#fox and his shinies snippet

[runekirikjartan]

Last Line Challenge

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

Tagged by: @whiskygoldwings Thank you Whisky!

I've been working on 3 different WIPs interchangeably and can't actually figure out which was the last one so have all 3 under the cut.

Mandokarla Aran AU:

All it does is make it harder for Mereel to take his eyes off of Commander Fox to focus on his primary objective. He’s supposed to be staying on as an impartial liaison, yet that’s twice now where he’s been distracted by the Marshal Commander going about regular tasks. 

The Time Travel Fix-It:

"Kriffing mir'sheb." and Fox thinks... he knows that voice. He knows that damn voice. He practically falls out of the bed when it registers, reaching for something, anything to be used as a damn weapon, going alert faster than Hound does when he sees a pack of massif puppies. There are trainers surrounding him, armour that he remembers seeing stalking through the halls of Kamino, but cleaner, well cared for. He bares his teeth when he spots the more familiar sounding voice. The Nulls have to be somewhere, he gets along with Mereel, Jaing and Corr just fine but if Ordo spots him he's getting his ass handed to him. Standing at the entrance to the medbay, blocking Fox's exit as he finally finds something to use as a weapon, a scalpel from a knocked over tray, stands Kal Skirata, younger than Fox remembers. His head of hair is more blond than grey, he has less wrinkles on his face.

Fox & His Shinies - Part 19:

That wouldn’t do. “Where do you think you’re going?” Alpha called out, watching as Tenacity stiffened. “I haven’t dismissed you.”  He heard the quiet ‘fuck’ that Tenacity let out under his breath, just barely, before he turned around and clasped his hands behind his back, lifting his chin in a perfect parade rest. 

And I'm gonna tag: @yellowisharo @marloviandevil @bluecookies02 (bc ik bbgirl has been drawing recently), @voices-of-my-brothers @kworking (bc i know their stuff is awesome always) and @eyayah-oya

Can't wait to see everything y'all are currently doing but no expectations!

[sophie1973]

Seven Several Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday everyone ! I was tagged by @suseagull04 today. Thank you so much !

So here is another snippet from my current wip (coming end of September).

Tags under the cut

Nora suddenly ducks beneath the bar, emerging triumphantly with a stack of glossy magazines. She flips through them with practiced ease before stopping on a page. "Voilà!" The image shows Henry at what appears to be a polo match, decked out in full riding attire - including impossibly tight white pants. Alex can't help but let out an appreciative whistle.

"Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor and his sister Beatrice," Nora reads aloud. June leans in, studying the photo. "I see the attractive part. The miserable? Not so much." "Trust me," Alex insists, "he looked like that, just... utterly exhausted. Less shiny hair, more eye bags." June snorts. "He certainly left an impression on you." "His sister's quite stunning, too," Nora observes. "Good genes in that family, clearly." Nora returns the magazines to their hiding spot and adds, "Just Google him if you want more info." Alex frowns, shaking his head. "I'm not about to cyberstalk someone I met like five minutes ago. Besides, if he traveled 5000 miles to get here, I'm pretty sure he wants to be left alone." "Or," June suggests, waggling her eyebrows, "he could use a friend. Maybe even a boyfriend?" Alex smirks. “Not sure a guy who names his dog David is boyfriend material.”

Tag with no pressure for @onthewaytosomewhere @stellarmeadow

@tailsbeth-writes @firenati0n @iboatedhere @bitbybitwrites

@blueeyedgrlwrites @thighzp @theprinceandagcd @taste-thewaste

@14carrotghoul @whoevenknows-things @caterpills @miss-minnelli

@kj-bee @wordsofhoneydew

[corrie-guard-things]

Last line challenge

Rules: In a new post, show your latest line (artwork or written), and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like)!

I got tagged y @hastalavistabyebye :D

I'm back on my Shiny shenanigans and I'm actually pretty close to finishing it :D so there have this snippet :)

Fox had looked up before Shiny even burst through the door of his office. The man had been screaming for who knew how long and the commander had been able to hear him long before he’d arrived to his office. Ah, the benefits of Coruscant’s osik’la soundproofing. “Yes, vod?” Fox hid his smirk, knowing what was likely to have made his brother so happy. It had only been a few days since Alderaan’s royal couple had been by, after all.

NPT : @stealthetrees @whiskygoldwings @mamuzzy-creates-stuff @the-starry-seas

[blackkatmagic]

Kat, I hope you realize I screamed like a goddamn pterodactyl when I saw that snippet. HIDE THE WOLVES, MY BELOVED!? 😭😭😭

Thank you for being the bright spot in my morning. I cannot WAIT to read the rest! 💜

(The fact that you even remember it exists makes me want to spiritually kiss you on the forehead ngl)

“If you're throwing things at senators again, I'm going to have you training shinies until you're as grey as Yoda,” Fox says.

Blinking, Quinlan tips his head, leaning back on one hand, and looks from Fox at the edge of the stairwell to Thire perched beside him on the lip of the roof. Again? he signs, brows rising.

Fox snorts, but he crosses the roof as Thire winces, raps his knuckles against the back of Thire's head. “He framed General Skywalker for it,” he says, dry, and Thire flashes him a look of abject horror.

“I—Commander! General, I swear, I wouldn’t—” he protests, but Quinlan just laughs silently, raising his hands.

I bet it was good for the brat, he says, and Fox’s mouth pulls up, just slightly.

He scuffs Thire's hair, earning a loud protest, then circles around to Quinlan’s other side and leans against the low railing, raising his face to the sunset. Quinlan watches him, because he can't not, and with the way the light catches the silver in his hair, spreads across his familiar features, is something arresting.

“Thire's got a crush on Senator Amidala,” Fox says after a second. He ignores the groan Thire gives, perfectly merciless, and says, “Skywalker made her mad or something, if I'm remembering right.”

Quinlan raises a brow, startled to hear that, and slants a glance at Thire, who grimaces. “Not mad,” he says halfheartedly. “Lots of things make her mad, and it’s just…” “Hot,” Fox supplies, with all the ruthless precision of an expert marksman.

[eomereadig]

Snippet: Echoes

Written for the alternative prompt "reassurance" for @whumpril!

