#Append Command

[rissahs]

fate grand order is a game about collecting sexy anime pngs but its also about how the smallest acts of kindness and the bonds we make with others can become the catalyst to changing the world for the better but its also about how the triumph of humanity is our ability to overcome any adversity and refuse to stay stagnant and complacent in even the direst of situations but its also about being ride or die for a single character to the point where you will lovingly pour every single resource into making them the strongest blorbo possible

[mysterysystems]

maximum jalter. finally i can die

[anxiously-awaiting]

👍yay

[ezeetester]

I just used the redirection operator twice to append text to a file, and...

[fandom-space-princess]

there is a moderately angsty fanfic that lives in my heart recently, which i will almost certainly never write but which plagues me nonetheless, about Breq's funeral. how at some point after a long life full of experiences of all kinds, even she will eventually go the way of all things mortal. and how her remaining friends might choose to remember her... a memorial plaque, small, hung up somewhere among Athoek Station's shrines or perhaps within Mercy of Kalr's walls. and how there is some debate about what it should say but how eventually they settle on three things: it says Breq, of course (just Breq. Sphene wouldn't let anyone even think about appending Mianaai), and it says Justice of Toren. and the last thing it says is not a name but a blank space, a deliberate lacuna, because Tisarwat insisted. and when she touches the plaque and thinks of her former commander and friend, she remembers the Tisarwat she was before, and she thinks of the nameless woman who died to become Breq's body, and she finds herself humming.

[warden-of-light]

You wanna know what's cool about Corvus Corax? The way he appears before space marines and their primarch.

More beneath the cut.

Konrad Curze: The Night Haunter.

Corax appears before the Night Lords.

==================================

‘My lord…’

Curze silenced him with a gesture. His head came up, sniffing at the air like a hound. ‘We are no longer alone.’

Tovor’s auspex let out a single ping.

‘Weapons!’ commanded Sevatar. The command Claw brought up their bolters.

‘I am detecting battleplate power outputs all around us,’ said Tovor. ‘Multiple returns. Eight at least.’

‘I have clear biosign readings,’ said Manek. ‘By the walls. In the shadows.’

‘There’s nothing there!’ said Vor.

Shadows moved around the periphery of the auditorium. Uncertain target locks flickered over undulations in the dark. White outlines on red lens feeds twisted awkwardly, attempting to find something that did not wish to be seen. The sensorium did better than Sevatar’s eyes. He blinked, but his vision stubbornly refused to see what his armour told him was there.

A single Nostraman rune blinked steadily on Sevatar’s helm display. *Threat.*

‘Draw in. Protect the primarch,’ he commanded. He activated the magnetic binders on his bolter and slapped it to his thigh, and plucked his chainglaive from his back. The command Claw fell back around their lord. Curze remained motionless, disinterested. Bolts racked into chambers. The shadows ceased their movement.

‘I have steady targets,’ said Tovor. ‘Sharing.’

The white outlines flickered on Sevatar’s displays into the shapes of Space Marines in full war-plate. And yet he could not actually see them.

‘Should we open fire?’ said Vor, his voice thick with the desire to fight.

‘Hold,’ said Curze. ‘Lower your weapons.’

Reluctantly, Sevatar’s warriors obeyed.

The shadows rippled. Black armoured Space Marines detached themselves from puddles of darkness, like plastek sculptures rising from tar. Where only targeting data had been before, Sevatar now saw a full squad of XIX Legion veterans, materialising from darkness to fill the outlines painted by his cogitator. His eyes ached, begging him to tear off his winged helm and rub them.

This could not be. Nostraman born could see into any shadow. The Ravens should not have been able to hide so completely, but they had. Occupying a broad ledge that had housed statues, now broken on the ground, the Raven Guard had the higher position. Unlike the Night Lords, they had their weapons raised.

‘You have us at a tactical disadvantage,’ said Curze. ‘I trust neither you nor my sons will do anything regrettable.’ He looked at Sevatar. ‘Am I right?’

‘If they move, take them down,’ said Sevatar. He held his glaive ready, his finger hovering over the activation stud.

None of the Raven Guard spoke. They left that to their lord.

Very little shocked Sevatar. Even for a Space Marine he was solid as stone, unmoved by the remnant emotions his brothers suffered so much from. But when Corvus Corax emerged from shadow far too shallow to accommodate him, he blinked in surprise. Nothing that big should have been able to materialise that way – his battleplate alone should have revealed him; every mark of power armour growled and thumped and whined with activity. Corax’s did not. His armour ran silently, with no grinding joints, no teethitching hum. He appeared from nothing as noiselessly as oil running over water. Masters of fear and pitiless killers all, the Night Lords felt the unfamiliar pangs of disquiet.

Warsuit cogitators redrew the target outline around Corax, expanding it from the legionary it thought it had seen to the primarch he revealed himself to be. With an apologetic flourish, their sensorium aids graced the weak points of Corax’s sable armour with floating recommendations for targeting. The hum in Sevatar’s helm changed pitch as his war-plate reconsidered the primarch’s threat rating, appending a rune of high danger to Corax’s head. It flashed but did not change when Corax removed his helm. The warnings weren’t worth a damn. The primarch would be on them before their fingers could squeeze their triggers, even with the Night Haunter there.

‘Brother,’ said Corax. ‘I come to you without violent intent, but please, explain to me what is going on in this city.’ His voice was soft like the Night Haunter’s, though not as sibilant, and with a more measured tone. Sevatar refused to let it beguile him. The threat Corax made was clear enough.

==================================

Shadow of the Past.

A warp-turned Corax confronts Lorger.

[aspentreewrites]

and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot

Chapter 8

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: (spoilers for this chapter!!) getting together, feelings of inadequacy, miscommunication (very minor), explicit sexual content

Description:

The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, nestled tightly amongst the other secrets he harbours that are too shameful to ever speak aloud.

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)

Link to read on AO3 here!

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A/N: It's the last day of the month so I technically got this one out on time, phew. Huge shoutout to my wife for proofreading this one literally like 30 minutes ago so I could get it out today :3

Wordcount: 10.4k

Prev chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

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Cody has learnt many unspoken rules about life in the GAR ever since he left Kamino.

First, the amount of caf needed to effectively run a battalion is always more than you think. No matter how confident you are when requisitioning supplies for the upcoming month, never forget to multiply the ordered amount of bags ordered by 1.3 times, otherwise you’ll run out on the final week of rotations without fail. If a particularly stressful set of missions are scheduled, change the multiplier to 1.5.

Second, shinies are a liability on shore leave. Make sure to assign one of the more experienced troops to surreptitiously watch them and drag them out of trouble if it arises. Subtlety is the key here - being too obvious about tailing will undermine the new trooper’s sense of agency in their first weeks out, but not doing it at all may lead to unwanted mess with the Coruscant guard. Better to prevent problems in the first place than have to call in more favours with Fox.

(Cody had appended a sticky note to the reminders on his desk two months into service, reminding him to under no circumstances ever again choose Boil or Waxer for shiny-watching duty. Their tendency for rule-breaking means that they inevitably end up joining the new kid in whatever trouble they were supposed to cut short, and Cody is inevitably left with an even bigger mess to untangle come sunrise).

Third, the Jetii are always right when they say they have a bad feeling about an upcoming mission or course of action - always listen to their concerns and try to work with them, even if it feels counterintuitive at the time.

And fourth, those unfortunate enough to be designated with the rank of Commander or higher never, ever get an uninterrupted night of sleep.

Entirely expected and on-cue, a shrill, relentless beeping cuts through the darkness of Cody’s room, startling him into wakefulness. The harshness of the sound is about as welcoming as an electrostaff to the skull, and nearly as likely to cause a headache. 

Cody fumbles around in the dark for the source of the ringing, eventually finding the offending comm-link on his nightstand. It occurs to him in his half-awake state that he must have put it down in an unusual place last night, as it takes him a few blind swipes to find it - maybe he was just more tired than usual before he went to bed? With uncharacteristic clumsiness, he presses his thumb to the activator and brings it to his ear. “Commander Cody,” he greets, his voice rough with sleep. “What is it?”

Behind him, Obi-Wan lets out a sleepy murmur, curling tighter around his frame. Cody barely processes the movement, sinking back against the welcoming warmth instinctively.

“Oh– uh, right. Yes, Commander,” the voice on the other end says, surprise clearly colouring their tone. Cody frowns. Had they not called him? Perhaps it’s one of the shinies - they always do seem so intimidated by him when they’re first assigned, treading carefully until they’re used to him.

He’d have more patience for it if it weren’t currently 0530 hours in the morning with no missions scheduled for the day ahead.

“Spit it out, trooper. What is it that needs my attention?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” there’s a pause on the other end. “It’s… it’s just the morning check in. I usually give it direct to the General, but given that you’ve answered his comms instead–”

Obi-Wan huffs out a tired chuckle, the soft exhale stirring the hairs at the nape of Cody’s neck as the Commander freezes in place, realising exactly what it is he’s just done.

Of course the comms were out of place - he’s not in his own quarters at all this morning. And he suddenly very much remembers why that is.

Cody does his very best not to swear.

“Oh– yes,” he manages, after a pause he worries is far too incriminating. “We– we’re making battleplans together.” 

There’s silence on the other end. For some Gods-forsaken reason, Cody feels the desperate need to fill it. “Which is why I answered his comms for him,” he adds, superfluously. 

“That’s… that’s fine, sir.” Another silence. It seems like neither of them know what to say. “Does General Kenobi still want to receive the check-in, then, or…?”

Cody is sure he’s bright red.

“No, that’s– that’s alright. We’ll be at the bridge in an hour.”

The trooper sounds relieved that they don’t have to endure this awkward conversation any longer when they reply, “copy that.”

The comm-line goes dead, taking Cody’s professional reputation swiftly along with it.

A soft groan slips from his lips, burying his face into the pillow beneath him, as if it might hide him from the questions that are surely coming their way. The arm slung across his torso tightens, Obi-Wan shifting so he’s lying practically half on top of him - Cody can sense his amusement, flitting through the bond without an attempt to disguise it.

“It’s fine,” the Jedi mumbles sleepily. 

“It’s not,” Cody protests.

Despite his words, he can’t help the soft sigh of contentment that escapes him as Obi-Wan gently squeezes his arm around him, telling him without words that they’re in this together.

It’s… nice. Very nice, in fact. Cody isn’t entirely sure what it is he and Obi-Wan are doing, what it is he wants them to be doing, but… he’s content with this for the moment, however they’d label it.

It’s a strange thought. Cody hasn’t given much time to the question of what comes after a night like that - dreams of the future are not a luxury a clone like him tends to get. Still, he can’t help the way his mind drifts to the dangerous idea, the possibility of not only surviving to see the end of the war, but of a happy life beyond it. 

Some of the boys had full fantasies picked out - picket fence house, kids, the works - but such indulgent daydreaming always felt too naively hopeful to him. 

