion only draws out a few more. He refuses to open his eyes, remembering the first instruction he'd been given: breathe. He parts his lips, and a breath stumbles through his airway.

As he breathes out softly, he's brought back to the moment and away from the tempest of emotions swirling within. The bee's buzzing has come to a respite, softly emanating what Cody imagines is contentment. He tenses slightly but once again goes back to what Obi-Wan was putting so much effort into teaching him.

He remembers the rock, the breeze, the Jedi before him. The bee is nearly forgotten. His shoulders sag without thinking, the scar on his face shiny with rebirth. He believes he can smell the undertones of the flora, sweet and subtle.

"You're safe. Let the things you notice pass." The discipline finally begins to ease. Obi-Wan doesn't have the same expectations the Kaminoans do, not in this time and place. "You are the only constant, Cody." The tone slips into something personal, so the marshal commander's imagination convinces him, and it compels his heart to clench. He feels it now, an anchor tethering him to this moment - an undeniable focus on the serenity of the man commanding him.

Time passes unnoticed as Cody loses himself in the exercise, a newfound clarity falling over him. The war is distant from this sliver of the galaxy, forgotten and nonexistent; it's just Cody and Obi-Wan. Not even the bee had made it over the threshold with them. He focuses for so long and hard that at some point he realizes he's aware of the Jedi's breathing pattern - the rise and fall as predictable as any moon's. He envisions their breaths being connected, flowing in through one set of lungs as quickly as it exits the other pair, a balance unspoken and natural.

Selfishly, Cody wishes he could remain in this state for the rest of time - or at least until the primary sun Kiros orbits stops burning and folds into a black hole. Logically, externally, he knows his time here is limited - his brothers, the Togruta, and millions more just like them all depended on Cody for something. They're all alright, he thinks, probably still sleeping soundly, not far away. But Cody is still new to releasing control over anything let alone everything.

"How do you know when it's time to stop?" His voice is lower than he intends, nearly breaking like back in his days as an inexperienced cadet. The only real differences now are that scar carved into the side of his face and countless fallen brothers. Hidden deep below his guts and armor is that same irrational, untrained boy.

"You can stop whenever you feel overwhelmed," Obi-Wan states gently, judgment nowhere to be found. "Open your eyes when you need to," he suggests, and Cody does so immediately. He thought it would be like waking from a rare dream and all the peace he'd started to feel would disappear into nothing. He is pleasantly surprised it's not that way at all. He feels lighter than he has in far too long; his mind flashes helplessly back to Geonosis before a deep breath comes in to tame the memory.

He offers a smile of gratitude to his general, who he now notices has a hand half-extended toward the commander's armored one. "Sir?" Had Cody cut his chances of receiving a touch by opening his eyes so quickly?

"I apologize," the jetii practically spits out the phrase, his tone making it clear how honest it is. His hand retracts to rest on his knee like when Cody first joined him. He swears he sees a rose color creep up the man's neck and cheeks as his eyes engage in a careful dance of avoidance.

No. Cody doesn't want to be avoided; he doesn't want to stumble around alone and afraid forever. He knows Obi-Wan won't try it again now that the moment has "passed." But life isn't a neatly edited holo-vid or a novel; it's a messy, complicated, painful battle at times. It requires bravery to get through - stubbornness and determination. Whatever word you choose, Cody doesn't care at this exact moment.

He breathes in and physically reaches out, bursting through the seams of everything he's ever been taught. His hand tenderly rests on the one Obi-Wan had pulled away, the latter's bare knuckles caressing the underside of Cody's gloved palm. It's the most intimate touch they've ever shared, and Cody doesn't require that it ever happen again. He feels blessed that the other man hasn't ordered him to fall back, and he isn't ready to push for more.

Instead of paying mind to the apology Obi-Wan had offered, Cody gives thanks to the man. "You have no idea how much you've done for me." He pauses, trying to find the words. He was specifically designed for war - for death and destruction. He could recite the BlasTech Industries leaflet that had been provided with his DC-15A blaster rifle instantly if someone ordered it because that made him useful. Knowing how to take down hundreds of droids in one fell swoop, how to plan and execute strategies that have earned the Republic victory after victory: these are tasks he was designed to perform well. Emotions, on the other hand, are much more gruesome.