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Commander Fox/Commander Cody

Rating: M

Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, nightmares, cuddling, literal sleeping together, psychological trauma, PTSD, implied/referenced sexual assault

Full fic now avaliable here

Much like he often had during the war, though the occurrence was becoming less and less common these days, Cody startled awake all at once. His first thought was that an alarm of some kind had woken him but, after a quick heartbeat, he realised the flashing lights dancing around the room were from speeders racing along outside and decidedly not part of a venator’s emergency system. 

The shadowy bedroom was mostly quiet, too, save from he and Fox’s breathing. 

Now that Cody paid it more mind, Fox’s breathing was heavy beside him - even despite the other lying down. 

It caught Cody off guard when Fox’s legs thrashed about on the bed and the distant ache in his shin told him all he needed to know about what had woken him in the first place. The duvet was tangled by their ankles, tangled around Fox’s feet as he continued to kick out at some unseen foe. 

Cody’s heart dropped to his stomach.

A nightmare - and not the first one Fox had ever had in bed with him, not even the second this week alone. No matter how many times this scene had played out before, Cody’s heart still clenched in sympathy for his love.  

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he took note of how Fox’s usually unruly hair looked more like a bush than anything else, strands stiff with sweat. He was tangled in his night clothes, Cody noticed. Fox’s head thrashed from side to side on the pillow beneath it, betraying his unconscious panic. In a hoarse whisper, Fox pleaded with his dream, promises and appeals that Cody had heard a hundred times before. 

“Please,” Fox croaked under his breath. In his dream, he must have been shouting. “Punish me instead. I-I’ll learn this time - not the shinies, please…” The mutter hardly came as a shock to Cody but he felt sick with the idea of what it entailed nonetheless. He’d never asked or been told outright what Fox had experienced during the war, but at times like this he could hazard a terrible, terrible guess. 

Cody couldn’t watch him go on like this. 

As gently as he could, he shook Fox awake by the shoulder. 

No response. 

Full fic now avaliable here

[writtenonreceipts]

@elucienweekofficial​

Elucien Week Day Seven: Au/Free Day

Here’s a snippet from the regency/arranged marriage au that is slowly killing me.  One day soon the full thing will be ready.  But this is my favorite scene from it...well, one of them...

no tag list...

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

The Fox in the Garden

It was when Elain was twelve that she met Lucien Vanserra for the first time.

She wasn’t supposed to be outside in the gardens, but she simply couldn’t resist.  It was still early enough in spring that the new blooms were still budding, and leaves were unfurling that it all had an heir of magic to it.  In just a few weeks this garden would be transformed from bare branches to insurmountable beauty.  And she wanted to see every moment of that transition.

Even if it was still a bit cold.  And yes, the clouds overhead were gray and fierce and looked ready to pounce.  But it was no longer winter.  She needn’t be contained anymore.

So, Elain wandered the gardens.  She could identify most of the plants by their leaves alone.  After, kindly, bullying the head gardener to teach her about his stewardship, Elain had come to more fully appreciate this small piece of the world.

As she rounded a corner of her favorite part of the garden, she saw a flash of red and a creature dashed out of the shrubbery.  It paused in the middle of the path, staring at her.  A fox.  Sleek and lean with large russet eyes.

“Oh, aren’t you a surprise,” Elaid said, because what else was there to say? “Having a look around?”

Its tail twitched and head listed to one side.  And then a great shout echoed across the garden and the fox flitted off again.

Elain couldn’t help her cry of dismay when a boy, just a few years older than her, came charging through the garden.  He was impeccably dressed for a boy his age with crisp linen and shiny boots.  His fiery red hair hung over his face as he ran towards Elain.

“Where is it?” he asked with obvious desperation.

“I--what?” Elain stared at him, this strange boy with a pal-mal racquet in one hand and determination in his eyes.

“The fox!  The blasted thing stole through the game and ruined my shot!”

Elain blinked. “You were startled by a fox?”

The boy scowled. “I didn’t say I was scared.”

“Then how did it ruin your shot?” she insisted.

“It ran out in front of me,” he replied.

“And you got distracted?”

“No!” The boy did not appreciate her at this moment, she could see that well enough. 

“Then what’s the problem?” she asked.

“It’s a menace,” the boy said.  He looked at her in earnest now.  Elain could see how bright his eyes were, rich brown like the fox’s.  His skin was a warm, rich color, darker than most in the -ton. “I want to catch it.”

Elain’s eyes widened. “What on earth for?  You wouldn’t hurt it would you?”

The boy started.  “Well, I suppose I don’t know.  I didn’t think that far.”

“You’re very strange,” Elain told him.

“Well so are you,” he said.

It was Elain’s turn to scowl.  How dare he!  He didn’t know her from Adam.

“I am a respectable young lady and I would ask that you treat me as such,” she said, and then lifted her chin in the air for good measure.

“You’re covered in dirt,” the boy said. “Ladies don’t roll around in the dirt.”

Elain glanced down.  It appeared he was right.  She’d knelt beside the roses pulling weeds earlier.  And then there was a mess of fallen branches in the hydrangeas.  Not to mention lavender.

“A lady is allowed her hobbies, and her discretion,” she said, perfectly mimicking her tutors.

The boy cocked his head. “I don’t know.  Still seems strange to me, you were talking to yourself too.  Or is that another one of your discretions you're allowed?”

Was he mocking her?  Elain couldn’t help her scowl, even with her mother’s inner monologue raging in her head.  

“At least I’m not running about like a savage waving a stick,” she said.

“It’s fun, you should try it,” he replied, “but ladies aren’t meant to be savages.”

“No,” she said, “they’re not.”

And then, for whatever reason, he grinned at her.  Something wild and bright and utterly different than what Elain ever saw on anyone.  He then swept into a low boy.

“Lucien Vanserra,” he said, “seventh son to the duke.”

The Duke? Elain stared at him.  Her father was a lord who managed funds and trades.  This boy, Lucien, so clearly outranked her in social standing that Elain could hardly even think.  Mother was going to be furious for being so forward and impolite to him.

“And you, my lady,” Lucien asked, his impish grin still in place. “Might I know of your name?”

If she didn’t tell him her name then he couldn’t tattle on her for being so uncivilized.  

Elain clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.  Not only would mother scold her, but she could also revoke Elain’s privileges relating to the garden, or baking.  If either of those things happened, Elain had no idea what she would do.  She would be forced to read.  Or paint. Or cross-stitch.

“Elain!” 

She started, terrified that her mother had found her out in the garden, dirty, talking to the duke's son of all things.  Hand clutched to her chest, she spun around, searching for who was calling for her.

