#cody is so alone and isolated

[kotekenobii]

The more I think about Cody in the tbb s2 trailer the more insane I feel about it and the more sorry I feel for him. Put yourself in his shoes. He’s got something in his head that’s not letting him think straight, let alone make his own choices. That something in his head told him to shoot and kill the love of his life (or if you don't subscribe to that, one of his very closest friends). He no longer has Obi-Wan or Rex or anyone else to lean on for support: he’s all alone. He doesn't have anyone he can trust. And so, in desperation, he is talking to the one person in his life who he still has a bit of a connection with - Crosshair, who he helped as best as he could before the war ended through his involvement with the Bad Batch (I'd love to know the full canonical extent of how much Cody had to do with the Bad Batch, and have many thoughts of my own about it, but that's for some other time). "Rumours are, more and more clones have been questioning the order." Cody's a smart man. He knows he can’t say what’s really on his mind, that he’s feeling terrible for having carried out Order 66, that he knows it was wrong, that he feels too much guilt and regret to ever voice or be able to put into words and that the pain is eating him alive. So he takes the tactical approach. He is testing Crosshair - probing the waters and seeing if perhaps he can trust him, wanting to know if he's not alone. If there are others struggling with the consequences of Order 66. But Crosshair says the exact opposite of what he needs to hear - whe says that those clones are then traitors, like the Jedi. And Cody, who is known for his loyalty, who is meant to set a prime example to those around him, who is in charge of so much and has shouldered so much responsibility for all his life - and who is now struggling with this unimaginable, unspeakable grief and guilt, is confronted with this sudden realisation of being a traitor and it’s so incredibly confusing and heartbreaking and all he wants is to talk to Obi-Wan, but he murdered Obi-Wan and he really is lost and alone. He can't trust anyone. He can't trust Crosshair, sure, but what's worst of all is that he knows he can't even trust himself and his own mind.

[heauxvibez]

Gentle

warning: angst, mentions of depression/anxiety, fluff. Enjoy!

It had been days since Joe lost his match. It meant he could finally be home, taking a break from the WWE's busy schedule. You were thrilled to have him home, just the two of you for a while. Joe was excited too, or so he thought.

He released a huge sigh of relief when he was told prematurely about the outcome of his match with Cody. He loved work but also missed being home with you, and the flexibility to do what he wanted without having to make huge shifts around his work schedule. The guilt that constantly ate at him for missing milestones in your life would finally be put to ease. Your promotion at your job, your birthday, buying your first brand new car with your hard-earned money, all things he missed out on celebrating due to his work.

But as time went by, you noticed a change in him. His energy shifted dramatically. He became quieter, answering with short sentences and avoiding conversations. He barely ate, only managing to do so when taking his medication.

You had to decline many invitations because he wasn't up for crowds; they made him anxious. The bedroom became his refuge, all he wanted to do was lay in bed and rot. It was starting to worry you.

Joe himself didn't understand what was happening. He wanted to shake off this feeling, but it clung to him stubbornly. It was like he'd forgotten his place in life, his roles as your husband, friend, and son. He felt worthless. As the Tribal Chief he knew everything, life was in his control, he was in control. Nothing could phase him when he was his alternative self. His bronze skin was as thick as ever.

But as Joe, he was vulnerable and soft, his hands could barely grasp the concept of life outside of the arena. He believed that he'd let everyone down by missing important moments, especially you. Despite your support and pride in him, he couldn't shake the feeling of being resented. His anxiety whispered that you all hated him, leading him to isolate himself in the room. He thought that by avoiding interaction, he'd be less of a burden.

You were left in the dark, unsure of what was happening with him. You didn't want to jump to conclusions, but you couldn't ignore the signs of either depression or anxiety. It was a delicate situation; you didn't want to say or ask the wrong thing and risk pushing him away. You were at a loss for how to approach him without causing further distress.

"Babe..", you called out as you cracked open the door. Your head peaked in to reveal him bundled under the sheets.

"Hmm?" he hummed back, avoiding looking in your direction.

The room matched his mood—dark and cold. You approached him cautiously, arms crossed before quickly relaxing them, not wanting to convey that you were mad or upset in any way. Squatting beside the bed, you met his gaze. His hair was tousled, covering his face like cobwebs, his eyes red, lips downturned. He looked miserable.

He almost melted at the feel of your fingers feathering through the knots of his tangled beard. He hadn't groomed himself in days, so he looked a mess. But to you he still looked like perfection, just needed a little love. You searched his face, to him it felt like judgment, but for you...you were just looking for any sign of your loving husband.

"You okay?"

That question alone almost unraveled him. His eyes shut tightly, becoming a dam for the flood of tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He covered his face with his hand when he could no longer contain the wave of emotions. He shook his head, answering your question.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry. I'm sorry", you pleaded. You didn't know what to expect. You thought it would take a while to break through his tough exterior.

Not wanting to overwhelm him, you hadn't moved. You stayed squatted in your position, stroking the side of his face that wasn't covered by his huge hand.

"Talk to me, baby. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong," your voice, soft and gentle, began to ease the tension. It seemed to pull him back from the brink of a panic attack.

"Breathe, just talk," you urged. He took a deep breath, his exhale brushing against your face. His hand fell away from his face, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and watery eyes. You met his gaze, your own eyes welling up with empathy. You fought back your tears, wanting him to feel safe expressing himself.

Joe tried to speak but faltered, closing his lips and shaking his head. He was at a loss for words, unsure of how to begin.

You let out a gentle sigh as you brushed his greasy hair away from his face. He hadn't bothered to wash it in days, neglecting self-care. As your fingers ran through his strands, an idea dawned on you. With a small smile, you met his sad eyes.

"It's been a while since you washed your hair, huh?" you remarked.

He nodded, still focused on you.

"How about we have a little wash day? I just got some new hair care stuff," you suggested.

There was a moment of silence as he considered it. He didn't want to leave the safety of the room, but he was also bothered by his oily, limp hair.

"Yeah, that sounds nice," he replied softly.

"Yeah? Let's go," you said, standing up and offering your hand. He slowly rose from the bed, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the kitchen.

Since childhood, your family had always washed hair in the kitchen sink. Moms, aunts, and cousins would have you lay flat on the counter, and it was always your favorite part of hair care, like a special ritual.

Your hair care routine had evolved. With the right products and tools, you felt like a pro, especially during tasks like washing your hair. Now, wash days were more enjoyable, and you loved washing your husband's hair too. It was a favorite bonding activity.

"Okay, lay down on the counter," you instructed.

One perk was your spacious kitchen, allowing you to recreate the wash days you cherished from childhood. He hopped onto the counter, and a bit of excitement gleamed through his eyes. It had been a while since you shared an intimate moment like this. With his travels and recent struggles, there had been little room for such simple things.

You stepped away briefly to fetch your hair care items. Your favorite line was created by Taraji P. Henson, who understood the needs of tight coils like yours. Today, you opted for the Honey Fresh clarifying shampoo to remove oils from his locs and the Make It Rain conditioner for moisture.

Returning to the kitchen, you laid out the items on the sink: shampoo, conditioner, Denman brush, wide-tooth comb, and a shower cap—everything needed to care for his hair.

You couldn't help but watch as he lay with his eyes closed, fingers intertwined on his belly. Though he didn't show it, he was eager for this wash day, just like you.

Turning on the sink, you tested the water temperature with your fingers, ensuring it was just right for his scalp.

"Okay, let me know if it's too hot or cold." you instructed. With his eyes still closed he nodded.

The water hit his scalp and you watched as his brows furrowed then relaxed.

"Is that okay?", he nodded once again,

"That's perfect."

The warm water felt like a soothing touch on his scalp, the best sensation he'd felt in days.

"Good," you smiled, running your fingers through his hair. It took a moment for the water to penetrate his hair, the oils causing it to bead off into the sink. The touch of your nails on the back of his neck sent shivers down his spine as you worked the water through his hair.

"Alright," you murmured to yourself as his hair drank in the flowing water. With a twist, you shut off the tap, the room now silent. You placed the detachable head back in its place, and your fingers found the shampoo bottle, releasing a dollop into your hand. With a soft sigh, you worked the dollop into a nice lather with your palms.

You started at his hairline, the pads of your fingers tenderly grazing his scalp. Purposefully avoiding using your acrylic nails, your touch was feather-light. You wanted to cocoon him in bliss and make sure that he was as relaxed as possible.

Your fingers trailed to the hair behind his ears, a familiar path that never failed to make him weak. His ears, his sweet spot, where the slightest touch made his toes curl. Each time your wrist brushed against his ear, he moaned softly, bringing a slight blush to your cheeks.

"Feel good?" the soft words left your lips.

"Feels great." he confessed with a contented sigh.

His response brought warmth to your heart as you continued your movements, moving towards the center of his scalp where he was often tender-headed. With gentle strokes, you massaged the area, mindful of his comfort. In this moment, you found joy in this simple act of caring for your husband.

Though you wanted to get into deeper conversations about his well-being, you hesitated, not wanting to disrupt the peace of the moment. Instead, you chose to stay silent, allowing your gentle touch to speak volumes. But Joe had other ideas.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled

"Don't be, you haven't done anything wrong," you assured. Although you knew what he meant. He felt remorseful for acting distant and pushing everyone away, but you knew it wasn't his fault. He was grappling with emotions beyond his control, and you gave him space to work through them.

"But I have, I haven't been the best husband lately. Well really in the past few years if we're going to be honest."

"Joe-"

"No, listen.." his eyes were flooding with tears again.

"I have not been the best husband in years. I thought with this time off I'd be able to make up for lost time but the more I sit with myself, I'm wondering am I capable of being a good husband? I don't even know who I am outside of Roman Reigns."

Tears were now flowing freely down the side of his eyes and into his hair. For the past 4 years, he had been an alternative version of himself. He completely immersed himself into a character and with the time he had to actually sit with himself, he realized he wasn't really sure who Joe was.

Tears were now rolling down your face. It hurt to see him doubt himself like this. You knew who he was—Joe and Roman were completely different. It was hard to believe he couldn't see it; he was struggling with imposter syndrome.

You wiped your tears away with your wrist, trying to steady yourself. You needed him to know that you didn't share his negative feelings about himself.

"Well, your feelings are valid, baby, and I never want you to feel otherwise. But just because they're valid doesn't mean they're right."

You rinsed the shampoo out of his hair with the detachable head of the sink.

"You might not see the difference between Roman and Joe, but I do. I'm not in love with Roman; I'm in love with Joe. I didn't marry Roman; I married Joe. Roman is manipulative, selfish, cold-hearted—wicked, even," you chuckled softly. Joe wiped away his tears, mirroring your laughter.

You began to wring the excess water from his hair. It was finally clean. Now, you just needed to condition and detangle.

You reached for the condition and squeezed a quarter-sized amount into your hand. Then you gently spread it through his clean hair.

"But Joe.. Joe is sweet, he's vulnerable, and he would give the shirt off of his back to anyone in need. We all love Joe and we understand that just because you're away it doesn't mean you're neglectful, you're doing what you have to do to support your family. Joe is a husband, he's a son, he's a family man, he's a sweetheart, he's you."

Using the Denman brush, you carefully distributed the conditioner and untangled his hair, avoiding any painful pulls.

"You are not Roman, you are Joe. Do you understand?", you asked, pausing to catch his gaze. He kept staring ahead.

"Look at me," you said softly, but firmly. His eyes met yours, resembling those of a puppy.

"Do you understand?"

His lips curved into a soft smile and he nodded.

"Yes, I understand, baby," he affirmed. Leaning in, you tenderly brushed your lips against his forehead, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath yours. Then, with a gentle passion, you pressed your lips to his, sparking a feeling that had been dormant for too long.

As you pulled away, you couldn't help but shower him with one last sweet kiss on the tip of his nose before getting back to his hair.

"I know it's going to take time for you to adjust, and I understand it won't be easy. But I want you to know, I'll be here every step of the way. I promise," your voice was filled with unwavering support.

Carefully, you lifted his head to secure the shower cap, ensuring his hair received the deep conditioning treatment it deserved for the next 10 minutes.

"Thank you, for everything...I love you," he whispered, his words carrying deep gratitude and love.

"I love you too, handsome," you said, your heart brimming with excitement as you anticipated having your husband return to his true self.

---------------------------

Hope yall enjoyed!

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx @theninthwonder

[the-bi-space-ace]

I’m in a Mood™️ so here’s what our favorite clones are like when they want attention:

Echo:

It depends on who he wants attention from tbh. With Fives, Tech, or Crosshair? He’s such a little shit. Has the patience of a tooka that’s grumpy he’s not getting enough pets. Is rather forward about wanting attention, though, which is shocking for him considering he’d rather bleed out than ask for help. Attention is different though. With everyone else he can play up his charms. He’s persuasive and will use his powers of “sweetness” to get what he wants.

Crosshair:

Did I hear someone say cause problems? Yeah. He’s gonna cause problems. He’ll be super grumpy but never say a damn word about what he wants. Best believe he’ll be a little shit on purpose in order to get attention: positive or negative. Any attention is good attention. Also acts like an impatient pets-starved tooka but he’ll bite to get his way instead of head butting. He teases, pokes or prods, makes a fuss out of embarrassing things his squad has done. All to get them to retaliate so he gets what he wants. Little shit.

Tech:

Straight forward man. He’s not shy about asking for attention and he will be honest about it. No grumping although sometimes he’ll get tetchy before he recognizes what it is he wants. He simply interrupts when he wants something. Echo is on his comm and Tech comes up to him, says nothing, takes the comm, turns it off, then starts rambling.

Wrecker:

He’s gonna play. I’m talking roughhousing, pillow fights, tickling, anything for some physical affection. When he’s gone a real long time without any attention he gets sad. Maybe even pouts. Not as sulky as Crosshair can get but he sure does play the kicked mastiff well with those big eyes of his.

Hunter:

Man can’t even ask for a cup of caf let alone affection. Gets cranky and ends up taking a nap instead of just, idk, asking for a damn hug. Has to be bullied into accepting it like it’s the worst thing ever. Dramatic behavior. Almost as bad as Crosshair for fucks sake. Echo nearly tackled him one day bc he kept moping and it was driving Echo up a wall. When the two of them both want attention at the same time just let Echo at him. He’ll wear him down, he’s good at that. No one can resist tooka eyes from Echo.

Rex:

Rex will always suggest an activity he knows the other person likes. It’s his sneaky way to ask to spend time together because he’s sure they won’t say no. He doesn’t like that cafe but Fives does so he’ll suggest it for lunch for some one on one time.

Cody:

Refuses to admit to needing anything he’s big and tough no need to give him anything. He will start to isolate if he’s feeling too itchy for attention. It makes him feel weird that he needs Something. Ridiculous man. Pulls away when he wants to be closer. It’s easier for him with Rex, Echo, or Fives because he’ll just show up and tell them they’re doing something with him and they follow. Anyone else? Can’t do it. Won’t do it. Will show off sometimes to impress his general for some positive feedback.

Fives:

He’s up front about it! But he’s gonna use pestering to get his way! Echo won’t even get a day without Fives trying to bother him for some attention. He gets under Rex or Cody’s skin to get a reaction. They know he’s doing it on purpose and they humor him anyway.

