#cody is bitching to him about something stupid his general did

[invaderlynx]

Happy 10/10 day!

(He’s on the phone with his brother)

[joannasteez]

tanks of blood (5) - the trouble was always here

pairings: biker!cody rhodes x black reader, biker!roman reigns x black reader (mentioned) warnings: FLUFF! descriptions that imply stalking. explicit descriptions of blood and violence. dialogue and descriptions pertaining to guns. cody being kinda simpy (he’s so adorable) roman being a jerk still (he’ll come around) authors note: a present day chapter!!! w/ a full cody perspective because we haven't gotten that yet. finally a little cody and roman interaction. thanks for 1700 followers btw!!! word count: 8800 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @sortudademais @gg-trini @southerngirl41 @2-muchsauce

...m'not tryin to cause trouble for you...

...you don't wanna cause trouble anymore...

cody had felt the premature slight of his own words then. those few weeks ago, amongst the wordless overly cool diner air and lukewarm food. and then felt it again as he said it. your eyes tired and cautious—dim and slipping into sleep just after the end of a twelve hour shift—suddenly veering off into something less meek and weary.  indignation a bright flare as it woke you up to be less inviting. and cody was still suffering the trickle down effects of that somewhat exhaustive empty diner reunion, along with the onslaught of a new torrential down pour of bullshit caused by his president's drunken tantrum. the diner situation was a mild disagreement. a brakeless drive of frustration that he meant, but did not mean to say. and he'd said the thing that you'd always hated. "don't be dense". a stupid fucking move on his part. it made maneuvering the funeral—God rest's richie's soul—a few days after, awkward and God awful. cody hoped it was something worth leaving to cool off. a dissipation that would make way for a fresh slate. and he'd made headway, little as it was but he was getting his footing again with you. but roman. oh his president and fearless fucking leader. he just had to muddy the water.

and all of that humble, earnest desire—despite the hesitancies—to return back into the fold that was the world of the bloodline, to go generally unscathed, had been destroyed. by whiskey-beer inspired words and the wrath of a bruised man. because yes, roman had performed so well in chilling over since their youth, that now he was bruised. marred and undone, that much cody knew. a spoiled over bitterness that sometimes made for thick and difficult to breathe in air. a siphoning of the room to please him self. to revitalize whatever'd been lost. and unfortunately, to your credit, you'd done well at stealing away such heavy grief, turning the funeral into a reunion. but roman couldn't just sit still in his shit. he had to spread and smear about his anger. a tantrum that sent you home quiet. a silence cody was made to suffer through because he'd taken it upon himself to be your ride to and from such an event of a funeral. made to suffer because he cared. 

but that service and burial for richie, in the grand scheme of cody's long anxious waiting, had been just two weeks ago. two long weeks of silence. and yeah maybe it was partially on him. mostly roman's doing but maybe him too. 'you don't wanna cause trouble anymore', the overripe cherry on top of already stale cake. 

in essence, you were doing his bidding. because avoidance of the bloodline meant free from trouble, as scathing as that thought feels to him. but cody isn't above admitting it. the forming of something harsh and sickly in his belly. a hollowness that drains his skin. not hearing from you is odd. something he hates. 

-monday. the first week in june-

text message | incoming: need your help

text message | cody r: ?

text message | incoming: car is fucked

text message | cody r: glad to know i can hear from you if you need something

text message | incoming: 12 hour shifts are a bitch. so sorry for not checkin in every second of the day...was trying to keep away from all this trouble i'm apparently causing. my bad. 

text message | cody r: where are you?

text message | incoming: the house

text message | cody r: be there soon. 

and maybe it's the june heat getting to him, the bare down of the sun muddying his sensibilities till they roll over and form newer with these streaks of entitlement. an entitlement he'd never profess outwardly. never claim to outside of loose thoughts and the nagging linger of other truths kept unsaid. but cody—and God does this sound awful even as he thinks it—much prefers you away from pensacola. away from home. because in those times, his willingness to please you was nothing more than some shapeless desire. something he would do if he could. a possibility. the distance keeping the brunt of his feelings at bay. but having you here—as much as it makes him happy—seems to cause more issues than he'd like. because issues mean a loose fumbling grasp at things. a lack of control. because now he'll actually have to acknowledge the burn in his belly when you look at him. the prick of heat over his skin when you say his name. your anger influencing discomfort till he makes it right. he'd have to—amidst such a cryptic life—be honest about deeply buried thoughts. the hidden things he's always promised to himself to keep hidden. 

and maybe thats why his words slipped out so loose and fast and inconsiderate. 'you don't wanna cause trouble anymore', because bits of that trouble include a deep unearthing of his own shit. 

because roman isn't the only one troubled and undone about you. 

cody's teeth suck. a quick, easy, manifestation of displeasure. because he doesn't stay put and he doesn't drag his feet either. he moves with purpose. present mechanic duties forgotten along with the old and janky BL AUTO sign behind him as he shifts his weight up and into a tow truck. displeasure because maybe his selflessness is more than just a base line compassion. but servile? no. cody isn't that. but as he backs out with a reverse and drives off to meet at your place, your parents old house, he feels his stomach coil up in a way that burdens him wholly. a feeling that has only performed well enough on rare occasions. a tight ball settled at the base of his belly, his chest going on with an irregular beating and cody thinks it's all so damn pitiful. years and years of a slow simmering, never quite getting to the rapid chaos of a boil but hot all the same. but if not for the tease of it than what else was there to have? what other possibility could there be for him besides the grand swarming performance of butterflies. his eyes rolling as he drives. twenty something again. with this particular thing, he still isn't ready to name, cody is in a perpetual state of being that twenty something guy. 

the blare of a horn pulls him up and out of his harboring. the street light apparently green for sometime. 

and he decides—because he's in control, he swears—to leave it be. to allow his body to process the sensations. an attempt at emotional extraction from the physicality of it. because it's not butterflies if you don't call it butterflies. because names give things meaning. a process he's done time and time again. evasion easy and efficient. 

because he's towed plenty of cars. fixed plenty of cars. this would be the same as the others. no emotional weight and ancient histories involved. because cody has the control to will it so. 

and the settling of this process gives him freedom. enough to slip back into the familiar. something that lacks such sentimental complexity. cody observes. the roads, the weather, the cars. taking a fine tooth comb through the details. 

"the underestimations is what gets you son. don't let em get you". 

dusty's voice curling about his left ear. riding just under the flow of a summer breeze. and cody never knew his father to be wrong about anything. 

"always take note of the scene son".

the regularity of the day but a facade. sunny and warm and unsuspecting. but cody knows enough to know that the mere face of a thing is not the representation of the inward parts. that if you look well enough for a thing, it will appear with a clear exposure. and the drive to your fathers house is both familiar and burdening. the pensacola heat and the sentiments of faraway memory attempting with much fight to dull his senses. streetlights he's passed and roads he's turned down before. the only difference now being your presence. and there goes the curl in of his belly. his words refusing to form into truth even inwardly still, to spell out the feelings. feelings he thought quelled. it's something he so obviously needs to work on. his eyes flitting to his rearview mirror, breaking away from those too ardent thoughts. 

a gray chevrolet ss maybe? the model he's unsure. but he's fixed many a chevy to know that its a chevy. 

cody turns a corner, and with him turns the chevy. something he doesn't think much of. giving the wheels of the tow truck an easy ride for a few miles or so. but the chevy remains a comfortable distance behind him. cody takes a test turn. an abrupt right that veers him slightly off course. 

but his truck isn't a pain to follow. the size of it easy to make out. losing the tail from such a spur of the moment turn before it appears again. behind him and steady. the windows tinted. 

his ears burn warm. fingers itching. 

cody rolls into the beginning of your block. double parking several doors down before quickly exiting the tow truck. his fingers slipping out his shades as his feet kick up loose gravel. the tint of them blocking the harsh beat down of daylight. the chevy rolling by at a slower pace, something done to very obviously piss him off, before it continues down the block and out of his sight. his eye looking to catch the plates. 

C47-6BQ. repeating it to himself for good measure. 

and something in cody jostles. a squick sinking in his belly as his nerves go on disturbed. twisting to perform well in his gut. a sickening swim of intuition. the weight of an impending viciousness. a feeling he knows all too intimately well. amidst the quiet breezy heat of the afternoon, the tips of his ears warm and his fists balling. thumbs working to skim his knuckles. always restless and ready. but the quiet is nothing if not the surface of a deepened well, endless in its depth and muddy. filled with slow to die creeping things. problems thought fixed rearing with an ugliness. but these are the worst of his worries. the what if thoughts that take over him. making him restless, but ready. cody is always ready. headaches persistent from an overworking. C47-6BQ. florida plates. a gray chevy ss that drives slow. to what? to taunt him? a warning maybe? 

an acknowledgement. 

he hadn't agreed that night to do what they did. feeling the inner parts of him growing soft and malleable. but messages need clear words. there was, is, never any room to mince words when so little of them were at their disposal in any useful way. actions more concrete than anything that could ever be said. 

KG's house, your house now, closer to him. his feet growing slower. knuckles working still in tandem with the blooming of a familiar knocking in his skull. 

he'd voted for something more diplomatic. a message that read like an advisory. some agreed. seth and jey and sami. 

"this ain't the fucking UN. we ain't working to save face on foreign affairs".

roman had spat that out. riled up and the ball of his fists demanding. and he couldn't be persuaded otherwise. 

and that particular tasting of whiskey was hell to swallow. these slivers of guilt nestling along the bite of it. the bottle passed from man to man and mouth to mouth. a partaking sip that was as vicious as it was fraternal. a dirty burn at the back of cody's throat, before the bottle was poured out over nico jeff's back. dean's fingers working to bring about the quick flick of a match before it'd been tossed hot. the soul crush of a scream and the sizzling singe of skin. and maybe this gray chevy SS is the beginning results of a lack in diplomatic flair. and maybe it isn't. maybe cody's restlessness has finally deadened his intuition, his edge. but cody is his fathers son. and cody has never seen his father be wrong. even beyond death and the grave. 

it'd been reckless. an eager show of power where such theatrics need not exist. but cody's opinions have not had room for proper growth in sometime, especially not now. 

and as cody twists the house key into your front door—a key he acquired sometime after KG's death—he feels that bursting in his belly. that pulling, nagging feeling. skin skittish and his eyes taking to the quiet of the block again. waiting for what? well he's not sure but he waits anyways. painstaking seconds where the dread feels most sure, amidst the stillness, just before the coming in of the storm. 

he wants to be wrong about this. strong, tired fingers twisting the knob to step over the threshold. and he wants to be wrong about his preferences too. wants to feel the guilt of his entitlement, of not wanting you here. but even that wars with other desires. fingers itching to touch you. to hear your voice without the disruptive tone of radio waves.

his head ache taunting him. playing about his skull easy. your movements swift and urgent as you move about the living room. seemingly on a mission. heaps of moving boxes everywhere still. the house cluttered and undone by such abrupt use after years of loneliness. 

cody knocks. stepping in fully. 

your attention shifting just barely. a half of a half of an acknowledgment that plummets the ball in his belly. doing well with this little game of silence. a large box in your arms as you move it to the corner of the living room.

"forgot you have a key", your eyes not meeting. occupied. a finger throwing away a gesture toward your car keys on the coffee table. "the car is right out front. i think the alternator is bad, the battery keeps going-"

"it's fuck me i guess".

and cody can't help the uncomfortableness of this. the skating around and the avoidance. the way you maneuver about and refuse him. a first time of it all that makes him bristle. because when you were in new york, he never had to deal with such bouts of silence. never had to wade through the terrible water of your indignation. there was never anything tumultuous or gut wrenching about this, playing a part in the skull knock of a headache and the overwhelming process of sifting through untouched, un-talked about feelings. it was easy and nice and shapeless. a private little thing to call his own. and God was it good and selfish. and shit what a fuck load of entitlement its caused. so very obviously existing on both ends of whatever this is. because you'd just expected him to perform. and he'd gone about it up til now without a syllable of push back. 

"what?" 

and the way you say it. like a sudden cluelessness of it all has so suddenly taken you. makes his nerves itch. a scratch he can't reach. his arms folding instead. a little more solid and upright. "some courtesy would be nice", a slow stride up to where you move about. his path blocked by boxes. "y'know considering the state of fucked your car is in, a hi or how you doing would be good to hear". his nerves still itching, face warring with itself not to grimace. the shuffle of boxes nearly sending him over a wall. and God after years, you knew still just how to set him off. silence eating him whole. "i'm doing fine by the way if you're wondering". 

you sigh deep. like you're being inconvenienced. "are you good now? got that off your chest?" 

its an abrupt movement. something he's barely processing till he's halfway through it. snatching a stack of boxes from your hands and setting them recklessly over the couch. his eyes hard. irritated. 

"is there something here? what am i missing?" 

because the tension of it unsettles him whole. 

you side step and he's following diligently. patience thinning. he gives you no where to go.

"cody i just want my car-"

"the car stays unfixed until you talk to me. none of this icy, boxin me out shit". 

your eyes cut to him. "i can do without the hostility". 

"be upfront". 

making him live in silence again. amongst the clutter of boxes and bright near blinding daylight. because this part of you has always been a process. something surgical and proving to need a little bit of method. a little bit of time. but cody's patience wears on him. thins his resolve. and such tiredness in of itself can only come from the deep well of care he's got stored in himself for you. and at this present moment 'care' is the word he chooses to commit to. a silent agreement. a word that explains the tensity of headaches and borderline nausea. butterfly's corralling in his belly to sicken him. an uncomfortableness in his body that only wanes with the slipping off of that face of disinterests you've worn so well till this second. 

your eyes softer. struck with bits of pain. 

"i'm not gonna be in places where m'not wanted. i'm not here to be a punching bag". 

"so then why are you here?"

you bristle. "cody what are you-" 

"i'm being serious. why are you here?"

because his curiosity has never taken him so wholly as to ask. only ever to accept the circumstance. but the validity of his question is true, enough for it to unearth an answer that carries just as much sincerity. 