Walking quickly down the path towards her was Nesta.  Barely a year older than her, Nesta was already so lovely.  Her dress was perfectly pressed and arranged, and her body, perfect for dancing, moved with perfect elegance.

“Elain, what are you doing?” Nesta demanded as she drew closer.

While Nesta wouldn’t tell their mother about this little venture, she would try and mother hen Elain the rest of the day.  Elain glanced at Lucien.  As if he could help.

All he did was offer another bow. “Lady Elain.”

And then he was scampering off the way he came.

“Elain!” Nesta finally stepped up beside her and took her arm. “Who was that?  What’s going on?”

“It was, I was,” she was at a loss for words.  In all her life, Elain always had the words for every situation. “There was a fox.”

Nesta did not like that answer.  She tugged at Elain’s arm, pulling her back to the manor.

“Come on, you have to change before mother sees you.”

There was no other choice than to follow.

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

i was halfway through writing this when i realized i had been basing it off this post except with a much less complex/interesting premise. although you can tell from the beginning initially the idea was going to be "lemony snicket up a ted lasso snippet" but then it spiralled out of control. anyway, enjoy? back to your regularly scheduled prompts in a bit.

(ao3.)

If you would like to hear something happy, you would be best finding another story entirely.

This story does not have a happy beginning, nor a happy ending. It is, if anything, the reverse of what an old friend once called “rom-communism”: rather than a dark forest our heroes must wander into and then fight their way out of, the middle is a bright clearing, and it is everywhere else that is the wood.

This old friend might be disappointed to hear me describe it in such a way. But this is not his story, at his own insistence, and he is not here.

Let us begin.

Once there was a sour old fox, with a bitter heart and shiny, thick coat of fur. He had been abandoned, a long time ago, and had never quite recovered. He had sharp teeth and a sharper tongue, and all the other animals grew to fear him.

The fox was caught in a trap of his own design, one he refused to escape from. He dragged it everywhere with him, even as his paws bled and the pain made him crueler.

One day, however, he was instructed to speak to a wolf with long whiskers, who had been put in charge of the local pack. The wolf was either a fool or a villain, and the cold-hearted fox suffered neither.

When he prepared to bite, however, the wolf was kind to him. No one had been kind to the fox in a long time, for the fox had grown to be unkind himself, and could no longer bear to be handled gently.

The fox withdrew his teeth, and pondered this for some time.

Soon, the fox realized that the wolf was neither a clown nor a knave, but truly a noble soul with a good heart. Touched by this, the fox squirmed from his trap, and began to follow the wolf with unsure steps.

Although the fox made many mistakes, even, once, turning his sharp teeth against the wolf, the wolf never attacked him, or threw him back into the cold woods he’d come from.

Indeed, slowly, the fox was brought into his pack, and grew used to being surrounded by warmth, to having a den that was safe and comfortable.

He wasn’t the only stray the wolf had brought in: there was a housecat, and an alley cat, a stray dog, a rat, and even another fox, and many other animals, not just wolves.

The pack was largely misfits, even the original wolves. And the fox wasn’t alone.

The fox mellowed, and with every moment in the wolf’s presence, admired him more. He had been tamed, you see, and although his teeth were not so sharp, so, too, had his heart been softened.

If this were a fairy tale or a fable, perhaps this is where the story would end. The fox in a den of wolves, curled comfortably, free of his trap.

But the world does not stop where it would be happiest to end.

The wolf, you see, had a cub, far away from here, a cub that he missed every day. The cub could not be brought here, nor could the pack be brought there. The yawning stretch between them hurt the wolf greatly. He had a hollowness in him that could not be filled by anything but the child.

And so one day, without so much as a proper goodbye, the wolf slipped from the den and vanished into the night, and broke the fox’s heart.

The fox was not angry, but he could not follow. And besides, he suspected that the wolf would not want him there.

The wolf was the one who had brought the fox into the pack, and so soon, with no one to keep him there or want him there, the fox ran away. He knew, logically, he had not been abandoned again, not in the same way, but he couldn’t help but feel it. He had been afraid, when that had happened, and he was afraid now.

He retreated to his old den, much smaller and colder, and curled up there alone. With his tamed heart and duller claws, the fox knew better than to venture far.

He missed the wolf. He missed the pack, and the den. But still, for all the food in the world, the fox wouldn’t trade away his time with them and return to before: he was still free from his trap, and although he would never be the same, perhaps that was for the better.

Love lost was better than love never had, he supposed—a sentiment the fox once would have scoffed at, but now felt with all of his broken heart.

Regardless, with dulled teeth and dulled claws, and winter approaching, the fox remained in his old den and slowly grew hungrier. Far away, the wolf returned to his old den, too, and although he missed his pack, he curled around his cub and felt whole again.

The fox’s den was snowed over, and although it was cold, he was too weak to move. He found he didn’t mind—he was numb, now, and the fox dreamt of better times and better places, until he passed into a dreamless sleep and never woke up.

The wolf was happy, far away, and that was enough for the fox, even until the day he died. As for the pack, some of them scattered, but most of them stayed together, and while they missed the wolf greatly, the fox’s absence was noted, but eventually forgotten. They healed, too, even if they would forever remember the wolf who had brought them together.

The fox’s bones lay under the snow until the summer melted it away, but so well hidden was the den that no one ever found it, nor did anyone ever try.

Such are the ways of foxes and wolves, who always return to their dens when winter approaches.

The end.

(That’s a terrible fucking story.)

It’s how it goes. Not all stories come out of the dark forest. Some end there.

(That’s stupid. Why would the pack just forget about the fox?)

He was just one little fox. Only the wolf, who had brought in many strays, noticed him there at all.

(No way! The other fox wouldn’t forget!)

The other fox had other animals to confide in, Colin.

(Other animals that would fucking miss the fox, too.)

I think you’re missing the point. Both of you.

(No, you’re missing the fucking point. Fuck the wolf. This isn’t about the wolf. It’s about the fox.)

Why do people keep insisting that? It’s not about the fox, it’s just from the fox’s perspective.

(Bullshit. It’s about the fox. The fox is just too in love with the wolf to see it.)

I know exactly what you are implying and I do not appreciate it.

(Oh, dropping contractions, are we? Come on. You know it’s fucking true, mate.)

I didn’t say it wasn’t. I said I didn’t appreciate it.

