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req’d by @a-popcorn-kernel​

a continuing series

For the hurt/comfort prompt, would you do 5."C'mere, let me hold you-" with Fox and Wolffe, or Fox and any of his sibling ? Only if you feel like it of course

I really enjoy your writing and your characterization of all the clone troopers, thank you for sharing it

(Content warning for alcohol mention plus a character being drunk.)

Fox stands in the doorway, swaying from side to side just the slightest, hands holding onto the wall on each side. He’s still wearing his full armor and Wolffe can smell the alcohol from where he’s standing.

“Hey, Fox,” he says casually. His fingers tap onto the cup he’s holding. “Can I help you?”

Fox stands straighter. Or, at least, tries to. “Didn’t know you’d be planet-side,” he says, and yeah, definitely drunk. Wolffe wonders if here’s here to pick a fight.

“Fox,” he says. “Listen. I don’t know how you got into this ship in your state, but I’m sure your vode miss you. They’re probably looking for you all over the place.”

He stands and moves to put away the cup of caf he’d emptied. When he looks back at the door, Fox is still standing there.

“Well, do you want something?” Wolffe asks.

“I,” Fox says. His voice breaks. “I wanted to see you.”

Wolffe sighs. “You’ve seen me now. Go to bed, Fox. You’re drunk as shit.”

Fox still isn’t moving. Wolffe turns back to his cup, makes a mental note to go get more caf from Sinker, later. He only turns his head when there’s a sudden sound that almost sounds like a suppressed sob.

Fox’s helmet is off. It’s hanging by his side as he’s wiping his face with his other hand, and—

“Are you crying?” Wolffe asks.

Fox flinches. His face twists. “M’sorry,” he blurts. “I don’t want to cry. You’re right. I’m drunk.” He hiccups, and the helmet drops to the floor. Fox leans down to grab it and topples over, coming up on the floor with a quiet oof.

“Fuck, Fox,” Wolffe says, forgetting about the caf and getting on his knees beside Fox. The door glides shut behind them. Fox groans.

“Are you going to puke?” Wolffe asks. “D’you need a bucket?”

“I—I feel dizzy.”

“Maker, how much moonshine did you have,” Wolffe mutters, taking Fox’s helmet and pushing it into his brother’s hands. “Put that back on. I’m bringing you back to your barracks.”

“I jus’ thought it’d make me feel less bad.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s not a good coping mechanism. You should know better.”

Fox swallows. He’s not looking at Wolffe but he hasn’t stopped crying. Tears glide down his cheeks.

Wolffe sighs. “Why are you crying, Fox?” he asks, almost helplessly.

Fox eyes glide over him, and then he shrugs, swallowing again. “I jus’ miss you. I know y’don’t love me anymore, but I still miss you,” he says.

Wolffe pauses and blinks. “What?” he asks.

Fox looks at him. “It’s okay,” he says, as if to comfort him. “I wouldn’t love me either. Jus’ hurts. Even though it’s my fault. And it’s also kinda—it’s not. But I didn’t wan’ you t’worry. Or do somethin’ stupid. But I miss you.”

He hiccups, and suddenly something in his eyes turns desperate. “I jus’ want out of ‘ere. Wolffe, I don’t want to be here anymore. It’s never enough. I’m not enough. Can you get us out? You’re—you do rescue missions. This one’s a lot bigger. But still the same thing, right?”

“Fox, what the fuck are you talking about,” Wolffe says.

“It’s not safe here. We’re not safe.”

“Coruscant is the safest place for you to be. It’s—“

“No,” Fox sobs, and Wolffe stops in his tracks, because he’s never heard Fox sob like that before. Something in his chest twists. “It’s not, Wolffe. We’re dying. I’m dying. And, and, the fucking Senators… And I can’t protect my family, even though I try. I’m just so tired, Wolffe. Please get us out.”

“You’re dying?” Wolffe asks. Fox doesn’t seem to hear him. He shakes his head, shrinking away.

“I’m sorry, Wolffe,” he whispers. “I’m asking for too much. I know I am. I just wish we had someone like—General Koon. I wish I could fucking do something. But I can’t. Wolffe, do you understand? I can’t do anything. I just can’t do anything.”

Fox is sobbing in earnest, now, babbling incoherently. Wolffe tries to process any of his words and fails miserably, hands hovering above his knees and fighting the urge to reach out. He hangs onto the part of Fox’s drunken ramblings that’s the most unbelievable.

