#back to coruscant

[curly-funk]

Humming, prepping to record a holo for @leavefoxalone.

“Evening Commander! Hope this message finds you well, sir.

(Beaming) I wanted to let you know that Bongo and I are due to ship back to Coruscant at 2300 hours. Kamino rains delayed our departure a bit, but we should be getting along shortly.

(Rubs back of neck shyly) Wanted to thank you for visiting us on Kamino- it was great having you for those few days (even if your trip did get cut short thanks to senate turmoil).

See you soon, sir! Curly out.”

#commander fox #curly & bongo #corrie guard #bongo the massiff #massiff #from kamino to coruscant #back to coruscant

[rooksunday]

the image of an exhausted commander fox, sitting in his office, throttling a datapad and yelling WHY IS MY JOB SPREADSHEETS?? before yowling like a space banshee and frisbeeing the thing through the open window with all the force of kamino-guaranteed strength bolstered by buereaucratic rage, where the datapad sails merrily and speedily for a longer distance than many would credit before impacting with concussive force against the surprisingly soft skull of emperor palpatine, gladhanding for the press in the courtyard of the senate below

the resulting explosion is caught on many cameras

#pan back to fox in his office furiously jabbing at datapad number two #oblivious #stuff explodes on coruscant more often than you'd think and thorn will ping him if it's important #(thorn was on chancellor guard duty but had been shooed off in favour of the CSF) #(one of the shinies had to commandeer water from a passing civvie because thorn laughed so hard he started to choke) #(he recognised the lime tooka sticker on the bottom of the murderpad in the picosecond before the impact) #coruscant guard #fox can have a little manslaughter as a treat #commander fox #commander thorn #star wars #the clone wars

[varpusvaras]

The Alderaanian Royal Guard gets really protective of the Coruscant Guard. Like. Really protective. At some point the people start treating the Corries better if only because they know that there is always an Alderaanian somewhere in the vicinity. Sometimes it's the Senator himself. Once or twice it was the Queen. But there is always at least one member of the Royal Guard there. Somewhere. For people who say they are pacifists, they seem really bloodthirsty.

After a while, people are starting to figure out that they might've been just supressing any murderous intents up until now, and it's better if you don't tempt them too much.

(The word got out at some point that Fox was dating the Queen and the Senator and that it was serious. The Royal Guard immediately turned on the Prince treatment. Fox bluescreened the first time one of them opened a door for him.)

#there's that one kdrama #where the crown prince mc tells his men to protect the fmc #becuause she's their future queen #and that's what the captains in the alderaanian royal guard now tell their men #that the commander is their future prince and it's their duty to protect him #since he's an organa in all but name already #but yeah the guard gets put into ships and flown over to alderaan after the war #they have been already allocated families over there haha #the royal guard is like alright everybody grab at least three! more if you can #and then come back for a second round! #sw #tcw #coruscant guard #alderaanian royal guard #commander fox #bail/breha/fox

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

okay hear me out...

fan made visual novel where the reader is the new chancellor of the republic after sidious dies under mysterious circumstances. (*coughitwasyoucough*) all the various jedi and sith are alive. the clone wars continue. multiple endings, morality system, dating options. 🤓

(art credit: photomanip of imperial throne and maul from comics, cleaned up and spliced together with a ui.)

#renpy is not hard to make visual novels in #it would just need a writing team and an art team #maybe like 6-8 people total #star wars #sith #darth maul #chancellor of the republic #Coruscant #tcw #clone wars #the clone wars #commander fox #would get so much screen time #do you use the clones? ... you know the codes.... #do you have the jedi? or destroy them on your path to power? #do you unite the sith into a new order? #do you haul anakin back to mortis and sit him down? #or do you fall in love with him #and have padme assasinated to get her out of your way? #... or is it padme your heart desires? #hmmmmmm

[tennessoui]

Kit the way your mind works! Absolutely howling at Anakin confessing to being married and the council thinking its Obi-Wan 😂 While Anakin's panic is delicious please consider he gets himself blown up afterwards and shoved in a bacta tank so Obi-Wan comes back and everyone's very nice and sympathetic about it but as a Master he really should have been the one to confess first 😬 So Obi-Wan has a few weeks of trying to convince people unsuccessfully without Anakin, even bringing in Padme to confess. By the time Anakin wakes up Obi-Wan has accidentally had Anakin's wife labelled as his beard, no one believes him, and Anakin has to deal with the fallout then

ooo haha this is so funny but i gotta stick with this being a disaster almost entirely of anakin's design because i find that funniest

also im just imagining obi-wan coming back from a standard mission and he's like 'and that's the end :) i saved the day 😇 you're welcome' and the council is like yes yes good job kenobi now you can go kiss your husband.