[south-of-heaven]

Hi! I was wondering if you would write a platonic Cody Rhodes x daughter reader with a wee bit of angst please?

Gone || Cody Rhodes x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Ever since Dusty passed away you've been isolating yourself. Now it's all too much. Your grandfather is gone and you can't take it anymore.

In the aftermath of losing Dusty, your world had tilted on its axis. The loss of your beloved grandfather had left a void that seemed insurmountable. You withdrew into yourself, distancing from everyone, including your family, your pain a heavy burden you carried in silence.

Cody, your father, watched with growing concern as you slipped further into isolation. He tried to break through the walls you'd built around yourself, offering comfort and support, but you remained locked within the confines of your grief.

Days turned into weeks, and the weight of your emotions became unbearable. The pressure built until it became an invisible force pressing down on your chest, suffocating you with its intensity.

Then one fateful day, the dam holding back your emotions finally gave way. It happened so suddenly, the weight of your loss crashing over you like a relentless wave. Tears flowed uncontrollably as the floodgates of emotions burst open, and you found yourself unable to contain the anguish that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Cody was there in an instant, his concern turning into urgency as he witnessed your distress. He enveloped you in a tight embrace, offering solace and understanding as you struggled to find your footing amidst the overwhelming tide of emotions.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Cody's voice was gentle, his arms a comforting sanctuary. "I got you. Let it out."

You clung to him, your sobs echoing in the room, your pain finally finding a voice. Cody held you close, allowing you to pour out the grief and heartache that had consumed you, offering unwavering support and a safe space to let your emotions run free.

In that moment of vulnerability, you felt the weight gradually lift from your shoulders. Cody's presence was a beacon of reassurance, a reminder that even in your darkest moments, you were not alone.

As the storm of emotions subsided, Cody continued to hold you, his silent strength a pillar of support. In the aftermath of the emotional release, a sense of catharsis washed over you—a catharsis that stemmed from finally allowing yourself to grieve openly and to feel the embrace of your father's unwavering love.

[morrowcomethisway]

Something I’ve noticed is that Zac is really good at adapting to the themes of the season and integrating the themes in his character - I’m specifically talking about Gorgug in JY and Ricky in TUC2.

FHJY’s whole thing is rage. Gorgug, as a barbarian, is already prone to rage, but previously it manifested more as ‘worry’ or ‘upset’. This season he amped that up - he faced personal struggle and completely unfair barriers with school and saw Brennan through Porter telling him to embrace the rage and he did. We all remember Gorgug after the Folk Festival, and on other occasions, too. We see everyone getting mad and we Gorgug getting mad and it illustrates the really interesting differing relationships with rage that Gorgug and the NPCs have (which I’m not going into in the post).

In TUC2, the main thing is (I haven’t watched it in a while so forgive me if I’m remembering incorrectly) isolation and depression (specifically caused by a corporate world), and man, Ricky’s part in this is one of my favourites. He’s no longer the champion, Cody has taken his spotlight, he’s trying to be good and nice, but he’s so frustrated. He tries to help JJ when he notices his isolation, and Brennan narrates how Ricky himself has a little bit of Null! Zac played Ricky’s arc in TUC2 in such a way as to engage perfectly with Brennan’s ‘big bad’ themes, and he did it again in FHJY, although in a different way!

Just Zac’s way of engaging with the themes in both of these examples whether intentional or not just provides a really interesting perspective into them!! Not even the heroes of New York are immune to feeling alone and rage is not always this destructive, unreasonable force, it’s actually born of injustice in Gorgug’s case.

[i-just-wanna-write-fanfic]

i apologize i didnt specify but cody from tdi and the yandere alphabet

OH YES OF COURSE!!! ( I am scared of K-pop fans)

NOTES/WARNINGS what do you think bud?

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

ughghg boy needs to hug you 12819318984879324 times a day or he dies on the spot

NEEEEEEDS your attention and talk your ear off or her may just explode

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

uhh I don't think he has the balls to kill someone. he really wants to, but he always chickens out.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

FUCK NO! he just wants to smother and bother you all day. It may annoy you, but he's just so glad you're with him!

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He constantly needs to touch you, so holding hands at the very least.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

As much as you want, babe!

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He's a bit sad, but he gets it.

But he's getting you back.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

NO

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Every day is a new annoyance.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He has... no idea. So far his plans are that tomorrow he'll wake up, kiss you, hold you, and probably go back to sleep.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He gets SO angy. he normally lets it out once you get home or when you two are alone so he can walk around in a circle and rant.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He's such a needy guy, he needs to hold your hand, he needs to have your attention, hold you near, talk to you, hear your voice, anything!

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He tried to talk to you a few times, but it never really went well (unless you think him telling you a horrible pick-up line and running away [and tripping in the process] is suave and the best way to get a girl/guy/etc)

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

nahhhh...

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He can't really do anything to hurt you in any way, maybe just some silent treatment, but he can't even bring himself to do that.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Not many! He only takes them away if you try to get away from him once too many times.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He's pretty patient! Unless you keep going away, then it'll thin.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

NUH UH!!!

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

nahhh. He needs your attention and love to survive!

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Honestly, meeting Sierria kinda had a hand in all of this, all her clingyness and weird actions freaked him out, but soon he found himself doing the same to you.

Thankfully he noticed he was being a creep so he tried to tone it down to the best of his ability.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He feels horrible. He doesn't know why you're acting this way, but he'll do the best he can to soothe you...

He's lying to himself, he knows deep down inside he's most likely the reason you're crying, If he finds out it was someone else, he'll do his best to either hurt them or get them to leave you alone.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He's a total sweetheart and is way too soft on/with you.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

The fact he's soft on you. If you continue to build up his trust, he may eventually trust you to go out on your own. Just make sure to have a good excuse, or make it look like you're super excited to leave the house.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

no, No, NO, never! Never! He loves you too much!

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Ohhhh quite a lot! He really loves you, no matter how you meet. If the way you met was with you showing him some kind of kindness or love, he may feel he needs it... and just from you, please!

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

A few weeks or months, tops. That's if you're in the show together, but if not, it'll be a year or two so he can get more info about you. the games of the show already tell him so much about you.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

...

Maybe.

But it's not like he wants to!

[yandere-wishes]

I just found a love in your almost cult yandere clone tropes and their cyares with the Jedi blessings. I mean damn you (later than ever). I'm imagining Cody and Rex and the bad batch. Or just Cody sharing with 😉 .

You made sprout the cult follower in me.

Here at Yandere-Wishes HQ, we try to inspire the inner cult follower in all our fans. We want the dark, deranged side of all our clients to shin through and someday even start cults of their own. 💜💜

I'm very sorry for how all over the place this is, tried to section it off as best I could. I'm still incredibly jet lagged😭😭

I think the reason behind the Jedi giving their blessing so freely to the clones comes from an inner yearning to be loved. The Jedi know their place in the universe, know that a sentiment-free life is what they must endure. Still, if those around them can be happy, then (in a selfless way befitting a Jedi) they can be happy too. Although I'm rather curious as to what would happen if say Anakin or Obi-wan fell for the cyare of their commanders. 

Personally, I think Rex and Cody would definitely share a darling. Same with Echo and Fives (and maybe Tup too). Maybe if you REALLY  want to lean into the cult aesthetic Anon, then what if each squadron has its own cyare?? A darling shared amongst all of them (That's a lot but I'm kinda only referring to the relevant troopers from each squadron 🤣🤣) it would be super cute if all her dresses were in said squadron's colors. Kinda like a personal cheerleader for them. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself here lol. 

🧡💙Being Cody and Rex's darling.

💙They're both very busy men. Constantly being deployed to the front lines. Always busy with some mission or another. They've tried to make sure at least one of them is with you, so you're never alone. It doesn't work, there are always long periods of time when you are trapped in isolation. 

🧡I truly believe that Rex and Cody's cyare wouldn't really "feel" like a "cyare", per se. Sure she doesn't have any freedom and is never permitted to make any decisions on her own. But they treat her so well, give her anything she could ever want, and they never hurt her in any way. 

💙Rex and Cody are both strict, not much leniency coming from either one. They have strict rules for they're cyare, under the pretext of keeping her safe. They've seen and experienced all the cruelties of the galaxy. And they don't want ANYTHING to ever hurt you. 

🧡Cody is more affectionate. More open with embracing and kissing you. Rex is much more reserved, stiffer. Yet he can't help but melt whenever your lips push against his. 

501st sharing (Rex, Fives,Echo, Tup, Jesse, Hardcase and Kix)

It's honestly exhausting belonging to all of them. Constantly being pulled in every direction. Sure the 501st is one of the gentler squadrons per se. But they are smoldering, constantly wanting to touch you in some way. It also doesn't help that regardless of the mission one of them is left behind to "watch" you. Not so much out of a fear of you running away but more out of concern for your well-being. I wonder what would happen if Anakin began to develop feelings for this particular cyare.

As for the bad batch I've yet to watch it (Although I've only heard good things) So I can't make a full observation just yet. Although I'd like to think that Hunter and Wrecker are on the "tougher" side, using force to make their cyare submit. Tech falls more into the stalker category. Take all this with a grain of salt, these ideas will 100% change once I've actually seen the show. 

.... All this aside can you imagine Obi-Wan and Cody sharing a darling?? Or even Anakin and Rex sharing a darling?? I mean every cult needs its leader right 😉😘

[petrifiedforests]

I wish you'd write a fic where...Fox and Thorn have to spend a long time piloting an isolated space ship alone together, possibly to a lighthouse planet.

Hi Sea!

Ah yes, based on the lighthouse keeper need spouses textpost which is a great post for all sorts of shenanigans.

Maybe it starts like this:

Fox rubbed his hands up and down his arm, the chill of space seeping in through his civvies. With the autopilot navigating them through hyperspace, he technically didn't need to be in the cockpit but this was the only place in the ship that wasn't so damn quiet. At least here there was more noise than the background of the endless void, reminding him there was nothing under his feet but some flimsy bits of metal held together with spit and determination.

He didn't know where Thorn had dredged up this thing that could only be called a serviceable ship with a good amount of good will, but for now it hadn't spaced them yet. Still, they were ways from [planet name] and so Fox would stand guard.

Or maybe like this:

Space was quiet. After spending the war on Coruscant which never stopped, Fox still couldn't believe he finally got off that rock thanks to Cody. He gripped the handle of his caf mug tighter as he stared out of the view port. Leaving everything behind was the best decision he could have made.

"Yo Fox," Thorn called up to him, "are you hungry? I'm starving!"

Well, almost everything.

[t3a-tan]

Meeting Bishop

Cody is curious about other universes and ends up meeting Bishop; another version of himself. Enjoy ^^

Side note: Bishop would be such a little shit with a borrower, absolutely zero awareness. Like, why are you scared? Stop it. Why aren't you stopping?

---

"You're… me?"

As Cody stood on top of the soft ground of the divine clouds, he couldn't help but be in awe of the person before him. Their manner was so different to his...but at the core it was the same. There was no one else this could be. I really do exist in other universes…

"I'm Bishop." They replied simply. Something about hearing his own voice being spoken in such a dull manner was off-putting to say the least. Based on what he had seen so far, this version of himself must never have been abandoned on Gahenn in the first place; the God of Reality; Bishop. "We can't be compared to one another.."

Cody couldn't help but quirk a brow at that. This version of himself seemed far more uncaring in general, but he hadn't expected them to be so stuck-up.

"I'm a god. You're just a person." The more they spoke, the more Cody wanted to shake some sense into them. They were born in the Realm of the Divine, Theïkós, meaning that unlike himself, Bishop knew how to control their powers from the very start. Letting out a sigh, Cody responded.

"The world in this universe is in chaos you know, Bishop." He pointed out, gesturing to the images around them; a grand film showing how truly bad the world had gotten. The Celestial War was even worse in this universe- Gahenn was mostly destroyed, and Earth was run by those seeking refuge. The supernatural doesn't mix with humans… It was a recipe for disaster.

Earth had tried to exterminate the refugees coming from Gahenn with the technology they had in 2084, resulting in the ultimate collapse of the entire world… Humans feared the supernatural, and the supernatural feared humans, resulting in more war, pain and suffering.

Angels began to attack Earth too once Gahenn had fallen, angel camps being situated on every part of the realm.

Without a safe place to escape to, switching sides wasn't an option- death is all that would await you. Only the most desperate angels would try and switch sides, but because of the fear of infiltration or spies, no demons would take the risk of being compromised. No realm was safe...besides Theïkós.

Just like Nyx had said to Cody long ago, gods do not need to concern themselves with the 'silly fighting' of the ungodly. They could live in pure boring bliss, watching all the suffering happen as though it was an inconvenience. Anything that wasn't the Realm of the Divine was a glorified TV show; something to be watched, not cared for.

Even knowing this though, Cody couldn't help but ask…

"Why is no one helping them?"

Bishop didn't even stop to think of a response.

"It's not our responsibility to coddle those outside of our divinity." They spoke in a way that made it clear they had that mentality pummeled into them from a young age. Cody almost felt bad… He was the child that wasn't meant to be had, and also the strongest of gods; there was no doubt that if he had been raised in Theïkós with the other gods, he would've been isolated just like in the facility. It was inevitable.. I wonder if there's a universe where I’m not so alone?

"I keep time flowing, and I keep the world in reality." Cody snapped out of his thoughts as Bishop continued. "Anything besides that isn't my responsibility."

Although they certainly didn't seem that affected by what was happening outside of this realm, Bishop also didn't seem pleased…

They clearly had more power than Cody in terms of consistent output, but Cody had them beat in experience and wisdom. Because of the Great Stasis he was far older than Bishop. Being able to sense everything and grasp reality itself would be grueling for anyone, and based on the fact that Bishop's eyes were always glowing white, Cody was sure that they were feeling it all- even now. He could even see them flinch in time with the spikes of pain and suffering from the other realms.

Even so, that may just be a dislike for the feeling that it gave Bishop, not what that feeling came from. Cody had learned to pinpoint his omnipotence, omnipresence, and omniscience, rather than letting himself take in all of that information from all realms at all times.

"Why don't you just...turn it off for a bit?" Cody suggested, reaching out and taking the other version's hand. "I can't say that I agree with how things are here, but it isn't my place to interfere… That in itself would mess up the way this reality works. But even if I don't think you're a good person, you shouldn't put yourself in pain all the time."

Bishop tilted their head, but didn't pull away; they were intrigued

 "What else would I do? This is my purpose. This has been my job for all of the centuries that I've been alive." They weren't bitter about that fact- just exhausted. "No one else can do it. What if I wasn't paying attention and the system collapsed? Then my existence would truly be meaningless."

"It's not meaningless." Cody insisted. "You just haven't found a reason to exist yet. The reason you're too afraid to leave is because you don't understand what it means to exist in the first place. People don't need a reason to exist.”

He sighed softly.

“But here you are; isolated, with your life already determined by whatever title and power you receive. That title isn't your purpose- it's a possibility." As Cody spoke, he looked directly into Bishop's eyes, serious. "We're both the same God of Reality, and yet I am not bound by a purpose or title. That’s proof that it doesn’t really matter.”

Cody couldn't possibly understand how Bishop must feel in this situation. Despite the tragedy of his childhood spent in the Kriegerin facility, he wasn’t always alone. And after losing those people he was able to form new connections and friendships. Bishop had no one. Nyx and Brahma weren't loving parents by any means; neither he nor Bishop were ever supposed to be born. He smiled sadly.

