#so pumped for codywan week!!!

[boybandjediorder]

last line challenge

Rules: In a new post, put the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as you have words (or as many as you feel like)

okok so i was tagged by the lovely @anxiousotters and now that i've actually worked on something to have a last line, here we go:

The name is similar enough. It matches his face, his intensity, his... his everything and Ben finds himself pacing, unsure of what to do with himself. What is he going to do? Is he just going to let Cody slip through his fingers? No. No, he can't have that. Not again.

this is for day 7 of codywan week, and i chose the prompts dimension travel/modern academia au and i think it's shaping up to be my longest codywan week fic with about 7k words at the moment!!!!

as for tagging: i'll tag otter right back and extend the invite to @tapemonkey21 , @countryboyskywalker , @friendlyneighbourhoodelf , @lightasthesun and @pencildragons !!! absolutely no pressure though

[ferretrade]

What If Cody Was… Chapters: 1/6 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Summary: There are six Marshal Commander posts in the GAR. By chance or fate or the will of the Force, Marshal Commander Cody was assigned to the 7th Sky Corps. But what if… he wasn't?

First up, what if Cody was... CMC of the Coruscant Guard?

[mock-arts]

1 3 15 and 28 for ask meme!

Ty for asking anon! ❤️

1. How many works of art have you made this year?

Soooo my conservative count is 40 (it was a productive year!) but that count includes things like the animated promos I did for bangs as a single piece each, when I guess I could count them as like. 3-4 pieces stacked. I also included as one piece some things that I eventually cropped and split into two separate images to post. Etc. So minimum 40 but you could maybe say 50?

3. How long did you spend creating in an average month this year? Was any month more or less creative?

I’m really not sure I can work this out without some hefty math. I’m guessing I probably pumped out the most art in like… whatever month it was that the SWBang was posting? I feel like I did a ton of pinch hits around that time. But I also had a huge flurry of Codywan bang related activity in like. January.

Conversely, in September and October I only put in like 5 minutes at a time with weeks in between where I did nothing. I have a real boom/bust approach going on I guess. I call it “respecting the laws of dormancy in nature” when I’m feelin fancy, but also sometimes I just don’t have the time or mental energy.

15. Is there any new style/technique/medium you want to explore next year?

This is PURELY wishful thinking but I really would love to learn to make AMVs. I have some video editing experience (more than a decade old lmao) and I bought a fairly powerful computer in 2020 that I uh. Haven’t really used. And I’m willing to drop a little cash on editing software…. But intellectually, I know I barely have the time for the hobbies I’m already good at lmao.

I’ve also got a fic or two rattling around in my head that I’d like to let out, but writing requires a kind of sustained focus and lack of external stress that is rare in my life these days.

28. Did you learn anything about your art/process/style this year?

Hmmm. I feel like I learned a lot of like. Psychological bits about how I work?

Starting is definitely the hardest part, and once I’ve got a piece set up I can chip away at it however slowly I need. I just need to get it set up.

As long as I figure it out ahead of time (really plan it out with modeling etc) I can dig into pretty complex backgrounds and scenes without feeling intimidated.

Past blorbos may as well be dead to me with how much harder it is for me to draw characters I am not currently obsessed with.

[glimmerglanger]

If you feel like doing more HotR, could you do a Christmas (or any other family event) scene? I had a thought of Ben having a huge family Christmas for the first time in his life and it made me feel some type of way