and obi-wan is like. what.

and master kit fisto is like knight skywalker told us that you were married while you were away. we think he was pining.

and obi-wan is like. what.

and master windu is like we discussed it and normally marriage is frowned upon but you ARE the galaxy's favorites and also our favorites sorta most of the time so we're going to look the other way this time. you're allowed to stay married to skywalker.

and obi-wan is like. what.

and master yoda is like allowed to stay married you are, if invited WE are to the vow renewal ceremony. no fun secrets are, lest shared with everyone they are.

and obi-wan just gets up and leaves and master plo koon is like obi-wan where are you going?

and obi-wan is like to become a widower!!!!

#asks #kit's silly lil aus #obikin #but you know i love that trope where someone's gravely injured and the other rushes to their side #so a la cheating au maybe anakin is gravely injured out in coruscant and the medics take him to a civilian hospital #and obi-wan rushes to his side but they won't let him back to see him #so he tells them anakin is his husband #and that changes things lol #meanwhile padme gets there an hour later and the medics are like his husband is with him now #and she's like. what.

[wantonlywindswept]

so i won’t write it because...well, because why would i write about jedi when clone troopers and mandalorians are right there

but i often see quinlan vos (shoutout to QV, who i only know through fic but you seem like a delightful character) assigned to the Guard in a ‘the guard FINALLY gets their own jedi’ story, and those (or with other jedi) stories are Extremely Rad but i don’t think i’ve seen one yet

where anakin is the one assigned to the Guard?

like it makes so much sense, palpatine would be able to keep his future apprentice close in his creepy way, and nobody can bitch about the Guard not having jedi oversight (including the Guard themselves) bc look, there is one! nevermind that he’s off with his super-secret wife most of the time or anything

and that could go a couple interesting ways, including veering straight into the deep end of despair and the guard knowing there’s no way out and no one to save them

or maybe anakin notices and tries to stop it because he knows what slavery looks like

or maybe the guard notice how creepy palpatine is toward anakin and try to stop that

maybe obi-wan comes to visit his padawan in the guard offices and goes ‘wow the vibes in here are RANCID’ and does shit about that

idk i just think it’s an interesting dynamic that could be explored, particularly in the aspect of anakin and fox both having palpatine’s attention but for very different reasons and for very different purposes with very, very different consequences.

...someone else should explore that, ftr. i’ma be over here playing with space marines

#tcw #coruscant guard #anakin skywalker #commander fox #someone else should write that #*bonks various clone/mando helmets together* #'but the jedi and lightsabers and the force!' #no! the intimacy of conveying emotions through armor! #squads who have been to hell and back and would die for each other! #commanders that would do anything to save their people! #the solidarity of knowing someone has your back! #look i have a soft spot for highly skilled military types with fuckoff armor and borderline death wishes #aliens was a very formative influence

[rexsterr]

funky little meme redraw to start off this new blog:

hardcase and his taped-up nerf gun of doom

original:

#clone trooper hardcase #tcw hardcase #clone trooper #clone troopers #the clone wars #umbara au where he just obliterates krell with this and comes back to coruscant a war hero

[thesummoningdark]

The fundamental problem with trying to write an AU where Granny Weatherwax is a jedi is that the Jedi Order could not exist in its canonically depicted form if she was. She couldn't be having with any of this. She would have kicked Yoda's wrinkly green ass decades ago. Search your feelings, you know it to be true.

#you could make it work if she'd fucked off to be a weird jedi hermit at some point I think #but man #the second she heard the jedi were leading clone armies into battle #she'd be storming back to Coruscant to knock some sense into the council

[somestorythoughts]

Radioactive Eldritch Jedi

Okay so when I say radioactive. The Force is primordial and eldritch and the jedi (and any other force users of a comparable level) resonate with the echoes of this primoridal of-the-world-and-yet-not-the-world energy like your body when you’re so close to a marching bacd you can feel the drums in your bones and they’re not the music or the instruments, they’re only the echo thereof, but the echo of something from the depths that bore the universe is still A Lot.