Still, he allows himself this one small moment of weakness. If, Cody thinks to himself, if he and Obi-Wan make it through this all in one piece, he’d quite like to stay. Maybe not in the GAR, or whatever is left of it then, but stay near the Temple on Coruscant. Near to Obi-Wan, near to where he imagines most of his brothers will settle. 

His mind drifts.

What does a soldier do, when not in the fight? 

No, that’s not quite the question. A normal soldier exists as an entity even off-duty - they have the life-that-came-before, something that they can look back on and build from when the fight is done.

The clones were born into the fight. They don’t get the privilege of a ‘before’. 

So, Cody supposes, it’s only logical that he’ll have to look forward, try something new. 

He’s always felt intrigued by art, ever since a mission tailing a mark brought him through a gallery on Corellia - though he doesn’t particularly profess to understand it very much. He’d always assumed his battle-worn hands were too calloused for the delicacy that a paintbrush  requires, but then again, it’s not like he’s ever really tried.

 A soft hum escapes his lips as he considers what pursuing that life might look like.

His smile is short lived, souring quickly as his thoughts crash down rather rapidly to the real world. The real world where they’re very much waging a war, and part of that war is going to mean getting up in an hour and facing down the trooper who just called them and acting like nothing is amiss.

“I’m gonna transfer to the 501st,” Cody declares to the darkness of the room.

“They don’t know, Cody, I promise,” Obi-Wan insists. A glance over Cody’s shoulder shows that the Jedi is frowning at the statement. “The 501st?” His nose wrinkles. “They’d drive you up the wall. They’re lawless over there.”

Cody rolls himself over in Obi-Wan’s hold so that they’re practically nose to nose. Gently, he reaches out a hand to smooth away the crease at the Jedi’s brow with the pad of his thumb.

“Rex does his best,” Cody counters. “They’re just… enthusiastic.” He pauses when Obi-Wan raises an unconvinced eyebrow. The crease quickly returns, much to Cody’s dissatisfaction. “Admittedly, they’re worse when they’re egged on by Skywalker,” he concedes.

“As I said,” the Jedi continues easily, a roguish smile taking shape under his beard. “Lawless.”

Cody decides to ignore the complaint. “I’m still going, to save me from the humiliation if nothing else. Maybe I’ll change my name, while I’m at it.”

“Mhmm.” Obi-Wan yawns, the playful indignation leaving him in an instant as he relaxes. Something flutters in Cody’s chest - he looks more at ease than he’s ever known him to be. 

The bond radiates a feeling that holds layers of depth that Cody doesn’t quite yet understand how to untangle, but he knows enough to recognise that it altogether amounts to the feeling of safety. The Jedi smiles. “What would you change it to, dear?”

Cody rubs gentle circles over Obi-Wan’s side with his thumb, considering the answer that would elicit the most aggrieved response from his lover - his lover, it still doesn’t feel real - it takes him a moment, but eventually, he settles on something satisfactory. “... Ben,” he murmurs thoughtfully. 

His effort is rewarded in the immediate narrowing of accusatory eyes.

“You can’t just steal my go-to alias–”

“It’s not like you’re using it right now.”

… Accusatory eyes that can’t help but crinkle at the corners. So much for being a good actor. “You’re ridiculous,” Obi-Wan returns, mirth filling his words despite an admirable attempt at remaining irritated.

“I prefer the term ‘hilarious’, actually, given the way you’re laughi–”

Cody’s sentence is promptly and succinctly cut off by Obi-Wan’s lips covering his.

Well, far be it for him to complain.

Fingers sink into hair, curling into soft strands and pulling impossibly closer. A gentle tug, and Obi-Wan sighs into his mouth, the sound sending his heart rate spiralling. Cody thinks he might like to freeze time forever here, if he had the choice. Well, he might, except–

Morning breath, he discovers rather quickly, is a strange sensory experience that the holofilms never mention. Not outright unpleasant, and certainly still preferable to not kissing the man in his arms, but strange nonetheless.

Obi-Wan gingerly pulls back, freeing Cody from his embrace in the process. He sheepishly grins, reaching up to push back the mess of hair that’s fallen over his forehead. 

Stars, does he even know what he looks like? Cody wonders if the other man is ever aware of just how much simple movements like that make him feel dizzy. 

“You’re right,” the Jedi muses. “We should probably at least brush our teeth before continuing.”

The ship’s artificial lighting has crept in enough that Obi-Wan can evidently see the confusion that’s overtaken Cody’s face. 

“I didn’t say anything about– oh.” 

Obi-Wan must have sensed his direct line of thought through the bond.

Cody suddenly sits up in the bed, feeling strangely vulnerable as the sheets pool around his hips - not at his nakedness or their proximity, though that’s certainly still a little disorienting to be faced with - but at the realisation that he no longer has anywhere to hide, not even internally. That… will take some adjustment.

“Sorry– it’s just unnerving that you can…”

He trails off, not wanting to say anything to offend Obi-Wan. It’s a privilege to be connected like this to him, of course, and Cody mentally chastises himself for his discomfort. The last thing he wants to seem is ungrateful.

At the same time, it’s disquieting to think that his privacy is forever forfeited by the bond, despite his appreciation for it. It’s a lot to get used to. 

Obi-Wan tilts his head, remaining quiet for a moment as he watches Cody carefully. It’s a small measure of comfort to see no judgement in his gaze, only sympathy and understanding.

“Does it upset you?” the Jedi asks, his tone a familiar, careful neutrality. A negotiation tactic that Cody’s seen before during their many diplomatic excursions.

Cody can’t help the way he softens as he recognises what Obi-Wan is doing - trying to meet him where he’s at before offering a middle ground. Always so thoughtful.

A small smile tugs at his lips despite himself, and he hesitates only briefly before shaking his head. “No, I– I do like it.” 

He pauses, well aware of the fact that the sentiment is woefully inadequate for describing just how strongly he feels about the bond they share. Despite knowing he should say more, he still finds that his tongue ties when trying to put the complexity of it all into words. 

Until recently, his inability to talk about his emotions was a non-issue - a point of pride even, something he thought he was above needing to do. Learning to disentangle himself from the genuine belief the Kaminoans had instilled in him that clones are simply more resistant to feeling any form of emotion is… an ongoing process.

Regardless, he pushes through the discomfort, reaching out to take Obi-Wan’s hand in his. He stalls for time by brushing his thumb slowly over his knuckles, letting the warmth of the contact ground him. “I like it,” he repeats. “But… a little control over it might be nice.”

Obi-Wan smiles absently, reaching out to idly trace a feather-light finger over an old scar that dances across Cody’s ribcage. Not something won from battle, for once - this was earned during a particularly drunken night after the 212th returned home from their first campaign. 

He was told by Wolffe, much later, that he’d apparently taken a tumble from a speeder, but it seems that no one remembers anything else about the incident, despite Cody’s subtle attempts at asking around. 

He’d somehow woken up in the correct bunk, so it couldn’t have been all that bad. He’d profusely thanked the Stars for his rapid healing, though even that couldn’t fix the way he’d recoiled from the mere smell of Phattro for six standard months after that day. 

“I forget that I’ve been learning to shield since birth,” Obi-Wan murmurs, “and that something of this intensity will be incredibly new to you.” He cocks his head, offering a soft smile. “I can teach you, if you’d like - some more advanced techniques than the ones you already know. I imagine you’ll pick it all up rather quickly.”

Cody lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Of course he had nothing to worry about, this is Obi-Wan. He’d move mountains to help him feel comfortable. 

He nods his affirmation with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “I’d like that,” Cody says, relief colouring his tone. “Not that I want to hold back from you, but–”

“But sharing your mind should be a choice,” Obi-Wan cuts in, sitting up beside him with a slow stretch. “I understand entirely, my dear.”

After leaning in to give his Jedi a grateful, lingering kiss, Cody wrinkles his nose, remembering exactly why they’d started this conversation in the first place. “Alright. Brushing teeth first, then teaching,” he declares, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and reaching out to flick on the light.

Obi-Wan groans, covering his eyes briefly, but a soft laugh leaves his lips despite the noise of complaint. “Whatever you want, my darling.”

_____________________________

They spend the next half an hour sitting across from each other, going over the complexities of Jedi shielding techniques. Having someone actively test your mental barriers by pushing on them as if they’re something physical is a… unique experience, Cody learns - though Obi-Wan is careful to lead him through the experience slowly and carefully. While he knows he has a long way to go, the Commander leaves Obi-Wan’s quarters that morning feeling vastly reassured by the progress he’s made already.

Obi-Wan, on his end, promises to close himself off from the bond entirely until Cody feels a little less overwhelmed by it all - a fact that he’s immeasurably grateful for, even if he finds himself missing the warm, steady presence at the back of his mind as they go about their morning. 

It would be a stretch to say that he had gotten used to it over the past rotation, but he definitely feels its absence. 

Just for a few days, Cody thinks, and then we can start opening up to one another properly again.

He has absolutely no idea how the Jedi cope with experiencing this inherent connection to literally every living being that they come into contact with - he imagines that if it were him, he’d have torn half of his hair out by now. 

Then again, he supposes, most of the Jedi he’s known with hair have started going grey a little before their time, his General being no exception to that rule. Perhaps empathy induced stress is just part of the package for them.

Today’s morning briefing, much to Cody’s relief, is a quiet one, and Obi-Wan is thankfully proven right about there being no dramatic line of questioning queued up for them about his supposed whereabouts last night.

Still, Cody does his best to ensure he’s standing as far across the table from the General as possible, glancing over to him only when necessary as they go over the day’s agenda. Every second of eye contact is starting to feel dangerous, and he’s all too aware that any slip up could give them away. There’s going against regs, and then there’s… this.

He's aware he’s being dramatic, but that doesn’t ease the worry that constricts his throat every time he thinks about it. Cody hopes the paranoia will ease with time. 

They’d docked back at Coruscant overnight, and with the rare opportunity of a free schedule ahead of them, the two had decided to give their men a day of leave. It had been far too long since they were last able to offer some good news, and Gods know they deserve every reprieve they can get. 

The order is sent out over comms as the meeting adjourns, and Obi-Wan is quick to clear his throat, making his way over to Cody’s side of the table. Shortening the distance between them feels like a tactically dangerous maneuver, but Cody tries his best to not think of it as such - if Obi-Wan is acting as if everything’s normal between them, he can do the same.

“I thought we might make our way to a shooting range this morning, given that we have found ourselves with time,” the Jedi suggests quietly.

Cody isn’t all too surprised. Obi-Wan has a tendency to choose to spend every waking moment of his day immersed in training or meditation - he often proposes they make productive use of their ‘downtime’ together, if it can even be called that. Cody, who has a tendency to itch whenever he’s forced to be still and not work for more than an hour, is always happy to go along with him.

He rolls his shoulders, powering down the display on the holotable as the last of the troops trickle out.

“Oh, I can go and set up the sims in the training room if you’d like, sir.” 