Ohhhh, that’s such a cute and sweet idea. I ended up not going for Christmas, because the idea of a Thanksgiving meal occurred to me and wouldn’t let go. This is SO DOMESTIC. Codywan with a lot of family feels.

~~~~~

Ben had tried to cook a meal on Thanksgiving precisely once in his life, while in college and sharing an apartment with Quin. They’d attempted to cook a turkey in their oven, promising to handle the stuffing and potatoes, as well. Luminara and Bant were each supposed to bring other dishes, he could no longer recall exactly what.

None of them had succeeded.

Some of the resulting food had been, at least, edible. Much of it had not.

They’d eaten stale cereal with milk while sitting around and watching a football game, instead.

It was a good memory, in the end. Something they laughed about together. And Ben had never tried to cook anything like that, again. Qui-Gon had never been interested in such things growing up. He said it always ended up being a waste, and that true thankfulness had nothing to do with cooking too much food or overeating.

And so, really, Ben wasn’t expecting anything when he woke up on the last Thursday in November, tucked in close to Cody in the new bed they’d bought a month ago, tired of trying to wedge into Cody’s little twin.

Technically, he mostly noted Thanksgiving because it meant he didn’t have to work and could, allegedly, sleep in. But Cody was always up early. Cattle didn’t take holidays, after all, and Ben was generally up when Cody rose, after sharing a bed with him for a few months, and so he was sitting at the table in the pre-dawn light when Cody put a cup of tea in front of him and said, “Eat a big breakfast this morning, we won’t eat again until late.”

“Hm?” Ben asked, tilting his face up, and got a kiss in answer.

“I’ll be back,” Cody said, brushing a kiss to his forehead, as well, before zipping up his coat and disappearing through the door. “You finish waking up.”

Ben nodded, drank his tea, and pulled out his books to make some headway on his final paper; not due for weeks yet, but it was a huge project. By the time Cody came back, cold clinging to him, he’d gotten most of his work done and grinned, standing to pull Cody into a hug, murmuring, “How about you let me warm you up properly, hm?”

Cody grinned against his mouth, slid his cold hands up under Ben’s shirt, and said, “Later. We’ll warm each other up. Come on, get dressed. We’re about to start the cooking.”

And it was only then that Ben really, truly, recalled that most people around the country did something for the holiday. “Ah,” he said, with a little grimace, thinking about the delicious food that Jango and Val managed to produce on a regular basis, “I really can’t cook.”

Cody snorted, thumbs brushing over his skin, and said, “We know. That’s alright. Anyone can cut up vegetables. Come on.”

Which was how Ben ended up standing in the kitchen in the main house, which had been cleared of all chairs, the counters and table stacked with meat, vegetables, and large metal baskets.

“Here,” Cody said, nudging Ben between Wooley and Echo, “just cut whatever mom tells you to chop. I have to go check the pit.”

“The pit?” Ben asked, but Cody was already heading out the back door. Echo was involved in an animated conversation with Fives, and Wooley was humming along to whatever music playing through his earbuds, and so Ben just shrugged, took the yams he was handed, and started peeling and chopping them.

The parade was playing on repeat in the other room, the television turned so that everyone working around the table could kind of see it, and Ben fell to talking with Boba and Ahsoka - also contributing by chopping vegetables - as Val and Jango did something with what appeared to be a bunch of chicken over by the counters.

It wasn’t until Fox - and Ben had only met the man the night before - brought over a basket lined with aluminum foil and started putting the vegetables in, that Ben thought to ask, “What are we cooking, anyway?”

Fox blinked across at him. Despite having only met in person the previous day, Ben felt like he knew Fox well enough. They’d spoken often throughout his court cases, after all.

“Dinner,” Fox said.

“It’s a hāngi,” Boba said, tossing yams into the basket. “Mom and dad only do them for special occasions. You missed the one in July. Just put the vegetables in, you’ll see, it’s really good.”

And that was that. Ben helped load up the vegetables, and carried one of the baskets out through the back door when instructed, over to what appeared to be a pit, well back from the house.