And when you look at them. There’s teeth that aren’t there the next minute, you could count them again and again for half an hour and never get the same number twice in a row. And that’s not mentioning when their teeth don’t fit in their mouth, don’t match each other, when there aren’t teeth in their mouths but claws...

That’s just one element of their face which is one element of their body.

You can smell them, even the species that don’t have particularly good senses of smell though it is far more distracting for them. Something fresh with light or rotting with dark, herby or sea salty or citrusy or floral and threaded with sweat or blood or sex to suit whatever they’ve been doing and it wouldn’t be remarkable except they smell simultaneously like their species and like something else entirely in a way that is clearly but indescribably not caused by soap or perfume or oil.

There’s a resonance in their voices. Something like there’s a drumbeat in their throat, like they’re speaking with the vibrations of a song you’ve always heard without knowing it, but always perfectly understandable. The sound of jedi singing in harmony with feeling has reduced cities to tears of joy or tears of pain, blood dripping from their ears in mirror of their tears.

Don’t get me started on their shadows, on the way they move in the dark

And they’d be leaking this strangeness 24/7 except they keep themselves so tightly shielded, not only hiding themselves so that they appear uncanny and not terrifyingly Other (they’ve been there time and time again and it is a problem. There are Consequences) but also keeping any of this force-energy-resonance leaking out into the world. Places where force sensitives have lived a long time thrum like a pulse, are touches with the energy of generations of force users relaxing enough to let their shields lower and their selves to leak and brush the walls and tables, etching their presences into the place like fire into wood, and when this touches people it changes them.

Not immediately. Not quickly. It can take months for anything to change and this is why jedi keep their shields maintained, because if you’re fully shielded nothing will happen, and this is part of why attachments are risky, because the emotion can affect the shields can change the one you love, because to say you love a jedi is not the same as accepting all that they are and being willing to change along with them because you can’t dodge that forever, and saying you’re willing to do this isn’t the same as being willing.

The changes aren’t quick, and not as Eldritch as the jedi, but they are permanent and definitely Other.

When shields crack or break, when a jedi lashes out with the force, it brushes an imprint on everything around them (those with any kind of vision skills can find this difficult or comforting to deal with, like a too-large gulp of hot tea) and a few times on the same thing doesn’t matter. Genuinely. Repeition is an entirely different matter.

War is hell. 

War is hell, and the jedi are holding on to each other for support, clinging interlocking arms, but they’re scattered around the galaxy and it’s so hard to actually reach each other.

Sometimes to know you’re supported isn’t enough. Not when you can’t reach their shoulder to lean on, for just a moment.

And the clones are going through hell with them, are dying around them, and they reach out to support the jedi who are doing their best not only to help them survive but to help them live in a war that wants them dead for a senate that doesn’t care and the jedi recognizes them as people so they reach out and the jedi can’t help but reach back.

The clones catch them when they fall, love them in different ways each as sure as the tides, and the jedi relax into it without realizing. Their shields crack over and over again because war is hell, but they also find them relaxing them, instinctively and unconsciously, because so little is certain but the clones’ willingness to go to hell and back for them is one of them and they feel safe.

And the echoes of the force that resonate in the heartbeats-nervepulses-bloodflows of the jedi leaves imprints on the clones that rises like paint added layer by layer and it changes them.

The clones don’t have a childhood of familiarity to fall back on, much less the shielding techniques to keep them looking “normal.” What they have is legions of brothers willing to support each other come hell or high water or unending clankers and jedi who at first beg their forgiveness for changing them (because it wasn’t supposed to happen and because they like how they are but everyone already sees them as strange and to beg forgiveness for making them like them is many jedi’s first instinct) then teach them how to hide it when they need to and the comfort of singing together, their voices ringing through their ships in tune with the thrumming in their blood, bone-deep.