An ironic name… Bishop- for as powerful as you are, you really are just like a chess piece for others to manipulate.

Bishop stayed silent for a few more moments, expression remaining the same. They then looked down, taking their hands back with a hint of irritation twitching at the corners of their lips.

"That's not how it works for us gods. The moment you're created and receive a name and your title, you must follow it. I'm Bishop; the Overseer; God of Reality." They floated back ever so slightly, but Cody could see the white glow dim as they put more of their attention on communication rather than watching. "I'm okay with that.. I don't need to be anything else."

"But you can at least take a break." Cody pointed out, staying where he was. He understood how it felt to be so unused to touch that it became uncomfortable.. When Bishop didn't so much as look at him again, he sighed. "Or not. I'm not going to force you to do anything."

The white glow returned to the other version's eyes as they focused once again on their job. Cody took a few steps back, before turning around, opening a portal just in front of him.

"...what's it like? In your universe, I mean.." Bishop seemed genuinely curious this time. Maybe we aren't so different after all… Then again, Bishop truly didn't care about the undivine, whilst Cody hated his own status of divinity. He stopped walking, looking back over his shoulder with a smile.

"Bye, Bishop…"

Without answering the question, Cody turned to face the portal. It would be far too cruel to talk about his world whilst comparing it to Bishop's; he doubted they'd ever be content in Theïkós again. That's why he left it as it was...just a thought; a curious question that would be eventually forgotten.. Cody stepped through the portal, letting it close behind him, and leaving Bishop alone once more.

"....bye, Cody."

[divijohm]

WHAT CREEPS ARE AUTISTIC? + SUPPORT LEVELS

A/n: this are the pastas I personally think are autistic and why because I am autistic and I'll pass down the autism

Jane: I'm projecting

Cody (xvirus): because I said so

Hoodie/Brian: Because he's literally me

Toby: Because he already has ADHD and tourettes so he might as well get the whole pack

Bloody Painter: I'm projecting²

Sally: Because autism is coquette and she's too

Eyeless Jack: Because why not?

These are the autism support levels

This is not set in stone, levels can fluctuate during the week/month based on how stressed the autistic person is or how well therapy/treatment is going. A person can also be between 2 levels, I myself am between level 1 and 2, because of my high masking. I have great social difficultys but can do day to day activities (mostly) fine, although on paper I'm level 1. Support levels can also be defined by concomitant disabilities, specially if they're intellectual (down syndrome, learning delay, etc)

Ok so now to the actual reasons

Jane: She's literally the embodiment of autism in afab people lmao. Her straightforward way of speaking, black and white thinking and strong sense of justice and difficulty forming connections are all very autistic traits. She's level 1 of support, 2 on bad days

Cody: High interest in microbiology = hyper focus + special interest. Bedsides I don't see him as "social" he prefers to be alone which could be either esquizoid personality disorder, autism or both. I'll go with both. He doesn't understand humans neither really like to be with them. They're level 2 (almost 3) support

Toby: Many psychological Disorders are accompanied with others, much like a pay one get three deal, tourettes, ADHD and autism are pretty common together. It is not always that "social difficultys" are tied to shyness or isolation, it can also be pushyness and a hyper personality much like Toby's personality. He's level 1

Hoodie/Brian: In my head he's schizophrenic AND autistic. Which really makes his paranoia worse, autism already make you hear things people filter out (like electricity) this together with auditory hallucinations makes him have really bad meltdowns. He's level 3 of support but with all the bullshit he's been through he's forcing himself to be level 1, he don't manage it very well so he acts like a level 2

Bloody Painter: isn't really specified why he's bullied in the og as far as I remember and many autistic folks are bullied for no reason. His passion for painting and drawing can be seen as an hyper focus /special interest. Also his hate from loud places and crowds can be because of sensory overload. Helen also has a personality similar to mine when I was younger so why not haha. He's level 2 of support

Sally: Is pretty rare that girls are diagnosed with autism below the age of 16. So I'll give a little representation here. Her love for pink and typically girly things to the point of looking like a stereotype can be read as her special interest. Autistic girls are often more naive than the average girl of the same age, which more often than not leads to abuse/bullying, so one more point there. Not much else besides the "I want her to be autistic because I wish I was diagnosed much younger". She's level 1 support.

Eyeless jack: He's the embodiment of sensory issues, bedsides I see him as pretty socially inept, not that he doesn't like to socialize, He just don't really know how (like me). Also I see his medical skills as being a side product of his Human body special interest. He's level 2 support

[clickclicklogin]

sick and tired of this fandom watering down characters like justin and alejandro as "hot men whose roles are nothing more than to look hot".

justin was a professional model when he first appeared on total drama. he was admired by the other contestants and used his looks to get further in the game, which was very evident in action.

i completely understand liking justin and/or alejandro for their looks, it's slightly part of the reason why i like them too, but there's also so much more to them than their looks.

in action, he found his "attraction" to be fading, as shown when lindsay, beth, and courtney don't fall for his charms. he's desperate to change that, which eventually led to his downfall when he tried to convince courtney to date him.

he was severely injured as a result from the fairy tale, and he left without anybody that cared for him and a modeling career destroyed. in the spy episode, it literally showed justin nearly having a breakdown from a cut/bruise (i forgot which was it, but i was a minor injury) and thinking his modeling career was over.

and when he got eliminated in action, nobody even said goodbye to him. the most that was given to him was a non-sympathetic wave of goodbye from courtney.

with alejandro, his backstory is more talked about, specifically in all stars.

in the episode where the hamsters and vultures have to wrestle opponents on the wheel, alejandro is forced to fight his brother, jose. he is clearly pissed as fuck by even being in jose's presence.

jose was known as the "better brother" by literally everyone. this caused alejandro to feel inferior to jose, and i'm pretty sure that's been that way ever since he was born.

in the final world tour episode, it is also said that alejandro hates being called "al" simply because jose calls him that. he hates it so much to the point he got owen eliminated because he called him al. he was distracted by cody in the finale because he kept calling alejandro "al", which just proves how much he hates the nickname.

i understand why people may like him for his looks, but it's so annoying how people just think of him as a handsome guy.

also, when alejandro got transferred into the celebrity manhunt robot by chris, nobody tried searching for him. not heather, not even his family. he was stuck like that, for like, what, a year? maybe even more? depending on the gap between world tour and revenge of the island.

he was alone, isolated from any human contact for more than a year...that is incredibly traumatizing and undeserved, no matter how much you hate him.

my point is, even though characters like justin and alejandro are meant to be attractive and use it to boost their placement in the game, they have so much more personality and backstory behind that.

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[star-wars-writing]

Across the Academic Divide

Another story for the @codywanbingo with the theme Romance and prompt Netflix and Chill. I hope you'll like it.

Under the sterile glow of fluorescent lights, the library's silence enveloped Cody like a suffocating blanket, each tick of the clock a reminder of the thesis that remained stubbornly incomplete. The weight of expectation pressed down on him, a tangible force that seemed to squeeze the air from his lungs with every breath. Books and papers sprawled across the table in a chaotic testament to his desperation, the words blurring into incomprehensible symbols that mocked his exhaustion.

Across the room, his laptop screen glowed accusingly, the cursor blinking in rhythm with Cody's increasing heart rate. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The isolation of academic pursuit had never been so palpable, a chasm between him and the world outside that seemed to grow wider with each passing day.

It was in moments like these that his mind invariably wandered to Professor Obi-Wan Kenobi—his mentor, his guiding light through the dense fog of academic rigor. There was a warmth to Obi-Wan that went beyond his scholarly achievements, a kindness in his eyes that seemed to cut through the cold formality of their interactions. Cody had always respected him, not just for his intellect but for the way he navigated the complexities of human emotion with the same finesse he applied to his lectures.

The thought of Obi-Wan brought an unbidden smile to Cody's lips, a flicker of warmth in the cold expanse of his solitude. He remembered the way Obi-Wan's eyes would light up when discussing the nuances of their field, the passionate timbre of his voice that could make even the most mundane topics seem like undiscovered territories waiting to be explored. There was a grace to him, an elegance that transcended the academic, hinting at depths Cody had only begun to glimpse.

Unexplored attraction simmered beneath the surface of his admiration, a current of emotion that Cody had yet to fully acknowledge. It was there in the quickening of his pulse whenever Obi-Wan entered a room, in the lingering glances that seemed to speak volumes, and in the quiet hope that fluttered in his chest at the thought of their next meeting.

The library, with its oppressive silence and towering shelves, felt miles away from the world Obi-Wan inhabited—a world of intellectual exploration and emotional warmth, where Cody longed to be. The gulf between student and professor, between admiration and something more, seemed insurmountable, yet the mere thought of Obi-Wan offered a beacon of hope in the overwhelming darkness of his academic struggles.

Cody's gaze drifted back to his laptop, the blinking cursor now a challenge rather than a condemnation. With a deep breath, he leaned forward, the image of Obi-Wan's encouraging smile etched in his mind, a silent promise that he was not alone in this journey. The words began to flow, slowly at first, then with increasing confidence—a testament to the profound impact of a professor who had become so much more in the quiet spaces of Cody's heart.

*** 

In the hallowed halls of the university, where knowledge was both sword and shield, Professor Obi-Wan Kenobi moved with a purpose that belied the turmoil brewing within him. The quiet of the corridors echoed the solitude he observed in his most diligent student, Cody, whose struggle with his thesis had not gone unnoticed by the professor's discerning eyes.

Obi-Wan's steps took him unwittingly towards the library, the locus of Cody's academic seclusion. As he entered the quiet sanctuary, his gaze found Cody almost immediately, a lone figure amidst a sea of books and papers. There was a resilience to Cody, a silent strength that drew Obi-Wan to him, transcending the boundaries of their student-teacher relationship. The young man's dedication was admirable, yet the isolation it wrought was a concern that tugged at Obi-Wan's heart with increasing insistence.

Approaching Cody's table with measured steps, Obi-Wan cleared his throat softly, not wanting to startle him. “Cody," he began, his voice a gentle intrusion into the silence. "You're here rather late. How goes the battle with your thesis?"

Cody looked up, surprise flickering across his features before smoothing into a respectful mask. "Professor Kenobi," he greeted, a semblance of relief coloring his tone. "It's... progressing, albeit more slowly than I'd like."

Obi-Wan noted the shadows under Cody's eyes, the weariness that seemed to cling to him like a second skin. "Your dedication is commendable," he said, pulling up a chair. "But even the most valiant warriors need to rest." His attempt at humor was light, but his concern was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the toll Cody's pursuit was taking on him.

Cody's smile was tentative, a flicker of warmth in the cool library air. "I suppose I'm not very good at conceding defeat, even to my own limitations."

Obi-Wan studied him, the pull he felt towards Cody now a vivid presence in his heart. It was more than professional concern that warmed his voice; it was a genuine desire to see Cody not just succeed, but thrive. "There's a fine line between perseverance and obstinacy, Cody. Sometimes, the bravest thing one can do is to acknowledge when to pause and seek perspective."

The silence that followed was filled with unspoken words, a current of understanding that flowed between them. Obi-Wan's presence, so calm and assured, was a balm to Cody's frayed nerves. The professor's words, imbued with empathy and wisdom, sparked a glimmer of hope within Cody, a reminder that he was not alone in this endeavor.

Cody's defenses began to crumble, the barriers he had erected between himself and the world showing cracks. "I just... I don't want to disappoint anyone. Least of all, you," he admitted, the weight of his confession hanging in the air between them.

Obi-Wan's heart clenched at the vulnerability in Cody's words. "You could never disappoint me," he said earnestly. "Your journey is your own, Cody. All I ask is that you don't lose yourself along the way." His concern was a tangible thing, a testament to the depth of his care for Cody's well-being.

The moment stretched on, a tableau of mentor and mentee bound by mutual respect and an emerging sense of connection that transcended the roles they played. In the silence of the library, amidst the tomes of knowledge and the whispers of history, a bond was forged, delicate yet unyielding.

As Obi-Wan stood to leave, he paused, looking down at Cody with a softness in his eyes that he seldom allowed himself to show. "Remember, the greatest lessons often come not from the pages of a book, but from understanding the rhythm of our own hearts."

Cody watched him go, the professor's words echoing in his mind, a soothing melody amidst the cacophony of his doubts. In that moment, Cody felt seen, truly seen, not just as a student, but as a person—a feeling both exhilarating and terrifying.

The library's silence enveloped him once more, but now it was a comforting embrace rather than a suffocating void. Inspired by Obi-Wan's faith in him, Cody turned back to his thesis with a renewed sense of purpose, the isolation of his academic pursuit softened by the knowledge that he was not alone in his struggles. In the quiet library, a seed of something new began to take root in his heart, the possibility of a connection that might one day blossom into something neither of them could yet comprehend.

**** 

The ambiance of the university's makeshift cinema, a quaint assembly within the embrace of its arts department, was alight with the soft hum of anticipation. Cody, having wandered into this enclave of film enthusiasts by a twist of fate, found himself momentarily adrift in the novelty of the experience. The room, usually stark and echoing with the footsteps of academia, was transformed into a sanctuary of shared anticipation for the cinematic journey ahead.

As Cody hesitated on the periphery, uncertain yet intrigued, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s presence cut through the thrum of budding excitement. The professor, known within the hallowed halls for his scholarly rigor, stood amidst the film club’s members not as an authority but as one of their own, a fellow devotee of the art form. His role as the club's advisor, a facet of his identity Cody had been unaware of, added layers to the man Cody had come to respect deeply in the academic sphere.

"Cody," Obi-Wan called out, his voice a beacon in the low-lit room, tinged with a warmth that seemed to stretch beyond the bounds of their customary student-teacher dynamic. "This is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you amongst our cinema aficionados tonight."

Cody, momentarily caught in the headlights of Obi-Wan’s unexpected welcome, felt a flush of warmth spread across his cheeks. "I, uh, stumbled upon it," he managed to say, his usual confidence faltering under Obi-Wan’s attentive gaze. "I thought it might be... enlightening."

The exchange, simple as it was, crackled with an undercurrent of uncharted territory. There was a palpable shift in the air, a mingling of professional respect and a budding curiosity that seemed to draw them into a sphere of intimacy previously unexplored. Obi-Wan’s smile, soft and genuine, eased Cody’s initial trepidation, bridging the gap between them with an ease that Cody found both comforting and disconcerting.

"Enlightenment comes in many forms," Obi-Wan replied, his tone imbued with a hint of playfulness that Cody had never heard in the lecture hall. "Perhaps tonight’s film will offer a different perspective. After all, the world of cinema is vast and varied."

As they settled into their seats, the space between them charged with a new awareness, Cody found himself grappling with the duality of Obi-Wan’s identity. The professor he respected, whose intellect and guidance he valued above all, was also a man of deep passions and interests, facets that Cody had never considered in the rigid structure of their academic interactions.

The room dimmed further, the chatter subsiding into a collective breath of anticipation as the film began to play. On screen, worlds unfolded, stories were told in shades of light and shadow, and emotions were painted in broad strokes of color and sound. Cody found himself drawn into the narrative, yet part of his attention remained tethered to Obi-Wan, to the subtle shifts in his expression, the soft intakes of breath at moments of tension, and the quiet laughter that seemed to resonate directly within Cody.