He’s already mentally working through the drills they could run together. There’s not much variety in the duo sims, as they were mostly designed for full squad exercises, but that doesn’t mean they can’t modify something to fit their needs.

Obi-Wan shakes his head, offering a small smile. He places a hand on Cody’s shoulder, the weight of it comforting even over the plastoid of his pauldron. “That won’t be necessary, Cody,” he says warmly. “There’s actually one that recently opened on the surface that I’ve heard is fairly unique - if, perhaps, a little pedestrian for someone of your skills.”

Now that is unusual. Cody scrutinises Obi-Wan for a moment. Without the bond being open, he’s left to try and analyse his body language to decipher his meaning, the subtleties of the way he speaks. Running through a training drill outside of the barracks…?

He’s left with one conclusion - there must be something that his General needs to talk to him about that he can’t approach where the others might overhear - and that inherently suggests something serious. Perhaps a strategy overview of an upcoming mission, or some classified information that they need to go over. 

It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve stepped away from the rest of the team to go over strictly need-to-know intel and plans, but for the life of him, Cody can’t figure out what this would be in relation to. It’s not like there’s much on the agenda for upcoming missions this week. Regardless, he gives Obi-Wan a cautious nod.

“Of course, sir,” he replies, heading for the door and trying to not let his racing mind get the better of him. “I’ll just grab my pack.”

_____________________________

It’s only mid-morning when Cody finds himself regretting his decision. He’s certain that has to be a record of some kind.

Staring down at the small, unmodified pistol in his hands, Cody wonders if it’s too late to fake being sick as a means to get out of this, though he knows Obi-Wan would see right through it. 

He casts a scrutinising gaze over the blaster, taking note of the bolt of lightning painted over the side in a sickly green. His mouth presses into a thin line.

Obi-Wan is not quite successful at stifling a chuckle behind his hand, flicking his wrist in an agile motion to twirl his own weapon in an arc. His, for some reason, sports a decal of an electric pink rancor over the grip. “You’re not impressed by their offerings?” he asks innocently, gesturing enthusiastically around the establishment he’d chosen.

And what an establishment it is, Cody thinks sarcastically as he casts an eye around the room. The whole thing is dimly lit, and absolutely everything that’s not nailed down is splashed with stripes of fluorescent paint, glowing obscenely under the UV light that the entire range is apparently drenched in.

Arcade machines line the walls, low, bassy electronic music thrums through the air, and the employee uniform is an absolutely dreadful attempt at replicating military style. The second the two of them had walked in, they’d been accosted by one of the workers (and Cody had needed to fight against every trained instinct not to tackle them when they’d rushed over without warning), who promptly launched into an overdramatic, very rehearsed speech about how they must be customers who have arrived here to ‘save the Galaxy’ from ‘the invaders across the stars’. 

Obi-Wan had seemed positively delighted by the sales pitch. Cody, on the other hand, had spent the next few minutes silently mourning for the credits his General had all too readily handed over the counter.

Literally any other venture would have been a better spend of his allowance. Hell, even throwing the pouch of credits out of an airlock would at least have been momentarily amusing. 

Realising that his General apparently wants an answer out of him, Cody raises a brow, glancing down as he hesitantly looks the blaster over again. He’s unable to disguise his disgruntled expression - not that he’s really trying that hard to look thrilled. He offers Obi-Wan a shrug, trying to find the least offensive thing he can say. “It’s… not exactly a DC-15,” he mutters, and the Jedi snorts.

“It’ll do the job.”

“Mm.”

As the pair make their way to the back of the range where the targets have been set up, one question nags at the back of Cody’s mind - why here, of all places, for a secretive meeting? It’s obvious that some part of Obi-Wan finds this funny, but there has to be another reason for it, too. 

While it seems like an… irregular choice of meeting place, to put it mildly, Cody does have to concede that if anyone were looking to listen in and pick up compromising GAR secrets, they wouldn’t be looking to hear them here, of all places.

Perhaps it’s so bizarre that it winds back around again to being genius?

Regardless of his reasoning, Obi-Wan seems insistent that they actually try out the Force-damned exercise, humming to himself jovially as he looks down the piss-poor excuse for sights that his choice of blaster has attached.

He shoots Cody a sidelong grin as the countdown for the session begins, an amused sparkle in his eye. “Well, my dear, shall we show them how a real soldier does it?”

Despite his bafflement at the whole situation, Cody finds himself wanting to smile in turn at Obi-Wan’s infectious, if very misplaced, enthusiasm. He rolls his shoulders, raising the - it would be an insult to call it a weapon, really - cheaply made equipment he’d been provided with up to shoulder level. His eyes narrow as he watches the vaguely humanoid shaped holo-targets approach. 

Tacky, he thinks to himself, even as a smirk tugs at his lips. But what the hell. They’re already here, right? May as well make the most of it.

Cody nods, sparing a glance back at the workers at the entrance. No one else is here at such an early hour - it’s not a stretch to think their performance is going to be watched. “Let’s give ‘em a show.” 

_____________________________

“On your flank!”

“Got it, thank you. Seventy five!”

“Ah– Sixty four.”

“You have some catching up to do, then.”

Cody snorts, relishing in the feel of the steady presence behind him as he lets off three more shots. 

Sixty five,

Near miss - they dodged left when he expected right–

Sixty six.

“Not all of us have magical energy swords that can take down multiple clankers in one sweep,” he retorts. They turn a few degrees clockwise, not needing to check in with each other in order to remain back-to-back, instead just allowing themselves to be as in-sync as they always are. It’s as natural as breathing. 

A shower of sparks answers Cody’s next shot, a pile of circuitry left exposed and twitching as it falls to the ground. Sixty seven. “I’d wager you’d be behind me if you were also using a blaster right now.”

Obi-Wan scoffs, his lightsaber buzzing as he continues to deflect shot after shot. 

“An unworthy excuse, Commander. You’re almost as much of a sore loser as Anakin.”

The lighthearted jab has its intended effect. Cody narrows his eyes behind his helmet, knowing he can’t let such a wound to his reputation stand unchallenged.

Time to stop holding back.

He lowers his aim, angling a shot at the leg of a nearby B2 to send it surging to the ground. In the half-second before it completely collapses, Cody squeezes the trigger again, this time aiming right at the head - now exactly level with that of the B1 behind it.

The single bolt tears through the machinery with pinpoint accuracy, disabling both droids immediately. 

He doesn’t wait to watch them fall, already locking his gaze onto his next target.

The droids may be literal machines, but Cody has the programming to match - and outdo - the best of them. Blaster raised, he takes one, two, three more shots in a brutally efficient arc, counting each head as they roll from the power of each hit.

They pivot together again. Clone and Jedi, an unstoppable whirlwind of power, even outnumbered as they are on the battlefield.

Cody smirks as another clanker falls in front of him. “Seventy three.”

“... Seventy eight.”

The smirk grows wider. “You’re slacking, sir.”

He hears a soft chuckle behind him. “Perhaps I’m just outmatched. I shouldn’t have prodded you so, even if the results were… admirable.”

‘Admirable’. Cody feels his chest glow at the praise, even as he knows it's well-earned. He turns sharply to take out a sniper droid that was aiming for Obi-Wan’s side.

“Make it up to me by buying a round for the boys at 79’s later.”

He doesn’t need to see his General’s face to know that he’s smiling.

“You know I wouldn’t miss it for the Galaxy.”

_____________________________

A timer goes off above them, promptly signalling the end of their half-hour slot.

Cody blinks slowly, as if coming out of a daze. Is it really over already? His eyes turn upwards to the scoreboard, displaying a bright red holo number beneath each of the names they’d given to the employee earlier.

Ben: 106

Fett: 106

Obi-Wan sighs beside him, placing a hand on his hip as he follows Cody’s gaze. “I suppose it was too much to ask that this decided which one of us was the most skilled sharpshooter, once and for all. Perhaps we’ll just have to keep coming back,” he teases, laughing heartily at the look of exasperation on Cody’s face.

Cody casts one last scathing glance around the loud, overbearing premises that surround them. “Respectfully, Obi-Wan, if we never came back here again, it would be too soon.”

They make their way back to the front of the building, handing their ‘blasters’ back over the counter to the worker on shift. Cody forces himself to smile politely as they launch off into a theatrical closing speech to try and get them to come back in the future, and he does his best to not visibly wince when Obi-Wan decides to leave a tip. He’s not entirely sure he succeeds, but he hopes trying counts for something.

As they step outside together, Cody squints against the bright light of the morning. The sunlight, weak as it is at this time of year, serves as a stark contrast to the dim atmosphere of the shooting range, and it takes him a moment to orient himself. 

Obi-Wan walks alongside him, subtly steering the both of them towards a nearby park. Cody has always thought that that’s one of the best things about the surface - green space. 

Kamino and Coruscant both hold their fair share of dull, grey concrete. Maybe it’s a simplistic sentiment, but Cody can’t help but feel like it’s nice to remember that nature exists, once in a while. Between spending time holed up in his quarters in the barracks, and then down in the Lower Levels on shore leave, he doesn’t tend to see much non-Sentient life in his day to day.

And this park is beautiful, if slightly over cultivated.

Their arms brush against one another as they walk, and though Cody wishes he could reach for Obi-Wan’s hand, he knows it wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do, out in the open as they are. 

Still no mention of work, he muses to himself. Did he not think the range was private enough to talk? Maybe that’s why we’re coming here - more open space, though that also means more angles we could be watched from–

Cody shakes off the train of thought as he notices Obi-Wan watching him, fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves in a recognisable, yet rare, gesture. Is he… nervous?

“You’ve been quiet. Did you… enjoy yourself?” the Jedi asks tentatively, watching Cody’s reaction carefully.

Cody blinks quizzically over at Obi-Wan, not quite sure how he’s supposed to answer. 

After a prolonged silence, the Jedi slows to a stop underneath a tree that’s covered in pleasing lilac coloured blossoms. He gazes up at it with a knitted brow, and reaches up to run a slow hand through his hair.

“I… know it wasn’t the most romantic of places, but I thought– well, I thought it might be more ‘us’ than the typical type of thing, and–”

Romantic?!

Cody opens his mouth, then promptly closes it again as his mind scrambles to catch up.

“This…” he frowns, entirely bewildered. “This wasn’t a covert strategy meeting?”

Obi-Wan’s attention snaps back to him, and he looks at him like he’s lost his mind. Cody wonders for a moment if he actually might have. “What– by the Force, no, of course not! It was a date, Cody!”

… Ah.

That would explain… a lot, actually.

After a prolonged beat of silence, the Jedi deflates, his shoulders caving forwards slightly as he sighs again. “Or… it was supposed to be a date.” 

A wry smile tugs at his lips as he reaches out to pluck a single petal from a blossom on a low-hanging branch nearby. “Not a very successful one though, evidently, if you didn’t even realise that was my intention.”

