#this drawing takes place when cody looks up from what hes doing

[kraftykelpie]

Cody? On my blog? On your dash? It's more likely than you think

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

The benefits of being a twin are great. Especially when you are identical. Thats what Daniel and Cody found out. When they moved into their own apartment over the old antique store the owner took notice of how they looked alike and gave them a statue as a gift. It was statue with two head of identical faces on each side but the two found out that they could swap bodies when they both touched it at the same time ! So naturally they chose to live out then extremes of both of their fantasies. One fantasy being a fat cigar smoking bear. The other being a roided up gym addict. The only question was. Who would be who. There was an arguemrnt that ensued but then it came down to a draw. A random draw from a deck of cards. Then it was decided. Daniel would become a dad cigar smoking bear. And Cody would become a roided up gym junkie. Daniel slumped his head and Cody slapped him on the back. “Bro cheer up. We are sharing bodies remember! We get the best of both worlds!”

And this started the swapping. Both would swap for 3 days at a time. During that time Daniel would work out like crazy. Take steroids. Workout some more. And Cody would smoke like a freight train to develop the need for nicotine and eat like crazy. In the first swap Cody was so juiced he thought was going to lose his mind and kept pacing the apartment. Doing push ups. Going to the gym and working out. While Daniel would be so jittery he would have smoke none stop. His body had been conditioned to eating all the time now and he couldn’t stop! It wasn’t long before the two brother began to look very different and not like twins. Every time the swap happened they would sink the body further and further into the fantasy they were wanting to live. Soon Cody’s body began to look so vascular and hair was sprouting in odd places it never came in before. But the muscle was so tight. So packed. Neither minded that the roids were causing the body to lose hair. While Daniel’s body continues to fatten up. Cody started up the laser treatments and continued them to make Daniel completely bald. Graduating the bearing body for cigarettes to cigars. Both were living up their fantasy dreams.

That was until one night. It was a few hours before the swap was supposed to end and Daniel was doing is sit ups and pushups to really pump up the body. Daniel was helping him count and smoking to a stone and drinking his 7th beer when Daniel said “you ever think about staying in the body you’re in?” Cody laughed and said “no I like living both life’s. I like being the muscular stud and I like being this fat cigar smoking bear. Why?” Daniel stopped doing his sit ups. Snd sat up and looked at his brother. “Cody. It was fun at first. But we have to stop living a fantasy and settle on one life eventually.” Cody stared daggers at his brother. “Why are you saying this? We have it made!” Daniel got really quiet and stood up and when he did so did Cody and he staggered from the beers. Daniel laughed “I’m not swapping back. This..” he gestured toward the roided vessel “is where I’m staying”. Cody shouted at him and told him he could keep him from swapping. Daniel laughed at him. Over the past few months, they had effectively changed each others bodies. And in doing all that damage to Daniel’s they had also somehow made him shorter. Daniel picked the statue up and held it over his brotherly head. “Can’t force me out of this body unless we both touch it bro!” And with that he slammed the statue on the ground. A wisp a grey smoke erupted from the statue. And then they were both sealed in each others bodies.

[vacantfields]

[Beneath the smile]

When you first find out about Eclipse's existence, you're... Well, you don't know what to think.

You were cleaning up the boys' room while they took care of the daycare; it was nice of them to take on the bigger tasks, especially since you had been so tired this week. You were picking up papers from the floor when you noticed something odd... A drawing? It was right underneath the table, beneath the heaps of art supplies and whatever else Sun could manage to gather.

You kneeled down on the soft carpet you had gotten them that one Christmas a year ago and pulled the paper out; it looked a couple of years old. You could tell by the dried... Blood? Oh. You tried to keep your mind off of that for a moment as you then looked at the picture. "Super Eclipse... And Cody bestest best friends forever..." You read aloud; you could tell it was written and drawn by a very young child, and you frowned. "Eclipse?" you questioned as you stood up to put the drawing on the table. You have heard the name Eclipse around here before, but you couldn't remember if you had ever seen or heard about him.

As you try to remember while looking at the drawing on the table in front of you, your hands are on the table as you're leaning over. The blood on the drawing is concerning, too, but before you can think further about it, you feel two large and robotic arms wrap around you, and you let out a surprised noise as you're lifted.

"Hello, little starlight~!" Moon purred against your jaw as he held you to his chest; you hadn't heard Moon come up here. "You looked so serious, almost like one of those detectives from your silly stories." He chuckled as he placed a soft kiss on your cheek, which made you smile and giggle just a tiny bit, before putting you back on your feet. His hands went to his hips. "So what's up?" Moon asked with his teasing grin.

You turn to look up at the tall and handsome android. "Well... I was cleaning up-." Moon nodded his head. "As you wanted to do," he added. "As I wanted to do," you replied with a snort before glancing behind you at the child's drawing on the wooden table, your small smile gone from your lips. "Who... Is Eclipse, Moon?"

You felt like all the air had left the room; everything felt tense and hostile. You were about to ask again when you looked up at Moon and saw his eyes were firmly on you. "Who told you about that name? Who said it to you?" His voice sounded angry and terrified. Maybe hurt... Even grieving, in a way. "No one told me!" You responded hastily before standing aside. "it says Eclipse on this drawing here, and I just wondered..." You gestured with a hand to the drawing.

Moon stepped closer to the table to take a look, and you heard his fans whirr loudly in his chest, his face plate spinning once before settling. "It's old. Do not pry, and don't ask again. Starlight. Is that understood?"

You had never heard him talk like that to you before, but you nodded before remembering he wasn't looking at you, so you spoke. "Yes. Sorry, Moonie. I didn't mean to pry." Moon hummed in response. "I think you should go down and clean with Sunny for a while, Stargazer," he said with a small smile. It looked like he was about to break. Or snap.

You frowned but hummed. "Alright, Moonie." You decided not to poke Moon more about it but hoped maybe you could ask Sun. You left the room through the secret door and went down the stairs. As you got down to the bottom of the stairs, you heard things get thrown around in their room or maybe moved around. You couldn't tell.

You will figure out who Eclipse is, hopefully, through Sun.

[vodika-vibes]

Follow You Anywhere

Summary: Fox never thought that happiness was written in the stars for him. Especially after he became head of the Coruscant Guard. Then he met Yuu, and suddenly happiness doesn’t seem so impossible.

Pairing: Commander Fox x Yuu (GN OC)

Word Count: 1496

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things @clonethirstingisreal

A/N: So, for anyone who might not know, Yuu is afab who identifies as gender neutral and uses they/them pronouns. They are also the personal assistant of Chancellor Palpatine, and are in charge of the Coruscant Guard to "help take some of the stress off the Chancellor's shoulders". The only people who refer to Yuu as she/her are Palpatine and Anakin. Palpatine because he's an asshole, and Anakin because he listens to Palpatine before he listens to Yuu. Also, I said I was going to write this and now I have and I am happy. Happy-ish. My entire face hurts.

Fox doesn’t think that he’s a very reflective man.

With the way that the majority of the Senators treat him and his brothers, not to mention the way the people of Coruscant look at the vod’e, and the things that he’s had to do just to stay alive—

Well, if he thinks about it too much, he’d grow to hate himself.

But sometimes, just sometimes, he does reflect on the decisions he’s made.

Amusingly, he finds himself more reflective when he’s here, safely stretched out in Yuu’s bed, draped in their ridiculously fuzzy blankets, and sinking in their dozens of pillows. 

There’s just something about Yuu’s space that makes him reflective. Maybe it’s because he views it as a safe place, or maybe because the entire apartment just radiates the same energy that Yuu does.

Whatever the case might be, Fox is glad for it.

Cody’s always claimed that self-reflection is the key to bettering yourself as a person, and while Fox is still of the opinion that that’s Jedi bullshit, even he has to admit that he’s become a better version of himself now that he has time to think.

As much as Yuu has given him so much more to worry about, they’ve also given him someplace where he can grow. And he loves them for it. Not that he’s ever going to say that to them.

They already have an overinflated ego, the last thing he wants to to make their head swell even more. 

Now that he’s thinking about it, Yuu isn’t in bed next to him. 

Fox turns his head to the side, scanning the bed where Yuu would normally be curled up against his side. The sheets are cool to the touch, and he makes a face.

Clearly, he spent far too much time lost in his thoughts if he didn’t even notice that Yuu wasn’t in bed anymore. 

Fox kicks the blankets off the end of the bed, making a mental note to make the bed at a late point in time since Yuu won’t, and he swings his legs off the edge of the bed.

He runs his fingers through his curls, messing up his already messy hair even more, and then he gets to his feet. Fox scans the floor for a moment, his gaze jumping from article of clothing to article of clothing, until he finds the dark red sleep pants that Yuu had enthusiastically removed the night before.

Tossed over their lamp, of course. 

He shakes his head, sometimes he thinks that Yuu does stuff like that intentionally.

He grabs the pants and pulls them on, then he scans the room one more time. 

They really need to clean the room.

Oh, it’s not messy. It’s just that Yuu can’t be assed to put their clothes away, preferring to leave them folded on the dresser. Also, they have a lot of stuff.

Maybe he’ll offer to help organize the mess at some point. 

Maybe.

Fox shakes his head, and kicks a pile of Yuu’s work clothes over next to the laundry basket before he opens the bedroom door and heads into the main part of the apartment.

Even without knowing what time it is, he knows exactly where Yuu is going to be.

He meanders down the short hall and turns into the living room, and there they are. Standing in the kitchen, hands on their hips, clad in one of his old shirts and shorts, feet bare.

And their short hair covered in dye.

He can smell the dye from the couch.

“What color are we going this week?” Fox asks as he walks around the couch to get a better look at the dye in their hair, “I liked the red.”

“You,” Yuu turns and points at him dramatically, “Have a thing for me in red.”

“Guilty as charged.” Fox replies with a shrug, “Can’t help it. I’m a weak man.” He walks over to them and leans down to carefully brush his lips against theirs.

The gentle touch is rewarded with a soft sigh, and Fox can’t help the soft laugh that falls from him at the sound. When he pulls away, Yuu looks almost misty-eyed, and Fox laughs a little more.

“Ah, you’re so pathetic for me, little bird.”

They pout and press their hands against their cheeks, “I can’t help it, I have a soft spot for men who are also hot messes.”

“Good thing I have that particular character trait covered.” Fox teases before he takes their hand, “Nail polish?”

“I started and then got bored. I don’t have enough colors.”

“...you own all of the colors.”

“I need more.”

“Are you sure you’re not actually a hummingbird disguised as a person?” Fox asks as he examines the three nails that are painted, all of which are different colors.

“Oh no. You caught me.” Yuu twists their hand and threads their fingers with his, “As for your earlier question…I’m going orange and pink. With some red and purple.”

“Hm, colorful.” 

“I’m going to look like the sunset.”

“Ah, so you’re going to be even more stunning than you already are.” Fox teases.

Yuu grins up at him, and stands on their toes to comb the fingers of their free hand through the curls at his temple, “You should let me give you some color, Foxy.”

“Hard pass.”

“Thorn let me.”

“Thorn seems physically incapable of saying no to you.” Fox points out, “And I, my colorful little bird, have no problems saying no to you.”

They seem unphased with his refusal, not that Fox thought that they would be bothered at all. They never are.

“There’s caf in the carafe,” Yuu says, dropping the topic with an easy shrug, “And I made muffins.”

“How long have you been awake?”

They shrug, “Couple of hours, you were sleeping and it looked like you needed it.”

“I did need it, actually.” He agrees as he turns to pull a rainbow mug from the cabinet, “Why don’t you have any normal mugs?”

“What is normal, exactly?”

He shoots them an amused look, “Mugs that I would be able to use in front of a Senator without them commenting on me being your boy toy.”

“You’re my favorite boy toy,” Yuu counters with a wide grin.

“Mm, and I love you for it.”

Their grin widens, but there’s also something soft in their gaze. That’s one of the nice things about Yuu, Fox thinks as he pours himself some caf, he never has to worry about where he stands with them.

“I love you too, Foxy,”

He sets his mug on the counter and allows Yuu to slide into his arms, “I know you do, little bird. I’ve never doubted that.” Fox presses a light kiss to their forehead, “Not even when you pile more work on me.”

They release a happy hum and press their nose against his chest, before pulling away to not worry about getting dye on his skin, “I repainted your armor.” They say cheerfully, “It’s in the guest room.”

Fox blinks at them, “When did you have time to do that?”

“This morning.”

“So you’ve had time to dye your hair, paint three of your nails, and paint my armor. Someone’s feeling productive this morning.”

There’s a flicker of some uncertainty on their face, but it vanishes almost as soon as it appears.

“What’s on your mind, little bird?” Fox murmurs, “You’ve never been one to not speak your mind.”

“I was thinking,” Yuu says slowly, “That maybe if you want, we can go on a date. After I wash the dye out of my hair and get dressed and stuff, obviously.”

Fox lightly settles his hands on their hips, “And why would you be nervous about asking me that? I’ve never denied you a date before.”

They shrug, “Most of the time it’s me dragging you somewhere and you being too nice to say no.” Yuu pauses for a moment, “Besides, I want to go on a proper date. Not just an adventure.”

Fox hums thoughtfully, and then he slides his hands from their hips, up their sides, over their shoulders, and cups their face, “Then let me speak plainly. Yuu, I would follow you into hell if you asked it of me.”

“That seems silly.”

“I love you.” Fox says quietly, “I would give you the galaxy on a silver platter if you asked for it.”

Yuu stares at him, momentarily surprised, and then they laugh and raise on their toes to kiss him, “I love you. Help me wash the dye out of my hair?”

“Let me finish my caf?”

They bump their nose against his, “Anything you want, Foxy.”

And Fox doesn’t bother to smother his smile as he crashes his lips against theirs. Happiness might not have been written in his story when he was decanted…but Yuu prefers to write their own stories, and he couldn’t be happier about it if he tried.

[cainanders]

wildfire 003

[001] [002]

warnings: more dirty talk, choking, jealousy, angst

A/N: this part is really long and for that I’m sorry. There’s really only going to be one maybe two more parts for this anyway. Please enjoy.

Two days later, you find yourself in Puerto Rico. You spend the first day photographing all of the arrivals, managing to take some scenic shots in between. Cody arrives some time in the middle of the day, and the fact that he’s wearing the blue suit isn’t lost on you. You discreetly take a few extra photographs of him, specifically of his hands, and just how snug his jacket is around his biceps.

After the arrivals and press conference, you have free time to sightsee. You make every effort to stay near the venue, in case you are needed for any last minute photo opportunities. Taking a break from your journey, you pull your phone from your back pocket to check your texts, finding one from Ziggler.

Have fun tonight. I’ll call you later.

You let out a sigh, unsure of how to respond. He was awkward via text messages, much better in person. On top of that, you felt bad that he wasn’t able to make the show in Puerto Rico. As you contemplate an answer, you receive a text from Cody. You type a quick response to Ziggler of two yellow heart emojis, and switch to the message thread from Cody.

Been trying to find you all day. What’s wrong? Scared to be alone with me?

With a chuckle, you begin to type a response, but another message quickly pops up.

I know it must be hard to keep your composure around me, what with how wet I get you just by fucking talking.

You’re tempted to tell him off, just to knock him down a peg, but he’s not wrong — it’s difficult not to give in to Cody when he flirts with you. Especially with the way your feelings had developed over the time you’ve been friends. That’s the other thing Cody was right about: the way you feel about him. It snuck up on you, and the exact feelings weren’t clear to you until he had brought it to your attention earlier in the week. No matter what you feel, you weren’t prepared to admit it yet, not to yourself and certainly not to Cody.

Shaking your head clear of the thoughts, you reply with three eye rolling emojis. You switch to your email account and scroll through, noting a follow up email from another employer that you had been conversing with.

A few weeks prior, you had received an email from a headhunter in regards to an open photographer position for a football club in Scotland. Initially you ignored it, having no desire to uproot your life and move to another country, but the idea is alluring. You let out a sigh, reading through the director’s newest offer, for more pay than you are currently receiving, and find yourself once again tempted. Still, you stash your phone in your pocket and switch your mind to Backlash.

You return to the venue to prepare for the start of the show. You try your best to avoid Cody most of the night, busying yourself with photographing others, and conversing with some superstars you’d not had the opportunity to meet before. You catch Cody staring at you every so often when you would cross paths, but he would make sure he didn’t look long enough to draw attention from others nearby.

Halfway through the show, you step outside of the venue to get some fresh air, the warm breeze much different than the air conditioning in the arena.

Checking your phone, you see a few texts from your friends along with another from Cody from earlier in the night. After quickly replying to your friends, you open the message from Cody.

Do you want to hang out tonight after the show?

Generally, you would spend time with Cody after big shows, watching a movie in the hotel or getting dinner with others. Tonight, something feels off, and you can’t place why. You figure it has to do with your blossoming feelings for Cody, but as quickly as the thought appears, you push it back.