Their shared experience of the film, punctuated by whispered insights and shared glances, wove a thread of connection between them, subtle yet undeniable. Cody was acutely aware of the warmth radiating from Obi-Wan’s side, the occasional brush of their arms in the shared space between their chairs. Each touch was electric, sparking flashes of awareness that Cody struggled to categorize.

In the dim light, Cody stole glances at Obi-Wan, observing the way the flickering images played across his features, casting him in a light that Cody found mesmerizing. It was as if, in the shared silence of their movie-watching, a dialogue was unfolding between them, one of curiosity, of mutual discovery, and an emerging sense of camaraderie that transcended their known world.

The film, with its tapestry of emotions and narratives, became a backdrop to the unfolding realization within Cody—a dawning understanding of the complexity of his feelings towards Obi-Wan. It was a revelation that unfolded quietly, between the lines of their conversation, in the shared laughter and the silent exchanges that spoke of a connection burgeoning on the cusp of something deeper.

As the evening wore on, the boundaries of their relationship subtly shifted, marked by a camaraderie that felt both exhilarating and daunting. Cody, navigating the tumultuous waters of his own emotions, found himself drawn inexorably towards Obi-Wan, propelled by a mixture of professional admiration and a deepening personal curiosity.

In the shared space of their film club encounter, Cody began to see Obi-Wan not just as his professor but as a man of depth and passion, a realization that promised to redefine the contours of their relationship. The night, with its unexpected connections and revelations, had set the stage for a journey neither man had anticipated, one that promised to explore the intricate dance between respect, admiration, and the burgeoning whispers of something more.

*** 

As the screen went black and the projector's hum faded into an eerie silence, a collective sigh rippled through the dimly lit room, a shared moment of disappointment amongst the film club's members. The sudden power outage, an unwelcome intruder in their cinematic sanctuary, cast the room into shadows, the only light now emanating from the emergency exit signs, casting an ethereal glow.

In the midst of this unexpected turn, Obi-Wan, ever the beacon of calm, retrieved a laptop from his bag with a reassuring smile. "The show must go on," he declared, his voice a comforting anchor in the tide of mild chaos. The group congregated closer, drawn to the promise of continuing their journey into the cinematic world, albeit on a much smaller screen.

Cody found himself shoulder to shoulder with Obi-Wan, the close proximity a stark contrast to the formal distance usually maintained in the lecture halls and corridors of the university. The warmth from Obi-Wan's side was palpable, a reassuring presence that Cody found unexpectedly comforting.

As Obi-Wan balanced the laptop on his knees, their sides pressed together, Cody was acutely aware of every shift, every gesture Obi-Wan made. The space between them, now devoid of the barriers of their roles, felt charged with a new energy, a silent acknowledgment of their shared experience in this intimate setting.

The film resumed, its light flickering across their faces, drawing them back into the story. Yet, the narrative on screen could scarcely compete with the one unfolding between them, a story of two individuals exploring the tentative steps towards a connection that transcended the academic.

Their shared laughter at the film's lighter moments created a bridge, a pathway through the walls Cody had meticulously constructed around himself. Each chuckle, each shared glance, wove a thread of camaraderie and understanding, binding them in a shared experience that was both simple and profoundly intimate.

Obi-Wan's laughter, a sound Cody found he wanted to hear more of, was genuine and unguarded. It was a revelation to Cody, witnessing this side of Obi-Wan, free from the constraints of his professorial facade. In these moments, Cody saw not Professor Kenobi but Obi-Wan, a man with a rich tapestry of emotions and a depth of character that Cody found increasingly compelling.

The warmth of Obi-Wan sitting so close, their arms occasionally brushing in the cramped space, sent a cascade of sensations through Cody, stirring feelings he hadn't anticipated. Each accidental touch was like a spark, igniting a flurry of thoughts and emotions, a silent dialogue that spoke of possibilities Cody had never allowed himself to consider.

In the soft glow of the laptop screen, Cody caught glimpses of Obi-Wan's profile, the way his eyes reflected the film's light, the subtle expressions that danced across his face. Cody found himself captivated, drawn to Obi-Wan in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

The intimacy of their setting, the shared whispers commenting on the film's plot twists, created an atmosphere of closeness that Cody had never experienced with Obi-Wan. It was as if, in the absence of the university's formalities, they were free to explore a new dimension of their relationship, one that was unfolding with each shared smile and whispered word.

As the movie progressed, the world beyond the laptop screen seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in a bubble of shared experience and growing connection. Cody found himself leaning slightly into Obi-Wan, a subconscious gesture of trust and affinity, drawn by the warmth and the unspoken promise of understanding and acceptance.

In this unexpected setting, barriers broke down, and the roles that defined them outside this room seemed irrelevant. Here, they were simply Cody and Obi-Wan, two individuals finding common ground in the shared language of cinema, laughter, and the subtle exploration of an emerging bond that promised to redefine their understanding of each other.

The power outage, initially a disruption, had become a catalyst, transforming a routine film screening into a pivotal moment in their relationship. In the close quarters of their makeshift cinema, Cody and Obi-Wan discovered a connection that was as profound as it was unexpected, a connection that hinted at the depth of the journey they were only just beginning to embark upon.

**** 

In the quietude that enveloped them, the film unfurled its tale with gentle persistence, drawing Cody and Obi-Wan deeper into its emotional landscape. The laptop's soft glow illuminated their faces, casting shadows that danced in harmony with the flickering images on screen. It was during one particularly poignant scene, a moment charged with unspoken yearnings and tender revelations, that the boundary between their two worlds subtly shifted.

The popcorn bowl, previously a mere accessory to their movie-watching experience, became the stage for a moment of unforeseen intimacy. As Cody reached in, his focus still partly on the screen, his hand brushed against Obi-Wan's in the dim light. The contact was brief, accidental, yet laden with an electricity that seemed to pulse through the air between them.

Time, for a heartbeat, seemed to stand still. Cody's breath hitched in his chest, his attention now fully wrenched from the film to the man beside him. Obi-Wan's hand had stilled as well, the warmth of his skin a tangible reminder of the proximity they shared. The air felt charged, heavy with a significance that went beyond casual touch, igniting a spark that Cody felt resonate deep within him.

There was a hesitation, a moment suspended in the ether of possibilities, where both men seemed to grapple with the sudden shift in their dynamic. Cody's heart raced, a tumult of emotions swirling within him—surprise, confusion, but most overwhelmingly, a burgeoning sense of connection to Obi-Wan that he couldn't quite comprehend.

Obi-Wan, for his part, withdrew his hand slowly, almost reluctantly, his eyes meeting Cody's in a gaze that seemed to search, to question. The soft light reflected in Obi-Wan's eyes, revealing a depth of emotion that Cody had never seen before. It was a look that spoke volumes, conveying an understanding and a curiosity that mirrored Cody's own.

The silence that followed was laden with a new awareness, a recognition of the uncharted territory they had inadvertently stumbled upon. The film continued to play, its narrative unfolding in the background, but the real story was happening right here, in the space between them, in the charged air that seemed to hum with potential.

Cody found himself at a loss for words, the usual ease with which he navigated his academic and personal life momentarily eluding him. The brush of their hands, such a simple, unintentional act, had opened a door to a realm of feeling he had not dared to explore, a realm where his admiration for Obi-Wan merged with a deeper, more complex web of emotion.

Obi-Wan, ever the composed presence, seemed to sense Cody's turmoil. With a gentle grace, he bridged the silence, his voice soft yet clear in the quiet room. "The film's themes of connection and understanding seem particularly resonant tonight," he observed, a subtle acknowledgment of the moment they had shared.

Cody nodded, grateful for Obi-Wan's ability to navigate the situation with such sensitivity. The comment was a lifeline, a way to contextualize the rush of feelings in a manner that felt safe, yet acknowledged the undercurrent of something more between them.

As they turned their attention back to the film, the atmosphere between them was altered, imbued with a sense of intimacy and understanding that had not been present before. The movie progressed, its story weaving through themes of love, loss, and redemption, each scene reflecting back at them the complexity of human emotion and connection.

The brush of their hands in the popcorn bowl had been a fleeting moment, but its impact lingered, a silent testament to the burgeoning connection between them. In the shared space of their accidental intimacy, Cody and Obi-Wan found themselves on the cusp of a journey neither had anticipated, a journey that promised to explore the depths of their relationship and the possibilities that lay within the simple act of reaching out.

**** 

As the narrative of the film wove its intricate dance of light and shadow across the small laptop screen, the room around Cody and Obi-Wan seemed to recede, leaving them adrift in a shared sea of emotion and silent revelation. The movie, a poignant tale of love found, lost, and reclaimed against the odds, mirrored the tempestuous journey of the human heart with such acuity that it seemed to speak directly to them, to the unspoken, burgeoning feelings that had begun to take root in the quiet space between their side-by-side seats.

In the flickering half-light, their eyes met and parted like dancers, a delicate choreography of glances that spoke volumes. Each look was a brushstroke on the canvas of their emerging connection, painting a picture of mutual recognition and the dawning of something more profound than either had anticipated. These stolen moments, when their gazes locked, were laden with the weight of unvoiced questions and the glimmer of possibilities that hung tantalizingly within reach.

The air around them was thick with tension, a palpable charge that seemed to hum with the potential of new beginnings. It was as if the film itself had become a conduit for their emotions, each scene echoing their internal landscapes, drawing them closer with the gravitational pull of shared vulnerability and understanding.

A particularly emotional moment on screen—a heartfelt confession of love that transcended barriers and defied expectations—acted as a mirror, reflecting back at them the uncharted depths of their own feelings. The characters' courage in baring their souls to one another resonated deeply with Cody, stirring within him a tumult of emotions that he struggled to name. It was as if the movie had laid bare the essence of his own heart, revealing a truth he had scarcely admitted to himself.

Beside him, Obi-Wan's presence was a constant, a grounding force in the whirlwind of Cody's thoughts and feelings. Yet, as the scene unfolded, Cody sensed a shift in Obi-Wan, a subtle change in his demeanor that suggested he, too, was moved by the parallel between their situation and the lovers on screen. The professor's usual composure was pierced by the raw emotion of the moment, his gaze lingering on Cody with an intensity that left no room for doubt: the connection they shared was real, palpable, and charged with the promise of something yet to be defined.

In the aftermath of the scene, as the characters on screen navigated the fallout of their vulnerability, Cody and Obi-Wan found themselves caught in a moment of profound silence, a breath held in time. It was a silence that spoke louder than words, a tacit acknowledgment of the shift in their relationship, of the bridge being built between them with each shared experience, each exchanged glance.

The movie continued, its narrative arc bending towards resolution, but for Cody and Obi-Wan, the story was just beginning. The emotional resonance of the film had peeled back layers of defense, revealing the raw, unvarnished truth of their connection. In the shared space of their vulnerability, they found a mutual understanding, a recognition of the feelings that simmered just below the surface.

As the final scenes played out, the characters finding their way back to each other against all odds, Cody and Obi-Wan sat in a silence that was both comfortable and charged with anticipation. The journey of the film's protagonists, from uncertainty to love's triumphant return, offered a poignant parallel to their own, a beacon of hope in the unexplored territory of their burgeoning relationship.

In the dim light of the laptop, as the credits rolled and the room slowly brightened with the return of the overhead lights, Cody and Obi-Wan shared a look that was both an ending and a beginning. It was a look that acknowledged the journey they had undertaken, side by side, and the unspoken promise of the path that lay ahead. The movie had ended, but their story, with all its potential and promise, was just beginning to unfold.

**** 

The film had ended, its final scenes leaving a lingering silence that felt both heavy and hallowed, a sacred space within which truths could be unveiled. The room gradually filled with the soft sounds of the other members stirring, their movements a gentle intrusion into the bubble that Cody and Obi-Wan had inadvertently created around themselves. Yet, in the immediate vicinity of their shared seat, time seemed to stand still, the world beyond their conversation momentarily paused.

Cody, still caught in the emotional undertow of the film, found himself at a crossroads of vulnerability. The movie had stirred something within him, loosening the tightly held reins on his own guarded thoughts and feelings. With the dimming of the laptop screen came an unbidden surge of courage, propelling him into confessions that, until now, had remained locked away.

"It's just... sometimes, I feel so overwhelmed," Cody began, his voice a mere whisper, as if the words themselves were fragile. "Between my thesis and trying to meet everyone's expectations, I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of drowning." The admission hung in the air between them, a testament to Cody's struggle, rendered all the more poignant in the wake of their shared cinematic journey.

Obi-Wan, ever the empathetic listener, turned to face Cody, his expression one of profound understanding and compassion. The barriers of professor and student, mentor and mentee, seemed to dissolve in the face of Cody's raw honesty, leaving behind just two individuals sharing a moment of genuine human connection.

"I've been there, Cody," Obi-Wan shared, his voice tinged with the weight of memory. "There was a time when I too felt as though I was being crushed under the weight of expectations. The fear of failure, of not living up to the potential others saw in me, was almost paralyzing." His admission was a bridge, extending across the chasm of loneliness and doubt that Cody had thought insurmountable.

The room around them slowly emptied, the soft murmurs and footsteps of the departing members a distant echo to the intimacy of their conversation. Yet, neither Cody nor Obi-Wan seemed to notice; their world had contracted to the immediacy of their dialogue, a lifeline thrown across the waters of uncertainty and isolation.

Cody listened, a sense of awe mingling with the burgeoning respect and affection he felt for Obi-Wan. To hear his professor—this person he admired and looked up to—speak of vulnerabilities and past struggles was both humbling and deeply moving. It was a reminder that strength was not the absence of weakness but the courage to face it, to share it, and to grow from it.

"How did you overcome it?" Cody asked, the question a beacon in the fog of his own doubts.

"With time, patience, and understanding—both from myself and from those around me," Obi-Wan replied, his gaze steady and reassuring. "And by realizing that it's okay to ask for help, to admit that you're struggling. Strength lies in vulnerability, in the courage to show your true self, warts and all."

The conversation flowed, a meandering river of shared experiences, fears, and hopes. Obi-Wan spoke of his journey, of the challenges he had faced and the lessons learned along the way. Cody, in turn, opened up about his own fears, the pressure to succeed, and the isolation that his dedication had wrought upon him.

In the vulnerability of their exchange, a bond was forged, one built on mutual respect, understanding, and an unspoken promise of support. They spoke of the future, of paths yet to be walked, and of the strength to be found in companionship and shared burdens.

As the last of the film club members filtered out, leaving Cody and Obi-Wan in the quiet aftermath of their conversation, a sense of peace settled over them. The challenges ahead had not diminished, but the burden felt lighter, shared between shoulders strong enough to bear it together.

In that moment, as they rose from their seats, the world around them resumed its pace, the paused time starting once again to flow. Yet, for Cody and Obi-Wan, everything had changed. They stepped into the hallway, not as professor and student, but as companions on a journey, fortified by the shared understanding that, no matter the challenges ahead, they would not face them alone.

**** 

The remnants of their heart-to-heart lingered in the air, a tangible testament to the shift that had occurred between them. In the quiet aftermath, as the last echoes of their conversation faded into the hush of the emptying room, Cody and Obi-Wan remained, caught in a moment of profound realization. The boundaries that had once defined their interactions seemed to blur, the roles of professor and student no longer sufficient to encapsulate the depth of connection they now shared.