Cody feels like he’s running on a delay. “You…”

He glances around them, making sure it’s definitely safe to speak freely before he steps off the path to join Obi-Wan underneath the tree. The dappled sunlight plays across the Jedi’s cheekbones, accentuating the sharpness of his features. “You wanted to take me out on a date?”

There’s that look again. Obi-Wan looks even more lost than Cody does, now. “... Yes?” he responds, as if it’s obvious. As if it’s not a big deal at all.

A date. A date. It doesn’t compute.

“Is that what we’re doing?” Cody asks, before he can think it through. He hates the way it comes out, hearing his doubt reflected back as the words leave him.

Alarm flashes across Obi-Wan’s face, followed by something dangerously close to hurt, though he quickly schools it. Cody immediately regrets his tone, biting down on the inside of his cheek, hard. Di’kut. Why would you say that?

“Is it… not?” the Jedi asks, softly. He lowers his voice slightly, his eyes falling to the petal he holds in his palm. “We shared a bed last night. We… shared more than that.” He returns his gaze to meet Cody’s - searching, hesitant.

Shit, shit, shit. Fix this. Quickly.

Cody reaches out to grasp Obi-Wan’s hand, clasping it tightly. “Sorry– no, I didn’t mean–” he exhales sharply, teeth gritting together as he tries to get his thoughts in order. 

“You know exactly how I feel. You were in my head, when we…” he starts, biting his lip as he trails off. “I just– I didn’t consider it was an option because– I didn’t think I would ever… I never imagined anyone would want to…”

Obi-Wan takes in a quiet breath, his expression softening as he realises what Cody’s trying to say.

“You didn’t think anyone would want to take you out on a date,” he finishes for him. Cody nods, feeling his cheeks flush in humiliation, as he keeps his eyes trained down at their intertwined hands. 

It’s embarrassing. He’s a fully grown man - a soldier, and a well-adjusted one at that. And yet here he is, feeling like a mere child, naive and foolish in the face of someone who knows what it’s like to be a normal person.

“I’m a clone,” he murmurs, feeling a sudden bone-deep weariness sweep through him. He’s so tired of feeling like he’s on the back foot when it comes to something as simple as existing. So very tired. “That type of thing is for other people. We don’t get… that.” 

A gentle sigh leaves his lover’s lips. 

“Oh, Cody.”

Carefully, Obi-Wan prises Cody’s hands from his. Taking the blossom petal carefully between his forefinger and thumb, he reaches forwards, nestling it in a curl just behind Cody’s ear. “You deserve more than you have been given - all of you do. I’m so very sorry that the Galaxy has denied you the kindness - the humanity - that all beings should experience.”

He gently lifts Cody’s chin, giving him a small, sad smile. His eyes burn with a sincerity that makes Cody’s breath hitch and eyes burn, though he blinks hard to force the feeling away. “I cannot make it right, darling, but I can promise this; I will do all I can to show you the love you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Obi-Wan Kenobi is many things. 

He is kind, certainly, and his wit is sharper than any blade Cody’s ever come across - but while he is a genuine, honourable man, it is rare for him to express such heartfelt sentiment without at least a few layers of dry irony to hide behind. This, right here, is his Jedi stripped bare, and Cody isn’t entirely sure he knows what to do with that.

Words fail him. He wants to tell Obi-Wan that he loves him, wants to express just how much the promise means to him, but the words stick in his throat. He knows it’s alright, though - Obi-Wan’s expression tells him that he understands, without the need for him to say it aloud.

They return to strolling the path not long after. It’s still quiet at this hour, which helps to soothe Cody’s racing mind. Their earlier display was risky, and though he knows it’s unlikely that anyone saw them - let alone anyone who would recognise them - the fact that he doesn’t have to worry about being court martialed on top of everything else today is a relief.

When they finally stop once again, this time to observe the flitting motion of a songbird crossing their path, Cody finds he can just about muster up the ability to speak.

“As long as we avoid that particular shooting range in future, more dates sound good to me,” he says softly, his eyes trained ahead on the expansive view.

Obi-Wan’s hand finds his, for just long enough to give a supportive squeeze.

“Consider it blacklisted,” he replies quietly. The smile in his voice is clear as crystal.  

_____________________________

For someone with a lifespan as short as a clone’s, the passage of time is much more easily marked in notable events than in standard years. 

One month after that day, Cody finally feels comfortable enough for the two of them to completely open the bond up again. The first touch of Obi-Wan’s mind to his after so long apart feels like coming home - a drink of filtered water after weeks of travelling alone in the desert. He wonders, awed, how he went so long without it.

Over the coming weeks, the two of them start to experiment with the bond, testing what, exactly, they can project to one another, and at what distances.

They quickly determine that it while isn’t as outright strong as a Force bond between two Jedi, it’s just as intense at close enough range. As soon as they’re a planet’s distance apart, however, the connection dwindles swiftly. Once there’s an entire system between them, they’re unable to feel each other at all. 

(The exception to this rule, they discover after a particularly odd night, is that they tend to share strange, faint dreams of one another after a while of being physically apart. They haven’t yet been able to pin down exactly how and when this happens, though ‘it’s on the agenda’, as Obi-Wan puts it).

As far as what they can send through the bond goes, they’ve figured out that with a lot of concentration they can share vague impressions of memories, but nothing clearer than that. Obi-Wan feels confident that that’s something they’ll be able to work on, with enough practice and time. 

Time. Cody likes the sound of that idea more with each passing day. The thought of a future.

Dates are something he settles into quickly, much to his surprise. He and Obi-Wan initially stick to a strict schedule of making time for one another in whatever way they’re able to biweekly (even this means simply calling each other and trying to find something to talk about something that isn’t work while they’re away on separate assignments. After a little bit of work, they’d managed to set up a secure Comms channel that flies under the Republic’s radar, though Cody is both diligent and paranoid enough to ensure he re-scrambles the frequency once per standard month).

The schedule, unfortunately, goes out the window rather fast, after a few back-to-back campaigns mean that they’re apart more than together. By this point though, they’ve set enough of a routine to mean they thankfully don’t fall out of the habit. As the months progress, the two of them continue to steadily make their way through Coruscant’s impressive list of cafes, galleries, and museums whenever they have time. 

Cody finds that he likes the ‘normal’ dates the most - well, holofilms excepted. 

Obi-Wan, as it turns out, is the Galaxy’s most terrible pedant wherever anything he considers himself an expert in is concerned.

Inaccuracies about anything - the Force, the Jedi, the biology of certain plant-life, ancient languages - they’re like tooka-nip to him, and he can’t help but comment about it. It’s sweet, endearing even, for about five minutes, but after the twentieth interruption to correct mistakes in the first quarter of a film, Cody often finds himself willing to do anything to shut the other man up before he drives him up the wall completely.

… Which often leads to other exciting results, but also means that Cody needs to take some of his very limited free time to re-watch whatever it was later on his own to see the ending. He hates leaving anything half-finished, terrible holofilms included.

Outside of the new routine of his relationship with Obi-Wan though, in the coming months everything around Cody continues as normal.

The war ramps up. 

His brothers die.

New flowers bloom in The Negotiator’s nursery.

Life goes on.

Some days, though, are more memorable than others - mostly for the wrong reasons. 

It’s an unfittingly sunny Taungsday when Obi-Wan has part of his heart ripped away from him. Cody does his best to provide comfort. 

“I’m sorry about Satine,” he tells him. If there’s one thing Cody truly understands, if there’s one thing that links him and the rest of the Vode to every other Sentient in the Galaxy, it’s grief. Ironic, perhaps, that something so cruel is ultimately the equaliser they’ve been fighting for.

He doesn’t feel jealousy as he pulls his lover’s head into his lap, carding gentle fingers through his hair. Cody may not have the wealth of years of experience that nat-borns do, but he understands that love is complicated and many-layered.  

“It’s alright,” says Obi-Wan, but the tremor in his voice says otherwise. 

Cody can only hold him.

Some nights, it’s all they can do for one another. Other nights, they talk and laugh and are nearly able to forget that there’s a war outside.

At one point, Cody realises with a start that he can’t actually pinpoint the last time he slept alone in his own quarters. He imagines he probably should feel some measure of guilt at the notion - a past version of him would have fretted about being an imposition on his Jedi, about flaunting the regs so very blatantly after prizing himself on his strictness for so many years.

As it is, he finds himself feeling more guilty about not feeling guilty at all. 

“After the war,” Obi-Wan tells him one evening, in the dark of night while they’re drifting off to sleep, “I think I might leave this all behind.” 

Cody stirs sleepily, tucking his head onto the other man’s chest. “Where would you go?”

“Somewhere peaceful. Somewhere we could start a normal life.” The swiftness of the answer tells Cody that he’s thought about it before, probably more than once, and his heart swells in his chest.

“I’d like that,” Cody yawns. He knows, deep down, that he could never put too much distance between himself and his brothers once the war ends, but the thought of disappearing off with Obi-Wan to a remote farmstead on a planet he’s never heard of sounds like a nice fantasy, even if he can’t let himself believe that it could actually be real. 

Maybe they’d adopt a tooka. Maybe they’d adopt children.

Probably not, in all honesty - he doesn’t think that kind of life is for him. But to have the option…

He tilts his head to press a kiss to the hollow of the Jedi’s throat, feeling the rumble under his lips of the hum he earns in response. “I’d like that a lot.” 

The war demands everything of them, pressing down on them like a weight that only gets more suffocating with each passing day.

In the end, Cody thinks he only gets through it all because of Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan, who has become a sanctuary from the front line. Obi-Wan, who has become his home.

Obi-Wan, who is currently struggling to focus, his attention stretched as taut as the rope binding his wrists to the headboard. He’s drawn back upwards by Cody’s touch at his jaw, encouraging his dazed gaze to return to him.

“Eyes on me,” Cody commands, keeping his voice soft and low. “That’s it. Now, cyar’ika - ground rules.”

The man beneath him shudders, his eyelids fluttering, and nods. “Ground rules,” he repeats. Breathy, needy.

Cody takes a moment to appreciate the sight below him. 

Obi-Wan, above all else, prizes his composure, his ability to keep his cards secret while observing the table. It’s how he’s made it so far in the war, how he’s faced down death countless times and survived - his ability to remain unruffled, at least to the eyes of those who would face him.

It’s an incredibly effective intimidation tactic that only gets more potent the more the enemy seems to be winning. There’s nothing quite like being snarked at calmly by the man with blood dripping down his face to realise that you were never truly the one in control to begin with.

Which is why his decision to let go of that veneer of poise, to allow himself to be reduced to such vulnerability, carries such weight. The sheer trust he’s putting in Cody is enough to make the Commander’s heart squeeze in his chest.

Stars above, he thinks, watching as Obi-Wan obediently waits for him, I would do anything for you.

“I know you said you could handle this,” Cody begins softly, watching the Jedi carefully to ensure he’s listening, “but I don’t want to hurt you. I know we have the bond, but I need something more… concrete.” 