"this is home cody", you give him. 

simple and plain and affirming all of his little ardent unpleasantries. because if this is home, and he's always been here, does that mean he's home too? does the possibility of that answer extend to others? question's maybe not to be answered today. question's maybe never to be considered outside such shapeless thought for the sake of his own poorly crafted peace of mind. because he can live with possibilities. with formless what if's and maybe's. 

"good". a word that falls quick. full in the way it exists against the air. as sure as all the ones after it. "so fuck him then. don't let him and his bullshit run you out of where you wanna be. don't give him that". 

because roman could shift the temperature of a thing quite easily. rooms and situations and people. could siphon the air to a blue-gray-skinned suffocation if it pleased him. hell he'd done it weeks ago. a harsh ability. so very fitting for him, for his heavy leather and even heavier boots. for the little patch that sew itself across the right side of his kutte. cody's president. his oh so fearless fucking leader. 

but it doesn't mean that other things, other people can't live and last amidst the width and hot take of such pride. 

and you concede. "you're right". looking to him with that full acknowledgment he'd wanted for some days. soft brown eyes warm. 

"i don't think i've ever really been wrong about anything". 

"shut up", a small smile against pretty lips. 

his eyes catching the curve of them more than they should. 

"c'mere". 

and the effects of such a slow, gradual, embrace warm him over better than any afternoon cast over of the sun. relief and then the inevitable fluttering swarm of butterflies. that control he so easily subscribed to having earlier done away with as your arms circle about him. a tight enough embrace that brings about the beginning breaths of a resolution. smelling of autumn inspired things that arrest his senses. and maybe this is where those entitled preferences grow sour in their wrongness. maybe his earlier afternoon selfishness was some petulant, tired, anxious reaction. the coming back to life of twenty something thoughts and ideas. maybe seconds old him was right. more right than that slightly older him. because the rightness of the matter was only ever contingent upon where ever  you were and where ever you wanted to be. and that he can agree with, if it meant an embrace this good.

his hands slip. wide and spreading at your back comfortable and innocent. your hands just the same at his arms. your fingers softly testing the strength of them. a slight press in he's all too aware of. 

"you try to silent treatment me again for two weeks and we're gonna have problems", he plays. smiling down on you.

your eyes play at a roll. "m'sorry", you give him. teeth stuck to pull over your lip. your eyes flitting to his mouth before they return. a quick slip of a movement that does nothing to quell the rise of warmth in his fingers. that he felt and saw. a sensation he'll mull over the validity of later. 

his palms come up to hold your cheeks. a tender hold that leaves you unable to look away from him. gentle eyes delicate in their waiting. your fingers holding his forearms. and this to cody feels like an agreement of the moment. the silent reciprocation of a not so newly born intimacy. the shapeless thing now found to have an edge. a streak of definition. new york and pensacola. the everlasting length of text messages and lasting too long phone calls. strung together words that almost say "i miss you", which could've been said if not for the fear of actually meaning it. and the fear of what meaning it means. 

his thumb runs a streak at your skin. sincerity blooming dangerously pure. "m'very happy you're here. okay?" 

if nothing else, the surest affirmation. cody hopes you believe him. 

"okay". 

and when the tension is far too real to believe in, cody falls away graciously. pulls in his touch and the daze of his eyes enough to regain the lasting bits of his composure. hands feeling empty at his sides before he's crossing his arms up over his chest. stepping over boxes again and making a sluggish path towards the door. 

"i should have your car back by wednesday latest". 

you advance with him. "just let me know how much i owe you". 

his eyes roll. "we just had a nice bit of resolution. don't ruin it".

"cody i'm being serious". 

you both linger amidst the threshold of the door. his eyes slipping over your skin to remember the softness. "i'm unfortunately aware. i'll see you soon".

and he doesn't think. finds even that its better not to harp on the why of whatever he does. and its innocent enough. an easy lingering kiss to your forehead. something terribly gentle. an accumulation of all the unspoken things. and with that he leaves. never giving himself the courtesy of seeing whatever you've decided to express in the wake of something as affectionate as his mouth on you.

-tuesday. the first week in june-

kill them with kindness. it's a pride-less phrase. suffers the body to think and act against itself. against the primitivity of instinct. bloodline born instinct. brass knuckle rings and the broken neck of a beer bottle. the drawing up of wet crimson blood and splotchy bruises to deserved skin. killing with kindness isn't cody's forte, but neither is senseless violence. because things need purpose. they need a reasonable decline into bitterness before that shameless stain of iron can dress his tongue. there has to be proper earthen ground to stand on before the strong, old nature of his leather takes him wholly. 

that childish little shoulder check had been accounted for the moment it happened. along with roman's tantrum that led to your teary eyed bout of silence. and you'd never mentioned what he said, but cody felt the possibility of a violation. a deep splitting open of the skin all for the sake of proving that he could do it. that too had been accounted for. and the more he thinks on it, richie's funeral—though no funeral begins or ends well—was only a few steps from a mess. an uneven state of affairs. touch and go as they say. everything too thinly spread, and the histories now existing with too much distance. which has been, was, and is never good. because unbridged gaps promote weakness in the foundation. and naturally, roman—stuck in whatever thoughts of his own—gives no effort in making it easier. 

and cody can feel it, amongst the swelter of the summer sun. the heat talking, taunting through slim breezes. their time approaching soon. a clashing up one against the other, like the stressing violence of metal against metal. he just hopes time for it is sooner than later. before the foundation is too weak to be resolved. 

it's interesting though, funny even, because cody isn't a grudge keeper. doesn't go all out in the meticulous process of such an angry keeping of the score. but that faithful swarming of butterflies, care and the need to please, they use him well as a champion to do their, his inner, bidding. posing and propping him up as this great defender. 

and roman makes no qualms about going unheard. unnoticed. his body tall, blotting out the spread of one of many lights shinning above your car. lips spreading in that amused way that works to cover up the lesser delighted parts of him. "if i knew we did free work i'd put up a sign or two. let the people know how generous of a business we've become". roman's hands pressing into the car to lean inward. a proximity that performs well to make anybody with sense uncomfortable. "i'm a charitable man cody, but i got my limits". 

cody hums. continues the process of switching out your alternator. because you were right, the alternator was fried, causing your battery to drain. an easy enough fix for him, but roman attempting his little show of dominance didn't do much to help. 

"i guess i'm just a little more compassionate".

roman chuckles. turns to lean up against the car where cody works. arms crossed and relaxed. giving him enough space to perform the fix but not enough to do it comfortably. "being a doormat isn't compassion rhodes. it's just being a doormat. humor me though..." he begins. "what's the little deal you two got set up?" roman's faux interest running annoyingly under cody's skin. "you do a little fixin' here and there and then what? she pats you on the back? gives a little scratch behind the ear? tells you how good of a boy you are for her?"

a dog? really? the abuse of it cutting into one ear and refusing to leave out the other. a deep lodging that slots up and slips in against the warmth of his blood. and yes. it's accounted for. like the ticking scratch of a pencil to check through a box. "i don't know roman you tell me". alternator be damned. the heat of the day sticking to cody ungraciously. "you got it all figured out, maybe you know something i don't. six or seven years, cause honestly who knows or gives a shit, of prior experience on the resume and all. thats a long time for skill buildin, to be wrapped around her finger". 

and cody sees roman falter. the slightest bit of a half step. a small little tell so often easily missed. can feel his chest burst wild and so damn delighted. that subtle jaw twitch beneath his president’s beard. 

roman is close. eyes hard, narrowing over cody's face. "it's nothing you got that's better than shit she's already had. that i can promise you". 

"you keep mistaking me for someone you're in competition with".

"competition ain't a word in my vocabulary, but i'll humor you", smiling mirthless. "if it were, we're still levels apart. it's actual comedy how uneven the paying field is here". 

"and you're so right about that", cody fully amused. "considering just how much she avoids even saying your name, i think i like the level i'm at". 

and this was it. the steady decline into bitterness, fixed only by that warlike clashing. an affair close enough, the phantom taste of something iron, wet and pungent on cody's tongue. because it'd happened before, history always finding a way to rhyme. to unearth already thought to be dead things that were not so lifeless after all. 

"hey!", the far reach of deans voice, echoing over loud against the walls of the shop. "kiss and get a room or break it up!". 

cody is right. killing with kindness is treason against the body. against words and instinct. an esteem-less, pride-less thing. and he quite likes his pride. 

-wednesday. the first week in june-

text message | incoming: are you busy later in the evening?

text message | cody r: shouldn't be. whats up?

text message | incoming: making dinner. you should come by. 

text message | cody r: absolutely. your car is all fixed up btw. need me to bring anything else? 

text message | incoming: just you❤️

it means nothing. it means, nothing. it. means. nothing. and the feeling is juvenile. overly sentimental and spilling over. a losing fight as he urges himself not to break with a smile. because cody is old, or at least old enough not to fall into such thrills reminiscent of early twenty something wish and desire. but that doesn't stop the sickly sweet churn in his belly, nor does it keep his eyes from falling over the short exchange of texts. these little flits across the screen, a short comb over, as if with the third and fourth time the letters will reappear to read something different and new and less intimate. less domestic. because he fixed your car and now he's left with the silly assumption that you're making him dinner for it. not just for him but for him all the same. and its all stupid and oddly sitting under his skin. swarming tight in his belly so much so that he walks awkwardly amongst the cloudy chill of the afternoon air. it means something, but for the sake of his peace it will have to mean all of nothing. 

his stomach growling on a dangerously annoying cue. body ready to make the trip back to pensacola. marianna, florida suddenly too far from home—a mere two hour drive—for proper comfort. 

but his leather keeps him bound to club business. his shoes kicking up the loose dirt of the beginnings of a wide patch of land. a ranch spreading out over for some acres. grass reaching his ankles and the air crisp with the teasing smell of rain. seth and dean marching forward just in front of him, seemingly more focused. void of an ardently born frenzy about the nerves.

and in the distance, just at the entrance of a corned off shack, steve waves them over, before disappearing inside. the scuffling walk over to the shoddy wooden build of it giving cody enough time to steel over his expression and the manner of his disposition. because they were on a ranch after all, surrounded by the easy roam of an abundance of cattle being raised commercially. a job like that surely needing an expert level of perception. perception cody is sure steve austin has. what with the stoic manner of his eyes and the mirthless pull of his mouth. always watching and quietly discerning. even with the satisfaction of good business, cody has yet to see the rancher actually smile ever. cody figures he'll save his musings for another time. 

"boys", steve greets. reaching his hand to greet them. firm shakes before he's uplifting duffle bags from off the shack floor and placing them atop a wooden table. unzipping them to reveal the disassembled parts of a variety of fire arms. 

"how's business steve?" dean gives, as the three of them look over the contents of the bags. touching against cool, dangerous metal.

"sometimes good, sometimes not so great, but it goes either way", his voice coarse. "m'hopin we can facilitate business well enough without issue". 

"a simple pick up now and drop off later", seth starts. "it's nothing we haven't done before". 

and steve hums. the noise of it short lived and singing low as it considers seth's assurance. a hum so obviously filling itself with disbelief. steve austin unpersuaded as he makes to lean up against the dusty wooden wall of the shack. blue-grey eyes falling over the three of them. "well usually our business isn't accompanied by so much of a ...spectacle, which is never simple". something like mirth taking his expression, forming wryly. "i didn't know pyro-theatrics were in you all's arena of business". 

something in cody winces. a flinching of his memory as it works with a tireless hand of remembrance. smelling now amidst the earthiness of the ranch that pungent burn of alcohol and nico's skin. his screams as the sizzling melt of his flesh sings hot and dirty. the heavy disappointment felt from that night, filling cody whole once more. his insides malleable and undone by discontent. a decision made he'll always hate. 

but dean chuckles the silence off. a lazy, toothy smile along with it. "we're a uh...multi act group. a variety show if you will". 

"i can admire the severity of it, but also, i gotta say...", steve starts. leading them out of the shack and to their parked truck. duffle bags filling their hands as they all make way across the ranch. "...i don't like it much considering it hasn't done nothing for you all but draw some attention". 

and if nothing else causes a failing in the security of cody's nerve, this does. a fast to plummet drop in his stomach and the quick maneuver of his memory once more. a swift to move flooding of curiosity filled with anxious debris. that grey chevy rolling by slowly and the horribly conspicuous tinted windows. not a warning but an acknowledgment. he breaks his silence. "how'd you hear about it?" 

"got a call from a buddy of mine over in tallahassee askin about the bloodline and that boy yall burnt up. apparently he's connected. well enough for some trouble i'd assume". 

which affirms the existence of the chevy. C47-6BQ, the plate number this echoing mantra about cody's thoughts. eager to remember it for use later. a beat of silence falling over them all as they load in the duffle bags. and what a coincidence it is, for the day to be overtaken by that edging smell of rain. not yet willing to unleash the brunt of it's power but settling to tease them all the same. 

"he was trying to set up a base of sorts near pensacola beach, dealing off the boardwalk and out of some local bars, pushing laced shit", dean goes. his vice president's patch catching cody's eye. black fabric sewn against a gray silver to spell out his rank. his thoughts rolling into words, never straying too far from roman's way of thinking. "our city has been free of the hard stuff for as long as we’ve been around. askin nicely didn’t work for this guy. we're just tryna keep our side of the street clean". 

seth nods, catching deans eye, though he's slow to do so. weary still, cody is sure. steve settling over cody, sharp eyes searching. a silent examination. looking for doubts, cody is sure of that too. but he gives nothing. says nothing. 

"an admirable act for sure", steve nods. his eyes appearing more gray than blue as they live under the cloudiness of the afternoon sky. cody feeling the brunt of them still, sharp cuts into the skin of his face. steve looking for an agreement maybe, or the sign of a grievance. and though the discontentment remains sure, cody's loyalty reigns better than the softer parts of him that work to veer off into less agreeable thoughts and ideas. and it will always remain that way so long as his leather sticks to his body. fraternal codes and all that jazz. never letting the outsiders know of such disagreements and presenting a united front. 

"im guessin we feel good about the merchandise?", steve asks. 

dean reaches out for a handshake as he goes to speak. cody and seth gesturing the same. "absolutely. beautiful stuff as always". 

"drop off is the same?'", steve making his way back slowly. 