Cody, his heart a tumultuous sea of newfound emotions, found himself grappling with the implications of their exchange. The vulnerability they had shared, the mutual understanding and respect that had flowed so freely between them, had opened the door to something more—a potential that was exhilarating and daunting in equal measure.

Obi-Wan, for his part, seemed equally contemplative, his usually composed demeanor softened by the intimacy of their dialogue. There was a warmth in his gaze as he looked at Cody, a tenderness that spoke volumes of the journey they had embarked upon together. The air between them was charged with an unspoken question, a silent inquiry into the nature of the feelings that had begun to take root.

"It seems we've crossed a threshold, Cody," Obi-Wan finally said, his voice low and imbued with a weight that underscored the significance of their conversation. "What we've shared tonight... it goes beyond the confines of mentorship."

Cody's heart skipped a beat at the acknowledgment, the reality of their situation settling around him like a cloak. The admission was both a balm and a challenge, an invitation to explore the depths of their connection with honesty and courage.

"Yes," Cody agreed, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him. "I feel it too. There's something... more between us." The words, once spoken, seemed to hang in the air, a fragile bridge spanning the gap between potential and reality.

The complexity of their situation was not lost on either man. The transition from mentor-mentee to something more was fraught with uncertainties and potential pitfalls. Yet, the foundation they had built—rooted in mutual respect, understanding, and now, a burgeoning attraction—offered a beacon of hope, a promise of what could be if they dared to navigate these uncharted waters together.

Obi-Wan stepped closer, closing the physical distance between them as a symbolic gesture of the emotional journey they were about to undertake. "Navigating this... it will require care, Cody. We must be mindful of the implications, of the potential impact on both our personal and professional lives."

Cody nodded, the gravity of Obi-Wan's words grounding him. "I understand. And I'm willing to explore this... with you, with caution and respect for those boundaries." The commitment in his voice was palpable, a vow to tread this new path with the care and consideration it deserved.

The acknowledgment of their mutual attraction, coupled with the complexities it introduced, marked a pivotal moment in their relationship. It was a threshold crossed, a door opened to possibilities hitherto unimagined. As they stood there, in the quiet aftermath of their heart-to-heart, Cody and Obi-Wan were acutely aware of the significance of this moment.

This was not a decision made lightly, nor a path chosen without foresight. It was a journey they agreed to embark upon together, with eyes wide open to the challenges ahead. The understanding and connection that had blossomed between them were too profound to ignore, a rare and precious thing that demanded exploration.

As they finally made their way out of the now-empty room, the world around them seemed both unchanged and entirely new. The campus outside was bathed in the soft glow of the evening, the quiet hum of night beginning to settle in. Yet, for Cody and Obi-Wan, the landscape of their relationship had transformed, offering a vista of potential that was both daunting and beautiful in its promise.

Their steps were measured, side by side, as they navigated the dimly lit paths of the university grounds. The night air was cool, a gentle caress against their skin, a reminder of the world's vastness and the small, yet significant, space they occupied within it. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with potential pitfalls and promises, but the journey—fraught with complexities and imbued with the thrill of new beginnings—was one they were now committed to exploring, together.

*** 

In the serene stillness that cloaked the university's grounds, the world around Cody and Obi-Wan seemed to hold its breath, a silent witness to the unfolding narrative between them. The evening air, crisp and redolent with the scent of blooming night flowers, carried a sense of anticipation, a prelude to the next chapter in their evolving story.

Obi-Wan, typically the epitome of restraint and composure, found himself navigating the tumultuous waters of newfound emotions. The revelations of the night had acted as a catalyst, dissolving the barriers that had once held back the tide of his feelings for Cody. It was a sensation both exhilarating and daunting, a departure from the safety of the known into the vast, uncharted territories of the heart.

As they walked, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot punctuated the silence, a rhythmic reminder of their journey's physical and metaphorical nature. Obi-Wan glanced at Cody, noting the thoughtful expression that played across his features, the soft glow of the campus lights casting shadows that danced across his face.

"Cody," Obi-Wan began, his voice breaking the silence with a gentle yet decisive timbre. "Tonight has been... illuminating, in more ways than one. I find myself reluctant to let it end here, to simply return to the roles we've known."

Cody turned to face him, the ambient light reflecting in his eyes, lending them a depth that Obi-Wan felt drawn into. The air between them was charged with a palpable energy, a magnetic pull that seemed to draw them inexorably closer.

"I feel the same," Cody admitted, his voice low, a mirror to the vulnerability and strength that had characterized their earlier conversation. "There's something between us, Obi-Wan. Something that goes beyond the classroom, beyond the academic."

Obi-Wan nodded, the acknowledgment igniting a spark of hope within him. "I'm glad to hear you say that," he said, taking a small, yet significant step closer. "Which is why I'd like to invite you to another movie night. Just the two of us, away from the constraints of our roles, to explore... whatever this is, between us."

The invitation hung between them, a proposition laden with potential and promise. Cody's response was a soft exhale, a release of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, a sign of his own inner turmoil and burgeoning hope.

"I'd like that," Cody said, his voice steady, imbued with a conviction that belied the rapid beating of his heart. "To explore, to understand this connection... with you."

The agreement was a bridge, a tacit commitment to venture forth into the unknown together, to navigate the complexities of their feelings with the same integrity and respect that had defined their relationship thus far.

The decision to meet again, under the guise of another private viewing, was more than an arrangement; it was a declaration, a mutual acknowledgment of their interest in discovering the potential of their bond beyond the academic context. It was an exploration of possibilities, of paths untrodden and futures unimagined, a journey they were now committed to undertaking together.

As they continued their walk, the campus around them seemed to come alive with a new vibrancy, a reflection of the internal shifts that had taken place within them both. The night, with all its mysteries and promises, stretched out before them, a canvas upon which their story could unfold in hues and shades yet to be discovered.

The conversation shifted then, to lighter topics, to shared interests and anecdotes that wove a tapestry of companionship and mutual understanding. Yet, beneath the casual exchange, there was an undercurrent of excitement, a palpable sense of anticipation for what lay ahead.

Their steps eventually led them to part ways, but the promise of their next meeting lingered in the air, a beacon guiding them forward. As they said their goodnights, the exchange was laden with unspoken promises and the thrill of new beginnings.

In the quiet of his own space, Cody found himself replaying the evening's events, each moment a precious memory to be savored. The prospect of their upcoming meeting filled him with a sense of anticipation he hadn't known he was capable of feeling, a testament to the profound impact Obi-Wan had made on his life.

Similarly, Obi-Wan, in the solitude of his own contemplation, found himself looking forward to their next encounter with an eagerness that surprised him. The decision to extend the invitation, to openly express his desire to explore the connection they shared, felt like stepping into daylight after a long night, a bold move toward a future filled with unknown but promising possibilities.

The night's revelations had indeed marked a turning point, a pivotal moment that set the course for a journey neither man could fully anticipate. Yet, the path ahead, with all its uncertainties, was a journey they were both willing to take, emboldened by the shared recognition of their mutual attraction and the complexities it introduced into their lives.

Comments and likes are always welcome.

[randyortonofficial]

would you happen to have any tips for someone who's never written Randy before? Candy was my first ship ever and it makes me sad that he intimidates me so to where I've never written them. you write him extremely well so I figure you'd be the best person to ask! I scared I won't do his character justice. 😅

aw, thank you, i really appreciate this! especially because randy has always been my favorite character to write.

i have a good grasp on randy non-kayfabe. i don't really write a lot of kayfabe stuff so i can't advise on kayfabe, but will on non-kayfabe.

randy is a very complex, and dynamic character who has gone through a lot of growth and struggle in ways we don't really see.

like, he came into the industry because of nepotism and immediately got the top spot. he had a target on his back from day one and was surrounded by figures that were less-than-great, and as a result, he became this unruly troublemaker that looked out for him and himself alone. he can't trust anyone but himself, because he's been wronged and hazed his whole life - even in the military, he was dishonorably discharged only because he tried to report the hazing and they didn't do shit about it.

randy is simply a product of his corrupted environment, but deep down, he does have a good heart. he cares greatly for the things he's passionate about and he WANTS to be good, but it's so hard to be good when the whole world keeps throwing shit at you, over and over again.

he grew up being bullied. it made him insecure, made him need to constantly fight for himself and fuck up anyone who dared to make his life hell or make him question his insecurities. and on some level, randy knows this is a facade he's putting up. that he's not REALLY this super confident, macho guy everyone thinks he is. he has insecurities, he does get scared about stuff, does wonder if he could be better or do better...

but the older he gets, the more he surrounds himself with good people - people like cody - that teach him that there are still good people in this world. that he doesn't have to be constantly fighting, that he IS a good person too despite everyone else saying he isn't. that he does have talents. teaches randy that there are people that do care about him and want to see him succeed, to be HAPPY

so he learns he doesn't need to be a dick about everything. learns to let the nicer side of himself show. honest, but not brutally honest. independent, but not isolative. still has edges to him, but they've rounded down considerably. learns that, beyond his stone cold exterior, is a person that really does care and he shouldn't be afraid to let people know that he's a person who cares and has feelings

let me know if there's anything else you have questions on or if you need more. i know it's long already! but i can go on a long time about randy's characterization

[chevvsgotanumbrellatattoo]

Aces

Story Technicals:

-Synopsis: The Boys try to use their powers on you, to no avail. Little do they know, you are Ace.

-Written in second person for inclusivity of all kinds! :D

-Slightly excesssive use of italics because that's apparently how I write emphasis *vampiric shrug*

-Word Count: 3,768

-Also why is writing people flirting so. freaking. hard.

♠️Soapbox below intro, fic below soapbox&references. Please read the soapbox, it explains certain bits of the fic <3 and asexuality ♠️

(banners courtesy of cafekitsune!)

HI BEANS!!! Gods, this fic has been in the works for a hot minute. The idea came about and is fully credited to @checkitoutmikey! I love this idea and I really really r e a l l y wanted to do it justice. There's so much misunderstanding about asexuality and Aces that I wanted to clear the air a little via fic. (I find that sometimes it's easier to grasp a concept if it's written using characters you know!)

Alright. Soapbox time.

As an Ace (a person who identifies as asexual), I have based this on my own experiences, stories I have heard, and I have fact checked things I wasn't 100% on, such as the black ring—♠️Please let it be known that, according to this webpage, the black ace ring did not come about until 2005, but for the purposes of this fic, it felt like an important piece of information to include.♠️ This being said, this part of the fic is not time accurate. Sorry, Santa Carla. *another vampiric shrug*

I really poured my heart and soul into this fic. I want to spread awareness to those who may not know about asexuality. I was in high school when I found out that there was a word for what I was feeling. It was revolutionary to learn that there wasn't anything wrong with me. It was so, so freeing. If my words can be the medium that introduces someone out there to asexuality and lets them know that they're not broken, then this fic will have served its purpose. As a bonus, I’ll put a few resources below that I find exceptionally helpful for learning about asexuality (please feel free to reblog with more resources or, if you'd rather, you can DM me the sources so I can add them to the post!).

Okay, okay, I did play on the cake cliché (because, at least in my case, it's TRUE), but aside from that, I think I explained things pretty accurately and cliché-free. I know there’s a lot more information I could have included (see: dragons), but then I would be writing forever and this would never get posted and let's face it—we all need a dose of our gay 80s vampires in this year of 2024.

If you have someone who expresses their aceness to you, accept them and support them, for the love of cheese, crackers, and rock box tapes. Not experiencing/experiencing very little sexual attraction in a society that basically runs and prides itself on sex can be incredibly isolating and depressing. Disclosing this information to people takes a hel of a lot of energy, bravery, confidence, and trust. Allow us to disclose this information to the people we choose and DO NOT do the job of coming out for us. Not all of us want or can come out. Respect our boundaries and we'll remember the effort forever.

We are not broken. We are not faking it. We are valid and there is nothing wrong with us. You are not alone.

Resources:

♠️‘I Am Ace (Advice on Living Your Best Asexual Life)’ by Cody Daigle-Orians ($15-$20 on Amazon, around $10 on ThriftBooks)

THE BEST BOOK I HAVE EVER BOUGHT WITH MY ADULT MONEY. Essentially a handbook on everything (or almost everything) you've ever needed or wanted to know about asexuality. I think everyone needs to read this book at least once in their lives. It explains asexuality so thoroughly and concisely without being bitchy or conceited. Daigle-Orians shares his experiences throughout the book, and it was incredibly validating to know that I wasn't alone in some of these experiences.

He also touches on aromanticism! Cody Daigle-Orians has Instagram, YouTube, and a webpage: ♠️Instagram ♠️YouTube ♠️Webpage

♠️Asexual Visibility and Education Network (AVEN)

An absolute fount of knowledge about all things Asexuality (and occasionally Aromanticism!). Their Tumblr answers Asks semi-often, too! ♠️Website ♠️Tumblr

Trigger warnings (in order of appearance) ⚠️:

David smoking cigs

General cuss words

Being cat-called / harassed by Surf Nazis (the Boys protect you, don't worry)

Does kinda/sorta include a microaggression (‘don't know til u try it’ one)

Unwanted pet-name ("doll face")

Talk of David eating any future cat-callers

The Boys attempting to use powers of persuasion on you (Da-da-da, does not work)

The topic of consent/non-consensual sex coming up because the MC asks our undead idiots (/pos) if they understand the concept of consent (they do)

The MC being worried about the Boys thinking they're ‘broken’ (THIS ISN'T POSSIBLE BC ACES AREN'T BROKENNNNN)

Marko hitting the MC with the ‘plant’ microaggression bc bro is cute but he can be a little dense (it hurt to write, trust me, but idk. something in me felt like it was important to show the Ace's side of microaggressions, especially the ones that come from people who are genuinely trying to understand)

If I missed any warnings, please let me know! I always try to cover anything that could even be partially/potentially triggering, just in case!

WITH ALL THAT BEING SAID, HAPPY (belated) PRIDE MY DARLINGS AND MOTOR BABIES!!! ENJOY THE RIDE!!!!

🥳🥳🥳🥳

Combat boots. Grippy jeans. Band t-shirt. A flannel that barely hugged your hips since the knot was coming undone. You tightened it, flashing a wicked smile at your boys.

"Finally decided to show up," you sauntered up to the four, taking your time crossing the boardwalk.

"We've been waiting on you for 10 minutes." David exhaled cig smoke with each word.

"I know." You smirked. You rolled your eyes at his unrelenting glare—the glare you knew was fake because you knew this ringleader little vamp was secretly so so excited to see you—and pecked his cheek. "I got caught up in traffic."

"You ride a bike."

"Motorbike. And unlike some," you fussed with his coat, just to have an excuse to touch him. "I have to follow traffic laws. Can't have me dying on my way here, huh?" He brought the cigarette close to his mouth, but you pushed it away, planting a kiss on his warm, nicotine-tinted lips. You felt him tense, surprised, but soon relaxing into it. Pulling back, you took his face in your hands. Taking the kiss from him early was slightly amusing. "I'm sorry. It happens."

"C'mon, David! Don't hog the kisses!" Paul whined. You grinned, bouncing over and tackle-hugging Paul, pressing kisses all over his gleeful face.

