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comatomato · 1 year

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sun-rise / kote

Marigolds were often linked to the powerful strength of the sun and represent the power and light that lives inside of a person.

Figured this was rather apt for where Cody is at right now in his story on the Bad Batch. Some gold peeking through the grey.

The sun will rise again. 🌤️

Check out more of my art over on Instagram! ✨

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elcarimercanto · 1 year

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Post Order 66:

Obi-wan hitting Vader with a rock using the force: AND THAT'S FOR HURTING THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!

Vader: WHO?!?-

Cody: HE'S TALKING ABOUT ME!....wait, I'm the love of your life?

Obi-wan: I DON'T KNOW, I'M STILL ANGRY AT YOU!

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #codywan #commander cody #darth vader #source: coco #star wars incorrect quotes #post order 66 #anakin and obi wan #cody x obi wan #obi wan x cody #clone wars incorrect quotes #the clone wars #clone wars

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clover-hoe · 22 days

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Obi-Wan: your need space-therapy!!

Cody: YOU NEED IT MORE.

Obi-Wan: you shot me off a cliff anf thought i was dead because of you!

Cody: YOUR BROTHER TRIED TO KILL YOU

Obi: Yeah, but-

Cody: and all your jedi friends died

Obi: yes, well-

Cody: you have no room to talk.

#star wars #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #post order 66 #desert husbands #my daily contribution to society #codywan #cody x obi wan

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foxprints · 2 months

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After months of waiting patiently I'm FINALLY able to post my contribution to the @rexsokazine !! I'm incredibly honored to have been invited to participate in this zine as a guest artist.

Everyone running the event was so kind and understanding and I'm very grateful for that, especially given the fact that I had one thing after another happen last year. Thank you guys for such a good experience 💛 and thanks to all of the other participants for helping to make such a gorgeous final product!! 😍

#star wars #rexsoka #commander rex #rex+ahsoka #can be taken as romantic or platonic idc #i think it was placed in the romantic section of the final zine but i drew it to be ambiguous #ahsoka tano #ahsoka #post order 66 #rex #clone wars #fanart #zine contribution #fandom event

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sorry-but-no-sorry · 14 days

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Glitch post order 66 anyone ? (Featuring a small reunion with Rennax and Ventress ‘s jedi test, bless him he never had the chance to hear the order

Maybe he’s the clone that Hemlock is looking for…

#clone wars #the bad batch #clone trooper #star wars #clone trooper glitch #glitch #post order 66 #post order 66 au #rennax omani #asaaj Ventress

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smallandangry24 · 2 years

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Headcanon that chipped!Cody would subconsciously go to Dex’s a bunch to feel closer to Obi Wan and one day the Besalisk is like aight somethings up with my boy and just… whacks him over the head.

And that’s how Cody gets his chip taken out.

#dexter jettster #he does not get enough credit #I love this man #he’s the anti Krell #commander cody #Obi wan kenobi #order 66 #post order 66 #impromptu chip removal #Dex’s diner #codywan #star wars headcanons #prequels #the clone wars #tbb season 2 #kenobi show #pong krell #pong krell hate club #besalisk

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chocomars · 2 years

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i can be your angle….or yuor devil

based on this post

#post order 66 #captain rex #ahsoka tano #darth maul #the clone wars #star wars #star wars the clone wars #swtcw #marsdraws #marsrb

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kometqh · 14 days

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𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

Captain Rex x Reader Every waking moment you had to yourself, you spent on trying to remember. To remember his touch. His voice, his warmth. His face and his eyes. But how could you when after so many years it's become nothing but a blur? And each time you're close, each time your mind drags back pieces of the puzzle together, you're interrupted. Word Count: 1,462 Warnings: Angst A/N: This idea came to me whilst listening to Once Upon A Dream from Sleeping Beauty and I couldn't help myself but vomit words onto screen, I hope whoever reads this enjoys this because I loved the idea TT

The city lights from below twinkled and burned brightly like the stars in the dark sky above. A miniscule smile rested atop your lips, a familiar gleam sparkling in your irises.

The cold autumn breeze flew past you, ruffling your unruly hair into an even more so, larger mess.

A blue, old scarf a size too big hugged and entangled your shoulders, floating up and down with the cold. Your fingers twiddled with the loose threads, feeling the coarse material between the pads of your fingers. It was a gift from him. The man from your dreams.

You used to love him. You used to miss him. You used to wait for him.

You used to walk with him,

Once upon a dream.

His hands used to be warm, his gaze so smitten.