He trails a slow finger over the side of Obi-Wan’s ribs, watching intently as his muscles of his torso jump and tense under the light touch. Force, he wants to ravish him, to take and take until he forgets his own name… but Cody forces himself to be patient, just for a few more moments.

“Say ‘kyrdir’,” Cody continues, meeting his Jedi’s gaze, “and we stop immediately, no questions asked. ‘Pare’, is a call to readjust.” He pauses, letting the words sink in. “Repeat that to me, darling.”

Obi-Wan swallows thickly, his breath stuttering slightly at the command in Cody’s tone. Cody feels it through the bond, whenever he makes… creative use of the tone he reserves for instructing his men - the way it sparks white hot flames of desire, pooling low and heavy within Obi-Wan’s gut, almost enough to make the Jedi forget how to think. It’s nearly always followed by a curling of shame and self-reprimand, embarrassment at his loss of self-control, but Cody is determined to chase that all away entirely before the night is done.

“Kyrdir is stop,” Obi-Wan repeats, his flush deepening, beginning to creep down his neck now. “Pare is readjust.” His tongue doesn’t quite wrap around the Mando’a syllables as easily as Cody’s does, but he’s been improving as of late. Cody rather likes the way the words sound, falling from his lips.

“Very good,” he praises, drawing out the syllables and drinking in the way his lover shivers in response.

With a critical eye, he examines his handiwork with the rope as Obi-Wan instinctively tugs against it amidst his light squirming. It’s tight enough to not have too much give, which was his main concern - but he doesn’t want him to hurt himself.

“Comfortable, mesh’la?” Cody asks, smiling as Obi-Wan nods breathlessly. “Perfect.”

Without warning, Cody lowers his head, his teeth finding the juncture between Obi-Wan’s neck and shoulder and biting down hard. Obi-Wan gasps, his body bucking at the sharp sensation. Cody flattens his tongue against the sting, soothing it quickly. 

Hickeys are a dangerous thing to leave when discretion is key, but here, Cody knows, right here, is just the right place for a mark to not peek out under Obi-Wan’s robes, while still being close enough to cause a thrill.

In early days, the two of them were far too cautious to leave any kind of evidence, but Cody has since learnt exactly how far he can push without crossing the line. It sends heat thrumming through his veins to feel just how much Obi-Wan loves it, too.

He nips at the bruise he’s left before kissing down lower, to his collarbone, his chest, his torso. After each press of his lips, he scrapes his teeth against the Jedi’s skin, tasting him, marking him.

With each dig of his nails, each lingering bite, Obi-Wan shudders and keens beneath Cody. Pain, the two of them had slowly discovered together, is something the Jedi craves in small doses. 

Nothing else seems to ruin him quite as quickly.

It makes sense, Cody thinks. When your body has become used to withstanding horrors that most people couldn’t even comprehend - blaster burns, stab wounds, electroshock torture - all feeling has the tendency to be numbed in intensity. 

The choice then, to experience pain but to not be in any real danger, is a precious one to have the ability to make. It provides a sense of control for him that’s been all too lacking in the chaos of the past few years of warfare… and Cody is all too happy to provide.

He continues in his ministrations, dipping ever lower until he can sink to his knees at the edge of the bed, nudging Obi-Wan’s thighs apart. He doesn’t miss the way the Jedi’s breath hitches, the way he’s already such a mess for him. He’d needed this today, it seems.

Cody nuzzles his face into the inside of Obi-Wan’s thigh, nipping at the skin there as he gently presses the Jedi’s hips down into the bed below, holding him still with ease. Obi-Wan sucks in a sharp inhale as Cody turns his head to bite at his other thigh, ignoring his neglected cock as it twitches painfully.

“Cody…” Obi-Wan hisses, grunting as his lover licks a stripe up to his pelvis. He’s been hard for far too long, but Cody enjoys drawing out the tease. “Force, have mercy.”

“It’s not the Force you need to be begging, cyare,” Cody murmurs, smiling against his skin as he hears the other man whine.

When he raises his head to lock eyes with his Jedi, he can’t help but feel a thrill, pure electricity arcing through his veins as he takes in just how utterly helpless he looks, flushed and trembling as he’s bound, entirely subject to Cody’s every whim.

He’s sure he looks just as debauched, not even attempting to hide how hungry and wanting he feels as he sizes up his prey.

Tilting his head, he brings his lips close to the shaft of his cock, watching with a low, satisfied chuckle as Obi-Wan’s hips try to cant upwards against his hold. So very desperate. His breath stirs over the sensitive skin, and the Jedi’s eyes screw shut tightly. Precum leaks from the head, and it takes every thread of restraint that Cody has not to lean in and taste it… but he can’t, not just yet.

“Still holding back?” he murmurs, tutting softly. “You know I won’t do anything until you ask nicely, darling.”

Obi-Wan’s body twists as much as he’s able, sweat breaking out across his brow as he takes in a shuddering breath.

A silence stretches between them, but Cody is patient. He has all the time in the Galaxy tonight, and he’s well aware that he has the upper hand.

It takes less time than he would have expected for Obi-Wan to give in.

“Please…” he tries, barely more than a breath.

Cody fights down a smile with considerable effort. With an unconvinced hum, he feigns boredom, drawing a slow, teasing circle over Obi-Wan’s hipbone.

“Are you sure that was the best you could do? You don’t sound like you want it very much,” he muses, delighting in the utterly wrecked moan that slips from his lover.

Obi-Wan curses harshly in a language that he doesn’t recognise.

“Please, Cody,” he begs, but it’s still not enough. Cody knows that he knows it, too. He narrows his eyes in faux-disappointment.

“You can be more specific than that, darling,” he chides, moving to hover just over the head of his cock, barely inches away. “Please what?”

The Jedi grits his teeth, and Cody can sense that his mind is an utter mess of incoherency right now. He loves knowing that he has this effect on him - he’s addicted to it. If they only had the time for it, Cody would draw this out for days.

“Please, Cody, just kriffing take me.” Obi-Wan’s words are hoarse, raw with need, and Cody finally decides he should have mercy on the poor man. 

Lowering his head, he licks a stripe up the underside of his cock, his tongue slowly tracing the prominent vein that resides there. 

Obi-Wan practically mewls at the relief of it, and Cody feels a sudden surge of power flicker through their bond. Above them, the room’s overhead light sparks and sputters. 

Cody pauses, the cessation immediately dragging an aggrieved whine from the Jedi’s lips. 

“That– was that you?” he asks, glancing up to the light with an amused grin.

When they had been setting this up earlier, Obi-Wan had shown Cody a way to bind his wrists just-so in a way that would prevent him from making use of the Force… but it seems his powers are exerting themselves in other ways now.

It takes a moment for Obi-Wan to respond, his eyes flickering up, confused, to follow Cody’s gaze. He fights for coherency, his eyes glassy as he frowns. “I… was what me?” 

Cody snorts, moving closer once again to continue in his attentions. He might enjoy pretending that he’s ever-patient in the face of his lover’s neediness, but in reality nothing could be further from the truth. Now that he’s had a taste, he can’t keep himself away for much longer. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he assures Obi-Wan, taking him shallowly into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the weeping head of his cock. It does the job to distract him - the Jedi’s question is all but forgotten as his fingers curl into his palm and his body shakes with the force of his pleasure. Cody’s eyes flutter closed in bliss - Stars above, he tastes divine. 

With a low groan, he pushes his head down further, taking him as far as he comfortably can, relishing in the feeling of the thick weight of him on his tongue.

Cody swallows around him, and the Force bond bursts with stars, heat and desire and the feeling of being alive coursing through the both of them in equal measure.

After a moment of weighing up his options, Cody sacrifices his control over Obi-Wan’s movement to remove one of his hands from where he was pinning his hips, bringing it down to stroke himself languidly as his head begins to bob up and down, slowly at first, but gaining in pace rather rapidly.

Each moan that slips from his Jedi’s lips, each curse and breathy gasp of his name - they all send him spiralling, dizzy with the need for them both to come apart just like this. 

It doesn’t take long for the telltale buzz through the bond to intensify, the  sign that Obi-Wan is teetering on the knife’s edge of ecstasy. Despite it all, the Jedi’s last vestige of control holds him back, and Cody feels a gentle prod at his mind, a shaky, desperate request for permission.

His heart flutters. Even now, pulled apart as he is, Obi-Wan is checking in on him. He returns the feeling through the bond, sending back a soft, loving affirmative in response. 

And just like that, the world shatters around them.

Obi-Wan’s body arches upwards with a soft cry, his entire body tensing as Cody eagerly takes everything he has to give. He tightens his grip on himself, spilling himself over his hand with a low, broken groan.

They stay locked like that for a moment, breathing heavily as they float, untethered. Love and affection drifts almost lazily through the bond from one to the other as they slowly come down from their shared high.

With a slow, contented sigh, Cody pulls back, squeezing Obi-Wan’s hip apologetically as he winces at the overstimulation.

He stands, sparing just a moment to stretch before he moves to the other side of the bed to untie Obi-Wan’s wrists. He presses a lingering kiss to the heel of each of his palms as he frees them, leaning over the bed to capture the Jedi’s lips in his.

“You doing alright?” Cody murmurs. He knows the answer - they have the bond, after all - but he always likes to ask, regardless.

Obi-Wan smiles sleepily up at him through his lashes, rubbing gently at his wrists. “Very much so, darling. And you?”

Cody nods. “Very much so,” he echoes. With one final kiss, he straightens up, turning to head to the ‘fresher. “I’ll just be a moment,” he says softly.

Cody returns from the bathroom a few minutes later to find Obi-Wan with his robe draped around himself, hunched over the edge of the bed as he gazes at the floor. 

Unease prickles throughout Cody’s nerves, sensing the way the energy of the room has changed. 

Even worse, he can’t feel Obi-Wan through the bond as strongly as he usually can - he’s shielding from him.

Something is very wrong.

“... Cyare?” he asks softly, stepping forwards but leaving enough distance between them that Obi-Wan doesn’t feel crowded. “What is it?”

The Jedi doesn’t respond for a long moment, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he tenses. 

“I have a mission that I’m leaving for, first thing tomorrow morning. I… wanted to tell you earlier, but I couldn’t,” he says eventually. 

Cody waits for an elaboration, but it doesn’t come. He risks taking a step closer to where he’s sat, and Obi-Wan looks up at him. His expression is an attempt at neutrality, but Cody knows him better than that. There’s worry, and something akin to regret in his eyes that he can’t quite keep at bay.

“Alright,” Cody murmurs. “I assume it’s classified.”

Obi-Wan nods.

“Even to me?” Cody presses. Obi-Wan looks away, closing his eyes.

“Especially to you.”

The ominous words hang in the air for a few moments, Cody trying and failing to decipher the meaning behind them. 