He wants to tell Obi-Wan about the nightmares plaguing him each night or go even further and describe how he hasn't been able to truly relax since the burning red sands of Geonosis bound him to fear. He wants to tell Obi-Wan that he is the one who makes all of it more bearable. "I feel lighter," is where he settles. He nods as he says it, recognizing the truth in the statement.

An unsteady breath escapes him. His eyes are locked onto his Jedi, knowing that much of what Obi-Wan wants to say at any given time can be read through his eyes and actions. The man's face has softened again, eyebrows cocking incrementally with interest, beard twitching from the smile it works to conceal.

"Well, we could make a habit of it - together. It's helped me many times, and Anakin too, if you'll believe it. I know it's daunting when it's new, but you did so well, Cody." The clone easily follows the string of words, filled equally with attempted diversion and outright praise. He feels his flesh get warmer. His blacks are suddenly suffocating.

"I think that would be helpful," he says as he unclenches his jaw, almost afraid to let the full extent of his enthusiasm be known. He glances back down to where their hands meet. Though it may never reoccur - or perhaps for that exact reason - Cody begins to rub a small oval into the thenar muscles in his Jedi's hand. He silently hopes his general will feel the difference the next time he wields his lightsaber. He expects nothing in return; all he's received from the man has been more than enough.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮

Something feels wrong.

Cody stands under the cover of a plant he's never seen before this campaign. It towers like a spindle into the sky, the underside incandescing bright purple. There are hundreds more like it all around him, like a forest of tentacles or insectoid legs emerging from the dirt to trap him there like prey. Umbara is a planet of utter darkness other than the few bioluminescent lifeforms that have evolved with it; Cody is certainly not one of them. Luckily, the night vision built into his helmet is getting him through.

He grits his teeth and tilts his head to glance at Obi-Wan, a few meters to his right in a similar anticipatory stance. His lightsaber is disengaged to minimize foreign lighting that would give their position away. He worries about how limited the jetii's vision might be, knows his general is probably rather unperturbed by the matter. He trusts Cody not to leave him behind in the darkness, just as he would if their situations were reversed.

The rest of the men are closer to the perimeter of the capital city, ensuring no straggling Umbaran soldiers are lying in wait before they begin their assault. The general and commander follow not far behind to cover their tail. Although nothing stands out to him as he listens to his surroundings, Cody can't help the unease that rises in his chest. A deep breath enters his lungs through his ventilator, grounding himself to the present. Focus.

Obi-Wan nods in silence in the direction the rest of their men have headed, signaling that they should keep moving. Cody forces himself to let go of the last of his concerns for Waxer and his platoon; he must trust that they will see each other again on the other side of this long and treacherous battle. Instead, he brings his attention back to where the Jedi's thermal signature had just been through his visor, now another patch of darkness. His heart drops into his stomach, and a splinter of fear pricks his mind at the loss of the man.

"General?" He asks through his commlink before slowly crawling forward through the brush. The sounds of artillery fire descend upon the landscape as his men engage the enemy somewhere further north, distant but near enough Cody feels stuck.

Before he can rationally decide what to do next, an ear-splitting scream rattles through his comm and pierces deep through his armor and into his bones. He knows exactly what it is before he sees it, and the grunt of his jetii that follows right after forces Cody's legs to sprint forward to find where the man had gone. His boots sink into the gray-tinted dirt without thinking, the previous worries about all the vines and Vixus now residing in favor of being brought back to Obi-Wan, who he can hear panting in exhaustion.

Just then, he breaks into a small clearing, the shadows seeming to garner an unfathomable amount of mass. The flora here is impossible to make out, seeming like monsters a child would imagine in the darkness of their closet. The only light comes from the beast pinning his jetii to the ground. The banshee is huge, nearly covering Obi-Wan's entire body with its own. Its biological lighting is green in a way Cody despises, nothing like the lightsabers he's seen some other Jedi carry. It makes him think about the lower levels of Coruscant or a radioactive spill tainting the molecular basis of everything it touches.

Its wings are splayed out around it as if attempting to lift the general's body, but something has stopped it in its tracks. It makes snarling rabid sounds as its mandibles extend and try to shred the flesh of Kenobi's face. Cody freezes as he takes in the scene before him, and he catches sight of the general's face contorting with effort. His hair is a mess around him, sweat beading on his brow. It's now that he realizes the Jedi must be calling on the Living Force to keep the creature at bay.