That look in his eyes, was so familiar a dream.

His voice used to be so soft, his touch so tender.

Those visions of him, you knew they were seldom true.

His embrace endearing, his kisses slow and passionate, as though you were the most delicate flower he had ever the pleasure of finding.

His love was your hope, like that of a sprouting seedling in a vast desert. His scent was your calm, like the sound of rain pattering against glass. His voice a lullaby to your dreams.

And now all you had left of him was the old, scruffy, pale blue scarf.

And you loved it as much as you loved him and he loved you.

The faint scent of his cheap cologne still lingered. You had done your best to find the brand, but failed. How hard was it to find the same exact cheap cologne? Very, you had come to realise.

The Empire destroyed everything. It took him away, it destroyed his memory.

"Y/n?" His voice asked, but it wasn't his voice. This one had a husky timbre to it, as though he hadn't felt anything but the familiar burn of a cigar against his lips in a long time. It wasn't the same.

"Hunter?" Your voice came out soft, quiet as though he had interrupted an intimate moment you were having.

He took a long moment to continue, his gaze sturdy and focused on your figure.

"Someone's here to see you."

His eyes met yours as you shifted around, a brow raised questioningly. His shoulders stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. He knew what you were about to say.

"Tell them-"

"It's urgent," He interrupted, putting emphasis to his words, swallowing harshly as he felt his throat tighten, "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't," He paused again, this time his gaze dropping to the wet concrete beneath his feet, and suddenly he was all too aware of the loud pattering of the rain against his hair and the concrete, of the rough and short beats of your heart echoing in his ears, "Trust me." His gaze rose back to yours.

With a shake of your head, you pulled the scarf tighter around yourself. This was one of the few bits of time you had to yourself, that you could spend on thinking. Thinking of him.

Amongst the many missions and bounties, your mind always failed to remember him. The faces of his brothers, the different tones and accents and timbres, they all mixed and matched together until it was all a blur. At first, you were happy to be surrounded by Hunter and the Batch. But now you could barely remember the face of the man from your dreams.

The door creaked shut behind you, the sound of rain muffled by the all-too loud music of the bar below. You hated it. You could never focus with it on.

The heavy scent of alcohol lingered in the air, like a poisonous fog ready to fill your lungs and taint your blood. Your chest felt stuffy every time you were forced to be in the vicinity of the awful stench.

Hunter's heavy boots thudded against the concrete floor, his head hung low as he kept a fast. steady pace, refusing to give you enough opportunity to question him, enough chance to prod him where you needed to get your answers.

He wouldn't give in so easily even if you tried.

Not tonight.

Though it seemed you hadn't felt the need to ask.

Not tonight.

Your mind was in a different plane, a different galaxy. A distant past.

The hallway seemed to narrow down the longer you walked, winding around corners and staircase openings like a never-ending labyrinth. You were slowly becoming sick of it. Why was this building so dauntingly tall?

The walls seemed to be crumbling down and wailing for repair with each crack that extended down hallways, staircases and rooms. Grimaced faces were painted on the sickly orange walls, freshly patched spots grasping to hold the structure together as the building shook with the volume and vibrations of the music.

Hunter hated it too. But he could bare with this for a moment longer. For you.

His throat dried up as the door came into view, and his ears heard the way the pace of your heart picked up as he spoke, "They're behind that door."

His hands fell to his side, smearing the sticky sweat on his armoured thigh, and his steps slowed down, his own heart matching the pace of yours. You must have known by now, right?

"Who is it?" You asked as you came to an abrupt stop, just inches away from the door. You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. The two of you stared into each others eyes, silently communicating through the miniscule, atomic-like movements of your irises.

It wasn't hard to know what you were thinking. Nor what Hunter was.

Who is it? He imagined your voice to be soft, velvety like freshly cleaned cushions, the unsure tenderness of it warming his heart.

Go ahead and find out. You imagined his voice to be gravelly, like waves crashing against a sandy shore, the hum they left behind sending shivers down your spine.

With a soft sigh, you turned away from his towering frame.

Lifting a shaky hand, you turned the knob.

The door creaked uncomfortably, like the wornout strings of an old violin.

A gentle, dimmed light flooded the hallway, painting it a sickly shade of yellow. Was this a hotel or a pigsty?

You could almost taste the years worth of dust on the tip of your tongue.

The doorknob felt rough and weak under your touch, the dragged wood pressing against the pads of your fingers.

With a heavier push, the door managed to pull open, screeching in protest until it came to a final stop.