(You’re an idiot.)

…Yes, I’m well aware.

(No, don’t—fuck. I’m bad at this.)

…

(He also doesn’t know how to handle crying.)

(Oh, because you’re doing much better, with that fucking shoulder pat, Colin. Fuck. I just mean—the wolf isn’t the only one who liked the fox.)

Roy, I don’t think—

(They all love that fucking fox. And the fox doesn’t just miss the wolf, does he? Shouldn’t have fucking run away.)

Well, he did.

(Good thing the pack came to find him, then. Other fox included, by the way.)

…

(You’re a fucking idiot.)

Oh, thanks.

(Nah, nah. You just need a new ending for your story, boyo. Come on. The fox runs away…)

And dies. The end.

(We’re not killing off the fucking fox, Trent.)

We?

(We.)

Jesus Christ.

(Nope. Roy Kent.)

(And Colin!)

Fine. Fucking hell, then.

(The fox runs away… and when he’s off feeling sorry for himself, the whole pack shows up and fucking drags him back to the den by scruff of his scrawny neck.)

(Because they love him. And we—er, they—all miss C—the wolf.)

(But it’s better to miss him fucking together, or whatever.)

…Why are you here?

(You really have to fucking ask? We’ve been playing along with the whole fable thing, but despite everything, you’re not actually that fucking dense, Trent.)

(You haven’t been showing up to anything!)

I don’t work there anymore.

(Technically, you never did.)

Well, I work there even less now.

(We could change that if it really bothers you. But Keeley doesn’t work here either, and she still shows up when-the-fuck-ever.)

She’s dating one of you.

(Two.)

What?

(Look, it doesn’t matter. This isn’t about the wolf—Jesus fucking Christ.)

…

(…)

(…)

(I think you broke him.)

(As I was saying, this isn’t about Ted. It’s about you.)

(…You’re gonna give him a conniption if you make him say he loves you.)

(Colin, I swear to god.)

You didn’t have to do this.

(Shut up. We were always going to do this.)

…

(The fox deserves a happy ending, too, Trent.)

(Yeah, stop burying your gays!)

(Oh my god.)

(Am I wrong?)

What are you even suggesting?

(Come back.)

(Come home.)

…I’m sorry for leaving.

(We get it, boyo. Heartbreak’s a bitch.)

(You don’t need Ted to be here. Prick.)

Yes, I got that.

(Come on. Higgins is hosting some huge barbecue.)

(Yeah, it starts in about ten minutes.)                                    

And it’s just a coincidence that it’s starting in about ten minutes?

(Funny thing about coincidences.)

Sometimes they just happen.

(Exactly.)

[fallowsthorn]

Fakepatine Imposter AU

This is a series of ficlets from the Clone Haven server, after some discussion of what would happen if an Among-Us-style imposter replaced Palpatine without doing any research re: his extracurriculars. A thousand million thanks to the friend who wrote a script to convert Discord's special snowflake markdown formatting into HTML tags, which I had been banging my head against for ages and which was the main hurdle to uploading all these little extemporaneous snippets. (They did not want to be credited.)

Also for some reason tumblr no longer supports horizontal line breaks! Why would you do that! I need that! So I guess we're just doing the "extra empty lines means a new scene" thing.

somewhere along the way dooku tries to have fakepatine assassinated. fakepatine is entirely too fascinated by this and wants to help. fox says they're there to protect him, since fakepatine has so far distributed 100% less torture than realpatine. some shiny points out that technically, he outranks them and can do whatever he wants

"okay," says fakepatine, gets up from behind cover, avoids both the clones grabbing for it and the assassins firing at it, mimic-judders its way down the hallway faster than should be possible, and vanishes around the corner the assassins are hiding behind

there's a series of wet grinding and scraping noises and screams, and then fakepatine strolls back out looking none the worse for wear. "that was fun!" fakepatine says. "what's next?"

Fox rounds the corner and puts his hands on his hips, surveying the scattered pile of weaponry interspersed with occasionally recognizable small body parts. "Huh," he says. "Looks like it was a false alarm."

"Score," says someone whose name Fox definitely doesn't know and therefore will not have to discipline.

"Um," says Rift, their newest shiny, in the tones of someone who knows he's missing something but doesn't know how to ask what that is.

Fox takes pity on him. "See, if this were an Incident," he says casually, leaning down to free a rather nice dagger from the half-a-hand still holding it, "we'd be required to log all this as evidence and submit it to CoruSec to be put in a warehouse while we hunted down the perpetrators. But it's not." He flips the dagger over, eyes it, and nods to himself. "So if somebody just happened to leave a lot of really nice gear lying around, it'd be our job to take it to the Lost and Found." The same Lost and Found where items are legally up for grabs if no one claims them in a month.

"Oh, do you want these, too?" a new voice says brightly, and Fox turns to see whoever (or whatever) is pretending to be the Supreme Chancellor offering him two holdout blasters, both thankfully pointed at the ground. There's a short silence, during which everyone looks between Fakepatine, the pile of weapons and gore, and the significant distance (and multiple clone troopers) between the two. Fakepatine's smile acquires the fixed quality that means he doesn't understand why the Humans aren't Humaning correctly. Fox can relate.

"Where did he get those from?" someone whispers. Too loudly, because Fakepatine opens his mouth and takes a breath.

"PLEASE DON'T ANSWER THAT, SIR," Fox says in his best Command voice, and if there's an edge of hysteria to it, well, he dares anyone else to do better.

This isn't right. Something is going on with the Chancellor, and unlike Obi-Wan, who apparently just wants to star in a spy holothriller, Anakin is worried about both his friend and the leader of the Republic. He opens his mouth to ask straight out about it, because this dancing around it is getting them nowhere, but he's interrupted by the office's holoprojector chiming an incoming call.

"Ah, we should leave you to your work," Obi-Wan says, in a tone that implies... something. "You must be very busy."

"Nonsense!" Palpatine(?) says cheerfully. "Anakin at least is one of my closest friends, I have nothing to hide from either one of you." He grins at them a little, like he's sharing an inside joke. "Perhaps seeing a pair of Jedi Generals with me will make whoever it is get to the point faster, hmm?"

Maybe-Palpatine-or-maybe-a-shapeshifter-or-something turns away to answer the call, allowing Obi-Wan and Anakin to throw confused looks at each other. Palpatine usually cuts his meetings with Anakin short if he has to talk to someone else, not because he's trying to hide anything but because politics is a delicate job and he needs all his attention for it. Besides which, in Anakin's experience, seeing a Jedi immediately makes any given Senator harder to work with, not easier (with some exceptions, of course).