"yes sir". 

"word of advice from an animal enthusiast", steve starts. slowly walking backwards to face them still. "no more of the fanfare theatrics. if you plan on puttin down an animal, a bullet between the eyes gets the job done quick and just fine".

a thing easier said than done. the free fall of those words—"gets the job done quick and just fine"—growing a torturous distance from the ability he had once upon a time, when such time was endless. because way back when, cody could feel that crunch of gravel beneath his feet everywhere he walked and thought himself untouchable. an inherited hubris for sure. leather over his shoulders like armor and the roar of his engine this endless war cry of invincibility. he took cuts and bruises and the slices of knives as easy as the road would the simple skid of a rubber wheel. but the days grow shorter here in this older age. the memory in his muscle though quick, not as quick to perform as it used to be. his head wild with the outburst of an aching almost always and his body tired. 

and although the trip from pensacola to marianna and back was a usual one, the ride this time seemed to be quieter. those piled up duffle bags of violent metal heavier and the doom in his belly rolling over harsher than normal.

but that burden in cody never eases, only ever turning itself into something different. the cloudiness of the day rolling over into the evening. the sharp smell of rain resting in the air still. teasing him. your house porch light glowing a warm yellow as he steps up to it. keys in hand and that swarming flutter in his belly. hunger and a not yet spoken into the air passion forming this terrible marriage under his skin. leather draped over it all like a second skin. 

he steps into the house, met with a savory warmth. something fragrant that eases the tension. his boots thudding softly over old hardwood floors. music low and melodic to fill in those pockets of dead silence. your maneuvers about the kitchen a little less than fluid. body still coming into a slow to perform remembrance after a great forgetting. 

but you hear him. throwing words over your shoulder. "leather off at the door please". something your mothers used to say to your fathers. trying their best to grasp at control over a life bigger than them all. 

and cody obliges. feels the domesticity of it running rife in him so much till it starts to smoothen out the ache in his head and the weight in his belly. "hey", speaking gentle. unable to help himself as a hand finds the hard work of your arm, a brief interruption where he squeezes tenderly to let you know he's there. "hey", you give back. similar in how warm and delicate it feels against the air. an arm curling his waist as you reach to kiss at that patch of skin thats too close to his mouth to be his cheek, but too far from his mouth to be anything more than what it is. that 'what it is', he has no damn clue. but it feels good. a little more than amazing maybe. 

he stands off and away enough to let you finish what looks to be a dinner thats a little more abundant in nature than he was expecting. leaning up against the counter as you dip a spoon through the heat of a thick gravy. "smells good".

"i hope it taste good", a thread of nerve weaving through as you scoop the spoon. "i haven't made a roast in a while but here, try this", giving up the silverware. leaving cody to nearly melt in the richness of it. reminding him of old times even. bloodline sunday dinners and the simple inconvenience of wanting to be anywhere but with his parents and their friends. "missing anything?" 

"a plate and a drink". 

you smile. reaching above in the cabinets for a yet to be opened bottle. the cold of cody's blue eyes slipping easy as they lay over the skin that peaks as your top rises up with the reach of your arms. and then the quick awkward look away, warmth in his cheeks as he feels the childish guilt of it. 

"is wine ok?"

"s'perfect".

and no he does not mean to stare so deeply. to emphasize the pronunciation of a word that implies such flawlessness, but it happens. makes that meeting of the eyes last a little longer. a lingering that works well enough with low playing melodies that it forces your tell. lip stuck between the pull of your teeth. turning back to the food that waits impatiently, seeking a reprieve. 

you push at him playfull. in a fashion that begs for the air to be a little more breathable again. "ok go sit at the couch", turning back to your accomplishment of the night. "i'll be there". 

a certain pride swelling in his chest as he makes way to get comfortable on the couch. effectively influencing your nerves enough to cause a little speechlessness was more than cody hoped for tonight. taking in the cleanliness of the living room as he waits. the space bursting with earth tones and splashes of green. the smaller details slightly different, but the feel of the house remains, even with the age of it. the glass of old framed photos clearer, having been cleaned. the boxes working to overtake the floor corners no longer there, the shelves decorated with what must be things collected from your time in new york. a small bowl of rings at the center of the coffee table catching his eye so much that cody reaches for it. carved silver rings he remembers your father wearing all the time. so much so that the impressions remained in his skin.

you bring the wine and glasses first. walking back for the plates. sitting a comfortable distance away from him on the couch. close but not too much. enough for the air not to be so thick and consuming. 

"you never told me how much i owe you for the alternator".

the sincerity of that making cody's eyes roll, albeit a little more playful than serious. his fork working over the plate to dig into it. leaving you to hear him hum with delight at the taste. "dinner makes us even". 

another smile riding through to stretch over your lips. a comfortable wordless air settling over. quiet enough aside from the low ride of the music for cody to notice the wane of his headache. never afforded the grace of a full reprieve from such a pain but here, now, it's the dullest it's been for sometime. and he doesn't necessarily want to do the work of thinking over exactly what that means but he can feel the beginnings of that truth. in the heat of his cheeks and the ride up of a tingling over his spine.

"i feel like fixin the car up for me is the latest thing in a long like of things you've done for me", your plate set aside on the coffee table. glass in hand and trying your best to meet his eyes. "i might be cooking for you for a while to pay you back". 

"if it's anything like this, i'll be over here all the time". setting his plate down next to yours. turning to face you more. "for real though, whatever it is, i'm here. i got you". 

and he isn't sure what of what he said does it, but something flashes through the brown of your eyes. like the quick burning soar of a celestial body. working hot to cover the space of your memory before it disappears. your mouth sipping at your glass again. 

"how's your mom?"

a piece of his curiosity cody has held off on revealing for a while till now. 

"she's good". a neutral expression. a less rigid disposition even. "spoke to her maybe three or four weeks ago". 

"did you tell her about coming back home?"

"we spoke about it briefly", your thumb rubbing over the body of the wine glass. "she didn't have much to say about it". 

"m'glad you both found some footing with each other". 

"yeah", you nod. lost in thought. an arm bending to rest up on the couch. you head falling into your palm. "i think after everything with my dad, the door opened up some for us, but a lot of things for me just changed really quick". the music you have playing, a sweet addition to your voice. your eyes finally meeting him. sincerity blooming full but with a pace that notes the fragility of its unfurling. "we sorta, kinda, reconnected after dusty went, but i think after my pops died i understood you a lot more". eyes nearly nailing into him now. a quick difference from the timidity of them just moments prior. "being in new york, i was used to living alone but not feeling that way y'know? like in the back of my mind when he was alive i could eventually just come back home to him, to everything...", your voice dropping off. 

a heavy sigh he can only imagine the weight of. sipping from your wine and resting the glass down before you finish your thoughts. 

"...what i'm trying to say is...is that you understood me in a way that felt good. i didn't have to explain myself because you just knew what it meant to lose like that". 

his hand reaching to hold over yours. body shuffling against the soft leather of the couch to get closer. a comfort he can't afford to deny either of you. thumb circling the skin delicately. a faint touch that waits for acceptance. and when it comes the embrace of your hands are full and nearly overwhelming. fingers tangling as they curl over one another sweetly. 

"it goes both ways though", he gives. "thats why it's so easy to talk to you". a beat of silence. his words so far from a full admission of feeling but the affects of such a release tear through him all the same. heart stuttering and his belly twisting. his hand in yours still, playing aimlessly against the skin. eyes trailing over all the free space. "how you holdin up here on your own? is the house too big for you?" 

and cody only forgets he's without his leather at the feel of your hand trailing up his arm. over the ways of old tattoos and muscle. a faint squeeze to test the strength of it that he can just barely make out. as if to examine a particular quality he has yet to figure out. your thumb pressing into the inner fold of his elbow. "i think i just need to get used to it again. my apartment in new york was small, so it was fine being by myself". your eyes fall over him. warm from the yellow glow of the living room lamps. feeling them drift to his mouth before they return quickly to his own eyes. "it's just a lot of stuff attached to this place. i just need to readjust, but m'pretty used to living alone".

"that doesn't mean you like it", he says. enjoying the soft touches to his arm still. 

"very true".

"let me know though if that changes. we can always find something else for you". 

you smile. "look at you being all worried about me". squeezing his arm playfully before getting up to take the plates back to the kitchen. giving him a much needed cut in such thick aired tension. 

"ice cream?", you call out. 

dishes and utensils clattering in the background. 

he sighs. needing nothing else. "m'good thanks". waiting for your return to the couch. 

a bowl and a spoon in your hand as you pad softly over back to him. legs pressing into the couch as you go to sit with your legs folded under. "can i ask something?" your eyes curious. slipping over him with some hesitancy. 

"shoot". 

your hand plays with the scoop of the spoon, dipping in before you go to taste it. a silence as you so obviously string together words. gears turning. "at the end of last year, you told me you were seeing someone. what happened to her?" 

"why?" 

"you talked about her quite a bit, was just wondering". 

and never has the admission of anything been so burdensome till now. a weight atop his shoulders threatening to fall into his body till it flattened him. crushing bone and that faithful spirit of possibility. cody could live with what if's, could live in the terrible purgatory of maybe's and daydreams. he'd been doing so for sometime even. settling into a comfortability so stagnant that it left him statuesque. but the room is laden with a melodic tune still, the forever ache about his head nearly done away with and the memory of your easy touch playing over thought. maybe now is the time. as he's so terribly subdued by the moment. maybe now is the chance to tether together the words always left unsaid. 

"you want the truth?"

your eyes flit to him. these little flecks of weariness. "why wouldn't i?"

he sighs. ignoring the twist in his belly. "at the top of this year you asked me to make copies of the keys to here because you were seriously considering coming back to florida for good". 

"i hadn't fully decided yet though". 

"the fact that you considered it was enough for me". 

"i see". 

your eyes on the coffee table. forsaking him. or thats what it feels like at least. an awfulness biting into him slowly. ripping into the skin where his stomach lives. his ears warm, the heat feeding into his face till it rises in his cheeks. 

"listen", cody starts. looking to salvage what he can. "i didn't mean to-"

a sugary vanilla taste slipping over his mouth. your lips quite cold but sweet. the abrupt feel of them softer than imagined. the fulfillment of such imaginings only coming into a full registering once the thick heat of your thighs set over. an easy maneuver to straddle him. your palms at his cheeks and your lips firmer. his tongue licking in slow. savoring the milky taste. a moan breaking up quick, his fingers running beneath your shirt to curl lazily into supple skin. working as an extension of memory. using his touch as a tool to stain himself with everything of you. and God does it feel good. relief washing him whole. a good sort of creep in his spine as your nails run at the nape of his neck. 

his arms embrace you more. the simple hold of your hips slipping into a hug of your body that fastens you to him. another moan filling up his chest before it leaves him, loving the little pick and tug your teeth give his lip. 

a phone rings. stutters the momentum of passion. 

you groan annoyed. hiding your face in the dip of his neck. 

"i think that's you", cody says. palms feeling up on your skin still. working beneath your shirt. getting used to the tenderness. 

you lift up from him. reaching for your phone to tug it out of your back pocket, answering quickly.

"hello", you give. "hello?" your eyes rolling as you end the call. "so damn annoying", you gripe. pulling away from him to sit back against the couch. 

his curiosity piqued. "whats the number?" 

"it's blocked". setting the phone down. mildly irritated. "thats the third time thats happened though". 

it's hard, not to immediately think the worst. "when was the last time?"

"on my lunch break the other day-"

"what day?"

the sudden inquisition of it all gets to you, but it all feels too convenient not to question. 

"i don't know cody", rubbing your hands over your eyes. "monday". 

another ring. clashing terribly against the mellow drive of the music you have going. whatever residuals of intimacy that still lived in the air, now done away with. this time the call blaring from his phone. a shrill noise that brings back the throb of his head ache. he answers quickly, standing from the couch and making way to the living room windows. a peak between the blinds to scope out for anything oddly placed. 

"dean", he gives into his phone. 

"cody quick question". the noise of paper flipping in the background over dean's voice. "i just turned down service on a chevy malibu, the plates looked phony as hell and the girl was being a bit of a weirdo when i asked for the vin. you work on any red chevy's lately?" 

"not that i can remember. you get the plate number by chance?"

"yeah, it was C47-6BQ". 

we gonna stop it there but yeah, the drama is gearing up. some roman next chapter i promise!

[thranduilland]

Crackfic idea. Dooku and Obi-Wan breaking into each others command ships to get drunk and commiserate over the Council’s stupid decisions. Dooku thinks he’s tricking Obi-Wan to the darkside and Obi-Wan thinks he’s tricking his Grandmaster back to the lightside... they’re both just tricking each other to Balance...

Dooku: Kenobi? Obi-Wan: I found your alcohol stash. *toasts with bottle of expensive brandy* Did you hear that the council made my teenage padawan a Council member but not a Master? Dooku: ... that sounds like something stupid that lot would come up with as a good idea. *frowning* I have glasses, you absolute animal. Obi-Wan: Whoops! Dooku, later at Sidious: I don’t know how he got in, Master! I don’t even know how he got out!! But I almost had him!!

Dooku: ... I had to sneak past your scarily competent second in command?! Obi-Wan: ... Cody? Dooku: I don’t know! They all look the same!! The one with your lightsabre... *pauses* why do they have your lightsabre? That weapon is your life, you know?! Obi-Wan: Oh, yeah, that’s Cody! Did you find the alcohol yet? Dooku: I found your tea stash. Why don’t you have brandy stashed with the tea? I knew Qui-Gon had a horrible influence on you but- Obi-Wan, later at the Council: Masters, I couldn’t say why Count Dooku was on my ship, what he was looking for, how he got in, or even really how he left. But he was certainly here. That I can confirm! Oh, and nobody died, so that’s something...

Cody, wandering in on Dooku bitching about the Council: ... General? Dooku: ... I’m not here. I was never here. No one was here. None of us were ever here. What... what even is here? Obi-Wan: Ssshhhhh, you’re drunk. ‘n’ Cody isn’t a snitch. Dooku: ... Cody: ... Obi-Wan: ... Doku: So.. anyway, did I tell about that one time when the Council-

[just-whatever-ig]

A comfortable Clone Commanders pile

Dedicated to: TyraCapulet

I was asked to write clone pile things. And I wrote this.