#i am back on my bullshit #too many good ao3 fics made me obessed #the thing about their smells is inspired by a fic by @bitter-chocolate-stars #so for clarity #i wouldn't say for certain that this doesn't happen to padme #but it happens a hell of a lot slower because the war keeps them apart often and because #she's not around anakin as often when he's overwhelmed enough to leak force energy on a regular basis #so there isn't the time and less of the situation #though there are probably some small changes by the end of the war #also about the coruscant guard #palpatine would have to be VERY certain the jedi were ignoring them to do anything sithy in their prescence bbecause it'd leave an inprint #he might still be a bastard but he'd be cautious #about that at least #incidentally if they ended up with quinlan vos or other shadows and the same thing happened to them as to the frontliners #palpatine would probably catch on and be like oh shit #and put whatever he was making them do on the down low #because if jedi are around the guard enough to change them that's an issue for him cause they're now watching #star wars #clone wars #eldritch #eldritch jedi #the force is eldritch #eldritch clone troopers #kinda at least

[purgetrooperfox]

exhaustion

rating: T

summary: Fox has been running on fumes for days, counting down the time until he can drop onto the nearest horizontal surface and finally sleep.

characters: Commander Fox, Commander Thorn, Sheev Palpatine, Clone Medic Nocte, background characters

warnings: Palpatine being a bitch, mild language, referenced drug dependence

tags: sleep deprivation, canon-typical mistreatment of the clones, flawed coping mechanisms, way too much caffeine, slice of life (unfortunately)

edit: happy belated birthday to this fic apparently

Ten more hours.

Three more meetings.

One more shift.

Counting down the time remaining until he can collapse onto his bunk - or more realistically, onto his couch - doesn’t help Fox stay alert, but it does give him a light at the end of this tunnel of exhaustion. He’s in a security meeting with Thorn and a handful of the Senate Guard, and all he can think about is getting out and inhaling another thermos of caf. Nocte would have a fit.

Inhaling sharply, Fox narrowly manages to snap awake before he falls asleep on his feet. At his side, Thorn shifts just enough to brush their pauldrons against each other. It’s well-intended, but Fox’s balance isn’t what it should be.

He sways.

The Senate Guard captain notices. Finally. Fox had been concerned by his utter lack of situational awareness. “Are you well, Commander Fox?”

Still, he would rather not have to bullshit an answer. “Of course,” he says. “I’m waiting for the point of this conversation. We’re all aware of the potential ramifications of a leak in your division, and there are contingency plans in place for that very eventuality. My Guard is prepared to implement those plans. Is that what you’re asking of us? Is there some problem in the Senate Guard that would prevent your compliance with established security regulations?”

Thorn tenses. Fox doesn’t. He’s too tired, and he has enough of a reputation to talk down to lower ranking officers. Sometimes. As a treat. And he’s right. This entire meeting could have been dealt with via holo-message.

The captain doesn’t sputter, impressing Fox for the first time since this meeting began. “As I said, the Senate Guard is dealing with a staffing shortage—”

“And you want to supplement your ranks with my men?” Fox interrupts, well aware that he’s treading a fine line, but honestly. “Subcontracting is banned for clone troopers, per GAR Regulation 300.251.34.”

“Does this count as subcontracting?”

Fox’s eye flutters in the privacy of his bucket. “Yes. Per GAR Regulation 300.351.35, clone troopers are prohibited from seeking employment outside of their assigned battalions unless expressly reassigned by a commanding officer or the Supreme Chancellor. That includes unpaid employment and contract work.”

Now, the captain’s expression settles into a glare. Fox wishes he could remember this one’s name, but who can tell nat-born officers apart, anyway. “Then I can—”

“Before you attempt to give that order,” Fox says drily, careful not to yawn, “allow me to remind you that you are not part of my chain of command, and that as Rear Mashal Commander, I would outrank you if I was. Is there anything within the confines of the law that I can do for you, Captain?”

“Evidently not, Commander,” he snaps. Fortunately, this particular officer doesn’t have the pull to make a case to the Chancellor about this meeting. Nothing inspires like fear of ratting oneself out.

Rolling his shoulders, Fox shifts out of parade rest and swears he can hear his joints creak with the motion. “Then we can call this meeting adjourned. Best of luck populating your ranks, Captain. Don’t hesitate to contact me if your leak is not resolved within twelve hours.”

He should wait for the Senate Guards to leave before following suit, but he’s tired and irritated and under-caffeinated. So he goes first with Thorn on his heels.

Three more meetings.