“... Right. So you won’t be joining the rest of us on our scouting excursion in the Outer Rim tomorrow?” Cody asks. He lets out a wry chuckle that he doesn’t really feel, trying his best to bring a smile to Obi-Wan’s face. “Well, I can’t say you’ll be missing out much. Maybe I’m even jealous, routine exploration is hardly ever exciting.”

Obi-Wan remains quiet.

The stoicism breaks momentarily as Cody reaches out to cup his cheek, the Jedi leaning into the touch with a soft sigh. He turns his head to press a kiss to his palm. “I love you,” he whispers, breathing the words into Cody’s skin.

A frown tugs at Cody’s brow, a worry digging its claws into him that he knows he won’t be able to abate. This isn’t like Obi-Wan at all. Is he worried he won’t come back from an assignment? Even in his worst moments, he’s nothing if not cocky about his abilities, and Gods know he’s not scared of the idea of his own death.

“I’ll bring you back something from the Outer Rim,” Cody says, relieved to see the smallest upturns at the edges of his Jedi’s lips.

“I don’t believe the cluster you’re surveying will have many markets.”

It’s true - the 212th is being sent en masse to a nearly entirely unoccupied planetary system for two standard weeks, to ‘survey and analyse’ the local areas for potential locations to set up a secret Republic outpost.

Cody had argued, when the order came in, that it was a baffling waste of an entire Battalion’s resources - surely this was the Exploration Corps’ area of expertise, after all - but apparently they were the only ones available to carry out the mission. Obi-Wan had shrugged when Cody had tried to ask him about it.

The silver lining at the time had been the promise of two weeks away on a low stress mission, giving the two of them some sorely needed private time together… but now it looks like it’ll just be Cody and their men.

He hums thoughtfully, mulling his options over in his mind.

“There are supposed to be crystal caves on one of the planets, right?” he muses. “I’ll bring you back something from one of those.”

That draws out a full smile from Obi-Wan, and he reaches out to wrap his arms around Cody’s waist. His mental walls lower just slightly, enough for Cody to feel gratitude, safety, I don’t deserve you. 

Cody closes his eyes.

“I love you, too.”

He’d ask Obi-Wan to keep himself alive, to come back home safely to him, but they don’t make promises like that to one another. They know all too well that tomorrows aren’t guaranteed.

Instead, he leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head, breathing him in. 

There’ll be time for worrying later, but right now it’s late, and they both have missions to head out to in the morning. Sleep needs to be their priority.

Regretfully, he extracts himself from the embrace, leaning down to capture Obi-Wan’s lips in a chaste, yet tender kiss.

“I’ll make us some herbal tea,” he promises, and his Jedi nods slowly.

“Thank you, darling.”

We’ll be alright, Cody thinks to himself. He takes a calming breath as he busies himself with making their teas, trying to let go of the concern that hangs over him like a cloud. No matter what it is that Obi-Wan can’t tell me, we’ll face the outcome together. 

We always do.

✷✷✷✷✷

A/N: Just as a heads up, I'm going to be fucking heavily with the established canon timeline for next chapter to jump some missions (or one particular mission) around to a different chronological order. I figure if Disney can do it then I can too lol :)

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @mitth-eli-vanto

[hisosisu]

okay here it is

Unofficial Rouxls Kaard Dialogue Guide

disclaimer: i am very much not a scholar of old/medieval/shakesperian english and can't say that i know much of the actual grammatical rules (haha) of it, beyond the difference between thy/thine or you/thou etc. luckily, neither does rouxls. i do not believe you need any prior knowledge of proper old english to effectively imitate toby's style in writing his dialogue, but i invite anyone with relevant knowledge to let me know if there's any hidden patterns/jokes that you can only understand if you do study that field :) i'm simply an autistic with a fascination for analyzing and replicating speech patterns, and a major rouxls fan.

#1: Balance is Key

if you take nothing else from this guide, let it be this! the number one most common mistake i see in fanworks involving rouxls is to go much heavier on the "medieval" dialect than is necessary, which often creates something unwieldy, difficult to understand, and frankly unfunny. when creating dialogue for rouxls, it is tantamount to keep moderation and variety in mind, to create a balanced and somewhat correct-sounding sentence, that flows well and doesn't fall into repetitive consonance (aka using -eth or -est sounds too many times in a row). a handy way to check yourself for this is to say it aloud and check the rhythm. it may be easier in some cases to reword the "base" idea of what you're trying to say, but there is a way to rouxls-ify any sentence, i think.

Example (Base sentence): You worms haven't seen the last of me! Prepare for battle!

Example (Too heavy): Thou wormeths haven'st seeneth yon lastest of me! Prepareth fore battlest!

Example (Just right): Thoust worms haven't seen the laste of me! Prepareth thou for battle!

if all else fails, err on the side of less "medieval" speech rather than more, especially for shorter lines, and feel free to throw in an extra word or two (such as the "thou" added above) to improve the flow if necessary.

#2: Rouxls-Specific Quirks

here is a list of common words or word-modifiers that rouxls commonly uses in canon, feel free to mix and match these and remember that rouxls is very inconsistent with his speech quirks. he does not, for example, use the word "thine" every time he says "your", nor is he consistent about which words he decides to append an "eth" to. it's all done based on vibes and flow, and he would likely say the exact same sentence in a different way on different occasions. these are just suggestions, not any sort of grammatical rule (ha) or language!

"thou"- very common, used in place of "you". similarly, "thy" and "thine", meaning "your" or "yours", though "thine" is used much more often than "thy", disregarding the actual grammatical cases of the words. goes along with using "mine" instead of "my".

"hath"- very common, used in place of "have", though not completely exclusively. in some cases, he will use "have" or "haveth" instead, usually for rhythm reasons. not often used in contractions ("hathn't" is usually just "hath not")

"-eth" as a suffix- very common. this has no meaning on its own, it's just a somewhat common sound in medieval english that he enjoys appending to random words to make himself seem more competent. most often used on command- or future-tense verbs ("prepareth", "solveth", "planeth", "bringeth", etc), or past-tense verbs with no "ed" ("sprungeth", "casteth", etc) but can also be seen much less commonly on past-tense verbs either before or after the "ed" ("appointethed", "checkethed", "kickedth", "wanderedeth", etc). using it with nouns or adjectives most often sounds janky and weird, and isn't recommended.

"art"- very common, used in place of "are" or "is", again not exclusively, but slightly more common than "hath". not often used in contractions ("artn't" is usually just "art not")

"doth"- somewhat common, used in place of "did", "does", "do", or sometimes "is"/"are". sometimes inserted into a sentence when you wouldn't normally use one of the other words (ie "you doth expecte me to complye?"). typically not used in negative form at all, but if it is, never in contractions.

"-est" or "-st" as a suffix- very common. this, along with "-eth", makes up the main meat of his dialect. like "-eth", it has no real meaning, but it is much more flexible in its usage. "-est" or "-st" can be appended to verbs as well ("likest", "completest", "readst", etc), but can also in some cases be used for nouns ("roomst", "fieldst", etc). it's important to use it sparingly with nouns at risk of confusing the plurals, and use it carefully with only certain adjectives so you don't just accidentally use the "most" form of the adjective (for example, if you're just trying to say "small", you don't want to say "smallest", meaning The Most Small). however, one of rouxls's favorite, and possibly most common, usages of "-st" is to append it to "thou" to make "thoust", or to add it to conjunctions/prepositions and contractions ("hadn'st", "won'st", "couldst", "didst", "uponst" "behindst", etc).

"-e" as a suffix, very common. can also be used along with doubling an ending vowel such as n or t if applicable. extremely versatile and perfect for adding a bit of frivolity in more dead parts of a sentence. often used for nouns, both singular ("moone", "kinge", "opinionne", "lettere", "internette", "thise", etc) and plural ("loverse", "puzzlese", "handse", "guyse", etc), but also handy for adjectives ("difficulte", "magnificente", "yellowe", "freakinge" etc), verbs ("defeatte", "carrye", "witnesse" etc) and sometimes even conjunctions/prepositions ("howe", "perhapse", "atoppe", etc). since the game has no voiced dialogue, it's up to you if this change is only for visual spelling or if it carries its own auditory accent.

capital letters in the middle of a sentence- somewhat common, often used for emphasis. most tumblr users probably understand how to employ that effectively and comedically, it's very similar in his speech.

"yon"- not as common, used in place of "the" or sometimes "a". this word is best used in moderation for best comedic effect, as my favorite canonical usages of it are randomly thrown in where you wouldn't even use an article anyway, ie "yon crud" or "yon losers". "ye" is sometimes also used in place of an article, but not as often as "yon".

"lo"- not as common, honestly often used correctly, as an exclamation similar in meaning to "behold", or "alas" (both of which rouxls also employs semi-frequently). almost always placed in front of a sentence (ie "lo, medieval L upon mine forehead") either followed by an exclamation point or a comma.

"medieval"- uncommon, randomly inserted as an adjective when the sentence doesn't feel olden enough, see above for canonical use case ^.

using a colon for a single list item- uncommon. this is a trait most often exhibited by queen, but rouxls uses it infrequently, like in the case of "no, i think: Freakinge Not". most often should be reserved for extreme emphasis, unlike queen, who uses it liberally.

i'm sure this is not an exhaustive list of all phrases and quirks he uses, but it covers the majority of his chosen speech, and mixing and matching these can create very effective canon-like dialogue on its own.

#3: Dropping the Act

while it's very important to not overuse the sudden drops in dialect, aka when rouxls speaks normally for a line or two (ie "GOD. DAMMIT." or "don't worry guys i'll get a refund for that one"), they do happen, mostly when he is overwhelmed, emotional, or embarrassed. all in all, his speech patterns are merely a facade to try and make himself... cooler? more appealing to evil monarchs...? if he's not paying total attention to it, he loses it for a moment and goes back to normal, which shows it is not how he naturally speaks, but while he doesn't often correct himself afterwards, he is quick to get back on the ball again. it might be interesting to explore how he speaks to himself while alone.

similar to the total drops, rouxls does often work modern slang and speech patterns into his fancier sentences too. he uses non-swears like "freaking" and "crud", adds in filler words such as "like" and "um", and exhibits a knowledge of internet slang and meme culture as well. he's just an insufferable weirdo that lives in the modern age, certainly not a genuine olden english citizen, if his complete butchering of the language itself isn't enough to prove that.