Rex knocked on the door of Fox's office. He had not been there often in his life, the dry and quiet hallways of the senate made him uneasy, his hands drawn to his hips like magnets.

There was laughter behind the door and a strained sound of someone before the door opened and he got greeted with Ponds’ gruff but giggly face. "Rexyyy", he grinned and slumped against the doorway, his breath carried the distinct smell of strong alcohol. "Are you guys getting dunked in there without me?", Rex raised an eyebrow and pushed past Ponds to find his brothers, Cody, Fox, Thorn and Colt - much to his surprise - huddled together on the floor. Most of them had already disposed of their upper armor.

"Reeeex", Fox called, almost throwing a small bottle at him that definitely contained said strong alcohol. Cody grinned, cheeks pink from drinking while Colt still seemed pretty cooled in his place behind Thorn's back. They all somehow already managed to lay on each other with nobody being the lowest. Impresive with only 4 people.

"Mind if I join?", Rex grinned happily as Ponds already helped him take off his armor. It would only get in the way uncomfortably. "Please", Thorn slurred and grabbed the bottle from Fox's hand to take a swig. He pulled a face and passed it on to Cody who screwed the lid back on. "What's the Rancor Commander doing here?", Rex pushed aside their legs to make space for himself and add himself into the pile.

"You know, vacation is a thing", Colt replied with a self-indulgent smirk. "You lucky fucker", Thorn commented with a snort. Rex snaked himself under Cody's legs with his head on Fox's soft belly - a clear sign for the lack of training his fellow brother got around here, forging the chancellor's signature instead of fighting. "Here, Rex'ika", Fox pushed the bottle into Rex's chest and he took his time to look at the tagless bottle. "What even is that?" - "Some super cheap backyard slobbery, it's awful", Ponds explained and pushed himself up to Cody's flank and probably back into his arms judging by the way Cody awaited him.

"Hey, Thorn", Fox uncoordinatedly slapped his brother in guards against the biceps, "When was this ambassador gathering again?" - "The one with La Pee Tou?" - "Yeah." - "Like... noon-ish?" - "Ah. Alright."

"Don't mind if I ask, who's La Pee Tou?", Rex questioned as he unscrewed the bottle and took a sup without even smelling, there was no use, his receptors had been burned to the ground by the last tear gas ambush on Polonio I. The liquor felt like he was swallowing down a rotgut made with gunship fuel. It burned his throat like fire and caused him to clear his throat a few times.

"Tou is an ambassador from the far outside worlds, even beyond the outer rim. They're interested in trading, or something", Fox explained and passed the bottle on to Colt who took a big swig before Ponds reached for it. "Fifth sector worlds? They do realize we're in war, right?", Cody snickered. "The shab do I know?", Fox threw up his hands and snatched the bottle from Ponds waiting hands to have another swig.

"Hehe", Thorn laughed lightly, "You won't believe what happened the other day." - "What?", Rex accepted the bottle once again. "This man, yeah, this man of a chancellor...", his voice was a mixture of exasperation and amusement. Fox burst out laughing. "Oh, riiight, I totally forgot 'bout that." - "Sometimes I think this man just wants to die. Like that one suicidal senator we had, you remember?" - "Lord Oberon?" - "Yeah. But like three times worse."

"Why? What did he do?", Cody chuckled. "You know, he's the chancellor, which means he gets a lot of death threats, most of them are just harmless little jabs but there was this one message that everyone of us said should be taken seriously because we don't want to take any chances. We tell him that, say that he should stay in his damn penthouse until we have clearance and all." Fox's laugh had almost become hysterical at that point, his stomach pushing up against Rex's head like a jackhammer. "What does this bloody idiot do - I'm still not over this stupidity", Thorn rubbed his face, "He legitimately dresses up as one of his body guards and sneaks out of the senate like a stupid little bitch." - "I love how he literally thought we wouldn't notice", Fox laughed, "Like, homie, what did you expect? Your bodyguards are like 5 miles taller than us. Don't you think we notice when they magically shrink?!"

"Did you call him out?", Colt asked. "Nah", Thorn snickered, "We want him to believe that we didn't notice." - "I want to know how often he's going to pull that off", Fox added, smirking into the neck of the bottle.

"Quick check-in, who's still bound to show up?" - "Nobody", Colt waved off, "You were the last." - "Oh yeah? Where's Wolffe and Bly? I mean, I know that Bacara's on Tamba IX." - "Bly is somewhere shagging his girlfriend." - "What?", Rex snorted, and made himself comfortable against the side of Fox's chest. "He'd protest loudly", Cody threw in, "But it's impossible there's not something between them. I mean, just look at her clothes." - "Yeah, she basically asks to be shagged, right?", Ponds added. "Are we speaking about General Secura?" - "Who else?", Cody grinned.

"Well, Commander Tano uses to wear rather.... liberal clothes as well, but we still get along on a very professional base", Rex argued. "Yeah, because she's like 3 standard years old", Ponds rolled his eyes. "She's actually older than us", Cody corrected neutrally. "What?!", was Fox's reply. "Yeah, but I'm still concerned for her most of the times. General Skywalker is so chaotic at times and she's such a teeny weeny little thing, I’m afraid she might get caught in the crossfire at some point", Rex sighed, "You know, she's my superior and older and everything but I just feel.... responsible."

"I totally get what you mean", Cody threw him a brotherly but slightly too strong punch, "Do you remember that few months when you still served under my command and Skywalker was still a commander himself?" Rex laughed. Yes. He did remember that time vividly with all it's craziness. "That must have been the worst time of your lives", Ponds commented. "You bet!", Rex spat out.

Thorn and Colt chuckled. "At least you work together with people who got a clue of what the shab is going on", now it was Colt's turn to throw up his hands in disbelief. "You won't believe what strange excuses some rookies come up with just to not be bound to do anything", he laughed lightly, "I once had a squad who all broke a bone on purpose to avoid being shipped out. You should have heard their stories, one of them said he fell from his cot. And another one 'slipped in the shower'." - "Oh, so they were lying?", Thorn asked. "Well.... one wasn't. One of them stumbled over some stairs and totally wrecked his kneecaps." That drew a round of laughter from the pile.

"Folks, guys, brothers, I have a good story as well", Cody flailed with his arm to get the next turn to speak. "Are you going to complain about General Kenobi again?", Rex predicted with an eyeroll. This was getting out of hand, Cody didn't even realize how lucky he was with the reserved and calm thinking Jedi Council member and not with an airhead called General Skywalker. "How do you even expect him to talk about anyone else?", Fox mumbled around the rim of the rotgut. "Force, you're so right. Cody, your Kenobi-stress-headaches have been replaced with an obsession. This is an unhealthy turn of events", Ponds teased, earning himself a slap against the chest.

"Alright", Colt rolled his eyes, "Tell us, then." Cody opened his mouth to speak but had to take his time to giggle first which immediately infected the whole group. Cody's laugh was rare. But ever the funniest, with a little snort in the beginning and the waving snickering in the end. "It was-", he had to pause again, "I'm wheezing, guys." - "Believe it or not, we noticed", Thorn commented dryly which set Fox off like a rocket for no reason whatsoever. "Impressive story, really", Colt took over from there and Rex had to shift his head because the constant thrashes of Fox's stomach were getting uncomfortable in his neck. "I really liked that middle part", Thorn continued, Fox was officially lost now. "Yeah, never have we heard of such stupidity before", Colt agreed and took another big mouthful.

"You didn't even hear the story yet", Cody whined between sobs and Ponds patted him on the head: "It's alright, Cod'ika, we don't have to if you're not ready yet." Fox let out a pitched, strangled scream and threw his arm over his eyes, his laughing already sounded more like crying in the moment. "Folks, guys, brothers", Rex called, laughing, "Have mercy, he's gonna choke." Fox made a night vision goggles sound before laughing his ass off again. "I think we broke him", Thorn said and received an approving clap on the chest from Colt.

Rex was beginning to feel warm in his skin. The alcohol was taking effect on him now as well but the happiness within the circle of his batchmates was definitely playing a factor in this. He felt like he never wanted to get up again, hearing Fox enjoy himself so much he'd choke on his own spit or Cody now quietly complaining to Ponds about whatever breakneck stunt General Kenobi had pulled off this time or Thorn audibly approving of the way Colt began to card through his thick, paling hair. Rex was happy here surrounded by his brothers in arms. He would never want to trade them for anyone else, not even Torrent Co, and those were a funny and chaotic little pile of ants. He smiled and closed his eyes then pressed his cheek against Fox's warm thigh. This was where he wanted to be right now and nowhere else.

"Rex's enjoying himseeelf", Thorn called out and now suddenly the attention was on Rex. He grinned at them a little sheepishly and tried to hide his blush in Fox's blacks. "Aww, what're ya thinking 'bout, vod'ika?", Colt asked and now even Cody and Ponds rose their heads to look at them. "Ah, nothing", he grinned behind flushed cheeks, "I was just thinking how lucky I am to still have you guys." That erupted a wave of hums and awws from his friends and Fox immediately opened his arms wide. "C'mere lil bro", he slurred and what else could Rex do but comply? He shuffled closer and placed his head on Fox's chest only to get swallowed up by comfortable arms.

He felt the pile tighten around him as the others tried to participate a little in the hug. Rex smiled into Fox's chest and closed his eyes again. "I love you idiots. From deep within my heart", he confessed. "You say that to every batch you've ever been in?", Colt joked and earned himself a slap from Thorn. "Stop killing the fucking mood, Colt", Cody complained. There was a hand between Rex's shoulders that started dragging their nails over his back, which caused comfy goosebumps to trail down his spine. He reached out with his own arm to follow the trail of the comfort bringer to find it was leading back to Thorn. He scratched lightly over his brother's shoulder before resting his hand there which soon was accompanied by Colt's much warmer hand.

A comfortable silence fell around them all and when Rex paid much attention to it he could hear the quiet scritching of Colt's nails on Thorn's scalp or the rub of a hand over blacks. Soon those sounds were drowned out, though, by Fox taking out his feels on Rex's buzzcut.

The even movement of blunt nails on his scalp and the slight fondle on his neck and the regular rise and fall of Fox's ribcage rocked Rex's dreamboat. What if, he thought, it could always be like this? To come home after a long, day of hard work and just lay down and be peaceful with each other. Oh, what wouldn't he give for that?

"I love you, too, brothers", Thorn mumbled after a while. "Mhm", Cody hummed approvingly followed suit by the sound of a kiss. Rex opened his eyes again to see who it had been but they were all laying there comfortably with their eyes closed and arms and legs wrapped around each other. A peaceful picture, laughing into the face of the war. Children, as they were. And he was part of this beautiful, comfortable home.

[ms-rampage]

The New Trainee

Summary: Paige, Kate and all the other hunters show Felix how to kill monsters. Monster Hunting 101.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Some language

Note: OC Felix Miller belongs to @the-chaos-siblings (also requested by him)

“Okay so the monster you saw us killed. That was a Wendigo, they’re pretty much humans that resorted to cannibalism, and turned into monsters” Paige tells Felix.

After he witnessed a Wendigo, and saw how they killed it. Paige and Kate along with everyone that lives on the compound showed Felix how to hunt, and kill monsters. 

“Humanoids that are tall and pale. A huge part of Native American mythology” Kate adds. 

“So fire and silver bullets kill them?” he asks. 

Both sisters nod, “Yep, they’re usually in groups, but they’re more likely to be by themselves” Paige tells him. 

Her husband Kenneth, along with their hunters friends/family Adrian, Cody, Mark, Martin, Nate and their mother Mandy walk into the living room.

“That Wendigo was living by itself, but I’m sure there’s more lurking out there in the woods” he tells them. 

“So what other monsters exist?” Felix asks, “Do vampires exist?! Werewolves? Demons?! The loch ness monster?!”. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes and maybe” Paige answers, “Unless it's freakin' Godzilla, it real!”. 

There were some “animal” attacks in the wood areas of Hope County, Montana, and everyone including forest rangers have concluded them as either bear, or cougar attacks, but the local supernatural hunters say differently. Because after Wendigo’s attack they leave nothing behind, and the campsite had some blood evidence, but no bodies of campers. The site was “too clean” for the Cult to have kidnapped any innocent “sinners”. 

“So I kinda know how to kill vampires” he tells them, but he has an unsure tone in his voice, “A wooden stake to the heart, holy water, sunlight and garlic”. 

They all exchange looks, knowing that’s how you kill them in movies, and it's a huge misconception. 

Kate awkwardly clears her throat, “Well umm, Felix, that’s actually a huge misconception. We all know in movies and tv shows. Killing vampires with a wooden stake or repelling them with garlic is actually false”. 

He looks at her confused, “Then how do you kill them?”. 

“Decapitation” Kenneth tells him, “You chop off its head, and that’s it”. 

Kate takes a seat next to him, “So we’re gonna start off with vampires, and how to kill them, and how they originated”. 

Paige clears her throat, giving him a lesson in Monster Hunting 101, “So as you may know, vampires live forever. Never age. Up until you give them a nice clean head cut. Vampires originate from the Alpha vampire, the very first of the kind. Progenitor of vamps. Killing them is easy, decapitation, but those bastards are fucking strong and fast. Sneaking little bastards”. 

“You can “cure” a vampire” Cody tells him, “Dead man’s blood. The blood of a dead person. It sedates them”.

“It doesn’t really cure them, it just makes them weak, and causes them pain without actually killing them” Ken adds. 

“Next!” Paige exclaims, “Demons! Corrupted human souls!. Twisted, perverted evil spirits! Ghosts with an ego!”. 

“Abominations” Adrian mutters before taking a sip of his whiskey. 

“There are many, different types of demons” Kate tells him, “There are the typical, everyday black eyed demons. Then there’s red eyed demons, white eyed demons, and yellow eyed demons. Princes of Hell, Knights of Hell. Crossroad demons. It’s all a goddamn hierarchy!!”. 