Thorn is practically vibrating in his boots by the time they get to the mess. Fox makes a beeline for the caf machine and thanks all the gods that it’s working today, spitting unappealing sludge into his thermos.

“You’re going to either get yourself decommissioned or give yourself a heart attack,” Thorn informs him when he slides into the seat across from Fox at a table, all but slamming his tray down. “You look like shit. When was the last time you ate? How many of those have you had today?”

Fox shakes his head minutely and regrets it immediately when the motion sends the room around him into a tailspin. “I ate this morning.” He takes a gulp of his drink, ignoring the way it burns. “I need to stay awake and Nocte won’t give me stims anymore. So. Caf it is. Quit worrying.”

“Quit worrying,” Thorn mutters, clearly intending to keep worrying. “The crash will be as bad as the sleep-deprivation itself. Don’t say no one warned you.”

Unfortunately, Thorn isn’t wrong. Fortunately, Thorn’s shift is ending so he won’t be around to keep reminding him.

Nine hours and change.

Stone tentatively offers to trade his rotation in the Senate Dome for Fox’s next meeting. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to offer at all, but Fox can’t quite resist the temptation of being able to lean against a wall instead of standing upright. The CSF commanders aren't terrible, relatively speaking, so he doesn’t feel too guilty sending Stone in his place.

The Senate is debating pumping more money into the Republic war machine. Palpatine is in favor, so the debate itself is mostly about optics. Let the dissenters think they have a voice. Fox doesn’t know much about politics, but he’d figured that democracies would be less rigged than this.

(That’s not strictly true, he thinks, he probably knows more about politics than most civilians. And most of the GAR. And some politicians, for that matter. Proximity goes a long way.)

Crossing his arms and leaning into a back corner of the Dome, Fox lets his mind wander.

Nine more hours.

His vision swims if he’s not careful to blink the fog away. The caf both helped and hurt his situation. He’s more awake, but he’s jittery and anxious. It’s dampened by the heavy weight on his shoulders, in his bones, trying to drag him down to the floor, but his hands shake. His hands never shake.

Despite the churning of his stomach and the fine tremor in his fingers and the raucous shouting of Senators, Fox tilts his head sideways against the wall and drifts. It’s not sleep, but shutting his eyes helps slow the spinning of his head.

Every so often, the sensation of falling jerks his awareness back to his surroundings. It seems cruel. Like taunting. To edge so close to rest only to be yanked back to where he started. He wants to curl up on the floor and give up this fruitless battle against his body’s needs.

He drifts.

“Fox?” A hand wraps around his arm and squeezes, startling him. Fox jerks backwards, but there’s already a wall at his back. He blinks several times, trying to clear the blur from his vision. His eyelids are heavy. One of Thorn’s kids is hovering a hand over Fox’s shoulder. Gab. “You alright, boss?”

Fox grunts noncommittally and pushes fully upright. By some miracle, he doesn’t immediately collapse. The chrono in the corner of his HUD mocks him.

Seven more hours.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Two more meetings.

Palpatine’s voice melts into a droning monotone sometimes. Fox has picked up tensing and relaxing the muscles in his neck and shoulders to keep himself awake. Alert is a tall order at this point, but he’s really trying.

There’s an angsty electro-pop song that Thire’s been playing in the mess looping through his head.

Fortunately, this isn’t a one-on-one meeting. It’s more of an overblown security shift, since there are probably a dozen Senators lounging throughout Palpatine’s office. They're sipping on wine that’s worth more credits than Fox’s entire life and discussing how to best balance the budget for the new year.

All Fox can think about is the absurdity of this war entering its third year. These meetings never address the death toll, but why would they? It isn’t a death toll if the soldiers aren’t sentient. Just like the Seps, the Republic Senate talks about loss of units in terms of the financial risk of increasing or decreasing production.

Deliberately unclenching his jaw, Fox relaxes his shoulders.

Thorn keeps telling him that he should cut some of the ‘better’ Senators some slack. That it’s all relative. Still, even as Organa and Amidala and Chuchi sit in this meeting and argue against funnelling more credits into the GAR, they concede that the Republic can’t fall too far behind when the Separatists are building more battle droids every day. What good is publicly railing against the war when they fan the flames of conflict behind closed doors.

Something something, political pressure, blah blah, playing the long game.