Cody and Wolf - who had also flown in the night before - were standing over the pit, which was radiating heat, leaning on shovels. A large pile of ash sat to one side, and Cody’s pants were covered with it. Jango and Val reached the pit first, and Ben watched as baskets were lowered in, one after another, meat first followed by the vegetables.

Cody covered the food with blankets before he and Wolf grabbed up their shovels again and started burying the whole thing.

Ben lingered to watch, smiling when Cody finished and stepped over to kiss him sweetly. “Now what?” Ben asked, since he’d just watched them bury dinner.

“Now it cooks for a few hours,” Cody said, nuzzling back against his jaw. Cody no longer felt cold, but he’d been, apparently, standing by a fire pit and doing manual labour. “And then we eat it.”

“No,” Fives said, bounding up and pushing Cody’s shoulders before continuing on, “now we play football.”

Cody rolled his eyes and said, “That, too.” His expression grew more serious as he looked Ben up and down. “You don’t have to play.”

“I think there’ll be an uneven number of players, if I do,” Ben pointed out. It seemed handy, having twelve children if you wanted even teams for sporting events.

“Nah,” Rex said, arriving at a jog, “Ahsoka’s playing, so you have to, otherwise we’re a man down.”

Which was, he supposed, how they all ended up down in the field where Ahsoka still did the dog training classes, though the obstacles had all been cleared away, giving them lots of open space. The brothers agreed, after only a little arguing, that Fox and Wolf should get to be captains, to welcome them home, and the oldest set of twins quickly picked teams.

And Ben only realized that Cody thought he didn’t know how to play when Cody tugged him to one side - they were on the same team, which Boba had thought was hilarious - and said, “Just have fun, alright? We don’t play tackle anymore, and it isn’t a big deal who wins or loses.”

Ben stifled the smile that tried to curl across his lips at Cody - quite possibly one of the most competitive people he’d ever met - claiming that it didn’t matter who won or lost. He just nodded and said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And, when he got the ball, two plays into the game, he scrambled back, looked down field, and nailed Crys a few feet away from the line they’d designated the end zone. Crys caught the ball, shouted, laughing, dodged past Ponds, and took the two necessary steps before getting jumped on by half his brothers and buried.

Ben laughed, well back down the field, blood pumping fast with a swell of pleasure, and Cody grabbed him by his shoulders, turning him and pulling him into a kiss. “You!” Cody said, after a beat, pulling away from him. “You can--”

“Throw a football?” Ben suggested, kissing him again, briefly. “Indeed I can. Not as well as I could in highschool, but--”

Cody kissed him again, laughing against his mouth, and only quit when his brothers all gathered around to heckle them, insisting on getting back to the game. They chased one another around the field, grabbing for the rags tucked into belts, tossing the ball around, until Ben felt breathless and delighted, until Jango hollered for them from back towards the house.

Cody took his hand on the way back up the lane and led him around to the back of the house as many of the rest of his brothers flooded inside. Cody, Fox, Wolf, and Rex seemed to be on, well, unburying duty.

Ben watched them work for a moment, turning as Val stepped up to his side, offering him a beer, asking, “Good game?”

“Seemed to be,” Ben said, nodding his thanks and taking a long drink. It was cold, which felt good after all the activity. Despite the chilly temperatures, he was sweating all down his back, even with his coat thrown to one side.

“Good,” she said, and nudged him, “come inside and get cleaned up for dinner. Then you can come back and watch Cody, if you want.”

He snorted a laugh and followed her, scrubbing his hands clean over the kitchen sink, watching Cody through the window over the counter, listening to the family bicker about setting the table behind him and--

Swallowing, thickly, as his throat got tight all at once. He took the opportunity to splash water across his face, drying his skin even as cheers started going up, the brothers outside pulling the first of the baskets from the pit.

Ben shook himself and went to help out, bringing food inside, watching Val and Jango start dividing things up among all the different plates set around. It felt kind of like getting caught in a whirlwind of delicious smells and laughing people, all of it sorting itself out in the end with them clustered around the table, chairs all pressed together, wedged so close that Ben wondered, for a beat, if Cody were about to end up in his lap.

He didn’t, but it was a near thing.