Even in a moment like this, where his life is being threatened so short of notice, he is able to focus enough not to let his fear overtake him, and Cody will never stop admiring it. During the beginning of the war, he had dismissed the man as reckless, and he has kicked himself for it many times since. Now, though, he tries to take a page from the Jedi's book.

He reaches for his blaster rifle, knowing he can't leave Obi-Wan to fight the thing alone any longer. But his hand doesn't land on the metal of his weapon. It continues to swing through the empty air until returning at his hip. He nearly cries out when he feels it isn't at his side. How had it fallen and he not notice? Kriff, perhaps Nala Se should recall and retire him after all. He panics, unsure how to get the banshee to leave his Jedi besides possibly offering himself as bait.

He can hear Obi-Wan's voice, all those months ago now on Kiros, "Breathe, dear."

He isn't sure if it's just a memory surfacing organically in his time of need, or if it's the jetii influencing his mind, but he finds that he doesn't care either way. He does as the Jedi always reminds him and breathes.

There is a metallic hint to the air that enters his lungs and swirls about - different, but nothing he can't get used to if that's what's needed. There is nothing but him in this brief moment, and he is reminded by the Force that he has made it through worse than a banshee and a few shadows. Obi-Wan has survived worse, and with Cody's help, he'll survive this too.

He opens his eyes, not noticing that they'd fallen shut; he remembers a time when he'd stare at a caterpillar or another similar bug for hours when he was particularly on edge and too mortified with himself to ask someone else to handle it. He inhales through his nose; the past does not exist, only now.

He assesses his options, and wonders if he should comm for backup; he knows he won't distract his men for anything. He considers jumping on the creature's back, but he despises the idea of touching it or being carried away to be mauled and eaten alive. Then he sees it, the sheen of the banshee's light reflecting off that cool metal he's had in his hand many times thanks to his general's constant running head-on into the next problem needing to be solved. Cody has always made sure to retrieve and return it to its brandisher.

Now, he bends to wrap his hand around the saber, engaging the crystal without a second thought as he straightens his spine.

He feels a power surge through his body that not even his blaster had ever made him feel. The blue light emanates from the blade like a celestial spirit in his hands, and it causes all the shadows that had surrounded them to recede. The beast trapping Obi-Wan screeches as if its putrid heart has somehow been filled with terror for the first time. Cody chokes on empathy, imagining the beast sitting with that feeling he knows intimately well.

He steps forward, swinging the saber out in front of him, a defensive pose that he hopes will send the banshee running takes over his muscles instinctively. He's never wielded a lightsaber or any other longsword, but he's watched Obi-Wan in battle enough times to be able to imitate some of his confidence.

When the creature remains on top of the general, claws on either side of his head, Cody knows he won't be able to spare its life. He sways the sword, the sounds of it cutting the air almost as comforting as the voice of his Jedi, though not quite as sweet. He swears he feels a swell of pride surround him, choosing not to dwell on how it hadn't come from within. He raises the blade with both hands gripping the hilt, its light dancing across his features as he swings down hard and fast.

Another scream enters his ears, one of pain and regret and death. Cody can't distinguish whether the sound is from the insect or himself. The banshee's leg is sliced clean in half at the joint. Blood and gristle are cauterized by the heat of the blade - even the chosen weapon of the jetiise offers some mercy. The creature wails in presumed agony, losing its balance and falling to the side like a spider-roach sprayed with pesticides. It thrashes and its wings shake, the ordeal more than Cody's senses can handle.

He forces himself to move around it and pull his Jedi out of its reach, the lightsaber having been disengaged but still in his palm. When they're a safe distance away from the bug, Cody finally looks into his general's face. His hair is wet with sweat close to his scalp, utterly exhausted from the Force work. The commander wants nothing more than to tear his helm away from his face and nuzzle into the jetii's temple. He wants to press his lips there and sob a disorderly, chest-racking sob.

Soldiers don't do such things, though, so he settles to press a thumb into the other man's beard. It's a light touch, almost ghostly, and he wishes they were back on Kiros more than ever before.

The Jedi's eyes flicker to his saber, still resting in Cody's right hand. He notices, sitting up and holding it out to the man it belongs to. He feels a jolt of pride as he looks at it, eyes adjusting to the darkness now that the fight has concluded. But it's mixed in with a sense that he'd done something very wrong, like taking a brother's bucket and wearing it as his own.