“You think I don’t love you?”

Fox blinks at him through his tears, breathing heavily, and stops talking. He looks utterly confused.

“I know you don’t,” he mumbles.

And Wolffe wants to cry now, too. He stares at Fox face as he feels his body crumble into itself, feels his shoulders slump and his head sink. “Fox,” Wolffe whispers. “Of course I love you. You’re my batchmate.”

“But you’re always angry with me.”

Wolffe opens his mouth and closes it again, and Fox looks at him, with glassy eyes and wet cheeks, and Wolffe finds that there’s nothing he can say. His gut twists.

“Wolffe?” Fox asks.

“Fuck,” Wolffe says, and opens his arms. Fox blinks, frowning.

“Just—C’mere, Fox. Let me hold you, please,” Wolffe says because he doesn’t know what else to do, ignoring the way his cheek feels wet. Fox definitely notices. His face twists again.

When he finally falls forward he crumbles into Wolffe’s arms with a choked sob. Wolffe slings himself around him, holding tightly, and Fox buries his face in the nape of Wolffe’s neck as Wolffe rests his head on Fox’s shoulder, inhaling sharply.

“I’ve got’cha,” Wolffe mutters, stroking his fingers through Fox’s curls. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Slowly, the tension seeps out of Fox, until he’s lying in Wolffe’s arms, slumped over, apparently drained of all strength. His breathing slows.

Wolffe makes a decision.

“You’re staying with me tonight,” he says, and, fuck, yeah, he’s crying. His voice wavers. Fox continues crying softly, and though Wolffe isn’t sure if he can hear him, he keeps talking. “You’re going to stay with me, and in the morning we’ll talk, and I’ll do everything I can to help you. That sound okay?”

Fox nods. Wolffe feels it more than he sees it.

Only five minutes later Foz falls asleep like that, still hugging Wolffe. Wolffe hadn’t thought he’d be this exhausted, but then again, apparently there’s a lot of things he didn’t know.

It’s Not a Plot Hole, It’s Foreshadowing

vs.

It’s Not a Plot Hole, It’s Just Something That They Opted Not to Spoon-feed You Because It Would Be Obvious If You Thought About It For 20 Seconds

vs.

It May Be a Plot Hole, But It Still Works In Terms of the Story’s Themes and Character Logic

vs.

Okay, It Is a Plot Hole, What Are You Going to Do, Cry about It?

Humans are eldritch. They can sing a thousand voices, and they only started space exploration after more than two hundred years of trying to fix their own sick planet. They are guilt-driven, reckless and incredibly terrifying. They scare themselves for fun, they have deadly sports, and they are willing to almost die just to see if something can work.

No other intelligent species we know does that. No one almost killed their entire planet for the sake of profits, and no one discovered they could sing it back to life. No one is fascinated by unknown and terrific creatures that would certainly destroy everything and everyone, much less create art about the mere idea of it. No one dedicates so much of their craft for incomprehensible arts that can only be felt.

The entire universe’s medicine has changed since they arrived. We had to discover ways of erasing memory, of calming someone in the blink of an eye, because human art can make someone so sick they might never recover from it. Rumours spread, and humans were now feared. Everything about them became something terrific.

We knew they felt guilty, from almost killing their homeplanet, but that? That art, those hundreds of thousands of ideas of things that could never be, but still could be thought about? Those hands, smudged with toxic paint and oils, used to create imaginary things that looked too real to be imaginary? Their bodies, almost fragile almost strong bodies, that adapted to everything and could be broken down for the sake of things they deemed as beautiful? That did not came from guilt. It came within their own terrifying natures, along their hundred voices that could heal, along their silence that could destroy, along everything they ever created.

But still, when everyone feared them, humans did not try to attack. They did not try to cover themselves once again with blood. They did not do anything with violence. Despite everything, humanity was kind.

They helped with medicine, with their vaccines. They helped with technology, with their reckless nature of wanting to see if something can explode. They helped with art, by showing their own, and admiring ours.

They helped with history, for their obsession with the past did not allow them to not want to know more. They helped with restauration, for their guilt made them want to stop anyone from making mistakes similar to theirs. They helped with war, for not doing it. They helped with the universe, for despite everything, they still loved.