The food smelled delicious, savory aromas filling up the room, chicken and some darker meat on his plate beside sweet potatoes, potatoes, cabbage, and what he thought might be pumpkin. The family talked and yelled and laughed through the meal, and Ben just...absorbed it, sat in the middle of it all and took it in, even as they finished and even as everyone pitched in to clean up.

“You’re quiet,” Cody said, much later, when all the work was done and they were back in their space, Ben toweling off his hair after a shower that he’d desperately needed.

“Mm?” Ben asked, tossing the towel into the hamper and shivering when Cody caught his hips, tugging him over to the bed, pressing a kiss low on his stomach.

“Today too much?” Cody asked, looking up at him, expression concerned, his hair still wet as well, curling up more from the moisture.

“No,” Ben said, leaning into his touch and threading his fingers back through Cody’s hair. He smiled, just a little, feeling his chest aching with an overabundance of contentment. “No,” he repeated, and sighed when Cody kissed his stomach again, “It was just enough.”

[willowworkswithwords]

For the caretaker dialogue prompts, could I see #11 with hurt Obi-Wan? 🥰

Absolutely!!! Thank you for the prompt @calltomuster !!!

#11- "I know you can't talk, but I just want you to know that I'm not going anywhere"

So this is a post order 66 (implied codywan) au in which Obi-Wan is mute because of the horrific trauma of the whole ordeal. Cody finds him.

Open prompts!!!

Obi-Wan had gone quiet the same moment the Force had. For days, the Force had just never stopped screaming for--grieving for-- its children. Obi-Wan had anguished with it. He felt every absence keener than the twin suns that beat down on his bare face. Death lingered like the sour after-battle stench that stuck to everyone's armor.

When the Force went quiet Obi-Wan's knees cracked against the dusty stone floor of his hut and he grabbed at his throat. It was dry and dust caked and hadn't seen water in days. It still bled if he screamed, but he had stopped screaming when he had run out of energy to draw deep breaths two days ago. Long moans, welling up from beneath his skin, had pumped their way out of him. Until the Force went quiet.

Obi-Wan thought the Wastes he had settled in were aptly named and some sort of joke from the Force. He didn't make a sound anymore. There was no reason to be heard. No reason to exist in any way besides walking to Owen and Beru's homestead four times a week. No reason to exist beyond seeing the child as a far off speck. No other reasons came from the Force.

Time was a funny thing, just like the Force. Obi-Wan thought the two must have been in on his whole joke of a life together, because when he saw what could only be a ghost trudging through the dunes towards him, he felt every single one of his thirty-four years. He went back into his hut and shut the door.

For a reason that skirted just beyond his reach, he didn't engage the latch.

Cody walked through the door not an hour later. Obi-Wan hadn't even thought to speak. He had no reason to.

He had no reason to bring up his arms around his commander's back when Cody rushed across the floor and grabbed him. But he did. Because Cody had no reason to be here with him. He had no reason, and yet he was there.

Cody had no reason to trust follow him any more. Obi-Wan wasn't his general anymore, he didn't deserve to be followed when he had led so many of his fellow Jedi-- his friends-- to their deaths through his own shortsightedness.

Cody didn't leave his side for a moment.

Obi-Wan started to question if he was even real. As the days dragged on, as the first day passed into foggy memory, Cody stayed, and Cody talked. He talked about Rex, about Bail and Owen and Beru and Luke. He talked about his vode in a trembling, shallow voice. He spoke of the ways his new civvie clothes, the first he'd ever had, were different from his blacks. Of the thick soup they ate. Of the lizards that so often crossed their paths.

Obi-Wan kept the rhythm he had made before Cody came, but now Cody was with him always. And with him came more. Breakfast was something they kept quiet. Lunch was often had in their shuttered front room before they napped the noon away. Dinner was late.

Cody only ever mentioned Obi-Wan's quiet in one way. As they settled into their shared bed, for it was the only bed and the only way either of them could stand to fall unconscious, Cody would press a kiss to Obi-Wan's forehead, firm and unquestionable, and he'd say the same thing every night.

"I know you can't talk, but I want you to know that I am not going anywhere."

Obi-Wan could only press his ear against Cody chest, right above his heart, and squeeze his hand, hoping Cody knew what it meant.