“Basically demons are human souls that were sent to Hell for whatever reason, and were left in the fiery pit to be tortured until there is no humanity left in them” Mandy tells Felix, “Turning them into demons. Direct opposites of angels”. 

“Killing them is very easy, depending on who and what type you’re dealing with. Holy water, salt and iron. Holy fire, hex bags and exorcism” Kenneth explains, “Are all all you need to deal with those bastards”. 

“A Devil's trap” Nate tells him, “Is what you need to trap a demon. It imprisons, binds and overpowers them. Most demons are unable to cross a salt line, but it can be used to harm them”. 

Felix is trying to process all this information, not even 10 minutes into “Monster Hunting 101” and he already feels confident on killing monsters. 

"Okay I'm starting to feel confident in this!" he tells them, "Where do find these monsters?!?".

“You may feel confident now, but these evil sons of bitches? They’re the worst!” Adrian says, before taking another sip of his whiskey, and filling his glass up again, "They're everywhere! Any small town. Like Hope County for example". He takes another hit of the alcohol, drinking it like water.

“Hey, hey cowboy shit, easy on the whiskey” Paige tells him, "Drink water for once!". He gives her a mocking look before drinking again. 

“Anyway! Werewolves are pretty simple to kill, silver bullets” Kate says loudly “Now ghosts are also very easy. They hate salt, and iron. If you want an evil ghost/spirit out of your house. You find the bones of the person, salt em and burn em”.

“Now if the person was cremated, you have to find something they love, something they held dearly to, and you destroy it” she adds. 

“We’re just teaching you the basics on killing monsters because there’s a lot of information on this crap” Paige tells him. 

“Okay so how did all of you get into this stuff??” Felix asks them, “How did you all discover these creatures??”. 

All the hunters exchange looks, “It’s a very long story, but to summarize our story. Our family has been a part of this whole game for 5 generations” the eldest Winchester explains to him.

“My family’s been doing this for 3 generation” Cody explains to him, “I’ve been hunting monsters since I was 5 years old”. 

“My family’s been loyal members of the Men of Letters” Martin tells him, “They do the same thing, track and hunt down monsters”. 

“Well in your case it's British Men of Letters” Kate tells him. 

“Pretty much all of us come from 3-5 generations of monster hunters” Mandy explains to him.

After getting to know everyone in the household, and now having the acknowledgement on hunting monsters. but Felix knows he’s gonna have to learn a lot from these people, and get used to the special weapons they use to kill these creatures. Learn how to speak, and read Latin and Enochian.

“Pretty much Halloween will be an everyday thing for you” Kenneth tells him, “Our lives are a horror movie”. 

With that all said, Felix has one hell of a journey into this life ahead of him. 

“Actually for great practice, we actually summoned a demon” Paige tells them, everyone looks over at her. 

“You did what??” her husband asks her, “You summoned a demon?? When we have our toddler and infant kids in the house?!?”. 

“Yeah but it’s fine. I have him trapped in the bunker. In the torture chamber” she tells them. 

Kenneth was always strict when it came to summon monsters in the house for training, or for getting information.

They go down to the bunker, into the chamber where they keep monsters and interrogate them. 

“Before I open the door Felix” Paige turns to him, “No, you can’t fuck it because its an evil entity”. 

He gives her a bummed out expression, “Then what has all this training been about??”.  

“Killing monsters” Kenneth answers. Patting his shoulder.

She opens the loud metal door, and they see a man tied to a chair, inside a devil’s trap. 

He lifts his head, with a smug smile on his face. “Well hello there red” he says to Paige with a teasing and cocky tone in his voice. 

“Shut up demon trash” she responds, throwing holy water in his face, making it burn. 

He growls in pain and also in annoyance. “Stupid human!”.

“She said shut up!!” Kenneth orders him, throwing holy water in his face again. 

Paige gets into the killing demons lesson. “Okay, so this thing on the floor is a devil’s trap. If the trap is broken, then this fucker right here will smite all of us”. 

“I will boil your flesh!” the demon growls at her, his eyes going black. 

“Anyway!” she says loudly, ignoring him and his threats, “There are many ways to torture demons. Like for example throwing holy water in their faces. It burns them, and they can’t cross a salt line”.

Kenneth goes to a table on the other side of the chamber, and brings over a variety of weapons, setting them down on a table next to his wife. 

“Demons also hate iron. Like holy water it burns them” she continues. 

Kenneth hands Felix a knife that can kill demons. A knife with a wooden handle, and a sharp blade. It looks like an ordinary hunting knife, but it can do great damage to demons. 

The blade can’t kill all demons, it can’t kill Knights of Hell, and Princes of Hell. Like Abaddon, Alistair, Samhain and Lilith.

“Now what you’re holding is an Ancient Demon-Killing Knife of the Kurds” Kenneth tells Felix.

“Or, you can just call it a demon killing knife” Paige corrects him, taking less time on saying the name, "Or just simply a demon knife".

“Ohh I see. He’s the new trainee!” the demon mutters, “How cute!!”. 

“Demons are cocky little bastards” Kate tells them, leaning against the chamber's doorway. 

“Oh Katie how ya doing?!” he asks, eyes blackened “I heard about your little boy toy Johnny Seed getting possessed by Saleos”. 

She scoffs, rolling her eyes “Yeah and what happened to Saleos afterwards?? He got casted out and sent back to Hell. He knew he fucked up when Lucifer punished his ass". 

“So you all do this for a living??” Felix asks them, "Do you ever tell people about this sort of stuff??"

“Yep! And nope because people tend to freak out if they were to ever find out about this stuff” Paige answers, “And now we’re showing you how to kill evil sons of bitches”.

“So take the knife and stab douchebag” Ken tells him, “Stab him right in the chest, or stomach. Wherever you’d like”. 

The demon starts to laugh, “He doesn’t have the guts to kill me!. He doesn’t-”. Getting cut off by Felix without hesitating, stabs the demon in his abdomen, doing a knife trick before stabbing him. Making the redish orange light come out of his eyes, mouth and the stab wound. They all look at him like proud parents. 

“Well shit” Paige chuckles, with a smile on her face. 

“I didn’t think you were gonna stab him” Ken tells him. 

“I think he’s ready for a real hunt” Kate tells them.

[generallynerdy]

And when I am called to quit this life, my feet will not spurn the sod (Cody X Fay)

Summary: Cody is dying. He can feel it. For a second, when a gorgeous, terrifying woman stands above him, he thinks that he’s hallucinating in his final moments. But then, she’s healing him. Fay is too late to save any of his siblings, but she’ll do her best to save this one commander. In the process, she finds something made of darkness in the man’s head, shrieking at her touch. Could this be a lead on the Sith Lord she’s chasing?

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Burns, Fake Character Death, Fix-It of Sorts, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Near Death Experiences, Mentions of Rako Hardeen Arc, Vomiting Word Count: 2,115

Author’s Note: this is the first of many star wars one-shots that won’t leave my brain,,,please don’t convince me to make any of them into a series because I’m a weak bitch and I probably will. I didn’t know Fay existed until I read a few fics with her and now I’m in love whoops. Title is from The Optimist, a poem by J. W. Hammond. WOW this is a rarepair, I actually think it doesn’t have any other fics on AO3? Wow. What have I done.

Read the rest of the series on AO3

*

Cody is dying.

He can feel it as easily as hunger or exhaustion, despite the ringing in his head.

The explosion was massive and he was at the forefront of it. No, wait, that's not right. He was the furthest from it. Why was he far away? The memory is fuzzy.

He gasps, pained, wheezing, as he tries to move, tries to speak. Fire crackles around him, smoke and dust filling the air. His lungs burn with it and he's certain there has to be something impaling him because it hurts more than just a bruised lung. Why does he know what that feels like?

The men. He was leading the men away when the explosion happened. There were mines in the ground, he didn't realise-- oh Ka'ra, how many are dead? How many--?

He tries to sit up again and stops, falling back when he hears screaming. It takes him a long moment to realise that it's his voice, his screams.

"Peace."

Cody thinks he's hallucinating it, maybe imaging the voice of an angel in his final moments. *He must be, he decides when a woman appears above him, her dirty blonde-- almost brown, really-- hair falling over her shoulder to reveal a pair of slightly pointed ears. Her eyes are bright despite the frown on her face, almost eerily so.

Cody doesn't know why he's imagining some sort of Sephi woman come to take him away. He generally finds the men of the species more appealing.

"Keep breathing, Commander," she tells him, her voice light and airy, but determined in a familiar way. "You'll be able to do it without it hurting soon."

Cody coughs a little, trying to ignore the taste of blood in his mouth and the fact that it's dripping down the side of his face, too. He can barely get in any air, but he tries to speak regardless. She can't be his imagination. No, she would've called him Kote, not by his title.

"Who--?" he tries to say.

"Shh, keep your strength," she murmurs.

He can't see what she's doing, but with a jolt of movement, the pain in his chest becomes stronger and he screams again, almost against his will. The thing that was impaling him is gone-- she removed it.

Panic rises in him. He’s going to bleed out. He’s going to die right now, right here, in this mysterious woman’s arms.

“Breathe,” she warns again, firmly this time.

Cody wants to laugh, wants to tell her she sounds like General Kenobi with that heartbreaking last-minute, death-bed hope. He usually has nothing to hold onto, nothing but the people around him and he holds them fiercely. If this were him, he would refuse to accept that Cody is slipping away, not until his last breath.

What he fails to realise is that this woman isn’t denying his death because she doesn’t want it to happen; she’s denying it because she can and will prevent it.

He flinches as best he can when he feels her hands peel apart his armour. It’s burned into his blacks and when it pulls off his skin, he wants to scream again but makes a weak, wounded noise instead. Then, her hands on his bare chest, fingers pressed against his wounds.

“Buy me a-- a drink first,” he wheezes out, chest heaving.

Her laugh is a song, which is a stupid, cheesy thought that sounds like something out of Rex’s holofilms. Cody almost wants to bleed out just for thinking it.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re exactly like your Progenitor?” she asks dryly.

He snorts. “He was the rough draft. I--”

The gasp leaves his throat without his permission, a flaring heat stretching out from where her fingers meet his chest. It surrounds his entire body, cradling him in a gentle heat and almost numbing his pain.

When it reaches his head, however, a stab of pain goes through his skull. He writhes with the wave of intense pain, vision going fuzzy with tears.

“Stop, stop, stop--” he begs, sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes out, moving to rest her hand on his face. “It’s not me.”

Her fingers are cold against the heat she’s brought on, ice-cold as they dance across his skull, seeking out the source of his pain. They stop on a spot on the right side and press firmly there. When Cody gasps again, she stops as quickly as she started and the heat recedes from that place in an instant.

“Let any Sith in your head lately?” she asks.

He shakes his head viciously. “No, no-- why?”

“We’ll worry about that later. Take a deep breath.”

Attempting not to focus on that worrying tone, Cody does as she says, inhaling as deeply as he can, though it hurts. The moment he gets a good breath in, the warmth intensifies.

His eyes widen, terrified, but then it’s all gone; the warmth, the pain, the dizziness, the fuzzy vision-- everything. He flings himself up from the ground, hand flying up to his head. His fingers still come away bloody, but he can tell the wound is gone.

“How did you--?” he starts to ask her. He sees her robes and stops immediately. “I didn’t know Jedi could do that.”

She smiles. “Most can’t, I admit. It’s taken me a long time to learn. Anything still hurt?”

He pauses, assessing, before finally shaking his head. “Thank you. Did-- did anyone else--?” He hesitates to ask.

Watching her face fall is a punch to the gut. “No. I’m sorry, Commander, but you were the only one still breathing when I arrived.”

Cody shuts his eyes tightly, willing away the tears that threaten to break again.

So many siblings. So many gone, all but him. It always seems to end this way, he thinks bitterly.

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,” he whispers.

He jumps when the woman places her hand on his, eyes opening. “Commander, I know you’re grieving and recuperating, but the Separatists will be all over this field soon. I have a request to make of you.”

Cody frowns. “General?”

“Ah, just Master,” she corrects, her smile a little sad-- something Cody has noticed with many Jedi when he calls them that. “Master Fay.”

“Marshal Commander Cody, of the 7th Sky Corps and the 212th Attack Battalion.”

Her smile widens. “Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’s lucky to have you.”

He glances at the ground, but only for a fraction of a second. “Thank you, sir, but I think it’s the other way around.” He pauses. “You said something about a request?”

“What I felt in your head...it was pure darkness,” Fay mutters.

She reaches forward again, the tips of her fingers on the very spot she’s speaking about. Cody finds himself leaning into the touch, reminded of the sharp difference between her skin and the heat that had come over him. He stops when she smiles a little at the movement, somewhat sheepish.

“Obi-Wan thinks I’m dead,” she says abruptly.

Cody blinks a few times. “Pardon?”

Fay sighs. “Myself and three other Masters faked our deaths so we could hunt the Sith Lord over Dooku. I think that they might have to do with whatever is in your head; it has the same darkness.”

He knows what she’s asking of him before she even finishes.

“You want me to come with you. If I disappear, they’ll assume I died in the explosion,” he works out.

Again, the smile that comes over her expression is sad. He’s clever, Fay thinks, like many of his siblings, but it doesn’t make her feel any better about the offer. She would never wish this fate on anyone, no matter the blood on their hands.

“I don’t want to take you from your family,” she admits, “but you may hold the key to finding the Sith Lord in your head, Commander.”

“I--” he pauses. “General Kenobi faked his death once. It felt-- It felt like the galaxy was ending. When he came back, I was...pissed. Couldn’t look at him for weeks. If I do the same thing, I don’t know if they’d forgive me.”

His thoughts drift to Rex. Rex would kick his ass for even thinking of pulling a Rako Hardeen.

And what about the other commanders? After Ponds...well, Cody doesn’t think they’d be able to lose anyone else.

But they could end the war. This is different from just catching a handful of bounty hunters trying to kill the Chancellor, this is saving the galaxy. What kind of soldier is Cody if he passes this up?

But what kind of soldier is he if he abandons his men?

(Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders.)

It’s not like he has much of a choice in this matter, though. He can’t exactly explain his miraculous survival of the explosion or the fact that he’s completely uninjured. What would he tell General Kenobi? That a long-dead Master healed him?