You send a reply letting him know you can meet with him later, before you duck back into the entrance of the venue. Mindlessly, you pause every so often to take photos of the groups of superstars congregating around the backstage area.

As you aim your camera towards the locker rooms, you spy Cody speaking to a woman. She’s not someone that you recognize, and you assume she works for the venue or the press. You lower your camera, glancing around to see if anyone has noticed you, but resume studying Cody’s interaction when you’re satisfied no one is paying attention to you.

Cody is grinning as the woman speaks, and you try to convince yourself he’s just being the polite man that you know. When the woman leans in towards him, letting out an exaggerated laugh at whatever Cody said, you scoff.

“He’s never said anything that fucking funny,” you mumble to yourself.

The pair continue to chat, the woman discreetly moving closer to Cody as they speak. Wishing you could read lips, you take note of the way she bats her eyes at him, and how he brushes his hand on her arm in response. The contact being initiated by Cody makes you clench your teeth, and you lower your camera again.

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling an overwhelming sense of jealousy at the sight. You absentmindedly fiddle with the lens of the camera, leaving the area to find another photo opportunity that wouldn’t make you feel quite so frustrated.

As the night comes to a close, and you begin to pack your belongings, your phone vibrates from where you had stashed it in your bag. Seeing Ziggler’s name across the screen, you quickly answer.

“Hey, you. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he replies. “Just saw the end of the show, it was over pretty quick, huh?” You let out a light laugh at the brevity of Cody’s match with Brock.

“Yeah, well, you know Brock,” you sigh, zipping your bag closed. “Honestly though, I’m surprised he took a bump like that.” You hear him let out a small chuckle on the other line. “I wish you could have been here,” you say. “I tried to do some sightseeing earlier, but I barely knew where I was.”

“I can imagine,” he answers. You straighten your back, scrunching your nose slightly — his tone is off.

“Is everything alright?” you ask, quietly.

“I think we should talk.”

“Oh,” you say. “Like…now?”

“I think it’s best,” he says. There’s a pause, as if he isn’t ready to say what he knows he needs to say.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal, Nic,” you speak. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“I’m sorry,” he answers. “I mean, I care about you a lot.”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I think I do,” he continues. “I know we aren’t officially a couple, but I hoped we could have changed that. Only I’ve been feeling you get more distant when I try to get closer. And I think it’s because of Cody.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you two are close. And I can see how much you care about him. I just don’t think that I can keep hanging around when you’re obviously not interested in this relationship evolving.”

“I’m sorry,” you reply. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Ziggler replies. “I promise, it’s okay. Have a nice time tonight, and we can always talk more when you get back.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “Have a good night, Zig.”

———————

When you found Finn as you were preparing to leave the venue, the conversation started simple enough, and you had no intention of going anywhere with him. Two years prior, when you first started with WWE, you had a few drinks on a night out, and ended up going down on Finn at the hotel. It wasn’t your finest hour, and the two of you had managed to avoid the topic — until tonight.

You did not intend to follow Finn back to an abandoned locker room, and you certainly had no plans of recreating your previous incident, but here you are. You’re washing your mouth out at the bathroom sink, looking at yourself in the mirror as you do. You write it off to the emotions — from Ziggler ending your relationship to the vision of Cody flirting with someone else. Realistically, you know it’s neither.

Exiting the bathroom, you invite Finn to share a taxi to the hotel with you, and he accepts. As you walk from the venue, you pull your phone from your pocket and see a missed call and three texts from Cody.

“Fuck,” you say, reading over the messages.

Washing all of the blood off of me and then heading to the hotel. Meet you there?

Are we still hanging out?

Call me when you get a chance.

Placing your belongings into the trunk beside Finn’s bag, you both climb into the backseat and make the short journey to the hotel.

“Third floor?” Finn asks, as you both retrieve your bags from the trunk.

“I think so,” you reply.

“Me too,” he nods.

The conversation feels too friendly for what you had just done with Finn, and it gives you an odd, unwelcome sensation. Still, you remain polite with him as you take the elevator to your floor, and trek down the hallway in search of your rooms.

Once inside your room, you send a text to Cody letting him know you had just arrived, and ask for his room number. After brushing your teeth and changing into a shirt and sweatpants, you head to Cody’s room.

“It’s about fucking time,” he laughs, pulling the door open and yanking you into the room by your arm. “I watched an entire season of CSI while I was waiting.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you reply. “I wasn’t that long.”

“Are you alright?” he asks, watching you sit on the bed beside the window.

“Yeah, I guess,” you answer, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “I think I’m getting a headache. It was a long night.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you sigh. “Sorry I was late, I got caught up at the venue.”

“Finn, too, huh?” he asks. You look up at him too quickly, and narrow your eyes.

“What?”

“I saw you guys in the lobby,” he shrugs. “I took a walk while I was waiting to hear from you.”

“Oh,” you say. “Yeah, we were…busy.”

“You guys hook up?” Cody’s voice sounds casual initially, but you can hear the note of agitation peeking through in his tone. You let out a sigh and wave your hand dismissively at the question.

“I mean,” you begin. “I went down on him or whatever.”

“Sure,” Cody nods. “No big deal, right?”

“Why the fuck are you acting like this? It’s not like me and you are together.”

“No, we aren’t. But you’re with Ziggler, right? At least that’s what you tell me every fucking day.”

“Oh, come the fuck on,” you groan. “Grow up, Cody. I don’t fucking owe you anything.”

“No, you don’t, you’re right,” he says. “But you know what’s crazy to me? The way you get upset because you think I was flirting with some woman, or with Becky, who, in case you forgot, is married and, beyond that, is nowhere near my type…but you have fucked how many of my co-workers exactly?”

“Some of us didn’t have our pick of the litter our whole lives.”

“So, you’re making up for lost time by fucking anyone who shows you the slightest bit of attention?”

“Well, I haven’t fucked you, so I guess that’s not accurate, is it?”

“I’m probably the only guy you haven’t fucked at this point.”

“Y'know what?” you say, standing up quickly and walking towards the door. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this shit.”

“Don’t forget your phone,” Cody calls out. “I saw you drooling over Carlito earlier. Wouldn’t want to miss him calling to ask for a blowjob too.”

You spin on your heel, facing him again to see him standing in the same spot with your phone in his grasp. Stomping back towards him, you snatch the phone from him and throw a punch that, much to your surprise, connects with his jaw hard enough to jostle him to the side and make him lose his step.

“You fucking asshole,” you mutter, storming out of the room and slamming the door shut behind you.

————————

It has been a week since your argument with Cody, and in that week, you have done everything to avoid him. His comments about you were incredibly hurtful, and even if you knew why he said them, you didn’t expect him to speak to you like that. Still, the more you think about it, the more you realize what he was saying wasn’t wrong: you were flirting with Cody and hooking up with others, and it certainly wasn’t fair to him. In reality, you forgave him in your mind days ago, but you weren’t going to be the first one to talk.

You arrive at the hotel at the same time as a few other cars from the airport. You make your way to the front desk to retrieve your key, before heading to the appropriate floor.

Walking through the corridor in search of your room, you spot Cody exiting the stairwell at the opposite end of the hall. He flips the keycard in his hand mindlessly as he looks at the numbers on the doors, but after a moment, his gaze finds yours. To your surprise, he gives you a small smile, and stops in front of what you assume to be his room. With his eyes still locked with yours, he nods his head towards his door, his eyebrows knitting in question. Returning his smile, you nod, slipping your keycard into your pocket and heading towards Cody.

“I need to take a fucking shower,” Cody laments as you reach him.

“Yeah, I was just about to say,” you agree, as Cody opens the door.

“How kind of you,” he mutters, gently shoving you into the room. You laugh as you regain your footing, and move to drop your belongings on the bed nearest the window. “Hungry?” he asks, setting his bags down as well.

“Nah, I ate at the airport,” you sigh, stretching your hands over your head. When Cody doesn’t respond, you glance over to him, finding his eyes on you. “Can I help you?” you ask.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he says. “Something’s off.”

“Uh, Nic ended things.”

“Ah, fuck,” Cody sighs, dropping his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you shrug. “It’s not like I was in love with him or anything. We were just having fun.” You pause, biting your lip as you stare at the floor. “It’s fine,” you nod, looking back into Cody’s eyes. “I’m good.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” For a moment you don’t answer, simply pull in a deep breath and then let it out in a sigh.

“Yeah, okay.”

Cody nods and pulls a change of clothes from his duffel bag, before making his way to the bathroom. You follow behind him, hoisting yourself up onto the counter and leaning against the mirror while Cody meddles with the shower taps.

“How’d he break the news?” Cody asks, taking a step away from the shower and pulling his shirt over his head.

“He called me after right after Backlash ended,” you reply, covering your eyes with your hand to allow Cody the privacy to get undressed. “I know he’s been in a funk the last few months.”

“Makes sense,” Cody replies. “He hasn’t been getting a push like he used to.” You hum in agreement, lowering your hand from your face when you hear the shower curtain pull closed. “So, he broke up with you because he’s not over?” Cody asks from inside the shower.

“No, it’s not like that,” you reply, noticing that Cody had folded his dirty clothes in a neat pile on the toilet seat. “I think he…wanted something that I couldn’t give him.”

“Oh, so like you didn’t wanna do anal?” Cody jokes, his tone serious.

“Maybe so,” you laugh in response. “He asked once but I wasn’t interested.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely it then.”

“All jokes aside, we’re just in different places, we want different things.”

“Is that what he said?”

“Something like that,” you sigh, finding yourself no longer interested in the conversation. “Why do you fold your dirty clothes? Wouldn’t you end up getting them mixed up with your clean clothes?”

“I keep them in a different part of my bag,” he answers. “That’s a weird question. Are you uncomfortable with the conversation now?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, knocking your head back against the mirror harder than you intended. The shower curtain pulls back just enough for Cody to peek his head out so he can look at you.

“Hey,” he says, getting your attention. You tip your head to the side to look back at him, one of his eyes closed to avoid the shampoo that was rolling down from his forehead. “Ya’know, we don’t have to talk about any of this,” he says, wiping the shampoo back into his hair. “We can talk about anything you want.”

“Oh, yeah, like what?” you mumble, eyes cutting down to his jaw, his neck, and his collarbone that was just visible past the shower curtain.

“Maybe whatever it is you’re thinking about right now,” he rasps. You look back into his eyes with a quick grin, looking away as you feel the heat in your cheeks.

“Trust me, you’re not ready for that,” you chuckle.

“God, such a fucking tease!” Cody groans, ducking back into the shower.

“I thought this was just a joke thing that we have,” you laugh. “A witty little back and forth.”

“Your cute little jokes give me a hard-on sometimes,” he laughs.

“Sorry, I’ll ease up on the teasing, then.”

“No way!” he says, loudly. “I love it!”

The water turns off and you slip from the counter, giving Cody his privacy in the bathroom. You plop onto the chair on the opposite side of the room and pull your phone from your pocket. Mindlessly scrolling through your apps, you hear Cody enter the room and glance up briefly to see him stuffing the dirty clothes into a smaller compartment within his duffel.

You stare at him from the side for a few moments, noticing the black eye he had likely obtained during the match with Brock. It reminds you of the argument the two of you had that same night. You let out a sigh, turning your gaze from him.

“Sorry about punching you the other day,” you say, pulling your legs into the chair with you. “It wasn’t cool.”

“Don’t be, I deserved it,” he assures you, moving his belongings onto the desk beneath the television. “I was way out of line. What you do is your business, and it’s not my place to make comments on it. I mean, as long as you’re being safe, then who cares. I’m sorry I got you to that point.”

“You weren’t wrong,” you sigh. “I think I took the ‘sexually available, empowered feminist’ thing to an extreme.”

“No, not at all,” Cody chuckles, collapsing onto his bed and propping himself up on his pillow. “It was only, what, two guys? That’s not bad at all.”

“Three,” you reply, shifting in your seat to get a better view of him.

“Tell me.”

“It’s tacky to kiss and tell,” you respond.

“It’s just me,” he says, with a laugh. “You tell me everything.”

“Can I be totally real with you?”

“One hundred percent,” Cody nods.

“I’ve only ever had sex with two men,” you say.

“No way,” he responds.

“Yeah,” you nod. “A guy I worked with in my twenties, and Nic. When it comes to Finn and Punk, I just gave them head.”

“Wait, you hooked up with Punk?!” he asks. “When?”

“Last year, before the fight,” you say. “Honestly, I just wanted to get it out of my system. I wanted to see what it was like.” Cody laughs and stares at you expectantly.

“And?” he asks.

“It wasn’t bad,” you nod. “I expected more.”

“Oh, my God,” Cody laughs. “Rank them, please. I am begging you.”

“Between us?”

“Always. Smallest to biggest.”

“Ziggler, Punk, Finn.”

“So, Ziggy’s got a small dick, but you stuck with him,” Cody laughs, as though he is astonished by your claim.

“It’s not always about the size, moreso how you use it.”

“No, that’s not true,” he replies. “Guys just say that to gaslight women.” You laugh, shifting to hang your legs over the arm of the chair and rest against the other arm.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, toeing your shoes off of your feet so they fall to the floor. “I think I’m just gonna stay away from all of it for a while.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” he agrees, putting his arms behind his head to relax further into his bed. “How many other guys have you hooked up with? Like apart from the ones you mentioned.”

“Oh, none,” you say.

“What?”

“I didn’t lose my virginity until I was twenty-five, Cody. Needless to say, I wasn’t doing much else either.”

“So, when I met you,” he begins. “You were a virgin?” You nod your head, mindlessly picking at the tear in the knee of your jeans. “Goddamnit,” he sighs. “If I would have been your first, you wouldn’t have needed to go anywhere else.” You laugh loudly, glancing over to Cody to see him laughing in return. “I’m just kidding,” he says, through his chuckles. “At twenty-seven, I was more concerned with getting myself off.”

“I believe that,” you grin. “How many women have you been with?”

“More than two,” he says.

“How many?”

“Six. It’s been a few months though.”

“No way,” you reply. “You were talking to that girl in Puerto Rico, she was really pretty”

“I was talking to her, yeah,” he nods. “Not flirting.”

“Why not?”

“I wasn’t interested.”

“So, you’re gonna be abstinent until you find someone you’re interested in?”

“I’m already interested in someone,” Cody says.

“I know, Rhodey.”

You both remain silent for a few moments before you get out of your seat to grab some clothes from your bag. When you pull out the shorts and t-shirt, you glance at Cody, finding him watching you. You jokingly give him the finger, before heading to the bathroom to change clothes. You expected Cody to have put a movie on for you both to watch as you frequently do, but the television is still off when you enter the room.

You lay on the bed beside Cody, giving a quick sigh as you snuggle deeper into the blankets. He grins and watches you get comfortable, but you notice him staring and give him a glare as if to tell him to stop.

“I’m just happy you’re here,” he chuckles, as you settle on your side. “I thought you’d never want to talk to me again. Ya’know, after you punched me.”

“I don’t have a lot of friends, ya’know. My bench isn’t that deep, not a lot of options.”

“Sorry about Ziggler,” he answers, staring up at the ceiling. “Really. Even if I don’t like the thought of the two of you together…I don’t like you being upset either.”

“It’s alright,” you shrug, as Cody tips his head to look to you. “We weren’t really together, just wasting time.” You watch Cody fight the slightly irritated look that threatens to tear through his pleasant grin. “Still I’m going to miss some of it,” you add.

“Like what?” he scoffs. “I mean, he didn’t make you squirt.”

“Neither did you, Cody,” you laugh.

“Ooh, touché.”

Cody bites his lip for a moment, a conflicted look in his eyes, as if he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. You take his hand that lays on his chest and you flip it so his palm is up. Gently, you trace your fingertips along his hand, around his palm and up to his fingertips.

“What’s the deal with you and my hands, hm?” he asks, softly. You shrug, avoiding his gaze as you feel your cheeks warm from the question. “Do you want to know what I can do with these hands?” he whispers. “I promise it’ll be worthwhile.”

“I’m sure,” you reply, pressing your fingers to his pulse momentarily.

You shift into your back, your fingers still barely touching Cody’s hand, but he scoots his body closer to lay on his side next to you. He props his head up on his hand, elbow resting on the bed, and lays his other hand palm side up on your stomach, allowing you to continue tracing along his hand.

You grasp Cody’s hand and cut your eyes to look into his face as you bring his hand to your throat, pressing it there and awaiting his reaction. For a moment, Cody doesn’t react, but you see his eyes darting around your face, looking for something. You bite your lip, setting your hand on top of his and pressing his fingers to urge him along.

“I just want to see what it feels like,” you whisper.