The clones have no long game to play. Not when their life expectancy is thirteen years and dropping as shinies get deployed younger and younger. Surviving two years after leaving Kamino is an accomplishment. It makes them old by comparison. The youngest of Fox’s new batch of shinies is nine and probably won’t live to see eleven. Amidala came by and met them, which is more effort than most Senators make, but it’s still superficial. It’s not enough.

Fox doesn’t have the emotional space to cut slack to politicians who only do the bare minimum.

He flexes his jaw and it pops loudly, thankfully silenced by his helmet. Simmering frustration and helplessness wring him out, leaving his head and limbs aching. He needs another caf. Or a nap.

Four more hours.

That’s manageable. He’ll see the other side of this shift, if not the other side of this war.

His mind wanders.

A delicate hand wraps around his upper arm, squeezing ineffectually against plastoid. Fox lets out a breath and opens his eyes to see Amidala watching him with naked concern. In front of Palpatine and his Red Guard.

He switches his vocoder back on and very carefully doesn’t snap, “Can I help you, Senator?”

Amidala blinks, and Fox isn’t sure what she expected. “I just wanted to make sure you’re well, Commander. I can’t imagine these meetings are particularly interesting or easy to listen to.”

Fox hadn’t been listening. That’s the trick to not going absolutely insane when in proximity to the Senate. “I’m fine, ma’am, it’s part of the job.”

“Still, I was hoping you would join me for a caf in my office. I wanted to get your thoughts on a few potential reforms to procedural treatment of GAR troopers, and the Coruscant Guard in particular.”

It feels like bait. If any other Senator invited him back to their office for a private meeting– Fox shoves that thought away. He starts to politely decline and nearly chokes on the words. Frigid cold spikes up his spine.

No, he neither can nor wants to hear this potential reform.

“To my knowledge, there's no need to address the treatment of the troopers. We’re happy to serve and are treated fairly by the Senate and our superior officers.”

There’s no reason for anything to change. The clones are treated as what they are, weapons to be aimed and fired at the discretion of the Republic.

For a half-second, Fox wonders where that chain of thoughts came from.

“I see,” Amidala says and retracts her hand. For reasons unknown, the loss of contact makes pressure build behind Fox’s eyes. Has any nat-born ever touched him without intent to harm? “Feel free to contact me if you change your mind.” She turns to Palpatine and ducks her head. “Good evening, Chancellor.” And then she’s gone.

Fox ignores the discomfort that always coils around him when he’s left alone with Palpatine.

“I’m pleased to hear that you and your men are being treated fairly,” he says with a smile.

“Yes, sir.”

“I hope you’ll take care to bring any concerns directly to me, Commander.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Fox snaps off a salute and lets his legs carry him from the office on autopilot.

Four more hours.

One more meeting.

He can do this.

“We can’t expect you clones to keep us safe!” some Core world Senator shouts, bare inches from Fox’s visor. Fox glances at the spittle flecked across his HUD with disaffected apathy. “If there is truly an information leak in the Senate Guard, the heart of the Republic is in jeopardy! We should issue a state of emergency!”

He’s been on this tirade for a while now and shows no signs of calming. This is really not in Fox’s purview. “I assure you, Senator, the Coruscant Guard is fully prepared for every eventuality. We're very thoroughly trained on the security protocols to be implemented if and when a leak is confirmed.”

That Senate Guard captain didn’t have the authority to complain to the Chancellor, but he did have enough to file one to the war council. Fox can acknowledge that he probably brought this on himself.

“Then why does Captain Braelig tell me that the Guard has been uncooperative with his attempts to bolster security?”

Thirty minutes. Then two hours on patrol.

He can do this. He has to do this.

“The captain’s request was in breach of GAR regulations, sir. I can’t legally rent my troops to the Senate Guard.”

The Senator scowls, rough and ugly. “And I’m to believe your word over his? Is it so incredible to worry that your programming has been tampered with?”

Another Senator, thankfully still seated, nods at that. “It’s not as if we know the details of the clones’ programming. For all his wisdom, the Chancellor is hardly an expert in these matters. Surely there's some risk of interference.”

Fox sighs quietly and it makes his head spin. He doesn’t know how to say that it doesn’t work that way without offending someone, and he can’t offer the Kaminoans’ expertise without risking an impromptu trip back to Tipoca. It’s hard to think through the near-suffocating weight of exhaustion.