"Thank you, Cody," his Jedi speaks quietly, his fingers latching around the marshal commander's wrist instead of the lightsaber. Cody swallows at the sensation, aware they should keep moving despite what they've just endured. He nods silently before remembering Obi-Wan's lack of sight.

"Of course," it doesn't exactly translate all of the emotions in his heart, but it does enough for now. At least he thinks so until Kenobi starts to offer him praise after praise.

"This is more than a weapon, Cody," his hand twists to tighten their grips around the helve simultaneously, "and not everyone who wields one knows when to quell their power. You're disciplined in ways the Kaminoans can't comprehend." His tone is admiring, proud. The touch, the words - Cody feels like he'll melt into the dirt below if the Jedi gives him anymore. He can hear and feel his heart pounding against his sternum like a prisoner in Citadel Station, desperate for escape.

He nods and moves his other hand to rest on top of where the two men meet at the lightsaber; it's the thanks he can't vocalize. Obi-Wan's expression is steady whereas Cody's feels unsure and stiff, and he appreciates how understood the jetii always makes him feel. No matter the layers of darkness, armor, and social conditioning (or lack thereof), he appreciates how Obi-Wan always looks at him like a person. He never looks at him like the test-tube experiment gone wrong he often feels like.

"Now, how about we join our men?" General Kenobi asks, that resilient smile creeping over his lips. "They'll be needing our expertise soon, I'm sure." It's an attempt to bring Cody's mood up, and the clone can't help the curt chuckle at the Jedi's cockiness that rears its head more than is technically appropriate for someone so dedicated to the Order. Of course, none of the clones complain; they've learned many of their favorite witticisms from the jetii, and Cody finds it endearing to hear his brothers try to replicate the general's delivery.

He stands first, then pulls Obi-Wan up with little effort since their hands are conveniently clasped together over the lightsaber, which subsequently goes back to its owner.

Both standing, Cody is overwhelmed with relief that he'd been able to do what had been needed to keep the other man alive. He almost goes down the terrible path in his mind that would make him wonder about all the things that could have gone wrong. He manages to catch himself before spiraling out of control, shaking his head and taking a deep breath to clear his thoughts.

As they slip back into the Umbaran flora, Cody follows his general's lead, his gaze firm on the nape of the other man's neck.

𓇙

The suns hang high in the sky, beating down on Cody with relentless heat. He welcomes the burn as he studies the stark shadow of his hand against the eroded stone of Obi-Wan's abode, the darkness of his fingers caked with an off-white plaster. His breathing is coming and going in a steady pattern, only because he has carefully labored it to be that way, helping to keep his mind focused on patching the cracks in the wall.

From the corner of his eye, he sees something dark scuttle a path through the harsh sand. He looks down to find a scorpion rushing by his boot, glinting like a blood-drenched jewel. He narrows his eyes against the particles floating in the wind, watches as the arthropod finds sanctuary in the crevice of a nearby boulder.

He remembers the voice of his general, all the lessons he'd been given. He's ached for that guidance for far too long, and it makes his chest tighten at the memories he's been struggling to keep oppressed since the last time they were face-to-face. Utapau. Order 66. His skull still aches in the spot where it'd been sawn open to remove his implant, his curls starting to grow back to conceal the new scar. He's not used to the silence of his own thoughts without those four haunting words underlying them. Good soldiers follow orders.

A deep breath fills his lungs; his attention is brought back to the task at hand. He fills another fissure in the wall with plaster, smoothing it with the pads of his fingers - he makes sure to be diligent with his work, having no other way to make himself useful in this place. Though things have undeniably changed, Cody can't help the yearning for their bond to return despite having no way to earn it back. He and Obi-Wan had once trusted each other blindly. Yet he had given his brothers the go-ahead to shoot him down; the rather benign nightmares about insects have been replaced with the memory of that day, and Cody knows it's deserved. He is the one who had shattered things while knowing their already-delicate nature.

He risks a glance to his right, finding Obi-Wan kneeling in the nearby shade provided by a makeshift awning, eyes closed, and muscles relaxed. He's meditating. Of course, he is. It's not quite the same as before the fall of the Order, but then again nothing is. His beard is full and a tad scraggly, not having access to the razors, mirrors, and gels he used to take advantage of, and his hair is longer than Cody's ever seen it. He swallows hard as the guilt washes over him like a wave, wondering uselessly if any of this would exist if it weren't for his weakness. He returns to his assignment on the wall, focusing on each breath entering and exiting his lungs.