"There's plenty, Paulie!" You relished in the sound of his giggles. His pale face grew colorful due to his bright smile. "So! What chaos are we committing tonight?" Your wicked little grin finally broke David's frown.

"Cotton candy, carousel," Marko matched your grin with his own. "Paul wants to check out the live music."

"The sax guy's back!"

"Jewelry store got a new shipment, too. Might swipe you somethin' nice." Dwayne purred into your ear, pulling you from Paul and to his chest. You shuddered at the sound and the feeling of his nose against your neck. You moved, grinning up at him and making a smile break across his face. "Hi, sweetheart."

"Hi," a giggle slipped from your throat. You felt yourself being yanked into another solid frame: multi-colored patches and blond curls. "Marko!" You could hear his grin laced within the Italian he muttered into your ear. He knew damn well you couldn't understand him, but he didn't care, and nor did you. You found it endlessly attractive.

"Let's go fuel up." He said. You nodded, allowing yourself to be pulled away by the hyper blond.

Waiting in line for funnel cakes, David and Dwayne watched in silent amusement as you and the terror twins kept pinballing off of each other's energy, talking about which rides to go on before the live music. Finally retrieving 5 of the fried treats, you parked yourselves on a railing, chowing down and laughing over nothing.

"I can not finish this. One of you want it?" You held out the plate. David—still licking the powdered sugar from his fingers—held out his free hand, demanding the plate. "You just barely finished yours, David." Again, his hand beckoned the plate forward—the stoic vampire equivalent of grabby hands.

"David fuckin' loves funnel cake. Don't try to stop him." Paul snickered. Now satisfyingly snackless, you stood and stretched, popping your neck and scaring the shit out of Marko. A whistle interrupted his retort.

"Hey, baby, come over here!" Surf Nazis. "We got better snacks than those boys do!" Gyration followed by loud cackling. You rolled your eyes, perching next to Marko.

"Pricks." You huffed. You moved your foot, heel pressed into Dwayne's shoulder to stop him from standing. "Leave it alone. They'll get bored."

But they didn't get bored. Instead, the gaggle of Surf Nazis made their way over. Your silent seething held your vampires in place. You ignored the group until they spoke.

"Why don't you come spend some time with real men?" The ringleader tried to slide close. You put a foot up against his chest, stopping him.

"I know how I like my men, and honey, you're not done cooking." Your voice was ice, eyes boring holes into his skull. Snort from Paul. The other Surf Nazis chittered.

"How do you know if you've never tried?" The ringleader wouldn't give in.

"I don't need to drink poison to know the taste will be bitter." That wiped the smirk from his face. You pushed him away, dropping your foot and staring him down. He, once again, tried to come onto you.

"Look." You stood. "See this ring? It means I'm a member of the Black Ring Society. We have a very specific set of qualifications that allow us entry. These qualifications make us immune to mortals' pathetic attempts at enticing us with their corporeal form, such as the pitiful display you're putting on now." David choked on his drink, trying not to laugh. The Surf Nazis all looked dumbfounded.

"W-What?"

"I don't wanna ride your dick. Go away."

At this, Dwayne stood. Your cleverness was clearly wasted on these idiots. The other three stood around you as well, prepared to pounce while simultaneously providing a silent, yet protective, barrier.

"This isn't a fight you want to start tonight." Dwayne growled. You heard Marko popping his knuckles for effect, ready to knock the lights out of whoever approached him first.

"You don't know what we want." A lower Surf Nazi got stopped by a higher up.

"Yes we do, and you're not getti-"

"I'm not a piece of meat. I said no." You raised your voice, cutting Paul off. "If you and your cohorts don't leave, I will call for the boardwalk officer." You knew the officer wouldn't be pleased to see you and the boys either, but the Surf Nazis loved their beach time too much to risk it.

"Watch your back, doll face." Defeated, the ringleader sauntered off, his crew following behind. You huffed, leaning against the railing again.

"You okay?" Marko looked at you. You shrugged.

"Let's go ride some rides."

Several rides into the night, your mood had improved considerably. Paul practically ripped your arm from its socket dragging you to the music stage. Settled in a sandy little corner near a fire bin, you waited impatiently, but your thought process was interrupted by an arm snaking around your waist.

"Feeling better, darling?" David.

"Yeah. I get shit like that all the time." You shrugged, leaning into his embrace. "Don't worry. Nothin's happened."

"If it does, I'll murder them and eat the entrails." He promised, an unlit cig perched at his lips. You took it before he could light it. Confusion rippled over his pretty features. You hated when he frowned.

"Wait this once? The smells out here are a lot right now." At your unintentional puppy face, David couldn't find himself able to say no. He slid the nic-stick back into the carton, contenting himself with holding you close. Despite the bodies and fire nearby, there was a distinct chill in the air. You burrowed into David, wrapping yourself in his coat. He chuckled, moving you in front of him and cocooning you in the extra fabric. Now warm, you grinned, burying your face in it. Hints of cig smoke, mints, and pilfered cologne reached your nose, soothing the overworked sense.

"If you wanna be so close, why don't we go back to the cave? I'll keep you warm, kitten." His voice was low and gravelly. He pressed a tiny kiss to your ear, smirking. "You're so sweet, I could eat you up like a funnel cake." With that, he nipped your ear. You laughed, but frowned. He was puzzled to see confusion on your face.

"We came for the music, though. Why would we go back to the cave?" You looked at his dumbfounded face, lost. You didn't have a lot of time to dwell on this thought because the crowd of people around you erupted. The music was starting.

****

An hour set! It was amazing. You danced with the four respectively, the music fueling your soul in a way that funnel cake couldn't. Paul was so giddy and happy he got to see "sax guy" again.

"C'mere, peaches." He twirled you to him, catching you in his arms. His nose brushed yours, mischief in his eyes. "I prolly got some dance moves left that you've not seen."

"Is that so?" You laughed. "I think I saw them all on the dance floor." You broke free of his grip, moving to cooler air. Dancing had replaced all chills with sweat. To your astonishment, Paul looked dumbfounded as well, glancing at Marko and David. "What do you boys wanna do now?"

"I can think of a couple things." Marko purred, grabbing your hips and pulling you into him. "You look so good in those jeans, baby. I'd love to draw your pretty curves in 'em." His forehead to yours, you got lost in his eyes for a moment. He tightened the flannel at your middle, hand traipsing up your side a bit, but you grabbed it, seamlessly sliding out of his grip, giggling. You were riding a concert high, eyes sparkling. Marko looked surprised, but Dwayne took your hand.

"How 'bout a milkshake?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Sounds delectable!" You grinned. It had been too long since you had had a milkshake. The other three looked positively shocked. You giggled, sliding up to David. You hooked his chin with your finger, closing his pretty mouth. "You look like a bunny when your mouth hangs open like that, luvvie. Keep it up, and I'll kiss your little teeth." David blinked, looking at you. He smiled now, moving to peck the appendage at his chin.

"You heard 'em, boys. Milkshakes await," he raised an eyebrow, taking your hand. You laughed, moving back over to Dwayne and letting him drape an arm around you as you walked.

The small diner was crowded, but thinning out. Four of you slid into a booth, Paul taking the odd seat at the end of the table. The waiter was clearly overwhelmed when they came up to you, but you assured them that you were in no hurry.

"You're doing great," you smiled. They relaxed a bit, smiling. They looked close to tears.

"What can I get ya?"

You ordered the milkshakes with ease, laying dramatically on Dwayne as you waited. He rolled his eyes, but moved his arm to support your weight. Marko and Paul bounced off your energy, but overall, the four just seemed… confused. In an attempt to combat their frowns, you reached up and squished Dwayne's stoic face in your hand, making him smile. He moved your hand, wrinkling his nose up at you. You tried to grab his pouty little face again, but he pretended to bite at your hand, making you laugh outright.

"Okay!" You sat up.

"Silly little pretty one." He teased, pressing a kiss to your head. Your heart melted, beating twice as fast. "If you want a kiss, just ask."

"Maybe I will," you grinned mischievously. He rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Here ya go!" The waiter passed them out. "Enjoy!"

"Thank you!" You answered for the boys, who were already sipping on the sweet drinks. You caught David's eye, giggling slightly.

"What?"

"Chocoholic." You accused. He kicked your foot lightly under the table, biting back a grin.

"As opposed to… what did you get?" He frowned at the sprinkles on top of your shake.

"Birthday cake," you unsheathed your straw, taking a huge sip. The vampiric grabby hands returned. You couldn't save your drink from him as a brain freeze settled behind your eyes. It thawed out just in time to see David's face wrinkle up.

"No." He slid it back to you, shaking his head. You laughed.

"Chocoholic."

"Cake fanatic."

"Thank you!" You fake gasped. He pretended to ignore you.

"Maybe once we're done here, I can show y-" Marko shoved a napkin in Paul's mouth, cutting him off.

"Do not ruin their cake obsession." He quipped, ignoring the coughing fit he sent his brother into. Once it passed, you looked at the rocker.

"What were you saying?" He squirmed slightly under the glares of the others.

"Just askin' if you wanted to go to the cave, peaches." He stirred his milkshake around sheepishly, not looking up from the sweet confection. You frowned.

"What is it with the cave tonight?" You pressed. "You all have been dying to spend tonight on the boardwalk, but you keep trying to get back there." You frowned at your milkshake now, upset by the confusing conversations scattered throughout the night. Dwayne nudged your arm, getting your attention.

"You know about our.. specific dietary tastes, right?" He started. You nodded. "And that we have… certain… qualities?"

"Well, yeah." You had no idea where this was going. You were in public. They could get caught talking about bloodthirst and powers out in the open. "I saw David make a Surf Nazi eat a slushie covered pretzel from the trash last week." The vamp in question snickered at this, half-hiding his face in his treat.

"That skill set in particular, persuasion.." Dwayne was trailing off a lot and it was kind of irritating. You huffed. He got the message. "It includes relationship things. Partner things." He brushed your hair from your face.

"What do you mean?" You weren't getting it.

"We've been flirting all night." David said flatly. Dwayne scoffed at him, a 'really?' look on his face. "What was it you said? ‘Enticement of the corporeal form?’" Heat flooded your face as you fidgeted with your straw, staring at the treat.

They were hitting on you.

"So the cave… you wanted.. alone time." The idea repulsed you. You were all massive flirts, but the thought of that made your stomach flip. The milkshake in front of you no longer sounded appealing. "If this has all just been a game for you four to inevitably get in my pants and then eat me-"

"Relax." Marko stopped your words. "If that were the case, we'd have done it by now. We love you for you, baby." His bluntness took you aback, but you noted the gentleness in his voice. You still squirmed at the idea.

"So… what? You've been trying to make me… have sex with you?" The word was revolting. You hated the taste.

"I was teasing. At the music, when you were wrapped up in my coat. I had no intention, really, but it didn't work on you." David explained.

"You used your powers on me???" You hissed. He nodded curtly, earning him a violent kick to the shin. He visibly winced, nearly spilling his milkshake.

"They didn't work!" He hissed right back. "All of us tried it."

"All of you?" Rage settled in your veins. David biting your ear. Paul's 'dance moves.' Marko's comment about your jeans. It all made so much more sense.

"We weren't going to go through with it!" Paul insisted. "Really. The only reason we did it was to try to figure out why they aren't working on you." His puppy eyes ripped at you, but you ignored him.

"They didn't work?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Mine did, but it didn't take much to convince you to get a milkshake." Dwayne piped up. He sipped on his drink lightly, clearly enjoying that he wasn't in the kill zone.

"Don't think you're safe." His smirk dropped. "What the hel makes you think I want to have sex?” You pointed this question at the ringleader, staring him down as he rubbed at his shin.

"You're so fuckin flirty, peaches! We all just.. sorta assumed-" you smacked the back of Paul's head.

"Idiots. Just because you're not sick doesn't mean you can't joke about it." You stood, taking your milkshake to the counter and getting a to-go cup. You paid and left, sitting beachside as you finished your treat. It was quite a while until the boys found you. When they approached, you didn't acknowledge them.

“Can we sit?” David asked. You noted the slight embarrassment behind his voice, but nodded. The four perched in the sand, antsy and guilty looking. Simply put, they looked like drenched little bats—upset and shivering under your cold gaze.

“We're sorry, peaches.” Paul actually had tears in his eyes, bless his undead little heart. “We should've been honest with you.”

“We were mostly confused why they weren't working, and you ended up being the guinea pig.” Marko added. “They always work on Surf Nazis and nosy adults and annoying eight-year-olds, but not on you. Not… not for that.” You tensed.

“Which is still the most appalling, downright nasty thing any creature could ever do! Have you even heard of consent?”

“We have! We know, peaches!”

“Trust us, Max drilled that into our heads way before we turned.” David said quietly. “We shouldn't have used our powers on you, kitten.” David apologizing. That was one for the history books. That didn't excuse anything though.

“Don't do it again or I swear-”

“We swear.” Dwayne cut you off before your voice got louder than the waves. “On jaguars and funnel cake and the rock box and pigeons.” He held out a pinky. You looked over all four of them; genuine regret poured from their vibes, heavy and thick and sludgy. You turned away from Dwayne, looking instead at the ocean.

“I want to know why.” Your voice was icier than David's irises.

“We told you, we don't know.” Dwayne sighed. “It worked when you wanted to learn to skate but were too scared to initiate. Which is the only time we've done it outside this!” He added quickly, recoiling under your glare.

“Yeah, I remember. It was ‘cuz I told you to. I knew I was too much of a wuss and didn't wanna back out.” You relented. You listened to the waves for a few minutes, the five of you thinking.

“Babe, what was that thing you said to that Surf Nazi earlier?” Marko asked. You frowned.

“Uhm.. oh, that. It's a long-winded and overly clever way of explaining my ring.” He still looked confused. “I was telling them that they couldn't seduce me with their bodies because that type of thing doesn't interest me.”

“What does that mean?” Dwayne asked slowly. “You don't.. you don't feel attraction?” You were about to be mad, but the genuine curiosity and want to understand on his face calmed the wave of rage down to a small ripple.

“Not sexual attraction, no.” You said. David looked bewildered, to say the least. You laughed lightly, your grin confusing them more. “I'm asexual.”

“Asexual? Like plan-”

“You idiot, of course not!” You kicked Marko. “It means a person who experiences very little or no sexual attraction. In my case, I experience none. The entire concept of sex feels too… vulnerable and invasive. So for me, I'm sex repulsed. The entire notion makes me anxious and nauseous.”

“So what about... romantic attraction?” David piped up. “You aren't just playing us, are you?” He almost looked hurt. The wall you put up softened a little.

“Boys.” You smiled weakly. They were truly trying to understand, they just didn't have the information to do so. “Of course not. Sexual attraction and romantic attraction are very different. You can still want the romance without the sex. The lack of romantic attraction is called being aromantic. You can be aro/ace—which is just lingo for aromantic and asexual respectively—or you can be one or the other. Or neither. That's also an option.” They chuckled.

“So you're still with us?” You smiled at Paul's sheepishness.

“I'm still your partner, yes.” You said. The air got less tense. “Did that answer your questions?”

“Most of ‘em.” Marko said. He was still rubbing his arm. “Still doesn't explain the persuasion not working.” You thought about this for a moment, fidgeting with your flannel.