And then the call connects and Anakin just. Stares.

There's a long silence. Anakin sneaks a look at Probably-Not-Palpatine, who seems to be trying to keep his expression on the blank side of "crazed panicking," and then at Obi-Wan, whose expression actually is blank and whose Force presence has gone very still.

"Chancellor," Obi-Wan says, almost pleasantly, "why does the leader of the Separatists have your personal, heavily-encrypted comm frequency?"

Because standing in front of them, life-sized in washed-out blue, is indeed Count kriffing Dooku. Anakin has to clench his teeth together to suppress the hysterical laughter that wants to pour out of his throat.

To the credit of whoever's pretending to be Palpatine, they miss only a single beat before saying, in such a wildly confident voice that it's clear they're making this up as they go along, "Be...cause he's not the leader of the Separatists."

"He's not?" Anakin hears himself say, in unison with Obi-Wan. Dooku's mouth twitches like he had to stop himself from asking right along with them.

"He's not," Not-Palpatine confirms, suddenly serious. He fixes the two Jedi with a severe look. "But nothing you see here can leave this office, do you understand me? Count Dooku has been undercover as a spy for the Republic for almost the entire war."

Anakin glances at Dooku. If nothing else, at least they can be pretty sure whatever's happened to the real Palpatine isn't a Separatist plot, because Dooku clearly doesn't know what the kriff is going on either.

"Has he," Obi-Wan says, just as clearly not buying a word of it.

"Yes," Fakepatine decides, confident in the way of the desperate and poorly-informed. "Everything he has done has been in the service of the Republic, however it may seem."

"He cut my arm off," Anakin says faintly.

"And I'm sure he's very sorry about it," Fakepatine covers flawlessly, in exactly the same voice Anakin once heard a crechemaster use to explain that hitting is wrong. "Aren't you?" And then he looks at Dooku like he's actually expecting the man to answer.

Dooku looks at Anakin. Anakin shrugs minutely, indicating that yes, he finds this just as weird as Dooku does, and no, he doesn't have a better idea than just going along with it. Dooku blinks. "You have my most sincere apologies," he says, and then looks as surprised as Anakin feels that the statement wasn't entirely sarcastic.

"That's lovely," Obi-Wan says, suspicious and edging on furious, "but if the leader of the opposing faction is actually on our side, what are we doing fighting a war?"

Oh shit practically appears in neon above Fakepatine's head. He opens his mouth, but before he can speak he's rescued by Dooku, of all people.

"Nominal leader," Dooku says. Everyone swivels back to him. Anakin wonders vaguely if this is what being high feels like. It's extremely weird. "Who profits, in a war?"

Obi-Wan is doing his best impression of an overdue volcano, so Anakin hurries to supply the other half of the... lesson? "What do you mean?"

Dooku crosses his arms. "Wars are expensive. Not just metaphorically, but literally. They cost money. But those credits don't just vanish into thin air when they're spent; they get paid to someone. You've been to Separatist planets, you know that their galactic coordinates are the only thing stopping most of them from defecting to the Republic. They certainly aren't getting much out of it, so, if not them, who profits? Where is all that money going?"

"...the trade unions," Obi-Wan says, into the perfect silence that follows. "You think the trade unions have orchestrated a galactic civil war in order to profit off the sale of weapons to both sides."

"Weapons, supplies, armor, ships, reconstruction, anything and everything they can put a price tag on," Dooku says. "In fact, I know it. I just need proof."

"Which is why you must not even hint at this to anyone," Fakepatine says. It would be grave, except they've all forgotten he's there, and startle when he speaks. "We don't know who might be on their side. Do I have your word?"

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchange a look. Don't say anything, just nod after me, Anakin hears, right before Obi-Wan says, "Very well. On my honor as a Jedi Master, I will not share what I have learned here with anyone outside this room."

Anakin nods, wondering what Obi-Wan is up to, and allows Fakepatine to end the call and hustle them both out of the room. "Don't you want to tell the Council about this?" Not that he's generally in favor of the old coot brigade sticking their noses everywhere, but at this point, even Anakin has to admit they're in over their heads.

"Where do you think we're going?" Obi-Wan says, quietly enough that no one will overhear them.

Anakin frowns. "But you said--" His mouth shuts with a click. He'd said. Anakin hadn't promised anything at all.

Obi-Wan smiles grimly. "Precisely. I'm not going to tell the Council a thing. You are."

Mace is having a very long day. Mace has been having a very long day for about two years now. No one had ever told him that when he became Master of the Jedi Order, his unofficial title would be updated to Someone Else. As in, "that's Someone Else's problem." As in, "Someone Else will deal with this." As in, "let me go ask Someone Else." He's going to drown in paperwork one of these days and that'll be his epitaph: Mace Windu, Someone Else.

Which is to say that when Kenobi walks into Mace's quarters, way too chipper for ass o' clock at night, and says, "Ah, good, I thought Someone Else ought to hear about this," Mace thinks he can forgive himself for the brief but understandable urge to stab the man. He closes his eyes and releases the irritation and frustration to the Force. There is no peace, there is serenity. Er, wait. There is no passion-- Fuck it. There is no sleep, there is caf. Close enough.

"If this is about the supplies from Cato Nem--"

"The Chancellor found a bunch of Sith stuff," Skywalker bursts in, to the room and also the conversation.

Mace goes very still. "The real Chancellor or--" He stops himself from saying "Fakepatine" just in time. "--the imposter?"

"The fake one," Kenobi clarifies. He has perhaps left the realm of chipper and is fast on his way to the land of manic. "We still don't know where the real one is."

Mace turns back to Skywalker. "Found it where."

"In a secret room in his apartment," Skywalker reports, practically vibrating with concern. "This has to have something to do with what happened to him! The real him, I mean."

"If it does, why would Fakepatine comm us about it," Kenobi says wearily.

"All right," Mace says loudly, before they can descend into the fiftieth repetition of the argument that clearly led them here. "Council meeting, let's go." At least if a Sith Lord kills him, he won't have to fill out any more forms in triplicate.