Your chest stopped heaving up and down as the air was caught in your throat.

A sudden lightheadedness hit you, eyelashes blinking rapidly as you tried to get a tighter grasp on the doorknob. For a moment, you scrunched your eyes shut, and fought away the dizziness that clamped around your temple like a pair of metal tongs.

When your eyes opened again, you felt a pair of arms get a hold your waist.

Was someone hugging you?

Maybe, you thought and as you slowly looked down, you noticed a pair of armoured arms wrapped around you. Hunter's arms.

Did you fall?

You couldn't feel your legs.

As you looked up again, it all dawned on you.

The man from your dreams.

At first, you only saw the faded maroon poncho. It was overly large, and clearly didn't fit. It looked old, tattered as loose threads stuck out at odd angles.

And then you glanced down. White armour clung to his legs, embracing his feet and shins and thighs.

Your gaze wondered up, spotting the helmet seated atop a bed behind him. Blue streaks dancing down the expanse of the white coat of paint. It lingered there, pricking at your heart strings as though wanting them to snap one by one.

It hurt.

Your chest was burning.

Your throat tightened, the painful drags of a wail tugging at your voice chords.

The arms around your waist tightened, a familiar head of ashy, chestnut brown hair tickling at your skin.

Where were you again?

Your eyes fluttered, blinking erratically as you fought to look up. Your mind couldn't let you.

You couldn't-

You couldn't rememeber his face.

A hand flew to your gaping mouth, covering the strangled whimper that erupted from deep within your chest, tearing at your throat as slowly, slowly you allowed your eyes to look up.

It hurt.

Did he always look so familiar? So.. Awfully perfect? So familiarly strange?

His warm, honey gold irises were locked onto you, wide and unblinking and disbelieving.

New wrinkles and aged lines dragged at his tanned skin, painting the picture of an abandoned, weary, scarred soldier, an abandoned and forgotten man.

His hair was still that beautiful blonde, his sun-kissed skin and chapped lips still brought out that awfully familiar, but long forgotten feeling in the pits of your stomach.

It's him.

It's-

"Rex?"

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lightasthesun · 4 months

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I feel like something terrible has happened, she'd said, running up to her Captain to seek out comfort and reassurance; a friend to soothe her worries. But all she had found were tears, rage and trembling hands; a blaster aimed at her head and a voice screaming at her to stay back.

Ahsoka had watched, frozen, as her men—brothers, who had chosen to wear her face as a sign of loyalty—transformed into cold-blooded killers. In a matter of seconds, their force-signatures skinned of all individuality and any sense of free will. When they opened fire upon her she'd defended herself without a second thought. The bodies had fallen whilst she dodged another bolt.

She still doesn't think about their names.

Months had passed since then. Operation Knightfall had ripped the Galaxy of thousands of its brightest souls in one night. The darkness that followed it hardly conceals the blood oozing from various planets and tainting surrounding star systems. The force is a gaping black hole. Nothing left of its radiant embrace to calm her pounding heart. It had left her with stains of darkness—sticking to her like Nubian honey— after the first time, she had tried to submerge herself in meditation. She hasn't touched it since.

Ahsoka sighs.

Breathing in the salty air, she lets her eyes wander across the endless widths of the ocean and clutches the lightsaber shoto to her chest. The Kyber crystal inside whimpers and she shivers.

The screams and whispers of the dying follow her every waking moment. And the corpses—broken on the floor like puppets with their strings cut—haunt her dreams. She's not able to shake the guilt weighing down on her shoulders and she knows she never will be.

The shoto feels hot pressed against her chest. It's painful to hold on to it and if she didn't know any better she would let it fall into the yawning abyss. But she does. She recognizes the stinging sensation of the blisters on her palms for what it is: Phantom Pain.

The crystal carries her memories.

#i updated my three year old sw fic #check it out if you want #ahsoka tano #star wars fic #tcw fanfic #userlumi #post order 66 #fanart courtesy of the incredible @ahhrenata #love you Lauren #victory and death #likes are okay but reblogs are slay

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deserthusbands · 2 months

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cody, quietly: some days, i just need to hold you a little closer, obi-wan. remind myself that you're still here, still with me.

obi-wan: i'll always be here, cody... always.