“You were trying to convince me to.. have sex with you, right?” Your stomach flipped at the idea. Color rushed to their translucent faces, but they nodded. It clicked. You grinned. “I think it didn't work because you can't make someone feel something they aren't hardwired to feel. The idea wouldn't stick because I don't feel that attraction.” Realization flooded the air. The vibe lightened.

“What about the ring?”

“It's a symbol for asexuality, a way for us to show our pride in public in a quiet way. A way for other aces to see and recognize each other. A black ring on your right middle finger. For aromantics, it's the same concept, but a white ring on your left middle finger.” They nodded, small smiles on their faces. A thought tugged at your brain, making your confidence and smile drain right out of you. What if you messed things up by explaining? The boys must think you're weird or pining for attention.

“You don't think of me differently now, do you?”

“How do you mean?” David asked.

“Just.. thinking I'm weird… or confused... or broken.” You looked down, embarrassed and afraid. Their silence was deafening. It would be easier to deal with if they just started yell-

“Of course not, peaches.” Paul's voice left no room for argument. “We don't think you're broken or weird. You just experience the world a little differently, and that's okay.” Your head shot up, looking at him. The other three nodded. A weight left your chest, forcing air into your lungs as your brain forgot how to breathe. They didn't think you were broken. They didn't think you were weird or looking for attention or confused. They saw you for you. Pressure pooled behind your eyes, blurring your vision before a blink sent the warm water down your face.

“You mean it?” Your voice shook and you hated it. The four looked stricken with worry and a deep sense of care.

“Of course we mean it, darling. We love you for you.”

“Thank you for trusting us with this. We know coming out can be hard, but it means a lot that you explained it to us.”

“We won't tell anyone, promise. That's information that is yours to disclose to whomever you choose.”

“We're still here for you, darling, that hasn't changed.”

******

It had been a few weeks since you had explained asexuality to your protective vampires. True to their word, nothing changed, and that small but incomparable fact made your heart soar. For the first time in a long time, you felt validated. You felt seen. You felt accepted.

Your pride grew even more when you noticed Paul start to wear a black ring on his right middle finger. From then on, you were a bit more loud and proud about your aceness.

[feltpool]

Psychological Torture

We see A LOT of it happening in Ep 03.

Three basic tenets of this are Separate, Isolate, and Dominate. You can also thrown in dehumanization, humiliation, and lots, lots more!

Now Crosshair took care of Separate all by himself. He’s just spent 32 rotations alone on a platform on Kamino with nothing but wind sheer and pouring rain for company.

And once he was recovered it’d have been easy to keep him Isolated in the med bay, to only have droids tend to him and not any human doctors. Once out of there the other troopers won’t interact with him. And why not? Those aren’t conscripted troopers wary of killer clones taking their jobs. He isn’t a part of Clone Force 99 now, he’s a soldier in the army of the Galactic Empire. So what grounds do other clones have for shunning him apart from following orders to do just that?

We’re led to assume that this is simply a follow on from CF99 being shunned back in Ep 01. But who benefitted from them being Isolated back then, from being Separated from the other clones? Who was Dominating them? All good questions, but not the point here.

Anyway, they sprinkle in a little Dehumanization here too. The cell-like room with a solid looking bed which is likely slightly shorter than he is tall, no blankets, no pillow, and no control of any sort. The lights come on and the alarm blares, his whole existence dictated to him by the whims of others.

His clothes differ to what everyone else there is wearing, both in his civilian dress and in his armour. There’s no mistaking him for someone else, so they all know who to avoid even if they can’t see his face or the burn on his head that hasn’t been healed up even though we know that it could be.

And even the simple pleasure of a good filling meal is denied to him. Repeatedly. But this is just a funny reference to Ep 01, right? Poor old Crosshair can’t get to eat his dinner in peace, lol!

Right?

But keeping someone hungry and weak is a well known way to break morale, to grind someone down, to make them more compliant.

Which brings us to the Dominating part. And it’s important to note that this entire episode should be viewed through the lens of knowing that Rampart already knows that the Batch are still alive. Just before Crosshair walks into Rampart’s office the first time we get a nice clear look at the datapad in his hand so we can see what it is that he’s looking at.

He knows, and he wants Crosshair to admit to knowing about it. And Wilco already knows just how well that’d be likely to turn out for him. Maybe not right away, Rampart wants to wipe out the Batch first, but that fate would be waiting for him.

So Rampart is making his life hard in order to try to make him crack, to be willing to give up any information on the Batch that he knows. Contacts, friends, hideouts, resources, habits, any scrap of anything that they might have revealed to him when he last saw them.

Because he knows the team like no one else does, their tactics, their weaknesses. Just what it is that they do, and how. Cody knows them as in he knows who they are, but he hasn’t worked with them. He tried to once before but that didn’t work out as planned.

But Rampart wants them destroyed and he isn’t about to trust Crosshair with that job again, not after his previous failures. So he’s going to try a different tactic

So, stripped of his name and his former rank, and receiving some mild mockery in the process with a side hint that if he’s a good boy he could get one of those things back, he gets sent off to meet a familiar face. Probably the only person on the whole of Coruscant who knows Crosshair in any way at all

Which is where Cody is sent in. To play the role of The Friendly Face, the offerer of sympathy, of someone to talk to, someone who understands.

And Crosshair waits for him, watching troopers pass by together. How long he has to wait there with the longing to be a part of that again growing we have no idea

But when he does show up Cody repeats the exact same line that Rex drops when he runs into the Batch again in the bar. Aww, how cute. Nice and familiar, and such a subtle way to make us associate him with someone we know to be a good man fighting the good fight.

And he tells Crosshair he specifically asked for him, tries to make him feel wanted, then gives him an opportunity to volunteer information on the Batch having gone rogue, Cross counters with it not just being them going AWOL and says they’re traitors. Drops in the quip about the Jedi having been traitors too.

Sure, he knows it’ll hurt Cody to hear it, but they’re both sounding each other out here. Each one trying to see where the other’s loyalties actually lie. Neither one of them wanting to look the other in the face while they do it, only allowing themselves sliding sideways glances. Trying to see something in the other without giving anything away themselves.

Cody sees that this isn’t getting him anywhere and drops ‘good soldiers follow orders’ followed by Cross’s ‘mm-hmm’ of neither agreeing or disagreeing and the accompanying scowl at Cody’s back.

.

And off they go to Desix, directly mirroring the scene where Cody explains the first mission we see them go on all the way back in S7.

And this is a nicely familiar job isn’t it? Battle droids. Just like the old days. How touching!

Now, Cody doesn’t just look around and give orders here, he turns to Crosshair, treats him like an equal, allows him to make suggestions, to be a part of the mission he’s commanding. But when Crosshair asks him to trust him he sounds far from thrilled at the idea. Says he makes life ‘interesting’ But he has a job to do here so he goes with it. What choice does he have?

And Crosshair does his job, and does it well. Never misses a shot and headshots every time. Even as out of practice as he currently is after all that time away. And Cody is quick to compliment him. Good shot, good boy, pat on the head and a biscuit for you my lad!

But Crosshair stays mission focused, doesn’t preen or pose even though he knows how excellent a shot that was, doesn’t let Cody distract him with praise.

And Cody drops it.

And then they’re on the stairs, and this time it’s Crosshair’s turn to test Cody. Because that droid has him by the throat, but he doesn’t draw his sidearm and shoot it, he doesn’t kick it or push off the wall behind him to try to throw it down the stairs, and we’ve seen him throwing droids around in the past. He’s no weakling. But instead he calls to Cody, appeals to him to help.

And he does help him

But that’s when Crosshair messes up. Exposes himself. He lets Cody see the trick with the reflectors and you can practically see the cogs turning in his head as he suddenly realises how come the Elite Squad didn’t take down any of the Batch back on Kamino. Knows that one shot from Crosshair is all he’d need to take down all 4 of them in one go, all he needs is a line of sight. ES-02 might have been able to report that the Batch and Crosshair were fighting a bunch of combat droids in that room, that she herself had to flee to survive. But she couldn’t have explained how come all of her squadmates had gone down and no one else had done.

But now he knows, or is at least starting to.

In the Governors office Cody then does his best to appeal to Tawni Ames, to persuade her to roll over and let the Empire have what it wants. Oh sure, it all sounds reasonable, who wants a war? But she’s being offered nothing in return for her surrender with or without the Untitled Goose Game meme reference.

And as soon as Grotty threatens Cody with being reprimanded for disobedience Crosshair shoots her. But only once a brother is threatened. And Crosshair already knows what that’s like, being unjustly punished for disobedience. We’re told from the start he disobeys orders. But never what orders, or why he’d choose to, only that he does. And if there was a legit reason for it, they’d have told us what orders he’d refused to obey in the first place.

But Crosshair had Cody’s back, just like he had Hunter’s back in the training room.

And we close in on Cody looking down at Tawni Ames smoking body while dramatic music plays in the background. His face shifts slightly as he stands there thinking things through, and juuuuuust as the screenwipe is about to happen, just for a few frames, Cody starts to frown.

Blink and you’ll miss it

By the shuttle he gives a pained look after Crosshair passes. He hasn’t made what comes next easy for him, but he has a job to do and he’s going to do it.

Does he have a pang of conscience seeing the fresh troopers arrive, seeing Grotty overseeing them, knowing that he helped to make this possible? It sure looks that way, doesn’t it.

And we return to the memorial where Cody questions whether he’s doing the right thing, whether they’re making the world a better place. Talks about making choices and having to live with them too, while not being able to do more than glance at Crosshair while he says it.

Because he already knows he’s about to go straight to Rampart’s office to report in and tell him all about how Crosshair took out his Elite Squad with just one shot and this super special trick he’s super good at.

To sell him out completely and utterly.

Because Cody is a soldier of the Empire, and he’s doing the job he’s been ordered to do. And good soldiers follow orders. Whether they like them or not.

.

And we return to the torture process once more. Separation, dehumanization, and the denial of basic needs. And he looks scared when his number is called, just for a moment. But he steels himself for what’s about to happen, for how badly this might be about to go.

And boy has Rampart’s attitude to Crosshair worsened when he sees him in his office the second time. Far more mocking and dismissive of him than before. He’s refused to be Dominated, has stood his ground regardless of the opportunities presented to him to take the easier way out.

So Rampart doesn’t so much as look up at him when he enters, keeps turned away from him, only glances at him as and when the conversation requires it. Keeps his attention fixed on the datapad in his hand despite the fact that there can’t be anything left on that report that he hasn’t already read by this point. Pretends not to know Cody’s name, smug little grin, laugh and tut from Rampart. Oh these silly clones, acting like they’re actual people, with names and such. Lol!

Oh no, Cody isn’t here anymore, and isn’t it weird how these clones around you just keep on disappearing. (Like I don’t know exactly where this one just went)

But don’t worry, I’m still going to assign you work. And I won’t at all be trying to give you enough rope to hang yourself with, to see if you can be caught in the act of doing something you shouldn’t, or trying to get a good close look at how you what you do. Oh no, of course not!

Now go away.

.

And with Cody reported as being AWOL Rampart is free to deny that any action he partakes in has anything to do with him or any order he issued, and he won’t hesitate to Wilco him when he’s done in order to keep it all secret.

[is-there-an-echo-in-here]

I Would Give You the Sky

Full story available to read here on Tumblr, or on my Ao3

. . .

His Love (3/3)

They were alone.

It had taken Obi-Wan a few days to realise what that meant, to understand the true isolation they found themselves in. Their survival took precedence over any confusing feelings he may harbour towards his commander—who was doing an excellent job of keeping them alive—and the first few days on this hostile planet were spent in scavenging supplies from their crashed escape pod, fighting to communicate with the rest of the fleet, patching up each other’s injuries, and finding and fortifying shelter. Cody hunted them food from the unforgiving wilderness.

He did his best with what they were given. Obi-Wan picked the grisly meat from the leg bone of some manner of bird that Cody had shot earlier in the day. They had roasted it over a fire and swiftly packed up camp, moving before they could eat, unable to let their guard down in the same place after so publicly announcing their position. A cave made them at home, a place higher into the mountains of the unnamed planet.

Cody kept readjusting the dial and antenna on their scavenged communicator. The sound of static bounced off the rocks.

“You should eat something,” Obi-Wan murmured, eyeing the meagre shreds of meat that filled the ration pack between them.

“We have to contact the others,” said Cody. “Some may have crashed here too if the other pods were as damaged as ours.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, eyes narrowing in a moment of concern. “Cody,” he said, as plainly as he could, waiting for the man to look his way before gesturing to their food supply. “Eat.”

His commander sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and set the communicator down. “Yes, sir,” he murmured, shifted his jaw when the Jedi gave him a look, and corrected himself. “Obi-Wan.”

He came and sat on the floor opposite the Jedi, taking a scrap of meat from the pack. A thoughtful furrow pinched his brow as he chewed on it, gaze focused on the floor of the cave.

“They will find us,” said Obi-Wan, hoping to ease those lines of worry from his face.

“I’m not worried about us; I’m worried about my men.”

Obi-Wan ducked his head in acknowledgement. He should have known that his commander’s forefront concern would never be with himself. Cody was not a man who greatly valued his life, not as such. He was aware of his skills, Obi-Wan knew, aware of his value to the republic in his leadership capabilities, but deemed it unimportant in the grand scheme of the battalion. The mission and the lives of his men came before everything. It was the reason for that scar that Obi-Wan knew was still visible beneath his hair.

He could feel it sometimes, when he reached to the force, to his commander’s light, this wound he had sustained in his self-sacrificial heroics. It seemed a dark stain on an otherwise bright soul.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody’s voice broke through, drawing the Jedi’s attention to him. His commander had a softer look to him now. “You’re drifting off again.”

“I’m sorry,” said Obi-Wan.

They both knew his mind had been wandering with greater frequency since they had taken the tower, since Cody had been wounded. The pull of the force was stronger now from his commander, and Obi-Wan could not explain it—or, rather, he did not care to. To delve into his connection with Cody would be to admit there was one. An acknowledgement of such closeness would be a betrayal of everything the Jedi had ever known, everything Qui-Gon had tried so hard to distil in him.

Obi-Wan would have rejected him properly the second Cody had been cleared for active duty, but it seemed that, whenever he looked at his commander these days, he lost his breath.

Cody had not mentioned their conversation in the infirmary—nor the other acts that took place there. He kept his word and gave him time, dutiful in this as in everything he did. Obi-Wan would have preferred to be pushed. It would surely make it easier for him to cast his rejection.

Looking over at Cody then, eating scarcely and slowly, thoughtful eyes fixed on the floor of the cave, his commander did not make it easy to reject him. A softness crept to Obi-Wan’s expression; he felt it tug the corners of his mouth up into a gentle curve, banishing it too late to avoid Cody’s attentive eyes.

The commander watched him a moment in silence, turned his gaze away slowly. Obi-Wan’s fingers twitched. He clenched his fist to quash the action, the unconscious pull towards his commander, because it could not be. He must have restraint. He must remember his duty.

It was difficult with his commander here, his competency in the wilderness, his kind eyes and gentle smile, the unstyled locks curling at his hairline. Obi-Wan tried not to look at him, but his gaze wandered to the man as much as his mind. Cody’s magnetism could not be denied. Obi-Wan had tried. It remained a troublesome feat to avoid his commander with a pull so strong.