Conclusion?

perhapseth this isn't the most in-depth or completely accurate guide i could write, but most of this comes completely intuitively to me, so unraveling it into explainable guidelines was a challenge in of itself! i hope at least this helps some fanartists/writers in the fandom who struggle with his dialogue, as it can be somewhat hard to get a total grasp on. the problem with a character like rouxls is that it's nearly impossible to put solid rules (...ha) on his dialect, since the vast majority of it is based on vibes and sentence flow, instead of anything consistent or correct, and is executed most effectively when it comes naturally. toby is clearly a master of comedic dialogue writing, as evidenced not just by rouxls but many other characters in both games, and it can be borderline impossible to tap into his exact style of humor and flow for fanworks, but there's a rhythm and a pattern you can imitate nonetheless.

the bottom line for writing rouxls is to lean into silliness and comedy wherever possible, which is elevated by moderation and balance, and hindered by overuse and strict consistency. rouxls himself prioritizes melodic flow and sounding correct-ish over anything else, and is just as unlikely to say a butchered, ungraceful jumble of "eth"s and "st"s as he is to speak in fluent shakesperian english, and any actual rules (....) he may assign to himself are just as easily forgotten or overwritten when they're not convenient.

play around with his dialogue, practice by "translating" a line in multiple different ways, and most of all, have fun! even if you make mistakes, im sure toby would be proud of you for trying at all :)

[tuesday-teyz]

i'm curious about the original trilogy, you said that the main plot would be mostly the same but the worldbuilding would be different. This would means things like the avians having a diferrent name for the species? or something big like creating a new kingdom?

I mean different as in avians may not make the cut at all, and the whole map of the world will need to be appended to create something completely new. As of now, I'm actually gaining a lot of inspiration from the ethnical and cultural heritage of Central Asia and minority groups of Northern Russia, but there are a lot of things that are changed geographically as well; the Empire of Arktos (the Antarctic Empire of BR) is getting pushed over the polar line so that now it experiences Polar nights and days (6 months of darkness and 6 months of daytime with transitory stages in-between). Most of the flora and fauna is borrowed from the Ice Age, meaning people hunt mammoths for food, there are giant sloths prowling about, and there are groups of traveling nomads that bonds and rides giant sabertooth cats. Daytime months, and July-August especially, are dreaded because melting ice unearthes gigantic multi-headed beasts that go around eating people. And there are blood mages that can temporarily put life into inanimate objects and command then by way of taking that life from something else (eg reviving terracotta soldiers by putting a freshly carved human heart in its chest). Lots of world building still to be done, but I'm quite exciting to explore everything from the magic system to the history of every country

[oceaneyesinla]

This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks, and I finally had the inspiration to finish it. Enjoy Choso being the cutest boyfriend <3

Requests are OPEN

Divider by @cafekitsune

You're not sure what you did to deserve a man like Choso; whether you saved an orphanage full of children or helped a million little old ladies cross the street, but it must have been something huge. There can be no other explanation for why this beautiful man is standing in front of you right now, focusing on you like your features hold the mysteries of the universe.

As soon as you arrived home, he had approached you with those big puppy eyes, silently pleading with you as he gently tugged you towards your bedroom. He watched you change into your most comfortable clothes with what you could only describe as anticipation. As soon as you were done, he dragged you into the bathroom, lifting you onto the counter next to the sink with ease.

Which is what led you to right now, sitting there with Choso slotted between your legs, complete concentration on his face as he makes a gentle sweep over your skin with a face wipe. His fingers are ever so light as they pass over the delicate skin underneath your eyes, and you're not sure he notices the way his tongue is poking out a little.

He moves through the motions of your skincare; following the basics of your usual routine, but using techniques you know you've never even tried out in front of him. You can't help the soft little smile tugging at your lips as he finishes off with one, two presses of his lips against the tip of your nose, then your forehead.

"Thank you, baby. What brought this on?"

You love the creeping red over his cheekbones as he refuses to meet your eyes, and you cradle his face between your palms, unable to stop the growing smile on your face. His blush only intensifies as he finally locks eyes with you, just as you knew it would.

He averts his gaze again as he begins to mumble, skin warm under your reverent hold, "I watched some videos, so I could do your skincare for you."

Oh your sweet boy. You could imagine him now - sitting cross legged on your couch, staring at his phone with the same intensity as when he was staring at you. You swear your heart grows a size at the thought. That explains his excitement as you came home (though really, Choso is always excited to see you walk through the door; you're pretty sure that if he had a tail, it would be wagging).

"You're too cute, Cho." You squish his cheeks a little between your hands, and hold back a squeal at his satisfied little smile. Patting at his chest, you make to get down from the counter, determined to return the favour.

"Your turn. Come on." You spin you both around with a light grip on his t-shirt, Choso now pressed against the counter, "Hop up."

His head tilts a little to the side as his brow furrows, and you resist the urge to squish him again; you're sure the definition of cuteness aggression has a picture of your boyfriend appended.

"I can't lift you up on the counter, baby. Not all of us are all big and muscly." You squeeze his bicep teasingly to draw another pretty blush, and he follows your command, obediently hopping up on the counter and watching as you grab the little footstool from the bathroom cupboard.

You set the stool up between his legs, and step up so you're face to face with Choso, looking down into adoring eyes. He looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you're sure you'll never get used to feeling like the centre of someone's universe.

"Hi baby." You run your fingers over the dark mark across his nose, hoping he can feel the love leaking through your fingertips and settling deep in his bones.

"You want me to use the same routine on you?"

"Really?" He looks a little surprised, as if he didn't even consider that you might offer to take care of him like he took care of you.

"Of course. You're my pretty boy."

His eyes light up at your praise, and a dopey smile splits his face, and you fall in love with him all over again. You're not sure what you did to deserve this man, but you'll never take his love for granted. In this lifetime and every other.

[valle-de-sombra-de-muerte]

Nepeta's agency shouldn't be overlooked either. Even if there is little of HER in the comic, because Hussie considered her to be unimportant, she still has presence. Others in the friendgroup, like Karkat consider them to be a weird pair, because they are polar opposites. She is aware that Equius is an asshole, but still chooses to stick around with the horse.

Why do I say 'choose'? Because she still gets just enough exposure from the comic to let her speak about Vriska and Eridan, later on in the comic. And she thinks that Vriska is scary and dangerous, and thinks that Eridan's advances are insincere and creepy. So Nepeta is not stupid or gullible. She has awareness of her situation, even her crush for Karkat, she seems aware that he doesnt really feel anything for her. 'Alpha' Karkat that is, but still. And she's also not an outsider like Equius and Eridan to their friendgroup. Nepeta's been shown to get along with Aradia, Tavros and Terezi, and most likely she's on good terms with everyone, so she definitely has other options if she wants to socialize. Equius can't actually make her do anything. If she wanted to, she could say no, cuss him out, and never talk with him again. Or just give him an order to stay away forever. He WILL take that very seriously. He will be heartbroken, but an order is an order, so he would see it through. None of this stuff is really apparent now though. At this point, Hussie just wants to creep and confuse the eff out of the readers with horse antics.

(Hi anon, you seem to have sent me the same ask twice but formatted slightly differently. I'm going to address this one since it's the more recent of the two.)

I want to thank you for bringing this up. I didn't properly explain how Nepeta's agency factors into her relationship with Equius in my main post. Kind of a stupid omission because it's very important, but sometimes these things get lost when I'm trying to talk about multiple subjects at once. I might just append this to that post because there's a lot I should've said but didn't.

I did comment on this in my post, but didn't emphasize enough that being Equius's moirail is something Nepeta herself chose to do. It may be dysfunctional and other characters comment how weird it is, but in the end, it's Nepeta's choice. It's something she considers an "important job" and one she seems to take pride in doing.

I also neglected to mention the reasoning why she decides to put herself in this situation. It's because she's kind to a fault and sees the goodness in most everyone. It kind of comes with the territory of being the aspect of Heart, I figure. She has a crush on Karkat, a total grouch, and even tries to roleplay with Vriska until the latter insists on playing "mean" characters. I think in regards to Eridan (whose interactions with her were truly insincere and motivated by a desire to rebound after Feferi left him), she could see the goodness in him too if he had dropped the act and talked to her more bluntly. She'd probably recognize a lot of similarities between him and Equius, even.

There's also the duty aspect of it. She might be the only troll other than Karkat to truly care about troll romance. She recognizes the importance of moirallegiance and chooses to pacify the one person nobody else likes. Nobody is willing to stick around someone who is not only unpleasant to talk to, but has a hair trigger temper and is strong enough to shatter glass just from a touch.

But Nepeta can and will because it's the job nobody else is willing to take. She's built different.

As stated by multiple characters and even Nepeta herself, Equius has no real physical power over her. He can't actually enforce his commands and he's not going to beat her or anything if she refuses to listen to him. Nepeta can easily say no at any time, which would be more than justified considering he's always getting in the way between her and her other friends. So why doesn't she? Well for one reason, she's just too darn nice. But there's another reason too.

She's scared. Not for herself, because at no point is she ever in danger. She's scared of the damage Equius can cause to others and himself if he's left to his own devices. Hell, we see him cause an avalanche that would've killed him and Vriska had Aradia not intervened. He did this because he got mad that one of his robots was facing in his direction. His own rage nearly cost him his life. It's pretty clear why he needs someone to look out for him.

So that's what Nepeta does. She heeds his demands and doesn't provoke him because she doesn't want him to throw a potentially life-threatening fit. Of course, we see instances where she disobeys him anyway (talking to her lowblood friends and the humans), but these only ever happen if she's sure there's no danger of him finding out.

With all that said, I still maintain the power imbalance in this relationship is in Equius's favor. Nepeta may be a consenting party to this relationship and theoretically has the power to pull out at any time, but she's still 13 and naive about the world. I'm not saying that she's stupid, but she's a hopeless optimist. She often assumes everything will turn out okay, assumptions that almost always turn out wrong. She believes that Equius will let her join the Red Team if she's careful about telling him (he doesn't), she holds out hope that Karkat will reciprocate her feelings (he doesn't), and assumes that Equius will return to her after confronting Gamzee on the meteor (he doesn't).

Equius, by contrast, is more worldly and more adept at manipulation (a trait he exhibits in his conversation with Vriska, and one that is implied he utilizes regularly when dealing with other blue bloods).

He also exhibits this with Nepeta by speaking to her in a condescending manner, trying to put up barricades between her and her lower blooded friends (calling them hooligans and telling her not to play with them), and snubbing her blood color. This is all under the guise of asserting himself as a guiding figure, someone to look out for her and to "reform" her (i.e. making her into a casteist just like himself).

While Nepeta actively rebels against Equius's bigotry and his attempts at changing her behavior aren't entirely effective, it still reads as subtle manipulation tactic. The implicit threat is still there whenever he makes a demand of her. "Do what I say, or else I'll get angry and possibly hurt myself/someone else." Nepeta, with little worldly knowledge or any other means to stop Equius from doing such a thing, has no choice to comply to keep him pacified.

This is why I say while Nepeta "theoretically" has the power to end her moirallegiance, she doesn't because 1) she believes the consequences of doing such a thing are too large to risk, and 2) she's too nice a person and does actually care about Equius, regardless of whether he deserves her affection or not.

Nepeta does so much for Equius and all he does is put her down and try to isolate her from her friends. At the end of the day, that's why I don't fuck with this pairing. I know this is the fandom's pet ship and I'm fighting against a tidal wave with my stance, but no amount of fluffy fanart is going to change my mind about this.

Thank you again for the ask!