In the end, every physically present Council member comes with them to meet Fakepatine in his fancy senator penthouse. They're wary, but honestly Mace can't sense anything from the man(?) besides worried confusion, and the Force is quiet, if... anticipatory. Which is unsettling in its own way, but not in a lethal one. Hopefully.

"When did you find this?" Mace asks. Two lightsabers rest on an office desk near a previously-concealed lift. He can feel the kyber screaming from across the room.

"Tonight, a few hours ago," Fakepatine says. "I've never seen any of it before in my life."

The thing is, he's not lying. Even the best liars can't hide themselves from the Force: to tell a lie is a form of division, between the self that knows the truth and the self that doesn't, and that duality is obvious. Shielding one's mind to hide the duality is also obvious. Fakepatine is doing neither.

"You live here," Allie points out.

Now it's there. "Um," Fakepatine says.

It's too early in the morning for this circus. "We know you're not the real Chancellor," Mace says bluntly.

"Oh."

"What did you do with him?"

"Um," says Fakepatine, wincing in a way that indicates Mace isn't going to like the answer. "I, uh. Ate him."

There's silence. "What the fuck," someone mutters.

Mace closes his eyes. "So no body, then."

"...No."

"If he was a Sith Lord, how did you ever get the drop on him?" Fisto asks. Mace notes with amusement that aside from Skywalker, who is bickering with Kenobi, no one is bothering to pretend Palpatine might have been innocent. Slimy bastard.

"Oh! Ah...." Fakepatine glances around the assembled Masters, like he's surprised they want to know. "I was pretending to be a clone. He called me into his office alone." He frowns. "Actually I think he was going to torture me. He was monologuing about something, but I wasn't paying attention, I just saw he had his back to me and. Went for it."

Went for it. Mace wants to sleep for the next thousand years. "He didn't notice your approach?"

"Oh, no, I've got a...." Fakepatine gestures vaguely. "Harpoon. Sort of. Thing. Would you like to see?" His jaw starts to work.

"NO," everyone else says, suddenly united in their desire to not see the Chancellor's face invert itself. "Maybe another time," Mace adds unconvincingly. Whatever. The hurt feelings of the bodysnatcher who ate the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, who was also probably the Sith Lord, are currently very low on his priority list.

"Hmm," Yoda says, which means Mace's workload is about to either double or evaporate. "Take the sabers now, we will. Much more to do in the morning, we will have."

Fantastic. It's both. Mace is blaming Skywalker, just on general principle.

[runekirikjartan]

Fox & His Shinies Part 17 Snippet

And here, we cover the Rako Hardeen Arc

Yet, Fox woke up that rotation with the hairs on the back of his neck raised, a sinking feeling in his gut that something was about to happen.

Then Kote’s general was assassinated by a bounty hunter.

General Kenobi wasn’t a man that Fox despised, in fact he wasn’t even someone Fox disliked. The General had given Kote a voice, had given many of the chaaj’vod a chance, a future. Fox had interacted with the general many times during briefings requiring the security of Coruscant, and there was that time the Duchess of Mandalore was a wanted monarch on Coruscant and Fox had corresponded with General Kenobi arranging her safety once everything had been fed through the appropriate channels. 

And he was killed on home soil. Fox’s home soil. Fox didn’t know if it was a slight against him, that he took it so personally, but he knew his got’vod would have been devastated by the news, and by the fact that only nat-borns were allowed at Kenobi’s funeral. 

[justleaf]

Maybe if I post a snippet I will write faster. Here goes nothing.

Reason of State if Isengrim and Iorveth were in it.

__________

A slow twist of the doorknob and quick yank. The door opened up to a richly carved hallway that ran the width of the brothel, lined with sturdy doors and chandeliers flushed far too close to the walls. The riotous evening had long since simmered into a slumbering morning quiet, interrupted only by the clop of handsome heels as the petite lady walked away from them. She led them into a room guarded by armoured, pompous dh’oine with shiny scabbards and decorated hilts. He suppressed his scoff at their stench.

"Boss is waiting," a guard grunted and pulled a concealed handle. A bookshelf swung open, and then he found himself staring at the side profiles of Djikstra, Thaler, and Vernon Roche.

Vernon Roche.

They locked eyes for a stunned moment. Then he turned and brisked towards the door before the vortex in his chest could consume him.

Isengrim reached out to grip his arm.

"Iorveth- Hear us out."

“Us. So you’ve already decided with your Sigi Reuven. This isn’t what you told me. I’m leaving.”

He snatched himself away and attempted a glare at his commander, unknowing that his expression betrayed every emotion. Behind them, he could hear the venom in Vernon's restrained whispers as he tore into Thaler. At least they’d both known to keep up appearances in the presence of others.

"Do you want to save our people or not." Isengrim’s features were cold and calculated and Iorveth knew was attempting to hit him where it hurt. He wasn’t that young and stupid and blind anymore.

"You gave me your assurance that you were working with him and him alone. You didn’t tell me there would be other dh’oine, and you especially didn’t tell me that they were Temerians.”

"We’ve been throwing ourselves at the wall for years, fox. We need dh’oine if we’re going to win against them.”

“You must really not know me, wolf. What makes you think I would work with the likes of them.”

The argument in the other room cut off when Vernon Roche stomped out. He took one glance at Iorveth and Isengrim blocking the entrance, and then made a beeline for the window. The guards watched, baffled, as he opened it surreptitiously and managed to get a leg out onto the ledge. Thaler scrambled behind him, catching his belt just in time as he attempted to tug him back into the room.

“For once I agree with Vernon Roche,” he huffed in amusement and turned to leave.

[corrie-guard-things]

Hi hi ! I would love to know more about Fox matchmaking services, it sounds like lot of fun xD

Hello hi! it IS a fun one !! the plot is that one of my ocs (Shiny who is very much not a shiny!!) falls in love with Bail and immediately makes that Fox's problem.

And of course, Fox loves his vod so he needs to help him with his seduction plans, and he arranges schedules and stuff to help Shiny spend more time with Bail.

It might end up as something of a 5+1 because ain't no way i'm writing transitions, but who knows

here's a tiny snippet with long suffering Fox :

“Commander, do you think Bail would prefer roses or camelias?” Fox sighed. ’84, now called Shiny, was draped over the uncomfortable, beat-up sofa that someone had dragged up to his office at some point. “How should I know?” The commander’s desk was covered in datapads, and it would not improve while he was answering Shiny’s stupid questions.