“We could stay here tonight,” said Cody, an offer, not an order. “It’s well protected and in a good position.”

“You aren’t concerned with the cold that will settle in as night falls?”

Cody hummed, looked to the open mouth of the cave. “It will be more prominent up here, I suppose. We can head downhill if you’d prefer, but our defensive position will suffer.”

Obi-Wan considered this for a moment. “You’re right,” he decided. “We’ll stay here tonight, move again in the morning.”

The commander pushed himself up. He had only been sat for a few minutes, Obi-Wan noted, but said nothing to deter him in the knowledge that his arguing would make no impact on Cody’s mind.

“I’ll fix up the entrance,” he said, not an offer now, and exited the cave before Obi-Wan could speak—though he didn’t know what he would have said.

They needed to talk, Obi-Wan knew as much. He was avoiding the conversation, he knew this as well and so, it appeared, did Cody. He would be a fool not to see it and his commander was no fool, that was certain.

Obi-Wan laid out their sleeping mats while Cody was gone, making himself useful in what little ways he could; Cody had been working nonstop as usual, leaving the Jedi very small amounts to do. His commander was a man who needed to be busy, who needed to feel as though he was doing everything within his power to keep them alive and get them home. Obi-Wan was both grateful and concerned for his behaviour.

Cody returned before sunset, building up the entrance of the cave to a smaller target, sealing in the heat with branches and bracken he had scavenged from the woods. Cody took first watch, encouraging Obi-Wan to sleep and trying the communicator as dusk was falling. Obi-Wan could hear the static crackle outside. The commander adjusted and readjusted the dials, angled the antenna in every possible direction, spoke every known code in attempt to get a reply from their men or, in fact, any cruiser that may be in the area.

The moon was high and bright when Obi-Wan crawled out of the cave and took the communicator from Cody’s hands.

“It hasn’t been four hours, sir,” said the commander, shifted his jaw, corrected himself, “Obi-Wan.”

“I can’t sleep anyway,” Obi-Wan uttered, setting the communicator aside.

Cody watched him take a seat on the rocks outside the cave, choosing one that ensured a fair gap between himself and his commander. “Was I keeping you awake?”

“No,” Obi-Wan lied.

He turned his gaze to the sky, the treetops below and the mountains beyond, and breathed in the cooling air. In his peripheral, Cody angled his face upwards too and Obi-Wan risked a sideways glance over to him, a small smile twitching the corner of his mouth to see his commander without his helmet, free of armour. The republic insignia was splashed across his chest, but Obi-Wan wasn’t looking at that, elected not to be aware of it.

Moonlight struck Cody’s eyes when he turned his head. Obi-Wan’s lips parted unconsciously.

“Do you remember the tower?” Cody murmured suddenly, and Obi-Wan turned his head to squeeze his eyes shut at the memory of it, flashes of Cody lying there, bloody and bathed in the light of his saber, flitting behind closed eyes.

“I could not forget,” he said, managing to keep his voice somewhat regular.

He watched Cody shift in his peripheral. “Do you remember what you told me?”

“Cody…” Obi-Wan began, reluctance bleeding through in his voice because this was the conversation he had wished to avoid, and rejecting his commander here, while they were in survival mode, had the possibility to be detrimental to them both.

“You said you’d tell me about the stars.”

A silent breath left Obi-Wan’s chest, realisation and relief, and he cast his eyes up to the clear sky. “Yes, I did, didn’t I. Let’s see now…” He studied the sky, pointed across to the first that caught his eye. “There, do you see those three in a line, just above the mountain?”

Cody cast his gaze where Obi-Wan was pointing, paused a moment. “Yes.”

“And there’s a small cluster just below the leftmost star.”

“I see it.”

“I’m sure there are many names for it, but I learned it first as the sheath. The three larger stars mean to represent the belt itself, and the small cluster a dagger of some kind.”

Cody nodded. “You have fanciful names for them, I suspected as much.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile. “I know that you’re aware of their real names, so I did believe that you wished to know them in an informal light.”

Another nod from Cody encouraged him on. Obi-Wan mapped out the constellations for him, as best he could. There were sections unfamiliar to him; the galaxy was a large place and they were a ways out. The stars changed frequently in their numerous locations, but, thankfully, Obi-Wan knew this sky with some depth.

Cody was quiet throughout, speaking only in answer to Obi-Wan queries, and remaining silent otherwise. The Jedi edged closer to him, half unconscious in his movements, finding himself at one point sat beside the commander, having the man follow his pointing finger to a particularly shy set of stars halfway off the horizon. In the closeness, he felt Cody’s eyes on him as he talked through the falling night.

Those eyes were a difficult thing to avoid. Obi-Wan could stomach it when he had his helmet on—when those kind, expressive eyes were safely hidden behind a visor—but now, with his helmet in the cave and moonlight bathing the world in silver, Obi-Wan could not help himself.

Cody didn’t turn away from him. Another man would have shunted his gaze away in embarrassment at being caught staring or a concern to maintain his subordinate position. Cody was not that man. Cody held his gaze with a softness that stole Obi-Wan’s breath yet again. Restraint and propriety faded in Cody’s eyes, like the sun hitting fog and burning it to dew.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody uttered, barely above a whisper, and the reminder of reality should have scared him off.

Instead, Obi-Wan found his hand lifting to the commander’s face, fingers tracing over his temple, pushing into his hair and drifting over the scar. He felt the disturbance of skin beneath his fingertips.

“Obi-Wan,” said Cody again, softer now, if at all possible. “It’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t…” Obi-Wan began and his voice caught in his closing throat. “We shouldn’t…”

Those eyes again, rounding in sympathy, in kindness. “It’s okay. Tell me no. Back away. You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

Obi-Wan swallowed hard, struggling to speak. “That’s just it,” he whispered, not trusting his voice to go louder. “I am never more comfortable than when I’m with you.”

It was over already—Obi-Wan knew it from the start—but when Cody lifted his hand, bare fingers cradling his cheek, he knew there would never be any going back. He closed his eyes into it, losing himself in Cody’s touch, allowing his head to be guided forward. His forehead rested against Cody’s own.

“Then be with me,” Cody said, such simplicity that Obi-Wan had to lead himself from tears.

“I…” he began, and didn’t need to explain because Cody knew, he knew what the Jedi were, what Obi-Wan was, knew their rules and their beliefs.

“It’s your decision,” said Cody, passing the pad of his thumb over the Jedi’s cheek, “but, please, make it for yourself, not for anyone else.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, pulling back a fraction from Cody just so he could look at him, at his face that he saw in a hundred different men who were never identical no matter what anyone may think, who all had their own glow in the force. No one shined brighter than Cody, not in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

All his life, people had told him what to do. Joining the Jedi order, taking the trials to become a master, even his apprentice, none of the biggest choices in Obi-Wan’s life had been his own. His world was decided for him and, for the most part, he was content; he liked being a Jedi, he had cherished his time as Anakin’s master.

Looking at Cody now, he realised that he would not be content to allow this man and his affection to slip through his fingers.

“I want…” Obi-Wan began, swallowed hard because it was not right. These words must be right. “I’m ready to give you an answer now, and the answer is yes. Yes, I love you. Yes, I hope to always love you. Yes, Cody. I’m saying yes.” The word had lost all meaning yet, at the same time, it never had so much. “Yes.”

Cody kissed him.

The touch of his mouth was gentle, lips tentative against his own, but his hands were cradling the Jedi’s face and Obi-Wan felt wanted; not for his power or his wisdom or any other trait learned through work and loss, but because he was Obi-Wan and his commander loved him for everything that name entailed.

His hands fisted into the neck of Cody’s blacks, pulling him in, holding him close. A weakness took him when the action coaxed a soft gasp from Cody’s flaring lips and Obi-Wan had to stop, had to push his forehead to the commander’s again, holding him close, unable to continue their intimacy because he knew he would fail this test of control.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody whispered, thumb smoothing across his cheekbone.

The Jedi swallowed thickly. “Don’t…” he began, having to pause for breath before continuing, thinking out his words again. “Don’t let this happen unless you mean it.”

“I mean it,” Cody replied, so soft. “I mean it, Obi-Wan. I love you too.”

“I don’t mean… I know that, I mean…” He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, shaking his head as much as he could while still keeping in contact with his commander. “I want to be closer to you, and you need to tell me if that’s not what you’re looking for. I can love you in other ways, I do love you in every other way I know of, but, right now, there’s a particular way I want to show it—”

“Obi-Wan,” Cody said, firmer now, deliberate in his interruption, “I understand. I want that. Trust me.”

His choice of words touched Obi-Wan’s heart, softened his anxiety and his gaze. “I trust you,” he uttered, and hoped that he conveyed the weight properly because trust was a powerful and dangerous thing, and he gave it to Cody completely.

His commander cupped a hand to the nape of his neck, holding him close a moment, before pulling away, releasing him entirely, and Obi-Wan felt the loss of his light for only the briefest moment. Cody turned for the cave entrance, moved the enter and paused before he did so, looking back at the Jedi with meaningful eyes, such emotion there in his gaze that Obi-Wan so often did not have the pleasure of seeing. He saw it now and he followed it, and Cody, into the cave.

Neither of them took the watch that night.

The cave remained unguarded until the first light of dawn was turning the Eastern sky a milky pink. If either of them had cared to listen to the communicator during the night, they would have heard delayed responses to Cody’s earlier calls. As it was, Obi-Wan awoke to the sound of a transport vessel coming in to land.

His face was buried in Cody’s neck, the man having fallen asleep with his arm wrapped around the Jedi’s shoulders, holding him against his side. His robe was covering the both of them beneath a regular issue blanket they had scavenged from the escape pod. The commander’s bare skin was warm pressed against his own, but he stirred now and sat up in a rush, and the intimacy was lost.

A soft curse broke Cody’s lips, clearly also hearing the ship outside, and he scrambled to reclaim his clothes. Obi-Wan followed his lead.

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” Cody was saying, and it took the Jedi a moment to register his words. “I’m sorry. I should have gone back to watch duty as soon as…”

He trailed, giving his general a sheepish look, seeming to understand the absurdity of his own words.

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan murmured, watching the commander huff as he heaved his chest plate on. “Here.”

The commander allowed him close; it was a relief in truth, as Obi-Wan had half expected him to flinch away. He fixed Cody’s arm bracers on in deft movements. Such a duty had often been practiced and, although he knew Cody didn’t strictly need the help, he cherished the quiet trust that helping the man with his armour conveyed.

Cody met his gaze briefly as he was finishing, fitting the second bracer on with ease. Obi-Wan could have sworn he saw a faint blush darken his commander’s cheeks before he turned away, took his helmet up and tucked it under his arm.

“It sounds like a republic transport,” said Cody, and headed for the exit, ducking his head out briefly and calling back with his answer. “It’s Rex and General Skywalker.”

Obi-Wan opened and closed his mouth. He wanted more time, but it was fruitless to say so when he knew it was a luxury they could not claim. Some absurd instinct of his wanted to thank Cody for the night they had shared.

“Cody,” he uttered, unsure of the words even as he began the sentence.

Cody waited, watched. His eyes were soft.

“Obi-Wan,” he replied and said nothing further.

Obi-Wan’s lips parted and he scarcely knew the words, something instinctive and intuitive speaking for him. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum… cyar’ika.”

Cody stared. He remained silent for so long that Obi-Wan began to worry he had mispronounced the words so horribly that he had said something entirely wrong. Then, that smile. Cody’s smile, that barely there, but gentle and painfully genuine smile, was like nothing else.

He approached deftly, footsteps somewhat muted by the thundering of Obi-Wan’s own heartbeat in his ears. Gloved fingertips skimmed the edge of his jaw.

“I love you too, Obi-Wan,” Cody uttered, scarcely a whisper, not joining him in mando’a, but offering him the same courtesy of his native language, the words of his people.

He was kissed, softly, sweetly, and only for a second. When he pulled away, Cody gently hooked the side of his finger under Obi-Wan’s chin, as if to tilt his head up, but the movement was swift and soft and with no real pressure. It felt like praise, or gratitude, perhaps. Either way, Obi-Wan was certain he must appear rather flushed.

Voices outside coaxed Cody away from him—the commander moved to roll up their bedding—and Obi-Wan shook himself from his stricken daze to meet Anakin’s eyes when the younger Jedi poked his head through the cave entrance.

“So,” he greeted with a lopsided grin, “not dead then.”

“Certainly not,” replied Obi-Wan.

“Well, you didn’t answer your comms. Figured you must have run into some trouble.”

Obi-Wan gave him an easy smile as his former apprentice entered the cave. “Technical difficulties.”

Anakin hummed, froze a moment, and looked him up and down, practically side-eyeing him. Obi-Wan lifted his chin, determined not to allow his apprentice to detect anything untoward. He was very conscious of Cody, behind him, gathering up their bedding, all too aware of how the arrangement would look to someone who noticed it.

Anakin, thankfully, went through bouts of incuriosity, not noticing that which was right in front of him when he had something else on his mind. Obi-Wan supposed the young man had been worried for him, not Cody, and therefore only had eyes for his former master. Though he disapproved of the lack of care for his commander, he could appreciate that it had its uses at this precise moment.

“Come on then,” said Anakin, gesturing to him. “The ship’s waiting.”

He exited the cave. Obi-Wan cast a look back at Cody, who quirked a faint smirk, before hauling the pack over his shoulder. Obi-Wan took his own bedroll from Cody, tucking it under his arm and leading the way from the cave.

Outside, Anakin was halfway to the transport, that had landed on an outcrop a little ways down the hill. Rex was waiting for them at the cave entrance. He gave Cody a once over as he emerged. One brow raised, just a fraction.

“What happened to you?” he asked, though his tone was not one of concern, rather tinged in knowledge, and Obi-Wan purposefully walked ahead a little, not wishing to intrude on such a conversation.

“Escape pod malfunctioned,” said Cody in brief explanation.

“You get hurt?”

“No.”

“So that limp’s just for fun?”

Obi-Wan blinked hard, forcing himself not to freeze in his tracks, to keep going. He ached to glance back, to gauge Cody’s reaction to such an thinly veiled insinuation, but he could not, lest he risk confirming it.

“Hardly a limp,” said Cody.

Rex hummed, some mischief there in the sound. “Shall I call ahead to medical?”

“That’s unnecessary.”

Cody’s answer was too quick, too hinted in warning, and Obi-Wan knew he would not have been so transparent if he didn’t already know that their dalliance had been discovered. Rex knew. There was nothing they could do to change that now.

Obi-Wan heard Rex huff in soft amusement, heard the soft clank of armour knocking together, and risked a glance back to see Rex giving Cody’s shoulder a playful smack with his forearm. He said something in mando’a, something that Obi-Wan could not decipher, but his eyes were bright and there was a smile on his lips, flashing his teeth, as if the captain was unable to contain himself. He was happy.

A smile of his own took Obi-Wan’s expression, stifled, but unstoppable. Cody met his gaze, pulling his attention away from Rex for a moment to cast soft eyes over his Jedi, a curl to the corners of his mouth and the softest light in his eyes and Obi-Wan knew, inexplicably, in his heart, that they were going to be alright.