“You never asked your boyfriend?” You have known Cody long enough to understand his emotions. As he speaks, you can tell he’s teasing, but there’s also a certain aggravation to his words and in his eyes that makes you second guess involving him in this situation.

“I trust you more than him,” you admit. This softens his gaze, and his thumb rubs gently along your jaw and your pulse. “And he wasn’t my boyfriend,” you add, knowing that Cody loves to hear this.

The tips of Cody's fingers begin to press more firmly against your throat, and you pull in a small gasp. Cody’s eyes cut between your mouth and your eyes, giving you every drop of his attention as he tightens his grip.

Your eyes begin to slip closed, thinking about your current situation. Asking one of your closest friends to choke you wasn't what you had in mind when you climbed into bed next to him. You’d expected to fall asleep watching a movie as you’d done many times before. The feelings that have developed within you regarding Cody have overwhelmed you, causing you to act on your impulses without even thinking twice.

“Open your eyes.” Cody’s voice drags you out of your thoughts, and you do as you’re told, looking into his eyes. “Does it feel good?” he whispers, his eyes on your mouth.

“Harder,” you reply. His eyes lock with yours again in an instant, and he licks his lips, tightening his grip on your throat. You struggle to pull in a breath, and immediately want more, hoping that your eyes are telling Cody just that.

“More, huh?” he grins.

As soon as you nod, Cody’s hand tightens again, completely cutting off your air. Your mouth opens in an attempt to breathe, and Cody’s eyes flash with panic, but you clamp your hand on his to keep it in place. You begin to grow restless, eyes slipping closed as you instinctively try to pull in breaths, wiggling around on the mattress.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Cody mutters, pressing his lips to your ear. “In my fucking bed, begging me to choke you for the first time. I’ll bet you’re fucking soaked right now.”

You feel the tip of his tongue graze along the shell of your ear, followed by his teeth tugging at your earlobe. Cody’s grip on you loosens for a moment, and you let out a squeak, causing him to release his grip entirely and pull back to look at you. Quickly, you pull in breaths quickly, and let out a cough, your eyes finding Cody’s.

“Are you okay?” he asked, cupping your jaw, his voice dripping with concern.

“Yeah,” you reply. “It felt good.”

“Yeah?” he smirked, turning your head to get a better look at your neck. “I hope it doesn’t leave a bruise. We’ll match.”

You take hold of his hand and bring it to your lips, giving a quick kiss to the palm of his hand. Cody lets out a sigh, lacing his fingers with yours and pinning it down onto the mattress. When he leans in to kiss you, a grin pulls at your lips, and you close your eyes in anticipation. His lips press to yours softly, testing the waters for a moment, until you let out a soft whimper. Cody groans in response, deepening the kiss.

The sensation of Cody’s mouth on yours makes your head spin more than when he was choking you, the build up to finally kissing him being overwhelming. You tighten your grip on his hand, and he squeezes your fingers in return, finally pulling back to allow you both some air. You pull both your and Cody’s hands back to your mouth, pressing his knuckles against your lips. For a moment, you stare into one another’s eyes in silence, your heart pounding in your chest as you realize what you’re about to say.

“I love you,” you mumble, hoping your words get lost against his knuckles.

“What was that?” Cody asks with a grin, pulling your hands away from your mouth. You don’t respond, but keep your eyes on him. “Say it again,” he whispers. “It’s just me.” Your eyes begin to well as you feel scared and overwhelmed, so you turn your head to avoid Cody’s gaze. “C’mon, baby girl,” he says, squeezing your hand. “It’s okay. You can say it.”

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath to calm yourself. Cody remains silent, soothingly rubbing his thumb against your hand that he still holds. You try to reason with your mind, the more rational side of you saying that it’s okay to repeat it, to tell Cody how you feel. You feel the fear through your whole body, and you realize that you aren’t afraid of what Cody will say or what he will do, but you’re afraid that you aren’t ready.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

“That’s alright,” Cody says. You can hear in his voice that he is disappointed, but when you turn to see him again, his eyes light up, a smile on his face. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear anything,” he says. “Consider it erased from my mind.” He pulls your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles one at a time. “Can I ask you something?” he whispers. You swallow hard, and reply with a nod. “That night I called you, and you were getting off—”

“Cody,” you sigh, biting your lip.

“Hear me out,” he chuckles, putting your hand on his cheek. “You said you were thinking about when we first met. What did you mean?” You pull in a deep breath, rubbing your thumb gently along his black eye.

“Your mustache. It was really sexy.”

“Oh, God,” he rolls his eyes, beginning to pull away. “Forget I even asked.”

“No, wait,” you chuckle, rolling over onto your side so your back is to him. “I’m joking, that mustache was awful.” Cody curls up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder as he waits for an answer to his question. “That night after I met you in that stupid arcade, I kept playing the fucking coin pusher for like another hour,” you continue. “I was just on autopilot because all I was thinking about was you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Don’t be so smug,” you laugh, elbowing him playfully. “I kept replaying our stupid conversation over and over, thinking about how pretty your fucking smile was.”

“Pretty?” he echoes, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah,” you smile to yourself. “And bright, too.” Cody’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer against him and taking hold of your hands. “I couldn’t stop seeing it,” you continue. “All I could think about was what could have happened if you weren’t engaged.” You leave the comment on the air for a moment, but Cody doesn’t respond so you continue. “I dreamt about you that night,” you breathe out. “That you followed me to my hotel room.”

“Is this gonna make me hard?” he asks.

“You’re already hard, I’m just ignoring it.”

“C’mon, it’s like a semi, at most.”

“I dreamt that you kissed me,” you continue. “And we danced to some stupid song that you played on your phone. It was a slow dance but your hands were all over me.”

“That’s what you got off to?” Cody chuckles, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Not quite,” you chuckle. “But I’ll keep that to myself for now. I’m too tired to talk about it tonight.”

“Fair enough,” he replies, kissing the top of your head. “Get some rest. We can talk in the morning.”

—————————

You awaken at 4:30 in the morning, finding yourself still in bed with Cody. He had rolled onto his stomach in the night, and you hear him snoring softly.

You replay the night before in your head, feeling your stomach tighten at the thought of Cody choking you. Quietly, you slip from the bed and sneak towards the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. There is a very light mark on your neck from Cody’s hand, and as you trace your fingers over it, you can almost feel the sensation of him choking you once again.

The excitement you feel at the thought is immediately overshadowed as you remember what you said to him. You admitted your feelings to him, and he didn’t run. Granted, you mumbled the words, and refused to repeat them when he asked, but you feel your heart begin to race nonetheless.

Things are going to be different when Cody wakes up. From the choking, to the kissing, to the cuddling, and finally the admittance of feelings, you know that you aren’t going to be able to weasel your way out of the conversation that Cody will inevitably want to have. You swallow hard, and exit the bathroom, seeing Cody still asleep. Creeping across the room, you pick up your belongings, and quietly exit to head towards your own room.

You hurriedly get ready for the day, your mind filled with regret for your night with Cody. You think about the last week, from your breakup with Ziggler to your hookup with Finn, you feel overwhelmed. The last six months with WWE were a whildwind, and you barely had a moment to think about what you were doing.

As you lament, your phone buzzes from its spot on the bed and you quickly check to see a text from your boss.

Heard from a football club in Scotland, they’re desperate to get you on board. Saw the offer, and I know it’s better than what you’re getting now. Should I schedule a meeting?

For the text to have come through at that time, while you were questioning your decisions, you feel it must be a sign. You quickly type back a response letting your boss know that you’re interested in the position, and would like to meet to go over the next steps. You hit send before thinking and throw your phone back onto the bed. Briefly, you wonder if you should have had a talk with Cody before agreeing to meet, but you push the thought from your mind, convincing yourself it’s the right decision.

——————

You exit the office, making your way down the hall towards the locker rooms. Your heart pounds in your chest, mind racing with the right words to say when you break the news to Cody. As you near the locker rooms, you spot Cody talking to Sami, both of the men smiling and laughing. It gives you pause, thinking about how he’s going to take the news you’re about to give him.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but can I steal Cody for just a moment?” you ask, approaching the two men quickly. “I’ll give him right back.”

“You can have him,” Sami teases. “I don’t need him.”

You step into a nearby hallway with Cody, out of earshot but still in the light. You toil for a moment, trying to think of how to start your sentence, but Cody quickly becomes impatient.

“Let me guess,” he begins. “‘Gee, Cody, I’m really sorry for sneaking out this morning, and I loved making out last night. Maybe we can try it again tonight?’ Absolutely, babe, I’m more than happy to accommodate.”

“My contract was transferred,” you say. “To a football club in Scotland.”

“Wait, what?” Cody asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“They reached out last month,” you continue. “The manager is a wrestling fan, he likes my photographs, and floated an offer.” You pause, avoiding Cody’s gaze as you look at anything else in the hallway. “I wasn’t going to accept at first,” you mumble. “But I just got out of a meeting with the big bosses…and they agreed to transfer it over.”

“Why?”

“I need to reset,” you say, finally looking at him. “It all got out of hand, so I just think some time away is best for everyone.”

“Okay,” he nods, slowly. “We’ll be in London a few times this year, so I can come visit. And I’m sure I’ll have some time off to be able to—”

“I’ll be hours away from London, Cody,” you interrupt. “And I don’t…I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“What’s not a good idea?” he asks. When you don’t respond, Cody realizes. “You need time away from me.”

“After last night…” you trail off. “I know I said it was you, and that I was scared to get serious because I didn’t think that I’d be enough for you, but I don’t think that’s true. I don’t know if I’m ready.” You pause briefly, looking down at the ground. “I think it’s a little bit about the attention,” you continue, softly. “I never got attention from guys when I was younger, and I like it. But I also feel too scared to try this. It’s like you said, I’m just doing what I can to avoid something real.” You pull in a breath that surprises you with how shuddered it is. “I’m gonna do like I said last night,” you say. “I’m taking a break from all of it. So I can get my head on straight.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Cody’s words are sincere, but not pleading, as if he’s accepting your choice, no matter how much he doesn’t want to — and your heart breaks at the sound.

“I’m too fucking selfish, Cody,” you breathe out, glancing up to him. “I can’t hurt you. If we get into this now, I don’t think it’s going to end well.” He nods his head slowly and lets out a choked laugh.

“I get it,” he says. “When are you leaving?”

“Next Monday. They’ve got housing set up for me, and the team has preseason stuff. It’s going to take me a while to get used to how they do stuff, I think.”

“Well,” Cody speaks. “We’ll have dinner before you leave and, uh, ya’know….I’ll see you before you go. I’ve got to get out to the, uh, ring. I’ll talk to you later.”

Cody turns and walks away from you, leaving you alone in the hallway. You lean back against the wall, letting out a sigh and feeling the tears welling at your eyes. You wonder if you’ve made the right decision.

[b00knerd1o1]

All you need to know is shit goes down there (Fanfiction)

The Burns explain the existence of Waffle House to the Bots.

Chief Burns tries to school the quizzical look on his face as he reads the text from his brother again.

Woodrow: I've finally discovered it,  the most dangerous  place on the planet.

Charlie: Should I be worried?

He settles on responding after a couple of Seconds. He shuts the phone off and places it on the table. Chief Burns tunes back into the world around him and tries to catch up on the multiple conversations taking place between his children and the rescue bots as they set up for their family camping trip. His phone buzzes before he can gain enough context to understand anything being said, drawing his attention back to it. He clicks it on and is surprised by what he finds.

Woodrow Willson Attachment: 1 Image

It usually takes Woodrow a good while to respond to text since he tends to hang around areas with little to no reception. Once, a Merry Christmas text from Woodrow hadn’t gotten through until a day before New Year's Eve. Charlie fully opens the phone to see if the photo holds any clues to his brother's quick response or his previous message. Charlie stares at the picture for a second before letting out a quiet chuckle.

“What’s funny?” Kade asks, looking up from the tent he was helping Cody set up.

“Read the last text,” Charlie tells his eldest son as he hands him his phone. Cody cranes his neck to see the screen over his brother's shoulder when he, too, lets out a chortle.

“He’s not wrong. One of the dudes in my class at fire training’s from down south and almost got shot at one.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dani asks, looking up from the wood pile she had been turning into a fire.

“I, too, would like more context pertaining to that situation,” Chase says. By this point, everyone has dropped what they are doing and is looking at Kade intently.

“Unkle Woodrow texted Dad saying he found the most dangerous place on earth and then sent him a picture of him standing in front of a Waffle House.”

“What does a Waffle House have to do with your friend almost getting shot?” Heatwave asks.

“First of all, he wasn’t my friend; we were rivals. Second, it's a Waffle House!” Kade says.

“You can’t just say its name again and expect me to understand what you mean,” Heatwave responds.

“He almost got shot there because it’s a Waffle House. What else do you want me to say?”

“Gun violence can take place in any setting. What makes the fact that happened in a House of Waffles significant?” Chase says. “Is that a regular occurrence at these places? If so, I think the best course of action would be to remove the Waffle make in the kitchen at the fire station.”

“Waffle House is a chain Restaurant down south,” Graham says. It is known primarily because lots of fights break out there.”

“Why?” Bolder asks.

“It’s open all hours of the day, every day of the year, has low prices, and is often situated in low-income areas where crime tends to be…”

“No one cares about the technical reasons. All you need to know is shit goes down there,” Kade says, interrupting Graham.

“Kade Language,” Charlie says, gesturing to Cody.

“Sorry,” Kade mumbles.

“I’d still like to hear the story of how your friend almost got shot,” Heatwave says, smirking at Kade’s reaction to the word friend.

“He was at a Waffle House.” Kade begins.

“Obviously,” Dani mumbles under her breath.

“I think he said it was in Mississippi, but I could be wrong. There are like two thousand Waffle houses, and it could have happened at any of them.” Kade continues ignoring his sister. “ He saw a rapper he liked and went up to talk to him, and the dude pulled a gun on him. Must have thought he was getting jumped or something. They figured it out in the end, and no one else realized what happened, but it’s still a funny story.”

“If Waffle Houses are known to incite violence, why are they allowed to spread?” Boulder asks.

“I have to Agree. If one ever tries to open on Griffin Rock, we must find a way to halt the process.” Chase says.

“Waffle House isn’t really a Maine restaurant, so I don’t think We’ll need to worry about that,” Graham says. “And anyway, Waffle House doesn’t incite violence. It just tends to be the setting where it takes place, for the reasons I tried to explain earlier before I was inte…”

“They also need them for the Waffle House Index.” Kade buts in.

“The what?” Cody asks, confused.

“It’s a way to tell how heavily a hurricane impacted an area based on the hours the local Waffle house is open,” Dani replies.

“This restaurant can predict storms?” Blades asks hopefully, “Maybe we should get one.”

“It doesn't predict the storms. It just reacts to them.” Chief Burns says.

“Then what makes it different from any other restaurant in that regard?” Boulder asks.

“The director of FEMA created the Waffle House Index. The corporation behind Waffle House works really hard to keep their franchises open even after natural disasters, so sometimes it’s the only restaurant open after a minor hurricane.” Graham says.

“How can a Hurican be minor? It’s a Hurricane!” Blades says, horrified.

“They get one almost every year down south, so the people there have kind of just gotten used to it.” Chief Burns says.

“Lots of southerners joke that they don’t evacuate for a hurricane unless the Waffle House closes,” Kade says.

“What do they do if they don’t evacuate?” Blades asks, horrified.

“Mostly just stay in their house until it passes,” Graham says.

“Unless they're from Florida.” Dani Jokes. “They take their shotguns and shoot the hurricane.”

“That’s Florida-Man for you,” Kade responds. The burns all laugh, but the bots seem confused.

“What’s so special about men from the State of Florida?” Chase asks.

“Ok, so…”

[garnettfox]

Miracubots AU

Sooooo, me and a friend reconnected after a few years of silence (Thanks depression) and discovered not only do we still share similar old fandom brainrot, but we share NEW fandom brain rot and have very similar opinions about the Miraculous series, which lead into the brainrots fusing and with their permission. I present. THE MIRACUBOTS AU

AKA What if we took the cool and interesting magic system and initial set up of Miraculous....AKA the only good bits, and put it in a show with great writing and characters who we love and who deserve to go feral on a villain every now and again?

The AU takes place instead of the canon season four, Cody is aged up a little to 14/15, Doctor Morroco never lost his Verns device to Madeline Pynch so he's still around to be a menace, and the Prime bots...We haven't fully established if Prime is still happening, or if it's after RiD but the Autobots are still around and mentioned occasionally. And since it's a different version of season 4, the bots are still undercover to the town, only the family knowing they are sentient.

Madeline takes stage as the main villain of the series having acquired the Butterfly Miraculous and after discovering Nooroo and it's power, forcing the Kwami to tell her all about the other Miraculous, including the fact that using two of them, the Ladybug and Black Cat together gives one the power to alter reality.