Humans are eldritch, for everything was set so they could once again use violence, but they did not. Humans are eldritch, because they themselves think they are evil, but still, they do not commit to it. Humans are eldritch, and they will help you out when you need it - just ignore their pets, for they have an obsession with befriending any and all creatures.

edit: hi so this is gaining traction again! i’m a college student who does writing commissions, so feel free to check it out! have a nice day byeee

Thanks for the tag @chopper-base !

Uh-oh…..

No pressure tags!

@spicylasat @catawampuscorner @laelish @smhalltheurlsaretaken @tattycoram @padawansuggest

Quotev

Who Are Your Star Wars Parents?

Have you ever wondered who your parents would be if you where in the Star Wars galaxy? Well wonder no further! Now updated to include couple

I got tagged by @locitapurplepink! Thank you. I got Kanan and Hera as well, which not gonna lie, is very accurate.

Tagging but no pressure: @unstableskywalker, @zephyrmonkey, @kanerallels, @laughingphoenixleader, @accidental-spice, @sidesofmayo, @thirteenmyspacegirl and anyone else who wants to play!!!

Too busy to actually write to have a plot instead:

Cody, Wolffe, Ponds, Bly and Rex go to a creepy castle as part of a mission, the data is vague and the source anonymous but their generals agreed to spare them for it and so they went.

Yellow eyes watch from the parapets and a fanged smile forms. It reaches into the Force and leans. The smile widens.

At first they think it’s a waste of time, until the first scream echos down the halls. They can’t determine where it’s from. But they know who it is.

Fox.

They split into smaller groups to search and find Fox first on the security cameras, emaciated and scarred being dragged by a cloaked figure across the uneven stone floor.

They rush to that corridor. He’s not there.

The first time they see him in person he’s across a gap to wide to cross, there’s no direct path. Again, he’s gone when they get there.

This thing is playing with them. It has their brother. And they can hear it talking, along with Fox’s screams they hear it. A voice they can’t pin telling Fox he’s alone, unloved, good for nothing but to serve as a battery and a pet, that nobody’s coming for him if they were they’d have come by now. Nobody cares he’s gone, he might as well give up.

How long has he been here…?

Coruscant has been comm silent for so long.

The first time they see him in person (through a window)and on camera they have to acknowledge the possibility that whatever thing is here, its messing with them. Taking their deepest fears and playing with them while Fox isn’t here at all. But what if he is? They can’t leave him here.

The screams sound so agonised, so real.

They keep searching.

Wolffe alone finds Fox first. Cradles him close as he tries to remove the metal shackles. Fox is barely conscious, barely with it, too thin and too scarred in his arms and the scars are deep, some look like they should have been fatal. Wolffe promises he loves his brother. Wolffe promises he’ll get him away from the Sith, get him somewhere safe.

Fox laughs, “you’ve already failed, I’m not the Sith who has your brother, I’m not the one who made these scars and screams” and Wolffe sees yellow eyes and fangs and darkness rushes in.

Cody, Rex, Ponds and Bly can’t find Wolffe or Fox…

It picks them off, one by one.

In a dungeon below the castle in a cell together they wake, and Fox walks towards them. But not Fox, because it has fangs and leathery wings and yellow eyes.

It taunts them. Fox is in the hands of a real Sith and that knowledge will die here with them.

They disagree.

———

:-D

(In summary: a dark sithly creature lures them in using the real visage of how fox looks under Palpatines ‘care’ and uses his real screams to mess with them. It enjoys suffering and like all Sith feeds off of it and that their fears are reality is even more fun and filling. It plays with them then picks them off while revealing the truth knowing they’ll die knowing they can’t do anything to save Fox.)

Enjoy.

If you’re taking prompts, can you do something with Jimmy overworking himself to the point of exhaustion and the other empires step in? I love sickfics with hurt/comfort.

Did I write this in less than an hour? Yes. It was wonderful. I've also posted the oneshot here on my Ao3 account!! Thanks so much for the prompt!

Jimmy wasn't sure quite what had happened, but he knew that he hadn't been in his bed with his cats sleeping on him the last time he opened his eyes.

Even more, he knew that no one lived with him, so the sounds of people downstairs and the smells of food coming from his kitchen were unusual and somewhat startling. He didn't quite have the energy to panic about it, however. So he pulled himself out of bed and began padding down the stairs, Norman cradled in his arms as Flick scampered along behind him.