Evidently, he takes too long to formulate a response. The spit-spewing Senator snarls and jerks a hand up to take Fox by the brim of his helmet, and it takes every scrap of his self-control not to snap the man’s arm. Programming, his ass.

“Listen, clone. I’m going to need some kind of insurance if the Senate will be relying on you in the case of this security breach.”

Fox goes to offer some empty reassurance, but the Senator is out of patience. Very abruptly, the safety of Fox’s helmet disappears, yanked harshly off his head and flung to the floor. Gone is the chrono he’d been watching for three shifts in a row, and the pending message notification from Thorn, and the noise muffling filter over his ears, and the live update feed from his upper ranks. He watches it roll toward the door and wishes he could follow it.

Clearing his throat against a rising lump, he raises his gaze back to the Senator and pointedly ignores the disgust on his face. He knows he looks like banthashit, thanks. “I’m sure I can get ahold of the Kaminoans’ product quality guarantee and the ongoing quality control measures that have been in place since the beginning of the war. Sir.”

“See to it that you do,” the Senator spits. Fox squeezes his left wrist until he swears he feels his bones creaking, but he doesn’t wipe his face. “I’ll need that by end-of-day.”

Kindly, Fox doesn’t point out that it’s past end-of-day because this meeting was scheduled for karking 2000 hours.

“Gods, are you all so poorly composed under those helmets?” a third Senator asks, probably rhetorically, given that there’s no right answer.

“Unprofessional is what it is,” the one in his face says. “I’ll be informing the Chancellor.”

Fox can’t sigh or squeeze the growing blur from his vision without the privacy of his bucket. He also can’t quite follow the rest of the conversation, sinking down and back into a corner of his head. It’s just about all he can manage to keep his knees locked so he doesn’t drop.

An indeterminate period of time later, the Senators file out of the meeting room. Fox makes the mistake of closing his eyes and nearly topples when his balance is upended. Bending to pick up his bucket adds a swell of nausea to the beaten down ache in his joints. He slots it back on his head and steps out into the halls. The sun has long since set.

Two hours on patrol.

His HUD is out of focus.

He can—

No.

No, he can’t.

His knees buckle underneath him and he collapses, lost to the world before he even hits the ground.

Fox wakes up slowly, feeling like a brand new man.

Nocte notices immediately, which is to be expected.

“Fox,” he says, utterly deadpan, “you’re a fucking idiot.”

Which is fair, but also isn’t really. “I didn’t ask for that many shifts back-to-back,” he tries to defend himself.

“Yeah, but you also didn’t ask literally anyone to cover literally any of it, idiot.” Without preamble, Nocte stabs a hypo into Fox’s thigh harder than seems necessary. “Do I even want to know how much caf you drank? The point of not giving you stims wasn’t for you to try to make up the difference with caffeine. If you come in here with substance-induced heart palpitations again, I swear to the Force I’ll just leave you out in the hall.”

Fox almost laughs out loud at that, feeling lighter than he has in days. “No, you won’t.”

“No,” Nocte agrees with a scowl, “I won’t. What were you thinking?”

He never considered passing his work onto anyone else, but that’s the wrong answer here. “Well, I have a whole rotation off now.” Unless any of the other commanders need a shift covered.

Nocte sighs. He probably knows that unspoken caveat better than most, given how often he steals shifts from his patients. “Do you need the lecture about stimulant use in conjunction with high anxiety and the risk of long-term heart problems? Again?”

“Nope,” Fox says. “You’ve scared me straight. No more stims.”

“Sure. Of course.” He doesn’t sound convinced. Despite feeling more rested than he has in recent memory, Fox’s awareness starts sliding away again. “Are you falling asleep again? Great, I’m putting you on medical leave for an extra rotation. So. Suck on that, Commander.”

#this is an oldie but i just went back and edited it a bit today so idk here you go #leo.writes #commander fox #how do you tag fic on this site #coruscant guard #waugh this is OLD old i'm scream. like a whole year #brb gotta have an existential crisis

[hastalavistabyebye]

Well. I may have pop a lil fic as a warm up (thank you @cocotter for unblocking the dopamine by simply tagging me on the WIP game, it helped me passing from just thinking of little stories to actively wanting to write them, so yeah thank you so much)

It's a little Fox-centered fix-it fic about how he live this newfound peace time after the war. I might post it once I deemed it completely over if it interest some people ! I just really want to talk about it because I have a lot of fun working on it ☺️

Anyway, got some other ideas I should definitely try to work on so it may not be the only ramble post I'll do 🤔 (I surely hope so at least !)