And how could he live knowing there was something dark in his head? Not ever finding out what it was?

“I’ll come with you,” he declares finally. “I need to know what this is. If it helps end the war, I have to.”

Master Fay grimaces. “You don’t have to do anything, Commander, if you don’t want--”

“I want to. I want to save my vode, sir. I can’t let this --” he gestures to the chaos around them, “--happen to any more of them.”

Fay lets out a deep breath. Cody is something. He and Obi-Wan must make quite a pair.

“Alright,” she says. “You’ll have to leave the armour; it stands out too much.”

He nods and takes her offered hand, standing with her. “I want to leave something for my brother, Rex. He won’t say a word, I trust him.”

“And I trust you, Commander,” she says with a smile. “I’ll contact the other Masters and give you a moment.”

“Sure, sir.” After a second, he clears his throat. “And, uh, Cody is fine.”

Fay hums. “Cody? You don’t have to call me sir. Just Fay. Or Master, if it physically hurts you to keep from using titles.”

Cody can’t help but laugh. “Thank you, Master. I’m glad we understand each other.”

*

Rex feels sick standing over the explosion site.

“Rexster? Rex?”

He snaps back into attention, finding a worried Ahsoka squinting at him. “Sir?” he asks, hoping it doesn’t come out as broken as he is.

Her grimace tells him that it does.

“We don’t know that he’s down there, Rex,” she says softly.

Rex swallows roughly. “Yeah.”

He’s trying to keep the hope, but it starts to fade with every step they take and every body they find. Not a single one of them made it out alive. He knows, logically, that Cody would have been at the front of the squad and the farthest from the explosion, but the damage is extensive.

“Sirs! Over here!” Jesse calls.

The sight of Cody’s armour, splattered with blood and reeking of burnt flesh, makes Rex gag. He has to rip off his helmet and duck away from the Generals, Ahsoka, and Jesse, retching.

When he returns, General Kenobi is kneeling beside the pile of displaced plastoid, grief etched on his face. He picks up a vambrace with shaking hands and lets out a weak breath. Ahsoka, meanwhile, sobs, letting General Skywalker pull her into his side.

Rex steels himself and moves toward them again, waving Jesse off when he gives him a concerned look. He kneels beside General Kenobi, who puts a hand on his shoulder.

He picks up Cody’s helmet, numb.

He can’t even find it in him to cry.

The Generals give him a long time there to think, to grieve. Jesse stays by his side, waiting and watching his six.

"Ni partayli, gar darasuum,” Rex says, finishing the remembrance. He holds Cody’s helmet in his hands, pressing his forehead against it in a Keldabe kiss. Despite himself, he chokes out; “Ni partayli, vod.”

He opens his eyes, meaning to pull the helmet away, and stops abruptly.

There’s something carved on the bottom of Cody’s visor, in Mando’a. Rex frowns. That’s a new addition, he’s pretty certain, at least since the last time he saw his brother.

It takes everything Rex has in him not to sob with relief when he translates it.

Cody is a stupid bastard and he loves his stupid bastard brother. He’s going to kill him.

Rako.

Fucking Rako.

“Wherever you are, I hope you know I’m gonna kick your ass when you get back,” Rex whispers to the helmet as if Cody is there with him. “And all the commanders are gonna help me.”

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

[crybabycounselor]

“We’ll be back home in the morning, I’ve got a surprise for you 💕”

Elise’s expression fell low at the dinner table. In one hand, she had a bite of Chili, and in the other, she had her phone hidden under the table, out of site of her foster family.

Honestly, she didn’t need to hide it, they didn’t really care, but she’d rather not get asked ‘who’re you texting? Is it Otis?’ then have to deal with somebody talking about Cody and Octavia’s wedding or the damn baby.

“cool.”

She smothered a sigh as she tucked her phone underneith her thigh, returning back to the barely eaten bowl of Chili. At this point, it’d gone cold, all thick from the crackers and fritos that had long ago absorbed the juices. Disgusting.

Her brow twitched as she looked down at it, gently poking it with her spoon. She gulped before taking a bite of the disgusting and cold dish, god, godgodGOD it tasted so bad. Why did Chili have to do this?

She didn’t wanna swallow, nope, nopenopennnnnnnope, her stomach would not allow. Plan B, grab your napkin, ‘wipe your mouth’, aaaand spit that shiiiiit out.

Lord, she felt like such a dick doing this, she hoped David and Gwen didn’t see that. (Maybe even Daniel, but like he’d give a shit, lol)

She looked back down to her thigh, feeling her phone vibrate underneith it. She’d check it later, he could wait. Her foster family talked amongst themselves, she felt so... Oh... What’s the word... Out-of-place with them.

She felt out-of-place with Cody and Octavia, too. Not like she had a place with them, they had their own kid now, and there was Cortex, Maven, too. Sometimes a few others... They do love taking in random teens off the streets.

Isn’t that ironic? Funny, even? Cody basically tired to kick her out at 14, now he’s taking in anybody with parental issues. Fucking lovely.

God, now her stomach was really churning. She squeezed her eyes shut and scooted back in her seat, reaching for her phone in one hand and her dish in the other, letting out a rushed “Dinner was great, thank you!” before anyone could slip any questions into the scene.

After dropping her dish into the sink, Elise dashed down the halls, heading straight for her room. She dared not to slam the door shut, but she did lock it behind her before flopping onto her desk chair.

Her room was kinda... Empty. Just a bed, desk, chair, and wardrobe. If she had to guess, it was probably a guest room/office before she “joined” the family. (Joined is used lightly here, she’s just here temporarily til somebody wants her. Or not. She’ll definitely be out of there by the time she graduates, though.)

The most “Elise” thing in the room she had was her old baby quilt and a hoard of stuffed animals she couldn’t even stand to look at in the moment. All just... Baby stuff...

She scrunched her nose, turning to look at her phone to see whatever Cody was bitching about this time.

“Miss you 😊”

Ugh. Quit it with the emojis, Dakota. 

She rolled her eyes and checked the groupchat, from the looks of it, Robin was at the store with her dad, and she was freaking out about all the butter options for popcorn. And how Otis would chime in about how his mom always gets the unbuttered kind and goes for the popcorn seasoning instead. Cool, cool.

Elise sunk back into her chair, looking around the empty feeling room with a disturbed expression painted onto her face. Through the walls she could hear her fa... She could hear everyone bicker. Conversations... Laughter... Jokes and general chatter, all like a family.

She lets out a sigh before she face planted onto the bed, letting her feet dangle off the edge as she groaned into the mattress.

God. This sucks. This sucks!!!

She’s nothing but a poor little orphan girl in a poor little orphan world. Pathetic, literally pathetic!!

She wanted to scream into her pillow or something, just something to get this out of her system. This was stupid, being jealous over everyone having a ‘normal’ family. Or maybe it was just the fact they had parents? Like she’d know.

She reached over for Joxter, the one stuffed animal she couldn’t bring herself to get upset with at the moment. She held him tightly against her chest as she screamed into the mattress, praying to any God that’d listen that nobody in the dining room could hear her.

She spent a good minute just screaming, she should have cut it short at some point, she was almost positive somebody out there heard her. But she couldn’t really bring herself to care at the moment.

She lifted her face, hot tears running down her flushed cheeks and leaving stains on the sheets below. She swallowed whatever she had left in her, opting instead to just lay in bed and to stare up at the ceiling as she held Joxter close for comfort.

She hicupped, blinking away the rest of the tears that threatened to flow overboard. Her screaming session was now melting into a quiet crying session, one that everyone was more used to.

Her throat stung, screaming felt so good but it hurt. The feeling of her knuckles going white as she clung onto the mattress, the burn in her vocal chords as they were worked, the gasp for air that immediately followed... Truely, it was an experience.

She looked back over to her desk, seeing her backpack slung onto the back of the chair... The backpack that had all of her homework... Her homework and that driver’s manuel...

She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut with her lips pressed together before she rolled out of bed to hit the books once again...

[onpurposebreezy]

CHAPTER 40

LORI

 I was in the living room hoping Cody would come in but he didn’t, I shouldn’t have ignored him like I was doing he was right I was wrong but the thought of him going to another woman’s party that he slept with made me so mad, I wanted to hit her in her face and I don’t even know her.

“I mean is that all he said you didn’t let him finish?” Zach helped me put my feet up.

“No I walked away I told you that”

“Oh wow”

“I hope he didn’t go to her house”

“I doubt it more than likely he went to our parents’ house to talk to our dad, doubt he went anywhere else” Kim moved around the livingroom sitting down.

“I feel so stupid I should have let him say what he had to say instead of being a bitch now I just wanna be in his arms and hear him out we was having such a great time”

“I’m sorry sweetheart” Josh says as he pats my foot. “But I wanna know Ms. Kim is how did you find out about them and your so cool with it”

“It’s simple at first I didn’t know anything and when I would walk into the room I just would think they was just hanging out but then the more and more I was around them I knew something was up the day I called her a semi virgin when you left and didn’t come home, I never seen Cody so worried he stayed up all night stayed on the couch and then when you finally did come home you both was mad at the same time avoiding each other than after a while yall both was happy again and talking to each that’s when I knew it so I had to find proof and I did when I came home seeing the back was set up for Netflix and chill session was one proof but I needed hard proof and I got it when I saw yall kissing in the kitchen when yall thought I went upstairs and I didn’t so I always knew and it felt good to know for sure but since yall didn’t wanna tell me I push other people off on yall, my own enjoyment.”

“You caused us to break up for pushing Miles on me and we end up kissing”

“I know I’m sorry about that I didn’t think that was going to happen that was not my plan when I push him to you”

“I know” we hung out for about an hour or 2 until I got sleepy and I went to bed after sleeping for 3 hours I got up because I had to use the bathroom after using it I left the room going to Cody’s room I heard the shower going and I sat on the bed waiting for him to come out so we can finally talk I was glad he came back.

The bathroom door opened up and he walked out with a towel around his waist, he walked to me and lifted my face and kissed me I gladly kissed him back.

“I don’t like fighting with you and if I didn’t love you and wanted your trust I wouldn’t have told you I could have just went and never said a word”

“I know I believe you and I’m sorry to but did you have to shower you could have just went all funky”

“Yea but I need to smell good for me, smell me” I sniffed him and put my finger in his belly button and he giggled moving my finger.

“You smell good”

“New body wash I thought you would like it” I watched him go into his closet I guess to get dressed. We talked about the baby and just baby stuff in general when he came out all dressed.

“You know you didn’t have to match either”

“Come on I’m not going out nowhere tacky”

“That’s the whole point; did you get her a gift?”

“Yea it’s in the box on the bed” I turned around and picked up the box took a few deep breathes then opened it.

“Wow nice really nice you sure nothing is going on between yall anymore this is a very expensive Cartier love bracelet. Rose gold these are not cheap at least $1000 maybe more what did it cost?”

“Do you really wanna know?” he looked at me going to his dresser putting his jewelry on.

“Yes I do” I closed it putting it down on the bed.

“Less than the ones I got you cost”

“You got me? Really not the same one”

“Nope” going in his draw he pulled out a box and turned to me opening it.

“Wow all 3 are mine?”

“Yes ma’am I was going to give it to you earlier but we had a fight”

“Wow thank you baby” I leaned up and kissed him then I thought about how much it must have cost. “How much did it cost tell me I wanna know”

“You got at least 21,000 in your hands” I almost dropped this baby on the floor I handed him back the box after closing it and backing away.

“I can't that’s too expensive please take it back and hers too” I got her box handing it to him, he just laughed putting one box in his pocket and handing me the other one with a kiss to the palm of my hand. He pulled me to him hugging me tight kissing my forehead then resting his head on mine.

“Nothing in this world is too expensive for you; I’d lay my world at your feet”

“Cody” I squeezed him to me.

“I miss your touch, the smile on your face and the sound of your voice so sweet

I love as the day ends, to lie in each others arms, to kiss you and to feel your heart beat

I love to feel you in my arms as you sleep so peaceful and sweet

The warmth of your body, the smell of your perfume and to feel your heart beat

To see you in the night, in the light of the moon for you are so beautiful

Your love, your warmth, your laughter, your touch fills my heart so full

My one desire is to love you so much that you never have doubt

The love that I feel for you is so overpowering that at times I want to shout

I want to shout out that I love you and I adore you

I want the world to hear me praise and love for you

I wish that I could lift you to the stars above

I know that you were sent by God to me with love

I adore you not only for only your beauty but for what you have shared with me, your love

You are a beautiful person whose inner beauty is like that of an angle from above

I praise you as my girl, a girl more perfect than any other

I look at you and see a special person, one of a kind

God has blessed us all and me especially with a girl so fine

Together we have stood for each other

I can only love you and never another

Please know that I love you for all that you are and all that you give

I promise to love you, hold you, adore you and praise you for as long as I live”

I broke the hug and looked up at him and his face said it all.

“Cody please”

“I love you” he got down on one knee and opened a small box I was breathless at the sight of the ring looking back at me. He’s serious about us!!

[oddsnendsfanfics]

But That Makes You Family Pt. 3

Genre: Fan Fiction (Animal Kingdom) Pairing: Craig Cody/OFC Warnings: Drinking, Death, Sexual Content, Language, Drugs Rating: R Length: Chaptered Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Once again thank you for those who have given feedback. 

Catch Up Here

“Olivia has been avoiding me.” Craig made his declaration, hands on his hips.

“Can you blame her?” Pope looked over his shoulder at him, little to no interest in his tone.

“Dude, she's been busy. Lay off.” Deran defended, as Craig knew he would.

“Busy? Ah yeah?” Craig pressed, leaning against the counter top, he singled out Deran. “And how many times have you saw her, since she was here? Huh?”

Deran had met Olivia the last three mornings, the surf was good, and they'd had a standing appointment with the cove. Craig knew it, everybody knew it. They had been meeting there since they were kids, setting out before the sun was up.

“Once or twice.” Deran shrugged.

“Once or twice.” Craig repeated, his annoyance growing. She'd told him that they would discuss him meeting Corbin, how were they to discuss shit if she didn't return his calls. “And how many times have you saw Corbin?”