Coming down to the base of the staircase, Jimmy blinked as he took in the sight of Sausage and Scott cooking in his kitchen as Lizzie and Joel played with Hermes in his living room. Shelby, Katherine, and Joey were sat on his couch near them as they seemed to be repairing his armor, which caused him to realize that the familiar weight of the protective gear wasn't pushing him down. Pixlriffs and Fwhip were going through some sort of paperwork over at his kitchen table. False was tinkering with his elytra and chatting with both of them. Gem and Oli had joined Sausage and Scott in the kitchen, but instead of cooking, they were pulling things out of storage and putting them back, presumably to sort the items.

"What are you all doing here?"

"Jimmy!" The rulers seemed to clamor over themselves to acknowledge the sheriff, causing the man to pull back from the attention. As he stepped back, his ankle caught the lowest stair, causing him to slip backward and land on his butt, now propped up by the fact that he was sitting on the third stair up from the floor.

"Everyone give him some space," Fwhip instructed, the man's voice carrying an edge that they didn't often see from the admin. "Jimmy, I found you collapsed out by the train. We were worried."

"Collapsed?" After a moment of thought, the story didn't surprise Jimmy as much as it should have. He had been over near the train earlier to deal with a few tasks that had cropped up, but he couldn't remember ever leaving the area.

"Have you been feeling okay, Sheriff?" Gem asked gently, approaching slowly and putting the back of her hand on Jimmy's forehead. The cool feel of her hand was soothing and Jimmy's eyes slipped shut only for him to hear: "Oh, Jimmy, you're burning up."

"I'll be fine. I've got stuff to do, gotta finish Tumble Town."

Gem frowned, unseen by the man in front of her, "You shouldn't be pushing yourself, Jimmy. You need to rest. If you've got a fever, you're not going to get better unless you allow yourself time to heal."

"Don't have time though. Already behind, not going to finish at this rate."

"What do you need to finish? If we can help, then maybe you could rest?" Katherine offered.

Jimmy frowned, a moment of uncertainty as he tried to figure out what to say, "Need to... need, uh, I have a list. It's in my vest pocket?"

Shelby recovered the article of clothing from the pile of garments that she sat next to, pulling a set of papers out of the pocket. It was then that everyone realized that it was not one page, but several, filled completely with to-do lists and duties that the sheriff had taken on.

Flipping through the pages, the witch finally looked up at Jimmy with concern etched into her features, "When do you find time to sleep, Jimmy?"

"But I just did?"

"You passed out!"

"But, I was sleeping? I had things to do, empire to run. You know how it is," Jimmy's nonchalance only seemed to concern his fellow rulers more, which confused him greatly.

"Jimmy, look at me?" Pix requested, drawing the younger man's attention his way. "Your health is always more important than your empire. Or anything else. You were collapsed on the ground in the middle of the day in the mesa. That can be dangerous."

"I have to finish my work though?"

"Jimmy, most of us don't even do all the things on this list. And you have things listed to do in other empires to help us."

"I'm the Sheriff. I have to make sure that everyone else's empires are safe and their citizens are doing well. Chromia's had a pillager problem recently and there's a spider nest that I haven't cleared out yet near the Eversea."

“You apparently also check in on some of our villagers at least once a week. And you have a task listed here that just says ‘double food supply’. Has Tumble Town been having trouble getting food?”

“Doesn’t really rain a lot here, crops don’t grow super well. We’ve got enough, but there’s some new families that have moved in and Lyra and Sara both had children last season. We’ve got more mouths to feed, but it’s been a bad harvest so far. Not really looking good going forward.”

“Oh Jimmy, you know I’ve got extra food. Dawn had a good harvest this year, we could easily help you!”

“Right. Yeah,” Jimmy agreed, though the vibrancy seemed to drop out of his voice.

Scott blinked, set down the utensils in his hand, and left the kitchen. He grabbed Jimmy’s chin with just enough force to direct the man’s movements, but not enough to hurt, moving the man’s gaze upward.

“You are not failing your empire. You are not failing us. You are doing everything you can and that’s enough. You don’t have to do extra things to make up for whatever you think you’re not doing. Jimmy, you are doing so well. But we’re worried because you’re doing so much extra that it’s hurting you.”

Jimmy searched Scott’s eyes for some hint as to the level of honesty that the collector was showing. Finding no sign of a lie, Jimmy began to blink back the tears of exhaustion that were finally making their appearance, the sheriff unable to hold them back any longer.

“Scott, I’m so tired.” The sheriff's words were weak, but the admittance and honesty rang loudly through the already quiet house.

Scott smiled gently, “Go rest, we’ve got you.”

'Nuff said...