#the clone wars #tcw #commander fox #fix it fic #coruscant guard #hasta rambles #im just really hyped ok ? #it feels nice to go back to writing #if only the dopamine would let me do that all the time #but i always end up forgetting how nice it is #anyway finger crossed itll stick #but with all the ideas i have it should be ok

[varpusvaras]

Bail, looking up at the Alderaan night sky from the Palace balcony: the stars really are beautiful tonight

Breha: Yes, they really are

Bail: You know who else is beautiful?

Both, at the same time: Commander Fox

#Fox back at Coruscant: I feel like I need to sneeze but in a really good way wtf #anyway those two are completely whipped for their boyfriend and they are not ashamed of it #bail/breha/fox #sw #commander fox #bail organa #breha organa

[i-need-more-caf]

Privacy? Who is she? Clearly no one in the Office of the Chancellor on a weekend no less — not that they had day offs or anything, but Duchess gets the perk of a weekly one-day without babysitting Sheev; her being not a clone and all.

Barging in Fox's office, she leans sideways on onto the door frame with her arms folded over her chest.

Ah, there he is. My little shit boy in his shit desk working his shit job.

She bit herself from wanting to burst out laughing, but failed and eventually let out a giggle.

You're coming home with me today, Foxxyboo. And 'No' is not an answer. So is 'why' being an acceptable question.

@yourcoruscantworkwife

*Fox looks up from his flimsi work as his door opens. Of course it’s his adorable bitchy work wife.

He snorts, being fully aware that he won’t have any say in this. If Duch wants something, she gets it. Who is he to deny her such a wish?*

I bet you pushed half of today’s workload on tomorrow to torture me better. Didn’t you, princess?

*exhausted he leans back in his chair and lets his dark eyes roam over Duchess.

Driving a hand trough his hair, he nods. He needs to move, even if it’s only a few steps to her home. He could continue his work later the night. And stress over everything tomorrow. He will probably end up killing himself, but that’s alright.

Fox stands up, grabs his bucket and moves towards Duch. His free hand tilts her chin up, as he passes her to leave the headquarters.*

Are you coming or will I have to break in?

#need to move #my back hurts #would kill palps with these chairs #who chose them?! #i am out #coruscant guards #don’t kriff everything up

[unspuncreature]

thank you genndy tartakovsky for giving 2D obi-wan the middle part that we see for 0.67 seconds in aotc when obi-wan takes out the acklay on geonosis. chefs kiss

#all his fellow jedi survivors in the arena saw the middle part and sat him down once they were back on coruscant for a mullet intervention #clone wars 2003 #obi wan kenobi #scout.txt

[tennessoui]

Haunt me then was so good, all gas no breaks. That line in the middle or part one - someone’s going to have to tell obi-wan, someone’s going to have to kill obi-wan - really got me, but then finding out that obi-wan just never came back for that whole 13 months, all just hurt so good. And then the sheer violence he’s holding back with Padme, it was all just very excellent

“all gas no breaks” love that description especially for this fic it really does not stop even once—maybe maybe maybe at the beginning when obi wan is waking up and everything is still…..maybe then but not for long because anakin is still dead and tightens his hold the second he moves and obi-wan is already thinking about anakin (which is pretty indicative tbh)

but yeah mace told obi-wan there would be no funeral at the Jedi Temple and obi-wan was like. Fine. I’m never coming back then. Give me another mission.

and mace is like no one on the council wants to do that.

and obi-wan is like I don’t care. Give me another mission.

and he’s so stubborn that of course he wins. And honestly no one wants to prod him too hard for fear he actually will just snap into a thousand pieces

#asks #obikin #haunt me then #so then he just never comes #back to coruscant cause he knows it’ll feel too weird without anakin

[coruscant-clickbait]

i’m so glad star wars is giving me more of its award winning “adventures of a tired dad and his mischievous baby”

#feels good to be back #feels good feels organic #star wars #mandalore scandalore #coruscant-clickbait #the mandalorian #grogu djarin #din djarin