Seeing an easy way to get her goal of being the riches and most powerful person on the planet, she forces Nooroo to tell her where the Miracle box is, but the poor Kwami can only confirm he senses it on Griffin Rock. With her goal in mind Pynch uses the Butterfly to become Swallowtail creating her first Akuma to draw out the guardian and hopefully the Miraculous she seeks.

Master Fu once he realizes what is happening, charges Tikki and Plagg to find two children they resinate strongly with to become the new holders of their Miraculous, reasoning that Children will be easy to teach and control, and he'd be better able to take the Miraculous back from children if the pair chose poorly.

To no one in this fandom's surprise, Cody Burns is who's picked by Tikki to be her holder. He does try to convince her to go to his dad or siblings so they can protect her after she tells him she's what the Akuma is after. But Tikki insists that she picked the right person to be her holder able to sence Cody having a loving heart full of courage.

Cody becomes the new Ladybug Hero Beetletron! looking very much like a miniature version of one of the Rescuebots, though one with a beetle Altmord, when he asks about it Tikki explains that it's because well, the Rescuebots have more or lest become his mental image of what a hero should *be* and thus the Miraculous copied their form. The name comes from Cody trying to think of a Cybertronian sounding name and vaguely remembering hearing the bots talk about some important mech from Cybertron....something-tron? Well it sounds robotic and he's a beetle so, Beetletron!

Fighting against the Akuma he's joined by another hero, a girl in a cyber punk looking get up, dark leathers and neon greens with a head covering mask, she even has a USB cable acting as a tail that she can use with her tech knowhow to hack! The new Black Cat introduces herself as Felidae Fatale, named for the scientific cat family Felidae, and well, she might not be the classic version of a Femme Fatale, she'll prove she can be just as badass as they can be.

Working together feeling like they've known each other for years though they just met, they beat the Akuma, and when Swallowtail makes her threat to claim their Miraculous's they confidently announce they'll make sure a villain like her, never wins.

In the aftermath the pair meet up and agree, keeping a secret identity from the other would be pretty silly considering the life and death danger their in, so. Reveal themselves.

And Cody laughs crying as he hugs his best friend Frankie, as there really could be no other person it would be.

Feel free to tell me or ask me about this AU, We have a TON of stuff planned out, what Miraculous's people get, Akuma forms for almost everyone. Admitedly have some self-indulgent stuff like putting in OC's we love to use XD but it's all in good fun

[rustywolf14]

Something I've been wanting to draw for a while now, the crews of not only Captain Kipper but also his nemesis Lord Tiberius! This also counts as my contribution to doggust lol

Some info about all these sea dogs (and cat):

Captain Kipper: Good ol' Kipper! Just a fella with a love for the sea. Makes sure everything is in tip-top-shape at all times with both his crew and his ship. In charge of maintaining order in whatever his crew is in charge of, be it transporting goods or people, helping the local fishermen by providing extra paws on deck or even visiting the local merfolk populations and trading goods

Edward: The captain's second in command! If for whatever reason Kipper is unable to make it to an excursion or is overwhelmed with his current duties Edward is here to provide a helping paw or take his place. Hasn't had as much experience as the captain and tends to worry and overthink more when things get messy

Rachel: No crew is complete without a good cook! Rachel's one resourceful pup, able to make a tasty meal to feed whole crews with scraps if needed! Friends with Wellers and hangs with him from time to time to exchange recipes (He's one talented cook!) Also not afraid to step into action if the situation calls for it, she knows her way around several knives!

Cody: The newest member of the crew, the ship's cabin boy and lookout! Keeps the boat spick-and-span, with him you can guarantee the wood is polished, the steering wheel's oiled, and even the pillows are fluffed. Also mans the crows nest of the ship, keeping an eyes on the waters for signs of trouble or finding the nearest land to dock in

Thomas: Bit of an odd one out in an all-dog-crew, the resident ship's cat, Thomas nonetheless is just as important to the ship as the rest! Keeps rats and other pests away (such as those annoying seagulls, thinking they own the place!) and is also in charge of maps, his sharp eyes and excellent sense of direction makes sure the crew is headed right were they're supposed to be, rough waters be damned!

Lord Tiberius: Selfish and cruel, this pirate cap- LORD is Kipper's complete polar opposite! Ruling his ship with an iron fist and quick to anger, you don't want to mess with this captain's goal to steal as much treasure as his gold-obsessed heart desires!

Tugboat: This tank of a dog serves as the closest to a second mate Tiberius will allow. Usually his towering presence is enough to deter enemies if he spots them during lookouts but has no qualms about stepping into a scuffle sword at paw! Is also in charge of ship repairs and maintenance, a lot needs fixing when your ship is constantly taking in canon-fire

Andy: Andy, or more commonly referred to as "you little welp!" by the Lord has it rough in these waters! Not only is he the second smallest, least intimidating resident but as the resident cabin boy, Tiberius tends to throw ALL chores and any other duties not able to be done by other members at him, including but not limited to: swabbing the decks, polishing the treasure (but don't look at it to much!) manning the crows nest (what do you mean you're scared of heights, GO!) steering (well, you'll learn now!) among others. Not helping is the fact he's scared of loud noises. Which happen. A LOT. "Why did I take this job again?!?!"

Wellers: Cook. Weapons handler. A dog of few words. Friends with Rachel.

Pipsqueak: A fella with a personality just as explosive as the canons he (enthusiastically) works with! Loud, reckless and fast, he more than makes up for his small size in helping out in finding treasure and getting rid of pests. Tends to "talk" on Wellers behalf a lot, the latter of which just gives a snort or hum in response. Doesn't get why Tiberius won't let him arm the ship with a bazooka or two, he can be trusted! Promise!

[inkformyblood]

for the mission (CWFKB #9)

Hand Kiss for @codywanfirstkissbingo Canon Era, Undercover as a Couple, Pining, Yearning etc

The manor house doesn’t just dominate the landscape; it sprawls across it, the wings thrown wide and opening into vast courtyards for the invited guests to cluster together, break apart and reform like a living sea. Obi-Wan strides through one of the cobblestone walkways — a mind boggling expense given that the planet is mostly soft soil compacted on top of itself with minimal landscape features that could be described as pebbles, let alone true stone — and swings left, his hand securely in Cody’s. The other man’s pulse is steady in his wrist, higher than normal but that is to be expected given the battlefield they’re striding across is an entirely different calibre to what he is used to. 

Still, Obi-Wan’s heart twists in his chest, guilt and shame warring in equal devastating measures. He could have requested a fellow Knight for this mission, an older Padawan or a member of the Corps at a stretch, but when the parameters had been laid out, Cody had simply nodded, not entertaining the thought that it would be anyone other than him accompanying Obi-Wan as his companion to spy on a ludicrously fancy party. He does look stunning in his outfit. The replicators could work wonders on short notice if the Engineering department was given enough creative leeway. 

Obi-Wan tugs at Cody’s wrist, drawing him alongside. He tips his head sideways as they step through one of the open doors — stretching from ceiling to floor with delicate panes of glass, no true cover to be seen — and carefully crowds Cody back against the doorframe, lowering his mouth to his right ear. “How are you holding up, my dear?” He carefully sweeps his fingertips up Cody’s neck, a shiver rolling through the other man, and brushes against the earpiece in his other ear, concealed enough by a decorative metal framework and the fall of Cody’s curls. 

“Well enough. It’s a little cold however. Love.”

Through the crack of his lashes, Obi-Wan can see Cody’s expression falter, his eyes widening as his gaze wanders, settling everywhere except Obi-Wan. He swallows, his tongue prodding the barely healed scab on his lower lip, and carefully leans into Obi-Wan’s touch. Cody holds himself still, his muscles locked into place until he’s near enough trembling from the effort. “You’re doing very well. Just relax.”

Cody pulls in a breath through his teeth and blows out slowly, his shoulders inching downwards, his head growing a little heavier in Obi-Wan’s palm. “I’ll try.”

Obi-Wan nods, brushing his thumb over Cody’s cheek before he parts, taking the other man’s hand once more. The set-up for the mission had been simple enough; a pair infiltrate the party, one taking to lead to avoid suspicion from the other guests and their eventual targets, the other acting as the pretty sidepiece and listening to the network of devices scattered around the grounds to monitor the retrieval of information. Obi-Wan just needed to look after Cody. He weaves through the scattered groups, the heels on his boots clicking against the floor. Along one wall is a stretch of mirrors and Obi-Wan allows himself a glance, no more, no less, to drink them both in. They’re well-matched in the intricacies of their outfits, the crossing ties that run from the base of Obi-Wan’s spine complimenting the similar network over the planes of Cody’s chest, the gold bright against the dark fabric of his shirt. The clothing is tailored for them both, drawing in at the waist and flaring out over the hips, and the trousers cling tight enough that they’re barely there for anything other than texture. The outfits would be recycled when they return to the transport, possibly on the transport if the way Cody had only just stopped fidgeting when the manor had broken on the horizon, but Obi-Wan would remember this. 

A small sitting area is tucked against an unnecessary amount of plants, secluded enough that it wouldn’t raise any questions if a pair were to fold themselves away for a time and it would let Cody rest his feet. Soldier boots are world’s away from the delicate golden strappy set that had been produced for him. 

“Just relax,” Obi-Wan murmurs as he unfurls himself across the seat with a sigh. Cody’s hand tightens in his, one blink, then two, and Cody follows where Obi-Wan leads, carefully perching himself across the stretch of one thigh. He draws his legs up at Obi-Wan’s urging, stretching his legs across the other seat. His sigh is low, near reverant, and he relaxes against Obi-Wan. 

“Thank you.”

“Taking care of you is no trouble.” Obi-Wan draws Cody’s hand to mouth, kissing the curve of his knuckles. It’s just for the mission, ostensibly for the mission despite how much Obi-Wan craves the small piece of contact. He glances at Cody, his eyes wide and dark, and settles back for a long evening. 

[enigmatist17]

Being that Master Obi-Wan Kenobi often fought alongside Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, the 501st, and 212th respectively worked together far more often than most battalions.

So when they're requested to join the Resolute, it's not really questioned until the Negotiator comes out of hyperspace in orbit around the moon of some unnamed planet. It seemed a strange place to meet, but the ship hovers beside the Resolute dutifully as Anakin comes aboard with Ahsoka on one side, and Jesse flanking the other.

"Seems a bit strange Captain Rex isn't with you." Obi-Wan comments, a jest that goes unanswered.

"Obi-Wan, we need to talk." The serious tone coming from Anakin now gains Obi-Wan's entire attention, and for the first time since he could ever recall, Anakin doesn't crack some joke. "I'd like Commander Cody to join us as well."

"Is something the matter?" The older Jedi frowned, and something coils in his gut at the way Ahsoka doesn't even smile up at him.

"Trust us, this is important. We have information about a Separatist factory somewhere nearby." Jesse stood at perfect attention, placing one hand on Anakin's shoulder as if to reassure him. "We'd like for you to come to the Resolute, if that's alright, my men have schematics for us to look over."

"Certainly." Obi-Wan doesn't have to look around to see his men are picking up on the energy leaking from the other soldier into the Force, despite Jesse doing his best not to broadcast.

Fear, exhaustion, and pain.

That feeling is only magnified tenfold when the small party returns to the Resolute, and the normally loud halls filled with jokes and laughter are eerily silent as they're led to one of the medbays.

"Why are we in the medbay?" Commander Cody asked, drawing his weapon but holding it down when the door locked behind them. "What is going on?"

"We had to bring you to where there weren't ears listening in." Anakin sighed, shoulders slumping as he takes a seat on one of the beds.

"What do you mean? Has my ship been compromised?" Obi-Wan asked in concern, and Jesse stepped forward with a small cough.

"Sirs, every ship has been since day one of this war." Jesse removes his bucket, and Cody eyes the fresh scar on the right side of the ARC trooper's head.

"Where is Rex?" Cody frowned as he cut right to the chase, and feels dread coiling in his gut when Anakin glances over at Ahsoka with a pained expression. "I haven't heard from him in days, and I don't see him here."

"He's on the moon below." Ahsoka seems finally done with spitting around the bush, and steps forward. "We...we have a lot to tell you both, and it's best we wait until you're...examined Commander Cody."

"Examined? For what?" Cody wasn't sure what she was implying, just frustrated as he watched Kix come out from his office with two tools on a tray.

"They won't say it, so I will. Sir, you are a danger to everyone in this room right now, all of us here on the Resolute were until recently. The longnecks created us to be weapons to kill the Jedi, but we know how to prevent that." The medic pointed to a bed, and after a gentle nudge from Obi-Wan, the confused and stunned marshal sits down. "Everyone, out until I remove his chip."

"I'll stay," Jesse commented, and the three Jedi move to leave the room, the door relocking after the Jedi stepped through it and out into the hallway. "Rex ordered me to make sure he made it."

"I know. Cody, you won't be out for long." The medic grabbed one of the tools on his tray, and injected Cody once he was lying back.

It seemed like Cody had just closed his eyes when he blearily opens them, his head aching somewhat fierce as he sat up with a groan.

"Kote?" Blinking a few times, the room swims into focus as Cody looks around, locking eyes with the person sitting beside his bed.

"Rex?" The two had seen each other only a mere month ago, sharing some time on Coruscant off-duty just exploring a small part of the planet. The man sitting beside him was not the Rex he had spent his time with, this Rex looked as if he had aged twenty years and had the guilt and loss to back it up. "What...what happened to you? What's going on?"

"You know I'd never lie to you, right?" Rex is looking at him as if memorizing how Cody looked, in case he vanished right at this moment.

"Of course." Cody fully sits up as Rex continues to watch him, and knows full well the pain that is swirling deep in his eyes. "Talk to me."

"....I died, vod'ika." Rex swallows as Cody stares, but the marshal commander has enough sense to keep silent and let Rex speak uninterrupted.

What he hears? Cody doesn't realize he's crying until Rex moves to sit with him on the bed, the slightly older clone bringing Rex as close as physically possible while he just listens. He cannot fathom the years Rex lived, and the thought of being alone with no vod to turn to was a thought that made Cody's blood freeze.

He doesn't miss the way Rex flinches when the Jetti enter, instinctively moving to be between Rex and Anakin. The Knight looks slightly ashamed, and Obi-Wan places a tender hand on his shoulder, looking just as horrified as Cody did at the moment. For a moment no one says a word, Cody and Obi-Wan sharing a look that only they know the meaning of.

"Why are we here? At this moon?" Cody finally manages, not wanting any more of the stifling silence.

"This area already strangles any signals that could make it back to Coruscant, so the first move will be to strip the Negotiator," Anakin answered, pointedly looking everywhere but at the marshal. "After we get all of the chips out of the rest of the 212th...I don't know."

"We should try and alert the Jedi Council." Kenobi frowned, hand resting on his chin as he looked at his former padawan.

"We should look into Kamino as well, sir." Cody frowned. "Get the chips removed...the longnecks, they'll know how to stop this."

"Kamino is a good idea..." Anakin turned to head out, motioning for Ahsoka to follow suit. "Come on Snips, we have work to do."

"Yes master." Sparing Rex one last small smile she followed suit, and Rex seemed to breathe a little easier when Jesse followed like an attentive hawk.

"A dead zone isn't the only reason we're here, is it?" Kenobi sat on the bunk opposite Cody's, his tone kind as he watches the captain glance out the viewports on the opposite side of the room.

"The only reason Ahsoka and I survived...after she helped me, we had to fight against every single vod here."

He can still see the look of horror on her face when he couldn't fight the chip any longer, blasters raised and firing in the blink of an eye.

Jesse and his brothers, all bonded by blood and batch, firing when his plan failed. He can still hear their screams as the ship falls, some trying to save themselves while most tried to keep killing them.

Mangled body after mangled body pulled from flaming wreckage, helmets removed to mark graves that would fade away over time.

No one left to mourn the once illustrious 501st and newly formed 332nd.

Rex isn't sure if he said any of this out loud, or if Kenobi did some sort of Force magic, but Cody is hugging him tighter than he ever had. Kenobi has taken one of his hands, and it's the first time Rex had ever seen the older Jetti ever cry. The moon was barren when Rex flew down alone in his old Y-Wing, but he remembered where the fatal crash had occurred, and gave respect to the land that held no dead.

He promised that this wouldn't come to pass, not this time.

[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.

[blancheludis]

Whumptober 2024 Day 18: unreliable narrator

Fandom: Star Wars: Clone Wars Relationship: Fox / Quinlan Vos Characters: Fox, Quinlan Vos, Thorn, Cody Tags: Institutional Abuse, Hurt Fox, Dubious Consent (nothing graphic), Miscommunication, Misunderstanding, Protective Cody

Summary:

The first time Vos asks him to bed, Fox feels the loss of something in his chest, so intense that he is frozen for a second too long, a second in which Vos' face scrunches up in displeasure that has Fox scrambling to make it up to him. It is stupid to feel betrayed. The clones were made to serve and even if the Coruscant Guard does not have a Jedi of their own does not mean that the Jedi cannot come to them and take what they are owed.