“Once or twice.” Deran kept his answer.

Cornering Deran had been the only way Craig knew how to deal with the news Olivia had delivered, since then Craig had been doing everything he could to try and intentionally piss off his little brother. Whatever, Deran had better things to do than watch Craig throw a tantrum. If he wanted to see his kid, the rules were simple. Grow a pair. Get somewhat sober. Go see him.

“Once or twice. That's real fucking nice.” Craig slapped his hands together.

“If you're that upset go talk to her.” Pope chimed in with the obvious. Craig obviously knew where she was. “Stop being a big baby and go talk to her. But be nice, otherwise you're going to ruin it.”

Pope's advice to talk with Olivia had been straightforward and didn't leave much room for interpretation, unless you were Craig. Parked on the side of the street, he had a clear view of the house. Parked next to the garage on a spare patch of land was a small air stream trailer, a jetset blue Jeep Renegade – with Connecticut plates. A well manicured lawn with the perfectly maintained walk way made the two story house look homey and inviting.

Through the windows Craig couldn't see too much, only a few shapes and shadows through the sheer curtains that were expertly covering the windows. If he sat here long enough he may gather the courage to text Olivia, asking her to come out and meet him.

He'd invite her out, driving down to the strand, or maybe they'd drive and drive until they reached he hills. He'd vent about Smurf and J, tell her about life in general, and how much he had missed her. In return she'd tell him about life on the east coast, how she missed him, and what she hated the most about winters. They'd be free and able to talk and talk. Eventually, he'd ask about Corbin and Olivia would tell him everything he needed or wanted to know. Craig would turn around, driving her back, before he left she'd lean over the side of the scout and kiss his cheek. Waving him off in the rising sun.

Holding his phone, Craig sat watching the house. What if he asked her to come out and she didn't want to see him?

Lime green wasn't the best colour to try and hide, especially sitting on the side of the cul-de-sac. Craig Cody had never been the brightest man, despite that, he was a career criminal surely he had enough sense to know they could spot him from space in that thing. Had his mother taught him nothing?

It was getting late, the sun had set and the sky was that rich blue that crept into black, the first few stars of the night were beginning to show. He had been sitting there for the better part of two hours, Craig wasn't known to be a patient man.

“Olivia.” her mother sauntered into the den where her daughter and grandson were on the sofa, watching whatever sitcom was currently running. “Mind taking out the trash?” She nodded toward the door. “Now?”

“I can do it.” Corbin sat up.

“No, you're going to get ready for bed. I'll do it.” Olivia kissed the top of his head, messing up his shaggy brown locks. She had been at him for months to cut his hair, but he liked it long. The apple didn't fall far.

Glancing out the window, Olivia sighed. She could have gone out by now, she should have gone out by now. Craig was stupid enough to sit on the side of the street, no doubt having put a pound of coke up his nose by now, waiting would do him some good.

Across the street the door opened, a quick flood of light emerging from the house, in the middle was a distorted shadow, and then the porch light illuminated the front of the house. Motion censored. Craig should have known, Carolyn Bridges was always a bit of a hippie. One of the keep the planet clean and energy efficient types.

Through the shadows of the street lights, Craig shifted uneasily in the driver's seat, he had a clear view of Olivia. Marching toward him, her eyes locked on his the closer she got. Wrapped in a soft shawl, her flip flops smacked against the pavement on the way to the car.

"When did you take up stalking?" She asked tapping the hood of the scout.

Sitting up, Craig leaned over the door, his hair partially blocking his view. "I was in the neighbourhood."

"Sure. Right." Olivia nodded halfhearted. "Get out of the car, Craig."

Olivia stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for Craig. He was moving at a snail's pace, for somebody with legs that long he sure took a while. Standing beside the scout, Craig shoved his hands in his pockets waiting for the scolding.

"Come on." she nodded toward the air stream parked in the corner of the yard.

“Huh?”

“Come on, I want to talk. But not out here.” Olivia gestured to the wide open street. In code it meant she didn't want nosy little boys gawking out bedroom windows. Olivia was buying her time on Craig and Corbin. Craig could be staved off until the right time. Corbin on the other hand was best left in the dark, until the time was right.

“He's home?”

“Yeah, but you're not going inside. Not right now.” Olivia pulled a key from her pocket, unlocking the trailer.

“Nice set of wheels ya got.” Craig commented looking over the small Jeep.

Olivia hummed. She liked it. “It got us here, it'll get us home. Gas is great in this thing.”

“I can't believe you drove from fucking Connecticut? Are you insane? What if you'd broke down?" Craig turned, looking down at her.

Olivia sighed, rolling her shoulders to relieve the tension that was mounting. "But we didn't. Besides, if we had I would have called triple A."

"You couldn't be normal for once in your fucking life? Who takes a kid, an old trailer, and drives them across the country?"

"You'd be surprised how many people drive across the country. It's a great way to spend a summer vacation, besides this isn't old. It's vintage. And who are you to talk? Huh? You do shittier things every day, need I remind you that is why I have custody and you have never been allowed to meet my son?"

"Our." Craig mumbled, wisely shutting his mouth when Olivia glared at him.

Not another word, Craig ambled into the trailer behind Olivia. Stooping to clear the ceiling, they did not make these tin cans for tall people. Inside was cozy, if Craig were the type to use that word. A large bed lined the back wall, with a bunk in the front. Cupboards, a sink and stove lined one side. A small table with bench seats and a fridge along the other. The bright yellow and white paint scheme were set off by rich reds and warm browns. Craig was impressed.

“Welcome aboard.” Olivia moved some magazines off one of the benches making room for Craig.

“It's...nice.” Craig commented flopping onto the bench, the cushions were thick and comfortable. He thumbed through the stack of magazines on the table, gathering that they had been brought to entertain Corbin. There was a lack of electronic entertainment in here.

“Thanks, my dad helped me restore it. We took it all back to the original interior, only took six months.” Olivia boasted. “This is the first time we've had her out, really had her out.”

Craig lazily nodded, flipping through the latest issue of Motocross Action. Olivia had always bitched and whined about his bikes, she hated them. Craig had heard every excuse.

“Ugh, Corbin is obsessed with that magazine.” She groaned shaking her head.

“Does he have one?”

“Fuck no.” Olivia scoffed leaving her post holding up the counter. What kind of mother did Craig think she was? Smurf? Hell no. She had sense. "So," Olivia stood on her tip toes, reaching into a small space over the cupboard. Craig leaned back on the bench seat, enjoying the view. It was a rookie move, watching her shorts ride up. "May I ask why you're casing my parent's house?"

Grunting she gave a small jump and snatched the baggie she had been feeling for. Clutched in her hand, Olivia smiled triumphantly, showing Craig the bag of loose green. Sliding a pack of papers from her back pocket, she made herself comfortable on the other side of the folding table.

"I wasn't casing the place." Craig placed a shiny zippo on the table, his offering to the cause. Olivia's tongue darted across the edge of the paper, expertly rolling the joint. Her silence was stronger than words.

“My mom said she saw Pope, not long after Baz,” Olivia didn't bother to finish the sentence. What Carolyn hadn't told her daughter was that she saw the eldest Cody often. Andrew would come by the coffee shop that Carolyn owned. Once a week he would come in, sit in the same corner, and have his coffee.

“He told her that you were in Mexico. Doing a job?” She wasted no time getting to the good stuff.

Deran would tell her what Craig was up to, when she needed to know. Or if it was something that would suddenly leave her son fatherless, in another sense of the word. Most of the time, Olivia didn't want to know what they Codys were up to. If anything went sideways, she was better off never knowing. Mexico had never come up during her calls with Deran.

If Craig missing for a few weeks didn't filter into conversation then it meant one of two things. He was doing a job or there was a woman. Craig and Olivia were long over, never to begin again; Deran had decided that keeping those details from Olivia were for her own good. In some twisted way.

“Nah.” Craig answered shifting around out of awkwardness. “I was down there trying to get a business going, tequila.”

“A tequila business? Really? Wow.” Olivia laid one joint on the table, rolling another.

“Yeah, a friend and I went down. Didn't really get anything off the ground, but that's business.” Craig scratched his nose. He hadn't told Olivia about Renn and he sure as hell wasn't going to tell her about Nicky, although he was sure Deran had told her plenty.

“A friend.” Olivia wiggled her eyebrows. “Female friend?” Craig blushed whether he was aware or not. “Ah! You got a girlfriend, you're not telling me about, Craig Cody?” She teased.

“You uh, you seeing anybody?”

“I've had a boyfriend here and there.” Olivia answered sliding the first joint across the table. “You know how it is, every now and the you need to scratch that itch.” she winked.

“They all okay with Corbin?”

“Of course, I wouldn't bother to have someone around if they weren't good with him. Or if he didn't like them.”

“Good.” Craig's brow was furrowed and his eyes on his hands. “I'm never sure what to tell people, guess I don't tell them anything.”

“So you've never told your girlfriend? What's she going to think?” Olivia wasn't entirely surprised that Craig would keep this detail to himself.

“Naw, she isn't the mommy type. She wouldn't be a bitch about it or to him, but she isn't into the whole happy family, let's have kids thing. You know?” Craig tapped his knuckles on the table top. “Besides, we're not serious and she's out of town.”

“Hmm.” Olivia hummed picking up the joint and lighter.

She had never wanted to be that type either, funny how things change your plans. Lighting the joint, she waited for the right moment to take a puff.

“You been at Smurf's much? I thought about dropping by the other day, but wasn't sure you'd be there.”

Craig barked a laugh. He had been avoiding Smurf's as much as he could, all while watching the place like a hawk. Coming home to find Deran's father there had thrown a wrench into everybody's plans.

“Fuck no. I know that Deran talked to you and..."

"I know about Billy showing up." Olivia exhaled, the pungent smell of weed filling the trailer, in a white cloud. "Deran told me."

"Yeah, well, it's not a good idea for you to come around, Livvy. Not while that asshole is there."

"Then I won't come by the house." Oivia shrugged passing the joint to Craig.

Craig never thought he'd see this scene again, sprawled out with Olivia, huddled up in some space hiding from the outside world. A joint being passed back and forth between them, while all of their troubles left.

"Smurf if going to shit a brick, having Billy in her house." the idea of Smurf having no control over her household was tickling - perhaps it was the high.

"The good news is, she won't be worried about you showing up, now."

"Smurf doesn't have to worry about me. I don't want trouble, I'm simply here on vacation with my son." a coy smirk crossed Olivia's face. “You know that I'm harmless.”

Craig rolled his eyes. Olivia was harmless in the way a spider web was to a mosquito. She was there, taunting and waiting, one slip and you were caught up. She knew too much and Smurf didn't have the balls to do a damn thing about it. Not even Smurf was willing to cross the step-daughter of a District Attorney. Olivia had solidified her spot in Smurf's good graces, when she had her step-father go to bat for Pope. Andrew got off light with the jail time that he'd done, all thanks to Doug Bridges.

“Corbin and I are here for a nice vacation. I don't care about Smurf and her shit. If it weren't for Corbin, I doubt I'd even have the time for you.”

"Were you serious about me meeting him?" Blue eyes hooded and sincere, despite the glassy high. Craig wrinkled his nose, taking another puff from the joint, holding it out to Olivia. “I want to meet him, Livvy. Let me fucking meet him.”

Tilting her head to take a closer, more in depth look, Olivia took a puff, holding the smoke in her lungs. Blowing out a breath of smoke, she could see it now. The resemblance between Craig and her son. Corbin had the same hooded eyes, bright blue and sparkling. His nose and smile, all Craig. Even his wild mess of long hair, was Craig.

"Yes, but first there are some rules." Olivia leaned forward, hovering over the table and Craig. "It's late, we'll talk about this later. Go home."

Standing Olivia walked to the door, pushing it open with a grunt she stood holding the metal door. Taking the hint Craig slowly gathered himself and rose to his feet, stooping until he was out the door and could return to full height.

"Can I..."

"Night, Craig." Olivia waved and pulled the door shut.

Left in the yard, Craig cursed and kicked at the paved drive way. So that's how she was going to do this? Invite him in and then toss him out? Who did she think she was, anyway?

@noobchic, @ivarlothbroks, @sparklemichele, @klinger-verseau  , @hows-my-hair  , @grungyblonde , @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly - if anybody else wants a tag, feel free to ask :)

[showmeurmoves]

WWE: Out of Business ch.6

@rocketgirl2410

The superstars met up at the usual warehouse where Shane McMahon was standing at the podium.

“We’ve hit a major milestone. As of today, we’ve made a million dollars,” said Shane.

The superstars cheered and began hugging each other.

“Before we end this meeting does anyone have any questions?” asked Shane.

Kevin Owens raised his hand.

“Does anybody know where Vince is?” asked Kevin.

Triple H, Shane, and Stephanie all shook their heads. Another superstar raised their hand.

“If you say anything about my dad doing porn I swear your contract won’t be renewed,” Stephanie said angrily.

The superstar quietly put his hand down. Seth Rollins walked into the warehouse. His shirt was torn and he was covered with bandages.

“Damn, what happened to you?” asked Kevin.

“I got mauled by a demon dog at work!” yelled Seth.

He sat down and took off his hat.

“I hate working at PetSmart, and I’m not even making any money,” said Seth.

Xavier Woods sat next to Seth.

“You should start a YouTube channel and make money off that like me,” said Xavier.

Bayley became interested and scooted forward.

“Can you really make money from YouTube?” asked Bayley

“If you hit a certain number of subscribers. Then you can become a full time YouTuber and start getting paid for your videos,” Xavier explained.

There was chatter amongst the superstars with ideas on how they can use social media for profit. Some of the women discussed using their Instagram for sponsors and others talked about using their twitter accounts. The Revival came up with an idea.

“Maybe we should start a YouTube channel,” said Dash Wilder.

“That might be a good idea considering neither of us found jobs yet,” said Scott Dawson.

“Let’s look at some videos to get some inspiration,” said Dash.

They took their laptop and went to the corner. They spent hours looking at videos of different of wrestlers and non-wrestlers.

“Hey, the Bella Twins have a channel,” said Scott. “Let’s see what they got”.

They clicked on a video with a thumbnail of Brie.