During the night, the two sit in the confined kitchen of the desert home. A pot of soup simmers over a fire; it isn't a lot, but it's flavorful and comforting compared to the rations Cody's eaten practically his entire life. Their dishes rest on the table as the men sit across from each other, the winds outside audible from where they reside.

"What did I tell you?" The Jedi smiles as he listens to the sound of active weathering, bringing Cody's attention away from the grain in the wood of his spoon. He'd been focusing on trying to stay quiet so as not to disturb the nightly routine of the other man, so it takes him a second to catch up to the conversation.

"Oh," he says, his mouth falling open before closing again. "The sandstorms. Is it a nightly thing this time of year?"

"Most nights, sadly. It's a pain if the walls aren't tended to properly," he sips his soup - choosing to forgo the spoon - which is no longer scalding from the fire. Cody remembers the man's predilection for food on the colder side, and it comforts him to see that hasn't changed. "I've not had the energy recently." The jetii looks down into his bowl, an almost bashful look on his face. Cody recognizes a roundness to the man that hadn't been there during the war, a rosiness to his cheeks when he came home from the market with new fruit for Cody to try that morning. The clone has only been here for a month at most, and Cody can't deny the ease with which Obi-Wan seems to be settling into his new life. Something he can't yet say for himself.

Of course, there had been much time in between, which Cody had not been here for. He doesn't know exactly what Obi-Wan is going through or how he's dealing with it, but he's pleased to hear him laughing more than he ever did during the war. His brow furrows because he remembers thinking neither of them would be able to laugh again after everything that happened.

"Thank you for taking care of it." It's said in such a measured tone that Cody can't pretend to mishear or misinterpret it.

He jerks his chin down toward the table, "Of course, General." As soon as it slips off his tongue, he wants to throw himself into the fire their dinner is cooked on and keeps their bodies warm at night. He expects a scolding - the Empire likes dealing those out much more swiftly on the clones than the Jedi had - but one does not come.

"I don't know how many times I have to remind you to call me Ben before it sticks." A toothy grin lets Cody know he's not in too much trouble, but he digs his nails into his palm as a reminder to himself not to make the mistake again.

"It's my pleasure... to do what I can, Ben." He looks up and meets the man's eyes, that same crystal-like blue he's always known. "I want to make up for what I've done."

The jetii's eyes soften at his words, seeming to know what he means despite the lack of clarity. Cody's heart tightens as the man stands abruptly, his sand-colored robes sweeping the floor. He takes the few short steps to close the distance between them, and he's looking directly into his old commander's face. His hand comes up and the tip of his thumb traces the curve of the clone's scar from where it starts on his forehead and ends at the apple of his cheek. "Cody, none of that was in your control. You must realize that before this guilt consumes you." Obi-Wan bends so that his forehead comes to rest on Cody's, their eyes still locked until the Jedi's slip shut.

The clone can feel his hands beginning to tremble and his throat constricting. He makes fists in an attempt to calm his nerves, but it makes no difference when a tear tickles his lashes and spills over the edge.

"You've come so far," his jetii whispers, their breaths mingling in the dark. And that's all that Cody's battered mind can handle; a thunderous sound rumbles through him, a sob that's waited years to be freed. Tear after hot, burning tear rolls down the man's face, his hands still fisting into nothing at his sides. Obi-Wan covers his knuckles with his palms, reminding him that he's physically not alone. "None of this is because of you. You only did what you believed was right. I have never blamed you for anything that's happened, Cody."

The words cause a heavy weight to lift off his chest, just slightly. He's carried this shame with him for so long, it's hard to convince himself to fully forget all the pain. It'll take time, which seems alright since they have so much of it now. He'll have to meditate more on how things tend to happen for a reason, perhaps with Obi-Wan as his teacher if he'd have him. He nods against the other man, their foreheads still touching, and he breathes in through his nose as the sobs begin to calm.

No sand or scorpions would be bothering them tonight, thanks to Cody. If he has any say in it, and he does, he'll make sure to patch the walls each day so that Obi-Wan sleeps soundly each night until his rapid aging catches up with him and steals his final breath.

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