A feather light touch rips Fox out of his musings. Glove on gauntlet, no skin involved, yet it burns. "Is this okay?" Vos asks as if Fox can choose how to answer, as if there is anything acceptable to say other than yes, sir.

---

The first time Fox meets Quinlan Vos, they are hunting the same smuggler on the lower levels of Coruscant. Fox is rude at the interruption of his mission and then almost dies from shock when Vos reveals he is a Jedi. Vos laughs the entire thing off.

Later, Fox thinks that was a fitting start to their entire, unconventional relationship.

---

The second time they meet, Vos sticks around after they have arrested some weapons dealer. He leans against the wall, legs crossed, while Fox deals with the bureaucratic nonsense that is part of his job. When Fox is done and ready to return to his patrol, Vos falls into step with him.

"Why are you still favouring your shoulder, Fox?" he asks, completely out of the blue, his eyes trained on Fox with a weight Fox is not sure how to interpret.

It is surprising Vos even remembers that Fox hurt his shoulder. They were hardly working together during their smuggler hunt and almost came to blows over who would be the one to take the guy in - at least until Vos revealed his status as Fox' superior. He hid his pain then just as he is hiding it now. If he pays attention, however, little seems to escape General Vos' notice.

"I'm fully functional, General," Fox declares and straightens further, as if to prove his point. 

The last thing he needs is a Jedi doubting he can do his job. Things are hard enough as they are. The Guard does not need more scrutiny. They need several weeks of leave, a full medical check-up including a soak in a bacta tank, eight hours of sleep and three square meals a day. Thankfully, Fox is not prone to dream of impossible things. He has enough crushing him without it.

"That's not what I was asking." Vos’ eyebrows draw together in an unhappy frown. "Don't tell me you haven't been to see a medic."

For a moment there, he sounded like Thorn when Fox returns from the Chancellor's office only to go directly to his next posting. A strained shoulder is, of course, nothing compared to a correctional meeting with Palpatine.

"It's not bad enough to waste anyone's time over it," Fox says and hopes they can leave it at that.

Instead, Vos stops him with an outstretched arm. "Not so bad?" he echoes, tone disapproving. "It hurts you. I can see that. What if it slows you down and you hurt it again? What if you do something more permanent to it instead of just sucking it up and get someone to look at it?"

Fox has been trained to suck it up, and Priest carved that lesson even deeper long before he ever braved the hell of Coruscant.

"If I can't do my job anymore," he stills says, "I'll get decommissioned."

If that ever happens, Thorn will curse his very name for having to take over. But he will, because they have all the fail-safes in place that they can get away with. Protecting each other is all they have left. 

"Force," Vos breathes, glaring at Fox. "I know the Jedi stopped decommissioning, but that's still not something you should joke about."

Circumstances have led to Fox having a very dark sense of humour, but that is reserved for his vode - and not for very real issues he has to deal with every day. He is not sure he can believe General Vos if he says his brothers on the frontlines really do not have to deal with decommissioning anymore, but things are different on Coruscant. They always are.

Fox is glad he can hide behind his bucket; not sure he can keep the dismay completely off his face. He turns to fully face Vos, stands at attention "How can I help you, General?"

Vos frowns but does not press the matter. "I just wanted to compare notes on that bomber from a few weeks back. The Council is not happy that the guy is still out there."

"Of course." Work, Fox can do. He sends a message to his patrol partner that he will be late and leads Vos to his office. The sooner he can get rid of Vos, the better.

---

Each time Fox thinks Vos is done with them, he turns up again, always full of obnoxious energy, always turning his eyes where they have no business being. The smuggler ring has been taken down, the arms dealer told them about his contacts, the bomber has been arrested. They do not have any current business with each other, and yet Vos seems to be there every time Fox turns a corner.

The trooper at the front desk warns him that General Vos is here to see him and would not take no for an answer, so Fox checks that nothing incriminating is on his desk - casualty reports, reconditioning requests, summaries of how badly equipped the Guard really is - and waits.

"Good evening my dear," Vos greets as he comes in uninvited and sits down in front of the desk before Fox has even a chance to salute him. "I have a few questions."

That sounds ominous, and Fox really does not have time for any of this. But he inclines his head anyway. "Of course, General Vos."

"None of that, Fox." Vos clicks his tongue. "We're all friends here."

Friends, of course. Natborns are not friends with clones. Jedi are not friends with their subordinates. But Fox has enough experience with the whims of other people that it leaves him unfazed.

"The last time I was here," Vos continues, thankfully not interested in any kind of reply from Fox. "I saw a number of your men walking around with injuries."

Yes, because General Vos is the type of person who does not accept a no and, when told that Fox is unavailable, goes searching for him, not hesitating to invade the medbay and even the barracks. Fox knows that nowhere is actually safe for them, that nowhere is actually theirs, but it still leaves him with a bitter aftertaste to see how little their privacy is worth.

"Yes," Fox agrees evenly and does not add anything else. Vos has not yet asked a question and Fox will not voluntarily give up information that could be viewed as punishable weakness.

Of course, Vos does not let it go. "Why is that?"

Once trained for battle, Fox has learned the value of paper trails. Most of his men's injuries are never even documented, because only the kind of people care that would use those reports against them. 

"Mishaps during missions. Prison riots. Unhappy people in the street," Fox counts off, using what few official reasons they do have. All the rest - angry civilians, unhappy senators, cruel aides, neglect, corporal punishment - will remain secret.

"All right," Vos drawls, sounding like he does not believe Fox, which is never a good position to be in with a natborn. "None of that is good, of course, but why weren't they in medbay? Why weren't they adequately treated before being sent back to work?"

Because they have neither the manpower nor the supplies. Because at least half of these injuries were done under the specific instruction that the troopers were not to receive treatment for them. 

"They were in working condition."

Vos' presses his lips into a thin, unhappy line. "Fox," he says, like an admonishment. But no order follows. No demand.

So, Fox stands his ground and simply shoots back, "General Vos."

"I don't understand." Vos stares, eyes fixed on Fox' bucket as if he can look right through it. "You care for your men."

He does. He does and it will never be enough. Will never save them. Keeping all of that out of his voice he says instead, "We have a job to do." And too few men and too little protection to do it.

"Is there something I can do?"

Now it is Fox' turn to stare, thankfully hidden behind his armour. If the Jedi believe that the Guard cannot do their job, things will get so much worse.

Tucking all of his fears, all of his hopes and misgivings deep inside, Fox lies, "We have everything under control, sir."

---

"I've made some inquiries."

More questions? Vos has been haunting the Guard HQ often enough that most of the shinies have stopped jumping at his shadow. By now, he has become a frequent enough a visitor in Fox' office that it sometimes feels empty without him sprawling in the uncomfortable chair across the desk.

"General?"

It is always the same with them, Vos saunters into Fox' office - or the canteen, or the medbay, or Fox' room, and once, even, the hall outside the Senate floor, anywhere he can ambush Fox - and opens with a question or an observation, all of which are too close to issues Fox would like to keep close to his chest. He rolls his eyes when Fox salutes him and calls Fox terrible nicknames. But when he talks about the Guard's injuries or Fox' schedule or their threadbare equipment, there is always steel in his eyes, almost like he does not like what he sees and yet does not blame Fox for it.

"One of your supply shipments was apparently held up in transit," Vos says with a tone that clearly shows this is not the complete truth. "It should arrive within the week."

Fox knows for a fact that no shipment was delayed because all of his requests were denied.

"Thank you?" he says carefully, nonetheless. His mind, though, is whirling. What's your price? he wants to ask. When will you ask me to pay?

The waiting is often worse than the cost itself.

---

The first time Vos commands him to bed, Fox feels the loss of something in his chest, so intense that he is frozen for a second too long, a second in which Vos' face scrunches up in displeasure that has Fox scrambling to make it up to him. It is stupid to feel betrayed. The clones were made to serve and even if the Coruscant Guard does not have a Jedi of their own does not mean that the Jedi cannot come to them and take what they are owed.

"Would you take off your helmet for me, Fox?"

A question is on the tip of Fox' tongue but he was not made to ask for explanations. With wooden fingers, he pulls his bucket off and then stares somewhere over Vos' shoulder while Vos musters him in return. Nothing good ever comes from natborns demanding the removal of a clone's bucket. Or any part of armour, really. Worst, probably, is that he did not expect this. Dozens of people in the Senate are prone to taking liberties, they have become as used to that as they ever will. But General Vos appeared to be different. 

At first, they had a grudging working relationship, but then Vos had started to ask questions, about the barracks, the state of their medbay, the shift length, the clones' injury rate. He never seemed happy with Fox' answers. Now, as Vos is silently shifting ever closer, Fox realised all of that might have simply been a buyer's concern with the state of his product. The clones were made for war, but perhaps the Jedi are concerned with how much damage is done to their property, how quickly they are going through clones. Replacements do not come cheap, after all, although the Chancellor likes to tell him it is more economic to produce a new trooper than to try and fix a faulty one.

A feather light touch rips Fox out of his musings. Glove on gauntlet, no skin involved, yet it burns.

"Is that okay?" Vos asks as if Fox can choose how to answer, as if there is anything acceptable to say other than yes, sir.

Fox does not trust his voice to hold steady, however, so he simply nods.

Vos leans even closer, right into Fox's personal space, which has him go tense, fighting the urge to stand at attention. Then there are lips on his, soft and warm, just a light pressure, no demand waiting behind them other than the unspoken order hanging in the air.

For a long moment, Fox lets it happen, lets his mind drift and leaves his lips lax. Then he snaps into action. He knows this part, knows his duty. As his lips begin to move against Vos', he raises a hand to cup Vos' cheek, making note of every small noise, every miniscule change in expression. This is the most important thing, to know what the natborn likes and wants. Some of them are happy to bark orders, making it easy to disappear into his head and just go with the flow. Others like to be catered to. Fox does not know who Quinlan Vos will be, but nothing about him has been simple until now.

Then, of course, Vos withdraws, at once smiling and frowning.

The stabbing pain in Fox' chest can easily be attributed to anxiety, to worrying he has made a misstep. It has nothing to do with the loss of warmth, of potential. "General?"

Vos winces, frozen in place. "This is inappropriate," he mutters quietly, like a secret between them.

Yes, Fox thinks, please don't ruin what could have almost been a friendship. Or at least as much of a trusted partnership as there can be between Jedi and Clone. Instead, he says, voice carefully blank, "This is what you want it to be."

Vos' frown deepens, dark lines of unhappiness. "What do you want?" he asks as if that ever mattered.

To keep his men safe, to keep the stores stocked, to have enough medical supplies on hand. To sleep. To have one thing for himself.

Fox studies Vos, sees the want in his eyes, even though he holds himself back. The decision is easy then, to caress Vos' cheekbone with his thumb and to pull him back in.

"Oh, thank the Force," Vos mutters and Fox makes himself relax into the touch.

He can do this. He has done so a hundred times before. Admittedly not with someone he might have begun to care about, but the motions remain the same. He will lie back, do his part, and protect his brothers another day.

---

Vos always stays, after, sprawling out in Fox' tiny bunk bed, soaking up warmth, tracing Fox' scars with an expression Fox cannot quite read. Almost like he wants to erase them, or like he is angry that someone dared to touch what he considers his.

The few times he runs out on Fox, he offers quiet apologies, as if Fox actually has time to waste lazing around in bed. Like he wants to remain here even a minute longer. Like there are not a dozen other people waiting for him to do his job.

The even fewer times Fox dares to leave first - when there is an emergency that Thorn has to call him in for or, once, when the Chancellor summons him - Vos catches Fox' hand as he stands, pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

"I need this war to be over," he mutters.

Fox does not dare to ask What for? The clones were bred for war. He knows his batchmates sometimes talk about after like there ever will be one. Perhaps the frontliners need that to keep them going. Perhaps, for them, there will be an end, someday. Fox knows he will not see it. Most of the Guard will not.

He is tired enough that he does not even mind too much.

---

The thing is, Fox thinks he could enjoy this under different circumstances. If Vos were not a commanding officer. If Fox were not a clone. He never had the feeling that Vos likes to play power games. He just sees something he likes and takes it. Well, he apparently liked Fox and Fox is in no position to have a choice in anything. If Vos put his mind to it, he could woo anyone he liked. Fox, however, is convenient. Always on Coruscant - always busy, too, but not so much that he would deny a Jedi General his time. His commanders have quickly learned to shuffle around schedules whenever Fox is summoned to the Chancellor. There is no telling how long those meetings take. Or which state Fox is in when he comes out again. It is not too much of a hardship to do the same when General Vos saunters into the Guard HQ like the entire sad complex belongs to him, not just Fox.

Sometimes, Fox wishes that Vos were the jealous type. If he knew how much time Fox spends alone with Palpatine, he might want to do something about it. Of course, Palpatine only ever aims to hurt and he seldom touches Fox himself. This thing with Vos is something else entirely.

"You are distracted today," Vos says, stretched out, skin glistening after the exertion. 

Fox is always distracted, trying to keep a careful balance between being attentive enough for Vos and thinking about the real work he is missing.

"I'm sorry," he says nonetheless and forces some of the tension out of his body.

"Don't be," Vos dismisses, easy as always, like Fox is not here to please him. "Is there something I can help with?"

End the war? Or, even more impossible, get the Guard enough men and supplies so they can actually have normal shifts and sleep cycles.

"Just tired," Fox says instead. "I'll do better."

"You're already perfect." Vos sometimes says these impossible things that Fox cannot even begin to interpret. The Kaminoans wanted the clones to be perfect for the Jedi, but is this truly what they meant?

Fox lets his head sink on Vos' shoulder and pretends he wants to be here. Pretends he does not know that, sometimes, he actually does.

---

"Fox, my dear," Vos says by way of greeting before the office door is even closed behind him, not caring who might hear. "I brought medical supplies."

Fox straightens but fails to stand as the words register in his brain. "General?" he chokes out, too weary to be hopeful.

Throwing himself into the visitor chair, Vos grins widely at him, bright and careless, just a hint of bite underneath. "I don't know why you ran out, but it was easily rectified."

Easy. As if Fox has not spent hours and every argument under the moon to get the Guard resupplied. "I - Thank you."

"Nonsense. Anything for my favourite Marshal Commander." He looks very pleased with himself and Fox has no argument against it. This is a much-needed reprieve, and he almost asks what he has done to deserve this. Or what he will have to do.

"Give me two minutes, please, to wrap this up. Then I'm all yours." For once, he does not have to swallow so much bitterness. He realized early on that he will do anything to protect his men, his brothers, and being with Vos is not a hardship, since he is never cruel. Fox is not so proud anymore that he cannot admit that he will gladly go down on his knees for new medical supplies, for any scrap of goodwill for his people. He will gladly keep Vos happy if that means more will come, later.

Vos beams up at him. "Take your time."

Fox pauses briefly. With other people, that might be a veiled threat, but Vos leans back in Fox' single, uncomfortable visitor chair and seems rather content, eyes closed, fingers crossed behind his head. It is not a trick, hopefully. Vos has not tricked him yet. Not once. So, Fox deems it safe to finish up his report.

It takes four minutes and yet Vos does not call him out on it. He just jumps up eagerly when Fox announces he is done and leads the way to Fox' room. By now, he knows the way by heart.

---

"I'm close to the Senate, Foxy." Vos' message comes in when Fox is halfway through revising the patrol schedules. "Do you have some time for me?"

Fox wants to say no. He wants to say his shift is almost over and then he has four hours to sleep before he has to get back up again, and he needs that sleep because he has lost count of how long he has been up. He wants to say that he had a meeting with the Chancellor earlier and every movement hurts and his skin burns at the very thought of being touched by someone else. He wants to beg for later. For never, really.

He wants to say there are four decommissioning requests on his desk, and what good is it to fuck a Jedi when Vos does not even help save his men?

Fox breathes, conscious of the way the air flows into his body and back out, the way he learned to do in the moments before Priest gave the signal for the fighting to begin.

"My shift ends in half an hour," he tells Vos, respectful, professional. "I'll be in my office."

---

It is Cody who ruins everything. Cody, who has not informed Fox that he is on Coruscant and instead appeared at the Guard HQ without warning. Cody, who has not called Fox in months and has not done anything to curb his men's derision against the Guard. Cody, who looks at Fox' office with disdain first before his eyes fall on Fox, almost like an afterthought.

"Is that a hickey?" he asks by way of greeting, as if they still have the kind of relationship that allows for intimate observations. Then, of course, his eyes wander higher. "Did - is that a bruise?"

There is a reason why the Coruscant Guard keeps their helmets on at all times. Not just to keep them anonymous, but also so that nobody can see the damage underneath.