#commander cody #post order 66 #obi wan kenobi #codywan #obi wan x cody #incorrect quotes #codywan incorrect quotes #desert husbands #a little reassurance

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ninjigma · 6 months

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QuinObi Week Part 4/5 - First / Previous / Next

Day 4: Post Order 66 Track: 'Flaws' - Bastille (Spotify / YouTube)

Everything went so wrong, but at least this, this, they managed to once again make right. I think it would be a very dramatic reunion, of Obi-Wan always hoping and Quinlan always seeking, finally stumbling back together. Though a part of me also imagines Quinlan tackling Obi-Wan into the dunes and it being the first time since that horrible day that Obi-Wan hasn't cursed how the sand gets into his beard. And besides, Quinlan didn't seem to mind when he kissed it anyhow.

Enjoy!

@quinobiweek

#Post Order 66 #it would be a tear jerker #but also make me laugh #as the best reunions always do #they deserve it #QuinObi Week #obi wan kenobi #quinlan vos #quinobi #voswan #obi wan x quinlan #star wars #fanart #my art

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alamogirl80 · 2 years

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Cody: “You can’t… can’t keep doing this. You have to be more careful.

I can’t loose you again.”

That throw away Kenobi script got me in the feels.

#codywan #Star Wars #kenobi series #obi wan kenobi series #commander cody #sw kenobi #the clone wars #tcw #clone wars #post order 66 #soft protective cody #sad man in the sand #codywan art #mel’s art

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invaderlynx · 5 months

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There’s a common headcanon that Bly took his own life after realizing what he’d done during Order 66. My brain decided to make that ten times worse for some reason:

Bly is a very competent officer. He’s a marshal commander—and a damn good one at that. For that reason, I can’t see him killing himself on a campaign, either by enemy fire or otherwise. He wouldn’t want to leave his men in a lurch, make more trouble for them than he had to, or endanger them in any way. So I’d have to imagine that if he had suicidal designs, he’d probably act on them while on leave. And where exactly do most troopers end up on leave? Coruscant.

____

Fox gets the call early in the morning. The war’s been over for weeks, but he’s still bone-tired. The fighting may be finished, but Coruscant has never conformed to the war’s schedule. He’s just as busy as he was before, if not more so. It weighs on him. Heavily.

The message is simple enough. A clone officer was found dead in his quarters with a blaster bolt through his brain, apparently self-inflicted. Fox doesn’t blame him, the poor bastard. Force knows he’s seen his fair share of suicides. Hell, he’s considered it himself.

Since the clone was a high ranking officer of the GAR, standard protocol dictates that the military police examine the body to rule out any evidence of foul play. Fox is about to dispatch a forensic squad when he finally gets to the CC number associated with the request. His blood runs cold. CC-5052.

Fox doesn’t send the requisite medical team. He goes himself. He’d trust his men with his life, but he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to care for his brother. His vod’ika.

____

The last time he saw Bly was months before the end of the war. Months before the incident with Rex’s ARC, before everything fell apart.

It was the last time all four of them were together. Wolffe, Cody, Bly, and himself, all crammed into a little back room booth at 79’s. Fox can’t remember what they were celebrating that day. Perhaps it was just the fact that they were all together again.

Bly was just on the wrong side of tipsy—his tattooed cheeks flushed red and glowing in the neon light—but he was happy. Cody was goading him on about something having to do with General Secura. Like he was any better, the hypocrite. Wolffe had loudly pointed this out and then promptly spilled his drink when Cody gave him a shove.

Fox felt lighter that night than he had in weeks, the bone-deep stress of Coruscant dissipating in the presence of his brothers. Surrounded by the people he loved most in the galaxy with the warm thrum of liquor in his veins, the war seemed distant. The incessant demands of the chancellor and Senate could wait, at least for a few hours. The most pressing thing for him right now was trying to rescue his drink from Cody and Wolffe’s play-fighting.

When the night was over, Fox was saddled with the task of getting Bly back to his rooms in one piece. The whole way Bly had gushed into Fox’s shoulder about “Aayla”, his face pressed into the plastoid of Fox’s armor as his brother carried him back. By the end, the sight of his quarters had been a relief. Fox was about ready to strangle him.

Before he’d gone Bly had hugged him, pulled him in for the most uncoordinated keldabe Fox thinks he’d ever seen, and told him he loved him. Fox can’t remember now if he’d said it back. Maker, he hopes he’d said it back.

____

Fox hesitates at the door to Bly’s quarters. His heart thuds painfully in his chest and his hands shake worse than they ever did during the war. There’s a tight, white-hot fear that’s coiled in his gut, freezing him in place. He forces himself to take a few breaths, ignoring its desperate, keening warnings.

He punches in the door code and steps inside.