[skywalker-is-a-nerd-pass-it-on]

In a world where Revan is Mand'alor, Wolffe and the Wolf Pack is on Mandalore, and clones migrate towards the system. Fox just ran away from Coruscant. Snippet from an AU with @darthrevan-lord-of-the-sith

---

Fox's shuttle just touched down on the outskirts of Keldabe.

He's right on the edge of the ramp with little Rhea in his arms. Wolffe can see them both just standing there, and staring.

Fox tentatively takes off Rhea's sandals and lowers her to the ground. Her legs kick out the moment the green strands tickle her bare feet, avoiding the foreign material to the best of her ability. Wolffe just chuckles as he makes his way closer.

The moment Rhea is on the ground, however, she just sits there for a moment, stunned. Her chubby fingers brush the grass and she giggles at the tickling.

Two seconds later, and she's practically rolling in it.

Fox is tearing off his boots like a man possessed. Wolffe belts out an incredulous laugh.

Wolffe walks up to Fox who's just running his hands over the grass, sinking his fingers in deep to the soil.

Fox turns his head to stare up at him, scarred and tired face open wide in wonder.

"It's so green," Fox whispers in complete disbelief.

Whatever tease Wolffe wanted to say just lodged in his throat and he choked on it, chest tight. He took a deep breath, laying a gentle hand on Fox's limp, greying curls - like they were Shinies again. Fox stares up at him, equally surprised and knocked off-balance, eyes suspiciously glassy. Rhea's utterly delighted giggles ring in the air. Fox looks like he's halfway through the grave.

What the kark did Coruscant do to him?

"Yeah, Vod," he smiles, instead, bearing the ache in his heart with a heavy and furious promise, "It's pretty, isn't it? Welcome home."

[commanderfoxdeservesbetter]

Clone Wars: Therapy Sessions with a Fox Snippet

Fox stares at the picture in his hand, him and Thorn laughing without a care. It was taking by one of the nice Senators who accidentally caught them without their helmets on the first week they got stationed to Coruscant. Thorn’s eyes crinkle at the edges and for a second, Fox pretends that they weren’t 13 years old bred for a war they were never meant to survive.

Memories pass through his mind and Fox gets sucked into them as he says his remembrances. 3 year old!CC-1604 bumping into Fox as he tries to sneak away from training, them hiding out together in a storage room after a prank gone wrong on Alpha-77, CC-1604 sharing the name he chose for himself in an excited whisper (Thorn after the Mandalorian poem they heard from one of the trainers), Thorn sneaking food into the medbay when Fox gets sent there, Fox overriding the code to the outside so Thorn can run in the rain (dragging Fox along and ending up soaked to the bone), the trainings they did with Priest, Fox beating Thorn over and over again on one-on-ones (Fox unsure if Thorn let him win or if Fox was really that vicious), Fordo taking them to see the Alphas’ training, Thorn sitting next to him as Priest is publicly executed, Fox sneaking out to meet with Thorn after his new trainings with Jango, them sitting in a storage closet chatting about their possible stations, Thorn showing him his first tattoo that an Alpha did for him, Thorn kicking Fox’ ass and accidentally cutting his face open, Fox laughing in the medbay as Thorn freaks out (now he has a scar to identify him by like Cody), the Battle of Genosis, Fox frantically looking for Thorn and hugging his best friend when he notices he’s still alive, their last night sitting in the storage room before their assignments and exchanging comm codes, the excitement they share as they notice they’re both assigned to Coruscant (never making the connection that Fordo pulled some strings to get them assigned together), Fox and Thorn making plans in Fox’ new office, Thorn convincing Fox to smuggle a thrown out couch into his office, Fox and Thorn laughing as they leave 79s drunk, Fox protecting Thorn when a civilian throws a bottle at them on the way back to the barracks, Fox in the medbay getting stitches in his arm while Thorn makes jokes to distract him from the pain (and that this was their first attack by the very people they’re supposed to protect but never their last), Fox drinking with Thorn after a bad shift (shinies dead on the streets after a riot), their first night on the office floor after a Senator calls a Vod insults and having the gall to call the Chancellor when the Vod talks back, Thorn sitting with Fox as he signs his first decommission form, Fox and Thorn spending a whole two nights staying up and making rules for their men on Coruscant, Thorn beginning to steal caf from the Senators and hiding it in Fox’ office, Fox falling asleep on Thorn’s shoulder only to wake up an hour later to the Chancellor calling, Thorn nodding to Fox in the hallways, Fox seeing less of Thorn and more of the Chancellor, Thorn finding Fox on the ugly couch with a gun in his mouth, Fox crying after Thorn sits down and takes his out as well, Thorn and Fox in the dead of night making up a plan to see the stars after the war, Fox nodding to Thorn as they make their way to capture Fives, Thorn comforting Fox as he deals with the aftermath of shooting Fives, Fox giving Thorn a Keldabe before his Scipio mission, Fox learning of his death by the Chancellor, Fox stumbling to his office and grabbing his gun, Fox putting the gun to his mouth the same way he did when Thorn first found him but too cowardly to pull the trigger, Fox’ body shaking as he tries to draw his sobs back in, Fox silently screaming as he scratches his legs in an attempt to gain back control, Fox thinking of ways to kill the Chancellor without lifting a finger, Fox breathing in as he comms Vos, Fox stumbling out of his office to head to the Temple, Fox running in the streets body checking some civilians, Fox reaching the front of the Temple where Vos is, Fox entering the Council meeting, Fox begging on his knees for the Jedi to listen to him, Fox leading the way up to the Chancellor’s office, Fox shooting the Sith the minute he resists arrest, Fox losing control to the chip Fives had warned about, Fox scratching at his neck as his windpipe is crushed, Fox reaching out to Thorn as he slowly suffocates, Fox…Fox…“Fox?”

Fox looks up to see a different Vod than the one he desperately wishes for.

[space-blue]

Disaster Lineage Coffee Shop AU snippet

The 3am juice flows like thick ichor in my veins, behold :

There's a queue now, she's using all three heads on the machine and steaming blue milk by the litter to chain orders, but she can't cash up people or wrap their sandwiches. She's not a kriffing Besalisk, and Anakin, the intended second pair of arms, is late.

Luckily, 9am is about when her brain usually deigns to bring itself back online. She picks up the pace, makes small talk to keep her waiting customers engaged, and painstakingly crafts a proper insult in the back of her mind for when Anakin finally shows his face.