“I’m going to change Birdie’s diaper,” said Brie in the video.

“Never mind, I don’t wanna see that,” said Scott before turning the video off.

They continued to scroll down the page.

“Hey, look there’s a video with Cody Rhodes in it,” Dash pointed out. “Let’s see what he has to talk about”.

They clicked on the video.

“Fuck The Revival!” yelled Cody in the video.

The Revival blankly stared at the screen.

“Oh, hell no” said Scott and Dash.

Finn Balor and Sami Zayn were on their way to the warehouse to train. Since there were no meetings they figured the warehouse would be empty. When they got inside they saw The Revival with The Uso’s and Elias Samson with recording equipment.

“What’s going on here?” asked Sami.

“Cody Rhodes made a video about us so we’re going to make a disrespectful song about him,” explained Dash.

Finn and Sami looked confused.

“What?” asked Finn.

“He means a diss track,” Jey Uso clarified.

“Just warning you, this is not going to end well,” said Jimmy Uso.

“I know what I’m doing,” said Dash. “Now turn me up in the headphones”.

Meanwhile, The Young Bucks were in their hotel room watching YouTube videos. Cody Rhodes came and sat with them.

“What are you guys watching?” asked Cody Rhodes.

Matt and Nick Jackson turned the laptop over to him.

“You definitely need to see this,” said Nick.

Cody looked confused at the screen.

“Cody Rhodes diss track?” he read.

Cody clicked on the video. The video showed Dash Wilder and Scott Dawson in an empty warehouse with headphones rapping into a mic. Elias Samson was behind them strumming a guitar.

“You went and dissed us on your video. Now you gotta pay” Said Scott Dawson before the beat came on. He rapped to the beat of “Charlie Sheen” by Lil B.

“Mr. Gingivitis (needs a new crest) Your breath kicks, smells stank like Roto Rooter Pose in pink panties like a hoe (in your pictures) You ain’t got no teeth (eat Gerber) Breath stank like a sink in a small shack You need teeth, to eat a big mac You go both ways (like Trey Songz) You like a Hostess (with a ding dong)”

Matt and Nick Jackson laughed while Cody watched in horror. The song continued.

“Pour ketchup, on your salty fries Sesame seed on a bun for the pregnant guys Tell your friends Matt and Nick to move over You ain’t got no teeth (eat Gerber) You go both waaaays like Trey Songz You like a hostess (with a ding dong) Tell your friends Matt and Nick to move over You ain’t got no teeth (eat Gerber) Fuck Cody Rhodes”.

The beat finally went off. Cody was enraged while the Young Bucks were laughing.

“Can you believe this bullshit?! We have to do something about this!” yelled Cody.

“What do you mean ‘we’ have to do something?” asked Nick.

“He dissed you, not us,” said Matt.

The video still had a few seconds left.

“And Fuck the Young Bucks too” said Dash.

Now Matt and Nick were upset.

“Oh no, we’re gonna get them,” said Nick.

Back at the warehouse, Triple H gathered the superstars together for a meeting.

“We have a serious issue to talk about,” said Triple H.

Triple H pulled out a laptop and went to YouTube. He played a video and turned it towards the superstars. The video had Cody Rhodes and the Young Bucks in a recording studio.

“So The Revival thought it was cool to diss us?” said Cody. We’re gonna show them a real diss”.

Cody rapped to the beat of “Black Friday” by Lil Kim.

“Who the fuck want war? Fed-Ex beef straight to your front door It'll be a murder scene, I'm turning your payday to Friday the 13th. Aight you Revival clowns, All this buffoonery shit stops now Time for you to lay down, I'm sick of the fraud, I put hands on these bitches like a spa massage We all know your look is what got you your job, You's a put together gimmick, somethin’ like a collage. Since you're putting on a show you gon’ get the applause - Clap clap with your frame like a fucking garage (Yeaaaah) This rap shit, Scott and Dash ain't built for -- This the shit the other bitch almost got killed for I'm still counting what Hard Core generated Bet my shit keep spendin’ like a syndicated Corny broads, I leave you bloody like you menstruated You hot air ass bitchs shoulda BEEN deflated. This ain't a championship fight, I BEEN the greatest Fuck the Revival”.

The video finished and Triple H closed his laptop.

“This video has already gone viral. Something like this could make the company look bad. How the hell are we supposed to fix this?” Triple H asked glaring at The Revival.

“We could diss them back,” answered Scott.

“That’s what got us here in the first place,” said Stephanie McMahon.

“We told them this was a bad idea,” said Jimmy Uso.

“I say we just ignore it,” suggested Stephanie. “We don’t want to risk starting a rivalry with another company”.

“Maybe a rivalry isn’t a such a bad thing,” said Shane McMahon. Everyone in the room looked at him with confusion.

“Remember how popular our company got during the Monday Night Wars? The competition brought ratings to both companies, until WCW went under. This rap beef might help us,” Shane explained.

Triple H took a moment to think about it.

“You know, it’s so crazy it just might work” said Triple H. “We’re gonna diss them back”.

Scott and Dash’s eyes lit up.

“Not you guys though. Your diss sucked,” said Triple H. “Finn, AJ, you guys are gonna do the diss”.

Finn looked confused.

“Why us?” asked Finn

“You guys used to be in the Bullet Club, so it makes sense,” answered Triple H.

“Can they even rap?” asked Stephanie.

“It doesn’t matter, we’ll just hire ghostwriters” answered Triple H.

A few days later some of the superstars were at the warehouse writing the next diss track.

“Check out this line right here. This bar is dope” said Finn. He showed the paper to AJ. Sasha Banks rolled her eyes.

“How did we get roped into this?” asked Sasha.

“Shane promised screen time to anyone who helped write the song or showed up in the video. And you actually agreed to it,” answered Bayley. Bayley turned to the Uso’s.

“Thanks for helping us write most of the song,” said Bayley.

“We’re just doing it for more screen time when the company starts back up” said Jimmy.

“But I’m letting you guys know, this is a terrible idea” said Jey.

Finn Balor and AJ Styles response was posted on YouTube. Finn mostly rapped while Sasha and Bayley posed in the background. Finn rapped to the beat of Stupid Hoe.

“I get it cracking like a bad back Cody talkin he the king when she looking like a lab rat We Angelina, ya’ll Jennifer Come on bitch, you see where Brad at?

Ice my wrist-es then I piss on bitches You could suck my diznick, if you take these jizzes You don’t like them disses, give my ass some kisses Yeah they know what this is, give bitches the business

Cause I pull up and I’m stuntin but I ain't a stuntman Yes I’m rockin Jordans but I ain't a jumpman Bitches play the back cuz they know I’m the frontman Put me on a dollar cause I’m who they trust in Ayo AJ, what the fuck’s good? We stay winnin gold, them bitches winnin wood Them nappy headed hoes, but my kitchen good I wish I wish I wish I wish a bitch would

You a stupid hoe, you a you a stupid hoe You a stupid hoe, you a you a stupid hoe You a stupid hoe, you a you a stupid hoe You a stupid hoe, yeah you a you a stupid hoe You a stupid hoe, you a you a stupid hoe You a stupid hoe, you a you a stupid hoe You a stupid hoe, you a you a stupid hoe You a stupid hoe, yeah you a you a stupid hoe”

Cody and the Young Bucks watched in horror as AJ Styles went up for his verse.

“Look Cody, go back to ya habitat Adam Cole gone and I ain't havin that How you gonna be the stunt double to somebody monkey?? Top of that I’m in the Phantom lookin hella chonky

Ice my wrist-es then I piss on bitches You could suck my diznick, if you take these jizzes You don’t like them disses, give my ass some kisses Yeah they know what this is, give bitches the business

'Cause I pull up in the Porsche but it ain't de Rossi Pretty bitches only could get in my posse Hey, yo Young Bucks, fuck you and your EP Who’s gassing these hoes? BP? Hmm.. thinks 1, 2, 3, do the AJ Styles blink 'Cause these hoes so busted, hoes is so crusty These bitches is my sons and I don't want custody Hoes so busted, hoes is so crusty these bitches is my sons and I don't want custody……”

Cody Rhodes slammed the laptop shut.

“Ok that tears it!” yelled Cody while clenching his fist. “This isn’t a rap beef anymore. Now this is personal”.

Cody Rhodes and the rest of the Bullet Club stormed the WWE headquarters. They were carrying weapons intending to destroy anyone and anything inside. When they got to the entrance they noticed all the lights were out.

“What the hell? Is nobody here right now?” asked Cody.

Bad Luck Fale found a note on the front entrance.

“Out of business until further notice,” read Bad Luck Fale.

Cody looked confused.

“Out of business? What?” asked Cody.

“This must why explain why none of their shows have been airing lately,” said Nick.

Cody looked disappointed.

“How are we supposed to find them now?” asked Cody.

“Finn posted a picture of himself recording on his Instagram,” said Matt. “He tagged his location in it”.

Matt showed his phone to Cody.

“Change of plans. We’re now going to wherever this place is!” said Cody.

The men took their weapons and went back to their van.

Back at the warehouse the superstars were having a meeting. Triple H stood at the front of the podium.

“So, we have a serious topic to discuss. What are we having for lunch?” asked Triple H.

Moments later the Bullet Club busted into the room.

“Where’s The Revival?!” yelled Cody.

Everyone in the room pointed out Scott Dawson and Dash Wilder. Many scooted away from them to avoid any trouble.

“Ya’ll ain’t shit” said Dash.

Cody and some of the Bullet Club members ran up on The Revival. Cody was about to hit one of them until Sasha stepped in the way.

“Wait hold on! You guys shouldn’t be fighting over a stupid rap video,” said Sasha.

“Weren’t you in the video?” asked Cody.

“Huh?”

Cody pushed Sasha out the way and pulled up Scott by his collar. Shane stepped in and separated the two.

“Sasha’s right. This beef was just intended to get views on YouTube and now it’s getting out of hand” said Shane. Cody began to calm down.

“We shouldn’t be fighting and dissing each other,” Shane went on.

“I guess your right,” said Cody as he tossed his weapon.

“We should be dissing the guys in Lucha Underground!” said Shane.

Everyone’s eyes lit up.

“I actually like that idea,” said Nick. “That could bring ratings to all of our companies”.

“Let’s start writing a diss track now!” said Cody.

He and many of the other superstars left to help film the video.

A while later Triple H and Stephanie were the only ones left in the warehouse.

“How much longer do they have this recording equipment for?” asked Stephanie.

“I think they have it rented for another week. Why?” asked Triple H.

“I just wanted to record something for you?” said Stephanie while winking. Triple H turned the equipment on.

“There’s no need to wait” said Triple H.

Stephanie put on the headphones and started rapping in the mic. The beat for “My Neck My Back” was playing in the background.

“All you ladies pop your pussy like this Shake your body, don't stop, don't miss All you ladies pop your pussy like this Shake your body, don't stop, don't miss Just do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now Lick it good suck this pussy, just like you should Right now, Lick it good suck this pussy just like you should My Neck, my back Lick my pussy and my crack”.

Triple H bobbed his head while Stephanie kept rapping.

“She sounds great doesn’t she?” asked Seth Rollins as he bobbed his head to the music. Triple H glared at him until he quietly walked away. When Seth left, Triple H turned the music up.

“My Neck, my back Lick my pussy and my crack My Neck, my back Lick my pussy and my crack My Neck, my back Lick my pussy and my crack My Neck, my back Lick my pussy and my crack”.

[terioncalling]

More Clone Wars Commentary Time

Here we go again.

Oh no oh gods there's the Admiral that has the same voice as 40s announcer guy for five seconds. I tagged him instantly.

"Republic forces in retreat! While rescuing General Aayla Secura from certain defeat!" WHO...WHO MADE THAT RHYME.

THE LEMUR ALIENS ARE SCOTTISH???

"I must see what our new visitors want." It's the Separatists, so they're essentially criminals going 'this is mine now'.

"I can't figure those villagers not wanting to fight." Rex, honey, that's because you're the clone of a Mandalorian and literally pretty much programmed to fight.

ANAKIN. ANAKIN HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET UP THAT TREE. YOU ARE INJURED. GO LAY YOUR RECKLESS ASS DOWN.

Is this bitch about to destroy the village? IS THIS BITCH ABOUT TO???

Okay, crisis currently averted. BUT THE BOYS ARE THERE, FUCK.

GOD DAMNIT DOOKU. FUCK.

AHH MESSENGER BUTTERFLY CREATURES????

*slaps face* The generic droids in the droid army are so fucking stupid. This is like past slapstick level of dumb.

"This is war!" "But not our war!" Well it's about to be your war 'cause they're fully intending to commit some genocide over here.

Oh, the rope trick is a good trick.

Why the fuck are these motherfuckers wanting to protect an empty ice moon?

OH JEEZE OH NO THE HELMETS.

C-3PO: "R2 would like to get out of the cold." R2: "Bitch what?"

Wow. This chairman fellow is a dick.

Of course, 3PO knows the language.

PLEASE LET THE CHAIRMAN GET STABBED. DON'T LOOK SHOCKED BY DEATH, YOU BITCH, YOU STARTED THIS.

HAHA YES HE GOT STABBED. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Wait...wasn't this alien species in one of the various movie cantinas? Like just lurking in the background?

WHAT TYPE OF DROID IS THAT IN THE TANK

"How did you get over here?" Obi-Wan, do you really need to ask? Anakin did something Ridiculously Reckless.

Oh good, they stole the head of the droid I was asking about. A tactical droid!

A TRAITOR TROOPER??

"Which means, this is a trap." "I imagine it is." Your honor, I love these two space idiots.

OH HI VENTRESS

Are...are Ventress and Obi-Wan doing aggressive pseudo flirting?

Slick, you fool, they're on to you.

DON'T REX AND CODY HAVE WHIPCORDS? TRIP A BITCH.

...didn't he BREAK Rex's leg?

I mean, Slick has a point ('cause, yeah, the clones do get used) but, man oh man, my dude, that's not the way to go about it!

Man...it's been a few episodes since Grievous fucked off and abandoned a ship. It was getting to be a theme.

That's it for now. Just six episodes left until the end of season one.