There’s no mistaking the corpse that lies before him. Any lingering hope that his brother might still be alive, that there’s been a mistake, dies in his chest.

He makes the executive decision to spare Bly the indignity of an autopsy. Call it commander’s privilege. He knows enough forensics to realize that the wound was self-inflicted. He knows enough about Bly too.

He handles the body like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever carried. He gently arranges his brother’s bent limbs, straightens his uniform, closes his eyes. It won’t matter, his remains will be cremated all the same no matter how he looks, but it matters to Fox.

____

He escorts the hover stretcher to the crematorium—an honor guard of one. He’s not sure whether Bly would appreciate the gesture. They hadn’t spoken since Fox had killed that ARC, since he had been summarily declared “dar’manda”. He’s certain he wouldn’t be Bly’s first choice of pallbearer, but their other brothers are scattered across the galaxy or else marching on. Fox will have to do.

The guardsman on duty seems nervous. He’s a shiny and has likely never been around an officer for this long before, let alone one of Fox’s rank. He looks like he wants to ask something. Fox hopes he won’t. He doesn’t trust himself to speak at the moment.

Fox waits as the body is incinerated, standing at parade rest as the flames cast shadows through the small transparisteel window of the capsule. There won’t be anything to take back. This crematorium was designed to handle clone casualties that were never meant to be buried. Whatever ash is left over will be sent to a Coruscant waste facility automatically.

Fox waits anyway.

Even with the best technology the Republic has to offer, the process still takes about an hour. The kid informs him when it’s over, his voice barely above a squeak. Maker, he’s young. Fox thanks him, taking care to make sure his voice doesn’t shake. Were he and his brothers that young when they left Kamino?

The walk back to his office is torture. It takes every shred of discipline Kamino ever instilled in him to keep from breaking down. He measures his breaths, his strides, all the way down to his very heartbeat to keep up the appearance of the dutiful commander he’s meant to be.

It’s a mercy when he finally arrives at his destination. The moment the office door is locked behind him his facade cracks. His legs give out at last and he braces his back against the wall, bringing his knees up to his chest. He rips off his helmet, letting it clatter unceremoniously at his side. He curls in on himself. His body shakes with wracking sobs. His vod’ika is gone. He’s gone marching on somewhere Fox can’t follow.

#tw: suicide #commander fox #commander bly #clone wars #tcw #commander cody #commander wolffe #blyla #mentioned codywan #post order 66 #coruscant guard

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p4nishers · 1 year

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i have read every post order 66 fic under the sun and i can confirm they all vaguely start like ep3. they all DEFINITELY have cody deflecting at one point or another. very suspicious. u wanna tell us sumn dave? wanna share something with the class??

#NEED to know if he reads codywan fics in his down time #honestly he totally would so to completely avoid duing anything remotely pleasing for us so thanks for that #seriously keep em coming im frantically rereading all of them for the 9348th time and its not funny anymore im going insane #someone read 'tell me no tales' and talk about it to me before i've to be admitted im so so serious i just started my 8th reread #commander cody #codywan #obi wan kenobi #star wars #the bad batch s2 #clone wars #the solitary clone #order 66 #tbb #tbb s2 #dave filoni #post order 66 #ao3

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backpackingspace · 17 days

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Hey can yall help me find a fic? Pretty please? It's one of my favorite and I swear I bookmarked it but I can't find it now.

Its a post order 66 stars wars fic. I think there's two in the series? But the premise is that padme gives birth on the way to mustfar so she and obi ean go on the run and meet up with Rex and ahsoka. Everybody is having a bad time in their grief and lashing out at obi wan who slowly stops talking. Eventually obi wan goes off on a solo mission and ends up rescuing Cody and a few other clones. They continued to go off on missions together and continue to save more clones. Eventually everybody starts to heal and make up.

#Star wars #Ao3 #Fanfics #Post order 66 #I would love to find this fic again #It's so so good and real and the angst is beautiful #Hurt/comfort #I know a popular star wars fic author deleted their works but I don't think this was one of theirs #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #Codywan #captain rex #ashoka tano #padme amidala #bail organa #The twins are technically there existing as babies #please help #I think it was called the price of grief or something similar

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sorry-but-no-sorry · 1 month

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I just wanted to give Dogma and Crosshair a good life 😭

#clone wars #the bad batch #clone trooper #star wars #clone trooper dogma #clone trooper crosshair #tbb #tbb crosshair #crosshair #ct 9904 #dogma #post order 66 #post order 66 au

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