"It's nothing," Fox brushes off Cody's shock. And it really is nothing anymore, just a sickly green shadow plastered over the left side of his face.

"Fox," Cody says as if he expects Fox to be impressed by a mere admonishment. As if they did not both go through command class on Kamino. As if they have not both survived the war until now.

"It's just a bruise." And a broken zygomatic arch, but Thire forced him to actually use some of their already dwindling again bacta supplies to deal with that. Walking around with broken bones in his face is an invitation for disaster. Thire rightly argued that the Guard would descend into headless panic if he went down and did not get back up again. The smug smartass knows exactly how to get to Fox.

Something happens on Cody's face that Fox does not know how to interpret, his worry morphing into something darker, something almost accusatory. Out of the blue, he asks, "Obi-Wan told me that you and Quinlan Vos are an item?"

While Fox still reels over Cody's casual use of his General's given name, the rest of the words need a moment to register in his brain. When they do, Fox almost laughs. Of all the people Cody could blame, Vos is probably the only one who has never actively caused Fox physical harm.

"The two are not related." If he had not been left beaten and bloody by sexual partners before, he might have said it with more indignation. As it is, his voice falls flat and apparently does nothing to reassure Cody, so he tries again. "General Vos does not damage me." He barely suppresses a wince at himself. Apparently, he has forgotten how to speak to people other than his vode.

Cody looks like he is not sure which part of that statement to address first. "You call him General?"

"He is a General." At least Fox assumes so, and Vos has never corrected him. Apart from trying to get him to just drop the title completely. He is not a naive shiny, though. He knows the rules.

Cody cocks his head to the side. "Even in bed?"

Fox wants to be anywhere but here. What right does Cody have to inquire about what he does and with whom? Impatience pushing against his teeth, he says, "He prefers me not to."

"But you don't?" Cody asks slowly, eyes fixed on Fox', clearly searching for something.

Already, this conversation has worn Fox out more than a sixteen-hour shift in the senate. "My opinion hardly matters," he replies like he is reciting from the unofficial rule book of the Guard.

Any of his men would nod and accept that. Any of his men have been in similar situations, where they locked up their feelings and shielded their minds, just letting reality happen for a while. Cody seems to have skipped that lesson, or he really, truly believes all those jokes about the cushy desk job on Coruscant, meaning that Fox could not possibly know anything about hardship.

"What do you mean by that?" Cody asks. Cody, who never learned that it is always better not to fight back.

Fox swallows a sigh, keeps his face blank as if he is talking to a natborn, not a former batchmate. "What do you want, Cody?"

Clearly not seeing any irony in it, Cody replies. "I'm concerned for my brother." Fox cannot quite hide his wince at that. This is the first time he has talked to Cody in ages and every communication for a while has been stilted and professional, mostly about official business and not as batchmates. "And here you are with a bruise on your face and a hickey rather close to it. And you say -"

"I'm saying I'm a clone and he is a natborn Jedi General," Fox cuts him off. So much for staying calm. He does not have the energy to defend himself against someone who should understand him better than anyone else. Surely, Fox is not the only Marshal Commander who has to make sacrifices for his men. "General Kenobi can't be so lax you've forgotten how that works."

Cody flinches, an honest, full-body jerk as if hit by a blaster bolt. His expression morphs from suspicion to something more horrified. "Where did you get the bruise?"

On the ground in Palpatine's office with four Red Guard standing over him, alternating their boots and electrostaffs to keep him down. This time, it was not even disguised as training, so he had to take his armour off. To make the lesson stick better.

Pushing his shoulder back and raising his chin just so, Fox says, "While doing my job." It is not even a lie. Sharper, he adds, "We're not pushing flimsi around all day, Cody."

But Cody does not even hear the insult. Instead, he takes a step forward, almost pushing against the desk, making Fox wish he had cleared the it as soon as he heard Cody was coming towards the office. His paperwork is sorted by priority. If this conversation comes to blows, it will take ages to sort everything again.

"And what?" Cody snaps, tone burning cold all of a sudden. "You forgot to go to medical and Vos didn't bring you there either when he noticed the giant kriffing bruise on your face but decided to suck hickeys into your neck instead?"

"I went to medical." He did, if only because Thire forced him to. He got the fracture fixed.

He almost asked Vos, too, once, to not leave marks, but decided fleeting hickeys were not worth the risk when Vos could leave much more permanent things instead if he ever grows tired of being gentle.

"And they didn't treat you?" Cody's voice has lowered to almost a growl.

Fox' composure cracks, too exhausted to keep his tone even. "They fixed the broken bone underneath. Cody, what are you getting at?"

The anger bleeds out of Cody as if it never existed in the first place. He goes still, at once shrinking in on himself and growing tenser. He looks directly into Fox' eyes, brother and stranger in one. "Does Vos force you to sleep with him?"

Fox stares. His entire body is locked in place. Thankfully, he has much experience with remaining unmoved in the face of disaster. Why would Cody ask something like that? It does not matter whether there is actual force involved. Fox is a good soldier and he follows orders. Cody should know that. They have been trained for that. 

Cody's face falls, growing pale. Voice suddenly hoarse, he says, "You're taking too long to answer."

And Fox is just tired. He shrugs, going for flippant but ending up defeated. "I just don't know what you want me to say."

"A believable no would be appreciated."

"No," Fox says, slowly, meeting Cody's eyes unflinchingly. "General Vos does not force me into bed."

"Karking hell, Fox. I need to -" Running a hand through his hair, Cody drops his eyes, focusing on the desk as if that will give him answers. "I'll message Obi-Wan."

"No," Fox snaps. Panic runs through him like electricity, leaving him raw and aching like a dozen hits from an electrostaff. "Why would you - You can't do that."

It does not matter what Cody thinks about his General. It does not matter if Cody and Kenobi sleep together and think it means something. It does not even matter if Kenobi actually holds a protecting hand over the 212th, in payment for services rendered or otherwise. Fox and the Coruscant Guard are separate from the GAR. The are under direct command of the Chancellor. Their bed was made for them and they have learned to lie in it.

It was harrowing enough when Vos started snooping around, and by now Fox is glad that he is so easily satisfied, that what Fox can give him is enough. Involving Kenobi would only mean more natborn eyes on their business, more questions about their inadequacies, more brains picking their carefully built system apart. They were made for the Jedi but the Jedi have never cared for the Guard, and they really cannot take things getting even worse.

"If Vos is hurting you -" Cody starts, completely missing the point.

"He's not," Fox says desperately, fervently wishing Cody would just drop this. "He's one of the only ones who don't. And we need him. Because he's also one of the only ones who gives something back. Yes, he sometimes comes at inconvenient times. Yes, he lingers after, usually cutting my sleep cycle terribly short. And, yes, he's demanding. But he does not hurt me or my men. He even got our medbay resupplied when we've been denied for months." Becoming aware that he is rambling, Fox snaps his jaw shut, biting the inside of his lip until he tastes blood.

Cody looks at him, at the bruise, at the way Fox has raised his hands in a beseeching matter without even noticing it. "I'm not -" he says and stops, breathes. "I don't understand what you're saying."

"What isn't there to understand?" Fox all but cries, something sharp and bitter lodged inside his throat. He has long since learned to swallow around it, but right now he feels like choking. "Vos wants to sleep with me, but he also gives something back." Nobody else does. All everyone does all the time is take and Fox has nothing to give anymore. He is hollowed out, broken. Most days, he runs on instinct alone, leaving behind bigger and bigger parts of himself.

And Cody still does not understand. "And do you want to sleep with him?" he asks, circling back to what they have already established. It does not matter what any clone wants.

Slowly, quietly, Fox says, "It's not like I could say no." He does not mention that, sometimes, he would not say no either, if asked.

Cody takes a step back, like he finally realizes that Fox needs space, that he cannot breathe, that everything is crumbling. But he does not.

"I really need to call Obi-Wan."

Blood rushes in Fox' ears as everything else slows down and greys out. "If you do that," he says, carefully pronouncing every single syllable, "don't ever bother to come back here. We need those supplies."

"So what? You're okay with whoring yourself out for bacta?" The moment these words hang between them, Cody's face turns horrified, wide-eyed, forehead scrunching into tight lines, and he curses under his breath. "I'm so-"

"Yes," Fox cuts in, clipped and cold and as straight-backed as he ever is in the Chancellor's office. "We were created to serve the Republic and I do that. But I'd also do anything to protect my men. I thought you would understand that, Marshal Commander." And because he is tired of biting back the petty part of him that feels betrayed by his batchmates, he adds, "You don't presume to tell me that General Kenobi loves you, do you?"

Cody flinches but Fox does not take any satisfaction from that. He just wants to be alone.

"I'm sorry, Fox. We'll fix this," Cody vows, much too late.

Fox smiles but it tastes hollow. "The Guard doesn't need your pity."

"No, but you clearly need our help."

---

Nobody could say that Quinlan Vos is a coward. He gets his jaw punched by Obi-Wan and his heart broken by Commander Cody, but after a week of hiding in his rooms and drinking to get the taste of bile out of his mouth, he gathers every last scrap of courage and goes back to the Guard HQ.

The trooper at the entrance desk salutes him. "General Vos. I'll let the Marshal Commander know you're here."

That is how it always went. Quinlan came and everybody went out of their way to be helpful. He never saw anyone's face other than Fox' and those of the constant circling troops in the medbay, but he never gauged any unhappiness at his presence, never any reluctance. He knew, of course, that Fox has a lot on his plate, that he is working too much. It never occurred to Quinlan that he was another burden, another unavoidable appointment in Fox' schedule instead of someone Fox wants to make time for.

"Tell him to take his time," he says, not really trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. He needs to preserve his energy. "I'm happy to wait."

The trooper pauses just briefly, short enough that Quinlan would have missed it if he had not looked for minute reactions. Underneath the helmet, the trooper is likely staring.

Quinlan bites his tongue to stop himself from asking the man's name. He has no right to that anymore.

"He'll meet you in his office, sir."

Of course. Quinlan can only imagine how Cody's conversation with Fox went. He has never seen Cody this distressed before.

---

"Commander," Quinlan greets, aching when Fox blinks at the use of his title. He remains standing just inside the door. Suddenly, the visitor's chair is too close to the desk, too close to Fox.

Fox stands like he always does, greets Quinlan like he always does. "General Vos."

Nothing seems to be amiss. Nothing has changed. That just makes everything more real. Cody and Obi-Wan were right. Quinlan had not wanted to believe them. A small part of him thought he would come here and Fox would laugh at the ridiculous ideas their brothers came up with. They could clear it all up and kiss it better. Now, though, the very thought of kissing has bile rising in Quinlan's throat. Through his work, he has come in contact with a lot of disgusting people in the galaxy. He realizes now that he belongs on that list.

"I want to apologize to you. I have been made aware that I have operated under false assumptions and -" Curse him. He had an entire speech planned and now he sounds like he is reading directly out of the instruction manual of one of their diplomacy classes in the temple. Swallowing against the tightness of his throat, Quinlan tries again. "I never meant to hurt you."

What a terrible thing to say. What good does regret do them? As if he could just say sorry and be done with it.

And then Fox makes it all worse 

"I have to apologize, General," Fox says, his tone even. His face, though, holds the same pleasant neutrality Quinlan has come to loathe. This is how Fox looks when he is overwhelmed, when he is not sure what to do but will say yes nonetheless. This is how Fox looked when Quinlan first kissed him. "This is all a misunderstanding. Commander CC-2224 had incomplete information and overstepped without my knowledge -"

Quinlan shakes his head and then bites his lip, hard, when Fox stops talking immediately. Still, he presses on. "Cody was completely right to involve Obi-Wan. I have been hurting you and didn't even realize it." Saying it out loud just makes his actions more despicable.

For a long moment, Fox just watches him, his brow faintly creased. "Permission to speak freely, sir."

The words hit like blaster bolts, burning against Quinlan's skin. He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

"You have not hurt me. Not once," Fox declares without even a hint of hesitation, as if he truly believes that. "In fact, you have saved several of my men and I'm beyond grateful."

The taste of blood fills Quinlan's mouth, and yet he does not let go of his lip immediately. This is worse, so much worse than Quinlan feared.

"I didn't get you medical supplies to make you grateful," he says, his voice giving out on him. "I didn't do it to buy you."

No matter what he meant, every time he brought a ship full of essentials or even just a crate of basic supplies, Fox dropped everything he was doing to take Quinlan to bed. He never minded what he thought was enthusiastic thanks, not when he believed it was freely given, that Fox was happy to see him as much as the goods.

"You don't need to buy me," Fox says easily and then crushes what little hope Quinlan had left. "Clones already belong to the Jedi."

Quinlan curses his courage now. He should have done this per message, sent an apology after taking hours to find the right words. Then he could have disappeared out of Fox' life and they all could have gone their separate ways. No need to drag his shame out like this. No need to remind him what an absolute karking piece of bantha shit he is, repeatedly raping someone who cannot say no.

"You are a person," Quinlan says firmly and raises a hand to cut off Fox' protest before Fox can even open his mouth. "I don't care what the legalese says. You and your brothers are all people. You are all individuals with dreams and fears and needs. It's bad enough that the Republic forces you to fight their war for them." He makes himself look at Fox' eyes, not sure whether he is relieved when Fox stares at something right above Quinlan's shoulder. "I never meant to make things worse for you."

Now, their eyes meet. Now, there is a spark behind that flat expression.

"You didn't," Fox insists and Quinlan wishes for nothing more than that he could believe him. But he cannot.

To prove that, even though it will only hurt the both of them more, he says, haltingly, "So, if I told you right now to take off your armour and get on your knees for me, you would do it?"

"Yes." No hesitation, not even a twitch on Fox' terribly even face, the spark extinguished as if it was never there at all.

Bile rises once again in Quinlan's throat. "Even after I just said I don't want to hurt you and that I consider you a person with free will?"

Fox inclines his head just so, in a way that Quinlan always thought looked teasing. Now, he recognizes it for defeat. "I follow orders."

"Not these," Quinlan snaps. It is not Fox he is angry at, and yet he cannot help but making things worse. Unbidden, he asks, "Am I the only one?"

Fox is silent for a few beats too long. "I follow orders," he then repeats, flat, hollow.

Quinlan presses a hand against his eyes, as if this entire terrible situation would resolve itself if he just stopped looking at it. As if he could imagine himself somewhere else and just make it so. 

"This stops now," he then says, promises, really. It is easier to hold Fox' gaze when he gathers his determination instead of just carrying his guilt. "The Council is already working on getting you your own Jedi General."

Well, Obi-Wan is working on it. But Obi-Wan has been filled the kind of trembling fury that means he will stop at nothing to make this right. There has never been an injustice he saw and did not try to fix. He is the only one Quinlan trusts with this. More, certainly, than himself. He has done enough damage.

"Sir?" Fox asks quietly, looking wrong-footed for the first time since Quinlan entered his office.

"Not me, don't worry," he says quickly and then moves past it, unwilling to dwell on all the damage he has wrought when Fox will not do the sensible thing and punch him. Or yell at him. Or throw him out. Any healthy reaction would be a step in the right direction. "It has been a grave oversight that you've been placed directly under the Senate's supervision. We all know this place if full of vipers."

"The Chancellor won't allow that," Fox blurts out, clearly unhappy with himself for it.

And Quinlan heard him, loud and clear, sees the unhappy crease to his brow that was entirely absent before. "What do you mean?"

Pulling his hands behind his back, out of sight, Fox explains, "He can veto the Council's interference. He will."

"Why?"

Fox's jaw moves as he clearly considers and dismisses several possible answers.

Something is wrong. Something that has nothing to do with Quinlan. Maybe he should not throw himself at this, but he is desperate for any excuse to move them past Fox' unmoved, unquestioning ignorance of Quinlan trying to apologize. 

"Is there something I need to know about the Chancellor?"

Fox clenches his jaw for barely a fraction of a second. "No, sir."

There has never been a more obvious lie.

"Commander, I need you -" Quinlan comes to his senses and cuts himself off. What is he doing? He really has done enough damage here. "I'm sorry. I've known for a while that something's wrong here on Coruscant. You have never been treated well, but -" He clenches his hands, hides them just like Fox does. "Please cooperate with whoever the Council chooses for you. We want to help. We should have helped much sooner, but - I told them about your lack of medical supplies. About the restricted equipment. I see now I should have never assumed that was all of it." He looks at Fox, almost begs him, "Please let them help."

His tone and expression are as far from making this an order as he possibly can. Yet, he has the distinct feeling that this might be the only thing Fox would put up a fight against even if Quinlan ordered him. Accepting help, and from the Jedi no less, seems to be the point where Fox draws his line. If it were not such a terrible, hopeless situation, Quinlan might laugh. Where did they go so wrong?