Humans are peaceful, not harmless

If you are unable to fight you are not peaceful, you are harmless. Only when you have the capacity for violence and yet choose not to use it are you truly peaceful. This is an important lesson learned when humans encounter aliens who have never met a species like them before.

The new species to enter into negotiations with the Trade Federation were not wholly unlike many others.

They travelled in groups and were highly social, an important trait where cooperation was agreed as a universal requirement to gain technological advancement.

When the Ambassador and their entourage arrived they gave their official designation name to be Human and their planet of origin Earth, a word which our translators seem to think means something like ‘fertile ground’.

With the Ambassador came the priests, at least or so we thought. They carried talismans and wore ornate clothing, speaking little, and behaving in accordance with strict hierarchy, just like the monks of the ancient worlds. It spoke to us of a thoughtful and careful people, certainly the Ambassador consulted frequently with the senior priestess known by her title of General.

Our chosen negotiation centre was the planetoid of Jaril, close enough to Human territory to not put them too far out of their way and yet also not too far for us. We hoped it would become a good neutral trade site once we discovered what we held in common.

The grave mistake of ours was to assume it was also a site far enough from the Tarma for them to not take an interest. The Tarma are an unusual species in that they are evolved from apex predators, a situation we thought impossible until they first burst into our territory. What form of predator is social and cooperative enough to advance? It turns out some apex predators turn spare time between hunts into complex mating rituals requiring feats of intellect and ingenuity, for which family groups will band together to get the best bloodlines.

Still, the Tarma are a huge problem when most of us are the survivors of prey ancestors whose cooperation was essential to survival from predation.

When their ships were spotted we prepared to do as we have always done, to retreat and reconvene in a safer location at a later date.

Then the human Ambassador turned to the General and said, “I believe this is where I hand over to you.”

The General bared her teeth in the most disconcerting way as she smiled. “I believe it is.”

Before we could begin our evacuation, the human priests did what we at first mistook for a starburst escape. We were horrified when their tiny ships navigated towards the Tarma, we thought they were about to be slaughtered.

The Tarma were no more prepared for what happened next than we were.

The Human Ambassador was not travelling with priests, he was travelling with warriors. I will swear on my herd’s life, I saw the most peaceful and reserved creatures turn from monk to exterminator in moments and I was thoroughly shocked to my core.

In less than a Human hour the Tarma had fled and the General calmly returned command to the Ambassador.

“But, we thought you were a peaceful people.” My diplomacy, I fear, suffered for the stress of the situation.

“We are.” the Ambassador reassured us. “We come in peace to trade, to explore, and to learn. We mean no harm to anyone who does no harm to us.”

“How can you claim to be harmless when you did that?” I gestured to the debris still visible from the viewing window.

“If I may.” the General spoke softly. “We stated from the start we are a peaceful species, perhaps you simply mistranslated the meaning of our words. We are not evolved from prey, nor from apex predators. We are from a place in the middle, we are the hunted and the hunter. You mistook us for a harmless species, when in fact we can do a great deal of harm, we simply choose to reciprocate peace.”

We have a new and powerful ally now.

A species willing to trade combat for peace.

Divorce AU Fox being an absolute mastermind when it comes to the tabloid media and laying the groundwork for the divorce years before he starts it. Lots of very subtle comments that sound mostly innocent and romantic, but paint Palpatine in a very controlling light, offhand comments that are laughed off but just don’t sit quite right.

Even a year before he starts the divorce, people are questioning the bruises he didn’t get on patrol (because it’s a celeb relationship so come on people will be checking whether he was actually on patrol or not at the point where he got those injuries).

Long before he starts anything legal reporters start looking into the condition of the Coruscant barracks, because clones are very loyal to their siblings and maybe the commander of the Guard has a reason for staying with the Chancellor when it’s clearly causing him suffering. Maybe he’s staying because he has people to protect, and maybe the Chancellor is holding their lives and well-being over Fox’s head. He has the power to, and it would certainly explain a lot.

Hell, the common public who read the tabloid start being nice to the Guard, their opinions totally flipped by the engaging stories

Fox has to pretend to be outraged by the accusations that Palpatine is abusive when they first start, but he’s secretly overjoyed, because things are going better than he could have hoped.

Palpatine isn’t completely blindsided by the divorce, but he’s 100% blindsided by the overwhelming support that comes from the masses in support of Fox and the Corries.

Fox weaponised tabloid media. They practically build the case for him.