[hassiegfrieddoneanythingwrong]

Anniversary 9 rundown:

Fate/Extra Record will come out in 2025 (and it'll be on the Switch, PS4 + PS5, and Steam)

New QoL update that when you're in need of a specific material you can go to what place it drops from the skill level menu

Now you can regenerate all three Command Spells instead of one per day

8 more previous event CEs, those from 2016-2017 (JP)/2018-2019 (NA) are obtainable in the Mana Prism shop

Previous Mystic Codes are now obtainable, along with previous Command Codes (including the 5 star ones)

Increased the number of team parties from 10 to 15

Two new append skills - first one increases crit damage by 20-30% and the second one lowers the skill cooldown by 1-3 (after activating a skill, this will kick in) and unfortunately no update to the damn coin system >:(

A revamp to the pity system, if you get the 5 star Servant featured, you can still get another copy of them when hitting pity, and there's also a counter for how many pulls on the banner

The next set of Rank-ups (featuring: 5 star Saber, 3 star Saber, 5 star Assassin, 3 star Caster, 5 star Rider, 4 star Assassin, 5 star Foreigner, 3 star Archer, 5 star Ruler, 1 star Assassin, 5 star Foreigner, 3 star Rider, 5 star Caster, and 4 star Caster)

The Anniversary Servant is Summer Space Ereshkigal (5 star, Beast)

Part 2 of FGO will end in 2025

[contentment-of-cats]

Fic bit: An Axxilan's Progress: Political Correction

In the Empire there is a way to communicate the middle digit salute without actually making the gesture or otherwise conveying one's displeasure to those who might make one's career or life hard or end one's career or life altogether. Simply deny whatever request is forthcoming and append, 'Thank you and long live the Empire' to said denial. This makes it politically impossible to complain, though the request may be discreetly refiled at a later time. Likewise, one cannot open the request with the salutation lest one's motives for the request come under scrutiny. There's a line, sometimes invisible, always moving in relation to a variety of factors, and watching one's step is a survival skill.

Sartan of the Seventh is certainly a canny man, and uses such considerations and tactics to straight-arm Piett's (frequently) requested transfer to Death Squadron. Also in play are the rules and regs of the Imperial navy governing such transfers. The transfer is for a particular person at a particular rank from current post at current duty station to new post at new duty station. It stands to reason that as much as Vader wants Piett on the bridge of his warship, Sartan just as much desires to keep Piett where he is, doing what he does, and has worked out a strategy to keep it ticking over. This results in a game of tooka and skitteri between the Seventh on the Outer Rim and the First Fleet of which Death Squadron is a part. Sartan demotes, promotes, disciplines, medicals, and moves Piett around the Seventh at will.

Send the request to the White Widow? Piett's on the Chokehold.

Ask for the expedited transfer of Captain Piett? S.CP. Piett is now Senior Lieutenant Piett due to decking his admiral.

Ask for the transfer of S.LT. Piett? He's been promoted to Commander. Please resubmit with correct information re rank and station. Thank you and long live the Empire.

In other worse, fuck you very much in multiple positions with no lube and fuck the hoppalong you rode in on. He's mine and I am keeping him. Flit off.

Vader might use his regular tactics, but there are other issues to consider. Sartan, as mentioned, is a canny man. He is also Seswennan, meaning he's related to half of the IHC by blood and that includes the head of COMPNOR. He is related by marriage to the Tagges. During the ascent of the CIS, he was instrumental in bringing the independent sectors and their armed forces in on the side of the GAR. He worked closely with General Anakin Skywalker, and both were men who went out and Got It Done. Vader and the Jedi can agree on two things - distaste for sand and an appreciation for those who shut the fuck up and Get It Done. The Outer Rim and Wild Space need Sartan.

While an operation is under way to obtain Piett via good old-fasioned skulduggery, violence, and abduction, Sartan will crater the works out of pique. Vader just has to put something on offer that Sartan wants more than Piett.

And he is certain he knows just what... or who... that is.

"Get me Grand Moff Tarkin."

[bobcat-pie]

Appending "LOL" to my messages not as a self-descriptor but instead as a command

[risingsunresistance]

in reference to the invulnerable thing- a resistance effect might work? itll still be vulnerable to /kill with that one. or ermm. "/data modify entity @e[type=mobType,limit=1] set value {Invulnerable:1b}" might work. but that might be the command youre referring to -🌱

that seems similar to the command i used to have, but it still doesnt work. if i hit the cat it still takes damage and runs from me :(

i might be using it wrong...? seems like they've updated some things. when i type the command exactly as you have it wrote, it doesnt like the part after "set," for some reason it's asking me to write append/insert/merge/prepend/set again...????? i have no idea how to use commands kjhfg

[eeriecode-fgo]

FGO FanServant - Chai, the Aspiring Rockstar

(official in-game art, taken from the Wikia)

Ascension Stages

First Stage: Chai is wearing a blue jacket over a white shirt, red pants and blue shoes. His robot arm is thinner and heavily bandaged, and he's missing his trademark scarf. 808 is floating beside him in her sphere mode.

Second Stage: Chai's standard outfit from the game.

Third Stage: Chai's makeshift guitar is replaced with his Custom Crimson, his scarf is longer and undamaged, and he's wearing a pin on his chest. 808 is also wearing a small crown.

Parameters

Class: Alter Ego

Source: Hi-Fi Rush

Region: Vandelay Campus

Voice Actors: Hiro Shimono (Chai), Toa Yukinari (Peppermint), Yasuhiro Mamiya (Macaron), Hiroyuki Yoshino (CNMN), Yu Kobayashi (Korsica)

Rarity: SR

Alignment: Neutral Good

Attribute: Human

HP: 1.860 / 11.625

ATK: 1.630 / 9.785

NP Gain: 0,88%

Deck: Buster/Quick (Buster: 2 hits; Quick: 4 hits; Arts: 3 hits; Extra: 4 hits)

Traits: Humanoid, Mechanical, Male, Weak to Enuma Elish, Group Servant, Musician

Passive Skills

Mad Enhancement - Rank E-

Increase own Buster performance by 1%.

Unordinary World - Rank A

Chai's self-described "musical robot powers" that allow him to perceive the world in time with his music, manifested here as a Passive Skill. So long as he fights on the beat, Chai gains significant offensive and defensive buffs.

FGO Effect

Increase own C.Star Drop Rate by 50%.

Apply Damage Cut of 200 to self.

Increase own Quick/Buster/Arts performance by 10% during a Mighty Chain.

Custom Append Skills

Anti-Robot Specialization

Replaces Append Skill 3

Deal extra Special ATK damage to [Mechanical] enemies. (20~30%)

Increase damage resistance against [Mechanical] enemies. (20~30%)

Bond Skill

Increase all [Musician] allies' Buster performance by 30% for all allies while on field (including sub-members)

Active Skills

Iron Man - Rank D

A skill resulting from the surgery to replace Chai's arm, Chai's entire body has been reinforced, allowing him to survive hits that would kill an ordinary person.

FGO Effect

Cooldown: 7~5 turns

Increase own DEF for 3 turns (20~30%)

Apply Damage Cut to self for 3 turns (500~1000)

Increase own ATK (10%, 3 turns) when attacked by an enemy (3 turns).

Vandelay Tea Party - Rank A

A combination of 808's temporal displacement function and Chai's unique nature as a Servant, Chai can momentarily manifest his allies' Spirit Origins to offer a variety of support in battle, from Peppermint and Macaron's ability to destroy barriers, to Korsica's ability to weaken the enemies, to CNMN's moral support. ...look, he's trying, okay?

FGO Effect

Cooldown: 8~6 turns

Increase own Quick, Buster and Arts Performance (10~20%, 3 hits, 3 turns)

Apply [808 Transfer] buff to self (3 turns) (all following effects are applied after selecting Command Cards).

- Apply Ignore Invincibility to self (1 hit) before attacking with a Quick Card (1 hit, 1 turn)

- Remove 1 DEF buff when attacking (1 time) before attacking with an Arts card (1 hit, 1 turn)

- Remove 1 ATK buff when attacking (1 time) before attacking with a Buster card (1 hit, 1 turn)

Synesthesia - Rank B

A Charisma variation, affected allies synchronize their movements with Chai's and receive a significant boost. As this ability is connected with Chai's powers, its effect are more pronounced if the target is musically inclined.

FGO Effect

Cooldown: 8~6 turns

Increase all allies' ATK by 10% for 3 turns.

Increase all allies' NP Gain for 3 turns (10~20%)

Increase all [Musician] allies' ATK for 3 turns (20~30%)

Increase all [Musician] allies' NP Gauge by 20%.

Noble Phantasm

Overdrive Slash V7 - Rank C+

Rank: C+

Type: Anti-Unit

Range: 1~3

Max Targets: 1

Chai's ultimate melee technique. Chai's Spirit Origin is temporarily supercharged, allowing him to summon all his teammates at once: afterwards, the team converges on an enemy for a simple but effective coordinated attack.

FGO Effect

Buster Noble Phantasm, 13 hits

Increase own NP Strength for 1 turn (20~30%, scales with Overcharge)

Deal Special Damage to one [Lawful] enemy.

Writer Notes

Oh boy, this profile. I was seriously hoping to have it ready way earlier, it would have been perfect given the news of the big comeback! Unfortunately writer block decided to strike, but oh well, better late than never!

I was uncertain about Chai's class at first: Berserker or Saber were potential options, but neither felt right. In the end, I decided to conceptualize him as a combined Servant of sorts, with Chai as the main Servant and the rest of the team as Phantom Spirits summonable for brief moments: I figured it worked well given the original game's mechanics, and it allowed me to classify him as an Alter Ego without too much issue.

Chai's outfit in his first Ascension is a modified version of his prototype outfit from the original concept arts, while his final Ascension is based on his outfit in the ending.

For the references in the skills' names, I blame his second one: I couldn't resist the reference to the gang's names and it all spiraled from there. For the curious, the referenced songs are Iron Man by Black Sabbath, Boston Tea Party by The Sensational Alex Harvey Band, Synesthesia by The Glass Pyramids, and Ordinary World by Duran Duran. And no, I'm not apologizing for the active skills' ranks. ;)

The buffs during a Mighty Chain in his unique passive are a reference to the scoring system in the original game, where you get worse scores if you use the same move in a row: with FGO mechanics, you instead get better results if you use different colored cards.

The new "Musician" trait applies to any Servant who has shown a significant interest in music, regardless of their skill level. So yeah, Elizabeth and Nero do in fact have the trait. Additionally, all Servants who received a Spiritron Dress during the Grail Live event have the trait while wearing the costume.

While the Wiki lists Hibiki! as the first Special Attack developed in the game, it didn't feel quite right for Chai's Noble Phantasm. In the end, I decided to use the final combo attack in the final battle as the inspiration, while naming it as a variation of another of his high-Reverb Specials. With an additional Final Fantasy reference thrown in there, because why not, the original already referenced it anyway!