And then Fox makes it worse. "Can't you stay?" he asks, a barely-there tremor to the words. That just breaks Quinlan's heart all over again, even before he can make sense of the actual words.

"What?" Quinlan asks before Fox can retrace. "You want me to - No, Fox. No. I hurt you. I -" He swallows, tries to breathe. He came here to stop hiding from the truth, so he pushes on. "I raped you, and I didn't even notice what I was doing. You deserve so much better."

Fox blinks, leaning back. With him, that might be the equivalent of a full body flinch. "You didn't rape me," he says, aghast, his tongue barely fitting around the word.

With bitter regret, Quinlan points out, "You didn't think you could say no to me and, really, I should have realized that. You never said no to anything else either, even if I knew you weren't happy about it." Ranging from how to go about a mission to forcing Fox to take a break, he never complained, never argued, never insisted on his opinion once Quinlan made his known.

"That's not rape," Fox tries again. "You never hurt me." He does not look like someone who is in denial that something bad might have happened to him. No, he looks like someone who experienced everything bad in the world and thinks this does not make the cut.

Quinlan breathes. Inhale, hold, exhale. "Your bruises. Did someone else -" he trails off. He is not the right person to lead this conversation. He does not even have the right to get angry over this, since he did the exact same thing to Fox. Perhaps he did no leave physical marks. Perhaps he did not mean to hurt him. None of that matters. Only what happened, which is that he abused someone he loves. Even thinking the word leaves a vile taste in his mouth, but he cannot hide from that. He believed himself to be in love and still hurt Fox, over and over again.

Pulling his shoulders further back, Fox says slowly, deliberately, "I would prefer if you became our General. You already know the Guard, and I -" His eyes flicker up to meet Quinlan's. "I believe you."

Breathing is not going to keep Quinlan calm for much longer. A pit has opened up in his stomach, aching and pulling at his insides. He wants to scream, to drink himself into oblivion to forget any of this ever happened. He has a debt to pay, though. Not for a moment does he believe that Fox trusts him, and he should not, but he has gone so long against Fox' wishes that he also does not want to brush him off now. Does not want to disappoint him again. This is a slippery slope and he is not sure there is a right answer. But this might be the first time Fox has asked something of him, no matter how carefully he dressed it as a mere statement.

"I can vet whoever they appoint," he tries to argue, thinking that he has to. "I can accompany them whey you are introduced."

"Please," Fox says and it would have been less painful if he stabbed Quinlan with his own lightsaber.

Quinlan guesses this is a thing of Fox rather taking the devil he knows instead of someone unknown. It is not a good solution, not healthy, but he finds himself nodding anyway. 

Still, he says, "We need clear ground rules. We will not be alone, ever, and you will tell me if you are of another opinion than I am. These are your men. I just want to fight the Senate and every other bastard who wants to treat you badly." 

"General," Fox says and Quinlan has no idea whether he means it as a question or an affirmation. Fox is a terrific actor, and Quinlan already knows he cannot take anything he says at face value until they have built some trust. If they ever manage to.  Quinlan is willing to give everything for it, though.

"I really am sorry," he says again, wishing Fox could believe him. And Fox looks at him, face still blank, but something seems to soften in his eyes. "Thank you, General."

[cody-the-kirby-used-psi]

A Silly Idea

Spawned from reading too many of Star_going_supernova's Godzilla stories.

So I've got this kinda stupid idea in my head.

It started with me remembering the old Godzilla cartoon from 1998( henceforth being referred to as the only thing of worth coming from the 1998 movie) and I thought that it would be cool if they did something like that nowadays with the Legendary versions.

It was at that point my brain threw the Legendary Godzilla in a blender with some 90's era ‘we'll-make-a-cartoon-outta-anything’ juice mixed with a bit of Star_Going_Supernova influence spice, hit puree, and spilled this slurrie everywhere.

Which I will now regurgitate to any one willing to read this.

So Cody's Idea Corner now presents:

Envoys of the King:

A Godzilla Pilot.

So it starts with a view of an aircraft carrier. We see the Monarch symbol emblazoned upon it. Monarch employees bustle around on it, giving an 18 year old sitting on a crate a large berth, or rather the large bear-sized lump of familiar scales behind him a large berth. 

The teen looks tired, like ‘put through the ringer and now I'm just done tired’. He has short black hair and brown eyes. He's of Japanese descent and wearing a long brown coat.

In walks Maddie Russell. She walks straight up to him.

“Hi,” she says.

“Sup,” he responded.

“I'm Maddie.”

“Martin.”

“So Martin,” she starts. “Why's everybody avoiding you?”

“Think they're more avoiding the big grumpy lizard than me.”

He points back to the lump of scales. Maddie stares at it.

As if sensing her stare it raises its head, its face is familiar to Maddie.

“Who's that?” She asks. “Kindda looks like Godzilla, if he were smaller.”

Martin sighs.

“That's because it is Godzilla.”

Maddie double takes.

“...what?”

“It’s… it's a long story.”

Behind him Godzilla huffs. Martin rolls his eyes.

“Which the lizard wants me to tell apparently.”

“Wait, you can understand him?”

“That's…”

“Also a long story?”

“Eh, more of the same story.”

“Okay this I gotta hear.”

“Pull up a crate,” Martin says, waving over to some other boxes. “Don't got much else going on right now.”

Maddie pulls over a box and sits down. Expectantly waiting for Martin to begin.

He sighs.

“Okay, where to start…”

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

So about a year ago my grandpa passed. In his will, he left me four things.

The first was a bunch of money. Said to use it to travel the world. Find myself.

The second was this bag that had eight, uh, guess I'll call em crests.

Third was this crystal sword.

Fourth was a journal. The journal was full of writing in different languages. What I could read was just confusing and made no sense. At the back of the journal was a message from grandpa; ‘you'll know what to do when it's time.’

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

Maddie: That's it?

Yep.

Maddie: Well, that's… vague…

You're telling me. Anyway, with nothing else to go on, I did the other thing he told me to do, I went traveling. Till I ended up here.

I'd heard Monarch was doing some sort of dig outside of town. Cordoned it off and everything. Normally, it wouldn't have mattered to me but, I don't know, I felt… drawn to the place. Like I'd just be doing my thing and suddenly I'm staring off in the direction of the dig.

Maddie: So what did you do?

What I imagine any self-respecting teenager with no adult supervision and an inexplicable draw to an off limits sight would do.

Maddie:... you broke in?

I broke in, yeah. And… I got caught. That. Is when the crazy stuff happened.

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

Martin sits in what appears to be an interrogation room. He sits in the chair, slouched back and staring at the ceiling.

‘You're an idiot, Martin!’ He scolds himself.

Before he can berate himself further, the door opens, letting in a woman with blonde pixie cut hair. She wore a lab coat and held a tablet in her hand.

“Martin Yami?” She asked as she sat down in front of him. “Or do you prefer Yami Martin.”

“I was raised in the states,” he grumbled. “Martin's fine.”

“Very well.” She smiled softly. “My name is Leana Marpole. I work as a Doctor of archeology for Monarch.”

Martin raised a brow.

“Archeology? Thought Monarch was full of Kaiju researchers?”

Before she could answer, he shook his head.

“Nevermind, doesn't matter. Look Miss Marpole-”

“Call me Leana.”

“Fine. Miss Leana, if you guys are gonna pull a ‘Men In Black’ on me, could we just get it over with?” He sighed. “It was a mistake to go in there. I'm not even sure why I did it.”

She chuckled.

“I don't know what rumors you've heard about Monarch's technology, but we're not advanced enough to rewrite memories.” She smirked. “Or perhaps you were referring to the methods of the original comics?”

Martin blinked.

“I… was actually… how do you know that?”

She laughed.

“A fond part of my childhood,” she said brightly. “Regardless, I can assure you that we plan on doing no such thing.”

“Hmm.”

His eyes narrowed in thought.

“Wait, those comics are like thirty years old. You read them as a kid? So you're like-”

“Although, I could convince the General to adopt some of those methods, if you would like to continue down that train of thought?” she interjected with a clearly false cheer.

“Uhhhhh… noted…” He coughed. “Uhm, a-anyway, if you're not planning to do… that… then why am I here instead of with the police for standard B'n'E?”

“To answer one of your earlier questions,” she began as she tapped away on the tablet. “Titans have existed long before humanity. There are even records of temples of worship to some of them, and I will be the first to tell you, zoologists, do not make good archeologists.”

“Okay, fair,” he said with a nod. “So Monarch needs archeologists to study these supposed kaiju temples. Still doesn't explain why I'm here.”

“Kaiju…” she mumbled. “Most of the world refers to them as titans.

“Its… just what my grandpa always called them,” he said softly. “It stuck.”

“Ah, yes, your paternal grandfather. Your file mentioned he passed a year ago?” She asked, her eyes glinting with sympathy. “It must have been hard, losing your only family.”

“Uh, y-yeah,” he glanced away.

Even a year later, it still hurt.

‘For it to still hurt, means that there is still love there.’

His grandpa's words echoed through his head. 

He took a deep breath.

“Can we- can we get back to the part about why I'm here?”

Leana nodded.

“You are still here, Martin, because I would like to ask you about some items you had in your possession when you were detained.”

Martin sighed and leaned back.

“Well, sorry to tell ya, but it's a dead end. They were just in a box my grandpa left me in his will,” he said. “You all probably know more about them than I do.”

“If you would just humor me for a minute, Martin.”

“Fine, but all I got is puns,” he mumbled under his breath.

She snorted before setting the tablet in front of him.

“Do you recognize this symbol?” She asked.

Martin studied the image. It looked like it had been carved into a stone wall. It also did look familiar.

“Actually… yeah… it looks like one of the symbols in the book.”

“Yes,” Leana agreed. “It's pretty much an exact match. You said your grandfather gave you the book?”

“Yeah but I know he didn't write it.”

“No, the brush strokes and marking are indicative of multiple writers,” she explained. “We dated the book as best we could and while it is only a few hundred years old-”

“A ‘few hundred’ she says.”

“Some of the language used in it is much older.”

“Yeah, but it's probably all written in code,” Martin said with a shrug. “There's kanji in there. I can read kanji but it just seems like gibberish.”

“Yes, we noticed that,” she said, taking back the tablet. “Moving on, what do you know about the sword?”

Martin leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

“Well there's not really anything special about the tsuka or saya,” he supplied. “But the blade and tsuba are made of some weird materials.”

“Referring to them in the traditional way,” she hummed. “Are you a swordsman, Martin?”

He shook his head.

“Just did some kendo when I was younger,” he said. “They nail those terms into your head before they even let you look at a boken.”

“And do you still practice?”

“I still know the basics, practice ‘em once in a while.” He sighed. “Grandpa said it may come in handy one day.”

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

“So your grandpa made you take kendo as a kid,” Maddie interrupted. “Encourages you to at least practice the basics, dies, and then leaves you a sword and a note saying ‘travel the world’ and ‘You'll know what to do when its time.’?”

Martin nodded.

“Yep. Really suspicious in hindsight.”

“Okay, cool,” she said. “Not just me.”

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

“Anyway,” Martin continued. “The whole blade is some kinda crystal and the tsuba looks like its the same kinda stuff as the crest.”

Leana nodded.

“Correct,” she confirmed. She showed him the tablet once again. “The materials used in the blade, the ‘tsuba’-”

“You can just call it the guard if you want,” Martin said. “Wouldn't be insulting me or anything. Not like it's a common term.”

Leana smiled and continued.

“And the crests are all incredibly dense, but thanks to another artifact Monarch has access to we have been able to identify the substance used to make the blade.”

“And what's that?”

Leana grinned and showed him the tablet. On it was a picture of the katana next to another picture that looked like a crude axe.

“The axe you see has the same makeup as your sword and the axe is made from the dorsal plates of ‘Titanus Gojira’,” she said, steppling her hands. “Or, his more common name-”

“Godzilla!?” Martin cried. “The thing is made out of one of his back spines!?”

“It would appear so,” she stated. “And with the crest's unique feature of absorbing radiation-”

“Should I be worried about that?”

She shook her head.

“While they do absorb ambient radiation, their output of radiation is no worse than that of a banana.”

“So avoid eating 20,000 of them, got it,” Martin joked.

Leana chuckled.

“Yes, but as I was saying, based on that fact, its likely they are made from Godzilla tissue as well, likely his scales, if I had to guess.”

Martin rubbed his forehead.

“Why the heck did you have these, Grandpa?” He asked softly.

“And that's the million dollar question, Martin,” Leana said with a sigh. “The cultural significance of these items alone is incalculable, not to mention what they would be worth to collectors.” She looked him in the eyes. “It's clear he knew to some extent the meaning behind these objects. So why did he leave them with his grandson, and why did said grandson try to sneak onto a Monarch research site?”

Before Martin could even think of how to respond, an alarm went off.

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

After that, some stuff happens, I got my things back, small monsters show up, chaos and destruction, Godzilla stands in the bay, and me and Ms. Leana end up at the top of an altar Monarch dug up.

“... I feel like you're skipping a bunch of stuff.”

It was mostly just a lot of running and screaming every curse word I know.

“Ah, yeah, been there. Welcome to the club.”

Are there t-shirts?

“I'm getting some made. What size do you want?”

Put me down for an extra large. Anyway, so me and Ms. Leana are on top of this altar, right?

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

As the two crested the stairs, Martin could admit that the altar had a pretty good view of the bay. There wasn't a lot at the top. Just a single stone wall to his right with writing on it and a large stone ring in front of him.

“Don't cross that line, Martin,” Leana warned, pointing to a line on the floor. “Everything past that line, I'm told, is radioactive. To a point, it would be lethal to stand in it too long.” She turned to the wall. “I haven't been up here yet.” She gasped. “Martin, look, these symbols match certain pages of your book.”

She sighed.

“Oh, if only we could read them.”

Martin stared at the strange symbols. His hand went to one of the crests now hanging from his neck.

A brow raised.

“Wait,” he mumbled. “I can… I can read this!”

“What?”

The letters glowed, rearranging themselves into a form he could understand.

“Martin,” Leana said with another gasp. “The crest is glowing! It must be somehow tied to the ruins!”

“Its letting me understand the words.”

“Well, what do they say?” she asked giddily.

“To you who now faces the trial of the envoy,” he read slowly. “Show your strength and courage to the King. Let his starfire cleanse you of indecision…”

“Fascinating,” she breathed. “If I had to guess, it must relate to some kind of ritual, most likely towards Godzilla, given the interaction with the crest and the use of the word king.”

“A ritual involving the King of monsters,” Martin mumbled.

He glanced back towards the arch.

“The use of starfire though,” she pondered. “Perhaps, a primitive understanding of his atomic breath?”

“Maybe,” he agreed, walking back over to the line. “Everything past that line is radioactive.”

“Perhaps these supposed ‘envoys’ were meant to stand in that area as a test of courage.”

Somehow, Martin didn't feel that was right. An arch with a direct line to the bay, plus a radioactive area, plus the phrase ‘let his starfire cleanse you of indecision.”, yeah, Martin was starting to get a clearer picture of this ritual.

It seemed Leana was as well, as she suddenly went tense.

“We should go,” she said firmly, almost nervously.

Suddenly there was a loud noise, a sound from the bay. Martin glanced out. Godzilla was looking at the top of the altar.

‘No,’ Martin's brain supplied. ‘He's looking at you.’

Somehow, it felt like the great lizard was locking eyes with him. Martin felt rooted to the spot.

Godzilla let out a roar. His dorsal fins began to glow.

Martin gripped his head.

‘Best grit your teeth, welp!’

A demand. Somehow entering directly into his mind, from the king himself.

“Martin!” Leana called over the roar.

She stood behind him.

“Run, Ms. Leana!”

“Its too late!” she cried. “We'll never make it before he fires!”

As if to prove her point, Godzilla fired directly at the arch.

A single thought entered Martin's head as he threw the sword's sheath aside and raised said sword high above his head.

‘I am about to do something very very stupid.’

The beam approached and Martin swung. 

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

“Hold up! Wait!” Maddie interrupted. You are telling me that Big G fired his ATOMIC BREATH, a beam as wide as a skyscraper at you, and your reaction is to try to CUT THROUGH the beam like a shonen anime protagonist?!”

Look, no matter how you slice it, I pretty much thought I was gonna die anyway. If I'm gonna go out, I might as well try something cool.

“...fair enough. continue.”

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

It burned. It burned his arms with the strain. It burned from the heat. It burned his very soul.

Or at least it felt like it.

The strange sword split the beam, diverting it around them.

‘WHY IS THIS WORKING!?’ he mentally screamed.

He held on through the onslaught. He doubted he could have let go even if he wanted to. It felt like his hands were melted to the hilt.

In a seconds that felt like years, the beam finally stopped.