People are standing in the door now, waiting for their turn to torture her with their stupid early-morning-person orders (dekaf with green milk, a shot of pipiya and three artificial sweeteners, thank you!) ((Just go buy a smoothie at Dex's already, and forget our shop exists!!))

When commander Fox steps in with five of his boys at his heels, Ahsoka is torn. She loves them, but she can't do the drinks for a whole squad on her own while keeping the peace in such an overcrowded cafe.

But Fox takes one look at her and turns to his lads. 'You, you, and you,' he says, pointing fingers, 'somewhere else. Meet at the speeder.'

There are groans and half-hearted protests, but the three men shuffle out and the queue is that much shorter. There's a reason she loves them, and Fox is simply the best. Clearly aware of his surroundings, spreads the word about their place unprompted (Ahsoka even served the Pantoran senator last month! Came in saying Fox claimed there was "their kaf and then toilet water," then she laughed and turned all purple in the face and Ahsoka still isn't over the whole thing), and more importantly, he tips.

She doesn't know how clones have credits to spend on kaf and spares to tip her with, and she won't ask.

'Should you be alone?' Fox asks when their turn comes. 'Oh, and here's Tepid, our newest shiny at the Investigations Office. Don't ask about the name. What're you gonna have, Tepid?'

'Well, err—'

'He's gonna have a classic Corvalan blue, thank you Soka.'

Ahsoka beams at the man and sets herself to work. 'Three classics, one with double shots, and green milk for Thorn?'

'Ye—'

'Nah, Thorn's gonna be a good lad and have it blue like a normal person, so you don't fuss with your milk,' Fox cuts in again.

Thorn shrugs and slaps the shiny behind the ears to make him close his mouth.

'Come on Tep, let's wait outside.'

——

More to come soon! Maybe even tomorrow, god knows!

[eomereadig]

Snippet: Locked In With Me

Another fill for @whumpril because I apparently just like hurting Fox (and making him better again). This time the prompt was 'Why didn't you tell me?'

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Commander Fox & Commander Wolffe

Rating: T

Tags: whump, mentions of torture, mentions of malnutrition, implied/referenced neurodiversity, dissociation, selective mutism, there’s some stimming in there too, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, guilt, sensory issues, alternate universe - canon divergence, palpatine is dead

Full fic now avaliable here

As one week fell over into two, Fox’s bruises began to fade, slowly becoming yellow and giving him a sickly pallor. The force lightning scars were taking far longer but the healers had assured Wolffe that it was normal when he’d asked. Fox didn’t look so gaunt, either, which Wolffe was happy to see. According to the healers, that was mainly due to him no longer being dehydrated, but they were confident he’d be back to a healthy weight in a few months. 

Despite Fox’s physical recovery going well, the other man still hadn’t acknowledged Wolffe’s constant presence once. A trauma response, so the healers had told him, saying that Fox had retreated so far into himself that coming out in the blink of an eye was impossible. One day, he might, they’d said. 

Might being the key word. 

Wolffe tried to be patient. It wasn’t a strength he had, but by force he tried. There wre so many questions burning a hole in the roof of his mouth. Why had Fox never breathed a word of this? Why had he never said anything? He must have known Palpatine was a sith - the force lightning scars were a guarantee of that. Whatsmore, why were all the guards in such rough shape, down to their newest shinies? Sure, none were as bad as Fox himself but Wolffe baulked at the idea the whole GAR could have missed this. 

If Wolffe tried hard enough, he knew he would have been able to fill in some of those gaps on his own, but thinking about it made something small and guilty crawling around in his belly. He wouldn’t make Fox try to justify the torture he endured. And Wolffe knew apologising or trying to justify his own failings wouldn’t be much help, either. He and Fox were alike in more ways than different and neither were the type to grovel. 

On a whim, on one of Wolffe’s daily visits, he brought a blanket with him. Between the barracks and the temple, there was a shop he’d been eyeing up for some time; a large, fluffy blanket folded in the window in a muted orange that reminded him of Cody’s armour. Perhaps it would remind Fox of the same. 

He clutched it under one arm as he entered Fox’s room, smiling as the other man’s head twitched in his direction. That was all, but that was enough.

“Good morning. Nice day out, today.” He stepped into the room and the door slid shut behind him. Wolffe kept his voice soft and level, just as he’d done for the last week. “The senate are voting on operation rebirth this afternoon - there’s talk of a clone rights bill coming into force after that, when most of the heavy lifting is done and we’re no longer needed… I’m not sure how long it’ll take, but the Jedi seem hopeful.”

There was no response from Fox, but Wolffe hadn’t been executing one. He untucked the blanket from under his arm and all but presented it to his batchmate. 

“I err… I bought this for you… The beds are nice and all, but I thought you might like it…” Wolffe wasn’t the type to get embarrassed easily, but he felt his face beginning to heat up at such a silly thing. He cleared his throat and ripped off the ribbon that had been keeping the material neatly folded together. 

Shaking it out, he draped it over the foot of Fox’s bed. 

Fox’s fingers fluttered a little quicker before he began to wring his hands together. It was a movement Wolffe had seen some brothers do when they were nervous, but he wasn’t sure that was the case with Fox. 

At least Fox had heard him. A sliver of hope burned in Wolffe’s chest, a hope that Fox might actually have been in there somewhere, but he tried not to get carried away with it.

Full fic now avaliable here

[cyberfeather]

For the fanfic asks, 🖊 🌝 and 🌈(for any of your fics)?

Fanfic Ask Game

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

Here's a quick look at my next drabble for yaypril, featuring the Corries:

Although the offer is tempting, Fox shakes his head. It’s not something he can accept.

“It’s a gift from your batchmates. You should be the one to enjoy it.”

“And what if my way of enjoying it is by sharing it with my vode?”

“Then I’m sure there are plenty of shinies who would enjoy it more than I will.”

This time, Thire rolls his eyes, clearly growing tired of Fox’s excuses.

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

Alpha 17. I've started reading some clone wars comics where he appears and I love him already! Also, I really like the fandom headcanon of him acting like some kind of mentor/older brother figure to the commanders batch.

🌈 What inspired you to write [insert fic here]?

I'll go with my Grizzer saves the Republic fic, and basically what inspired me to write it was 1. Grizzer deserves to be praised and called a good boy 2. Palpatine should be dead. And so basically I just mixed that together and got a fic idea.

Thank you for the ask 💕