Martin dropped to his knees, panting hard. The now glowing blade was still in his hands. Up his arms were glowing marks, similar to litchenburg figures. The glow from the marks soon receded down towards his hands, like the blade was drawing it out of his skin.

Leana dropped beside him.

“Martin!” she cried. “Are you okay?”

“WHY DID I DO THAT!?” he screamed in a rather manic manner. “AND WHY DID THAT WORK!?”

Another sound brought his eyes to the kaiju out in the bay.

Did… did Godzilla just nod at him.

Apparently Leanna saw it too as she let out an audible gulp.

“C-congrats, Martin,” she stuttered

 “I think you passed the test. You're an envoy to the King.”

“What does that even mean?” he growled.

Leanna helped him stand up. His hands were no longer numb, so he removed one hand from the sword and flexed his fingers.

Leanna grabbed said hand and looked it over.

“The burning looks minimal,” she mumbled as she looked him over. “Rather fascinating given the circumstances.”

Leanna pulled a first aid kit out of her bag and tended to his burned palms.

“We're lucky to be alive,” Martin grumbled. “Overgrown lizard nearly fried us.”

“Careful, Martin,” she teased. “That overgrown lizard is your new king.”

“Well, I didn't vote for him.”

Leanna chuckled. She finished wrapping his hands and put an arm around his shoulder.

“All done,” she stated. “Now let's go before the King decides to test you again.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Really don't want to do that twice today… or ever.”

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

“After that?” Maddie asked.

Martin looked up at the sky.

“Uh, well,” he began. “After that, we went back into the tunnels, met the monster again, this guy shows up out of nowhere, now somehow small, helps hold down the strange spider creature and I stab it.” He taps his chin. “Think that covers it.”

Maddie stares.

“...oh, is that all,” she says sarcastically.

“Its… kinda all one adrenaline infused blur for me.” He shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint.”

She shakes her head.

“It's fine,” she says with a chuckle. “An envoy to Godzilla.” There's a small amount of awe in her voice. “That sounds so cool.”

“It's really not,” Martin grumbled. “He's cranky, grumpy, won't stop calling me ‘welp’-”

Godzilla growled from his spot.

“What? Why?”

“What did he say?” Maddie asked.

Martin turned to her and looked at her critically.

“He… wants me to give you one of the crests…” ----------------------------

Ctk: From this point, Maddie would get a crest and not need to do a trial because, in Godzilla's ‘words’, ‘the pup already proved her strength when she roared at the Usurper when she was nothing but a hatchling.’.

From there it would be revealed that Godzilla is smaller due to a pact he made with humans long ago, but he can return to normal size briefly if his ‘priestess’ (the titan language doesn't have a direct translation for Maddie's role, so priestess it is.) recites a phrase from Martin's book. (Meaning that big g has a transformation sequence that will be used every episode, usually after Martin spouts a pun related to the monster of the day.)

Godzilla goes on to explain that something is coming, he can feel it, and he needs to gather new envoys, because, as loath as he is to admit it, it will take more than himself to stop it.

Cue action-packed adventures of Martin, Maddie, Leanna, and Godzilla traveling the world, fighting monsters big and small and finding the supposed envoys.

… that's what I got.

This has been a stupid idea from Cody.

So long.

[flowerzf4ryou]

THE PROLOGUE BABYYYYY

.

.

.

It started out as a normal day, like any other day before. The sky was blue, the sun was out and shining, birds were in the trees, and the skyscraping electrical fences were jolting shocks of bright electricity, a warning for those thinking about escaping the confines of the city.

The hustle and bustle of the streets were loud: people walking to and from jobs and errands, cars zooming past, puffing smoke plumes of fuel into the air.

I didn’t think much of the large aircraft entering through the sky entrance of The Fence, but I know now I should have.

It wasn’t a shocking sight, the aircraft. They came and went, delivering goods and such throughout the fenced-in cities of New Canada. This one was different, however. It was painted with the emblem of our captors.

I grew up being taught not to question things, not to fear The Competition, that it would never reach our cities. I believed every lie that was whispered to me.

They weren’t too populated and were the biggest import sites for North America’s goods, so I didn’t see any reason to worry.

Now I wish I did. Now I wish I cared.

I had spent the prior 4 years in juvenile detention. I was caught mingling with gang violence, so I hadn’t heard The Competition spread to our area.

It was exactly 9:00 AM when I heard the alarms go off, the officers gathering us all into the square, and the large television displays being propped up onto a massive makeshift stage.

I clenched my fists as he walked onto the stage. The host everyone dared to speak the name of, The host of The Competition.

Chris Mclean.

“Welcome to the drawing of The Contestants! We will be drawing names of 3 of you all here, regardless of Gender. Though you must be over the age of 16 and under the age of 25. Are we ready?!”

Cheers and booing rose from the crowd.

“For the first person…” He pulled out a small tablet, tapping a few buttons. “Ohohoh! It’s his lucky day, he just got out of prison!”

I froze.

"Duncan Jackel!"

I heard my name called on the loudspeaker as the cameras panned to my face. I had been in enough mugshots and news articles to clear my face of all emotions, but I couldn’t stop my body from making the small vibrations of anxiety when I heard my name, Chris reaching his hand out, beckoning me up to the stage. I moved to the steps, as what looked like bodyguards grabbed me by the shirt collar, putting me into my place on the stage. A certificate was put into my hands. The rest was a blur. The names being called were muffled and barely audible over the tinnitus.

"Cody Anderson, Courtney Kate"

I clenched my arm with the other hand, forcing myself to be calm. Why? Why was I chosen?

It was random. That was why. The drawing was random, and the names were random. They were not hand-picked.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. The girl. Light brown hair, a pretty face, and pretty eyes..

"Are you okay?" What was your name, Duncan?"

I couldn’t respond. I had no voice. It had left me. My breathing was shaky, and my face was wet. I couldn’t let them see my panic. I nodded my head, despite it being obviously a lie. Chris’ obnoxious, noticeable voice ripped through my thoughts.

"Alright Contestants! Everyone, follow me, and we’ll get you on the plane!"

Plane..? They haven’t used planes since the cities were built. How did Chris get a plane?

The other boy, lanky and short with mid-chestnut wavy hair, put a reassuring hand on my arm.

"You look really nervous. It’ll be okay. You don’t have to do much to get through the beginning challenges."

What was his name? Cody? I nodded, shrugging him off of me rather rudely, though I didn’t mean it that way.

The plane wasn’t old and rugged like I had expected, but rather fancy and new. The interior was well furnished, with dishes for each of us laid out on a small table.

The brown-haired girl, Courtney, took her spot in the seat with her back to the wall, with Cody taking the one to the left.

"Come on, Duncan, it’s not like it’s poison. They wouldn’t kill us before the competition."

The girl had an edge to her voice that I didn’t like. It made me angry to hear my name come out of her mouth. I rolled my eyes, sitting down on the side across from Cody, guessing the fourth spot was for Chris.

I looked down at the food. Pieces of roasted chicken were laid out with carrots and peas, garnished with some kind of white sauce. No one in this city ever ate this good. We were lucky if we got a piece of bread without mold on it.

I take the first bite. Sweet but savory and juicy, nothing like I’ve ever had before. The only chicken we were able to get our hands on was dry and tasteless.

The sound of Cody scarfing down his food knocked me out of my trance, and I looked up to see Courtney giving him a disgusted look. Unfortunately, I didn’t have an appetite to begin with. I set the fork down, sliding my plate over to him, who was more than happy to have it.

“Alright Contestants. I know it might be hard, without even being able to say goodbye to your loved ones-” I didn’t care. I didn’t have any family or friends. “-but it is an honor to be chosen for The Competition! You’ll be representing your area!”

So they didn’t do it by city, they did it by area. Courtney gave Chris a side eye, scoffing.

“Love the look there Courtney, don’t worry, I’ll wipe it off your face by the time we get to camp.”

He’d chuckle, patting her on the shoulder. She scowled in response.

“I’ll get my lawyers on you I swear.”

The rest of the plane ride after dinner was uneventful and quiet. My perfect setting. The sound of the engine and wind hitting the hull eventually lulled me to sleep.

When I awoke, Courtney was bickering with Chris about something with Lawyers. He eventually got her to be quiet, though my waking brain couldn’t process what he said.

“So.” I hadn’t spoken to anyone since I was released from juvie, and my voice was scratchy and groggy. Everyone turned their attention to me, Chris giving me a sly smile.

“When are we landing?”

I tried to appear calm and collected, leading my hands down to my shorts pockets, letting my body rest in a cool stance.

“Lovely, the emo can speak!”

I never wanted to punch a middle aged man so much in my life, and I’ve punched quite a few up until this point.

“I’m not emo. It’s a style called punk.” I muttered, not intending him to hear it.

“Well mister punk, we’ll be landing in a few minutes from now, so I would get your stuff together.” He said with a chuckle that showed he clearly didn’t care.

“What stuff!? You didn’t let us collect anything!” Courtney jumped in, waving her arms sporadically like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Alright calm down, you’ll receive everything you’ll need when we get there.”

He’d leave the cabin through a door to the cockpit, it beeping locked behind him.

“I’m going to call my lawyers the first chance I get.” She’d sit down with a grunt.

I looked at my surroundings. The table had been cleaned up since I fell asleep, and Cody was still napping in the seat behind the one I was in.

The sun was starting to set, leaving a pink to purple light over the clouds and wings of the plane.

We were already starting to descend, the ocean getting closer and closer to us. Ocean? Why were we over an ocean? The Competition must have been on an island this year.

I’d sit back down, Courtney’s complaining falling into the background as I zone out, gazing at the sun’s wavering reflection on the sea as it sank below the horizon.

Eventually, we reached the runway. It was short and the plane came to a crashing halt. We were escorted out by a tall dark-skinned, tough-looking army man, though dressed in a chef’s hat and apron.

He led us to a small clearing that looked out to the sea, a small pier lining the edge of the island. In the clearing was a large group of other competitors and two cabins. They looked at us as we joined them, Chris setting out a lawn chair. He’d stand on it holding a megaphone.

His voice rang out loud and clear across the whole island, and clearly to the viewers watching from hidden cameras.

“Welcome, to The Competition!”

[matchademi]

I can't draw for shit but I can do hcs on my clone oc. He is a sweetheart but is also a little shit

His name is Falls he is Tups batch mate

He is a medic but not a field medic like Kix is he is mostly on the Resolute and is in charge of the bacta tanks and on ship critical patients

He is also on Rex control. Since Rex is constantly avoiding medical. Kix will send Falls to some how manipulate and get Rex into medical or to take a nap

Falls is extremely protective over Tup and later on Dogma.

Falls is practically untouchable with pranks that Fives, Hardcase and Jesse pulls since he is Kix's favorite

Falls has a mutation that gave him hetrochromia and patches of white hair. Tup saved Falls from being decommissioned.

He may look up to Kix for his medical skills but he looks up to Rex for showing off his mutation and being proud of it

Cody scares the shit out of Falls at first until Cody walks into the med bay carrying a struggling Rex with him

Besides Tup and Dogma, Falls got super close to Hardcase since they both have issues sitting still and focusing and was devested when he died

He wasn't deployed when Echo 'died' but he loved listening to the story's Fives told about Echo and the rest of Domino squad

The only time Falls was put into combat was Umbria when him Tup and Dogma were all Shines. He still shakes when a blaster is put in his hand. The only reason he wasn't reconditioned after was because he is a talented medic

Despite Rex keeping his helmet off when dealing with Krell, Rex forbade Falls taking off his helmet, which to Falls was understandable

Despite him most of the time not fighting he is damn good with any kind of melee wepon

Even without the force you can't escape the medbay without him knowing

He once traqued Rex and the poor guy almost had a panic attack

When Tups chip malfunctioned Falls was right next to Kix trying to figure out what was wrong and had to be held back when Tup was brought to Kamino.

When he found out about what happened to Tup and Fives he cried for hours

He braided a blue ribbon with a tear drop charm in his hair after growing it out in tribute to his batch mate

When he found out that Echo is alive he went on the mission after arguing with Kix for hours

He didn't like the Batch at first

Not only because of the way they treated Rex and the others but because he had to fight and prove himself not to be decommissioned but they didn't? And were made like like that?

He punched Hunter after the Sergea made a comment about his eyes

After rescuing Echo it was Falls that told him about Fives since he knows what it's like to be the last one standing

After talking to the Bad Batch he started to grow fond of them understanding that even though they were made with their advancements they were cast out and isolated from the rest of their brothers

He like Echo was offered a spot on the squad but he didn't take it. His place was the 501st

He did tell them that if they ever need help to comm him

When Kix went missing Falls was promoted to CMO

He put in another blue ribbon in his hair after that

He was with General Skywalkers side of the battalion when The Order happened

His chip started to glitch a few months after everything happened

He threw up when he realized he helped kill children

After he calmed down he removed his own chip

He both hates and desperately misses his general but relises that Anakin Skywalker is gone

He manged to get off Corasant and get in contact with Rex

But it was The Bad Batch that got him

When he met Omega he felt awful that she was alone for so many years

He and Echo spent hours talking and they both agreed to not tell Rex about what happened to General Skywalker

They knew it would break Rex

Falls becomes TBB's temporary medic and he very quickly learns that Hunter is just as stubborn about getting help as Rex

When he found out the Batch still had their chips he flipped out he begging Rex help find a place he could remove then safely

When Tech broke his leg Falls traqued him so fast it concerned even Echo who knows how scary 501st medics were

When Echo decided to leave and help Rex Falls was really conflicted but decided to help Rex knowing his cause would need a medic

When he found out about Tech dieing he put another ribbon in his hair

And when he finds out about Omega.....let's say will on a war path.

For Omega for Tech for Fives for Tup for Kix

For himself

[thebaddestofbatches]

Can you maybe write something about Commander Cody trapped on a planet with a bunch of younglings.

I should've answered this post like a year ago. It's been sitting unfinished in my drafts for ages haha.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cody was supposed to be a well respected trooper in the Grand Army of the Republic. Key phrase: supposed to be. 

Now he seemed to be demoted to a babysitter. 

“Commander?” A Twi’lek child asked, patting his plastoid covered thigh. “Commander? When can we go back to the Temple?”

Cody sighed, scrubbing his face. “Not for awhile yet, little one.”

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Kriff, he wasn’t even supposed to be off the ship! But nooo, General Skywalker had to shirk his duties and stick him with chaperone duty on a field trip full of younglings!

The Twi’lek kid poked her hand into the panel on the side of the ship where he was working. “What’s that?”

Cody grabbed her wrist before her fingers could make contact with the exposed wires. “Don’t touch that.”

She pouted, but stood and walked away, her brown robes swishing. However, another child, a human boy, quickly took her place. 

“Sir?” He said. “Where’s Master Yoda?”

Cody grimaced. “I’m afraid he’s not here.”

The youngling cocked his head and reached into the panel just like the girl before him. “What’s that?”

“Reactor,” The clone commander replied shortly, batting the kid’s hand away and drawing a length of wire from his belt. “Here. Take this and go play.”

He tossed it to the child, who gave him an odd look but left anyway, winding it between his fingers. 

Cody returned to his work, muttering a curse under his breath as he fiddled with the hot power cores. “This is droid work, how am I supposed to know how to do this?”

“Sir?” Another small voice said and unconsciously Cody winced. “Javier got hurt.”

“What?!” The clone’s head snapped up and he whirled to see a small Rodian boy holding his bloody knee, sitting on the concrete. He could tell that the boy was holding back tears as he rocked slowly, trying to stop the bleeding. 

Immediately, Cody dashed to the ship and fished out the med kit, digging through it for a bacta patch and antiseptic wipes, swearing all the while.

“Okay,” He knelt down in front of the kid. “Okay. This is going to sting.”

The Rodian youngling’s eyes widened a bit and he shrank back and Cody kicked himself internally. 

Taking a deep breath, he tried to channel the same gentleness he saw Obi Wan use with rescued children.

“It’ll be alright…” He said slowly. “You’re going to have to be brave for a bit, but I promise I’ll be quick and then you’ll feel much better. Can you be brave for me?”

The boy nodded, almost imperceptibly and Cody did his best to smile warmly. “Alright. Ready?”

Another nod and Cody carefully unwound his hands from around his knee to examine the damage. It wasn’t bad, just a playground injury, but bits of gravel from the pavement were stuck to the raw skin.

“Deep breath,” He instructed and when the kid inhaled the commander swiped the wipe over the scrape. To his credit, the youngling didn’t cry out, just scrunched up his face, and after two more passes, the wound was clean and Cody pressed the little bacta patch onto it.

“There,” Cody hummed. “That wasn’t so bad, was it ad’ika?”

The kid shook his head and giggled a little. “Thank you, sir.”

“No problem.” He pulled the small Rodian up to his feet. “Now go play with your friends while I try to get us back in the air.”