Fynsh - So Where To Now? - Tumblr Blog

Fox and Bacara first and foremost trusting the other hardass brothers in the army isn't explored enough! You don't become the most decorated and most ferocious commanders by befriending others easily. I'm sure they could relate to eachother on various levels even if they are fighting completely different front lines.. give them some serene moments!

Fox is scouting the holonet and sliced databanks for planets suitable to hide troopers facing decommissioning. Confined to Coruscant he asks Bacara for help not realizing his brother had already started to establish a safe space to sent the troopers deemed "not fit" to serve with the Marines to

He'd never seen snow. His eyes were open wide reflecting the earnest wonder the rest of his face didn't convey. The hand previously cardling his fist clutching his encrypted comm close to his heart slowly reached towards the colorless cristalls dancing in the cold air, palms facing towards the grey sky offering more and more of its frozen tears. It was bitingly cold, so cold that their breaths were visible.

They had stepped down the ramp in silence, not announcing their arrival was the safest thing to do. Their dark hair, brows and lashes were already contrasted by white decorations of snow flakes after a few moments of standing still. His eyes began to slowly crinkle in a smile, it was subtle but noticable to anyone who knew what to look for. The few who had seen his smile in the private quarters they had shared back when all of them had still worn blues. Tilting his head towards the one man at his side, Fox closed lips turned upwards and his signature dimples appeared on his slightly gaunt cheeks.

"It smells so nice."

Bacara had never realized how being stationed on Triple Zero meant more than the pressure of working constantly surrounded by natborns. The Guard would've met more cultures and races during their service than any other corps. But they were also working on the planet with the least natural phenomena present, the least space to decompress. The endless jungle of buildings, durasteel floors and artificial skies did a poor job at imitating the galaxy's vastness. It was a poor attempt of representing cultures when there was no room to actually express those in a shared experience even one as simple as maybe gardening. Unless you were karking rich of course. He briefly pondered if all his brothers in the Guard got to know were the everlasting Kaminoan rain and the Coruscanti sunny weather simulation. Then he nodded slowly.

Fox was directly facing him, his eyes closing fully now, while he kept breathing in the clear air deeply as if he had been deprived of it before. He didn't even flinch at the shriek of a local bird but for once seemed to enjoy being oblivious. Existing in this very moment, he looked serene and trusting and safe. The bucket was clipped to his belt and the rest of the cold assault armor he'd lent from the 21st did nothing not hide the warmth Fox radiated into this private moment shared between two brothers. Bacara swore to himself then and there he would find a way to confide in the other commanders to one day gather them to witness the peace of their own secret safe space.

I just think Fox and Bacara would make a terrific (and probably terrifying) duo. But they could also be the best frenemies in the "I am the only one allowed to shit talk about this idiot" way

OMG the diplomatic service troopers sending small holovids of everything from little black fish to the hues of the sky illuminated by two-toned suns! The filters might falsify the experience but if you live your whole life looking through a HUD you're used to that anyways.. and somehow the shinies flock together in squads making up whole new ecosystems. Like that's Kashyyyk squad - they all just love the color green but there's only so many green items they know so they try to find names to associate themselves with what they like..

Fox is scouting the holonet and sliced databanks for planets suitable to hide troopers facing decommissioning. Confined to Coruscant he asks Bacara for help not realizing his brother had already started to establish a safe space to sent the troopers deemed "not fit" to serve with the Marines to

He'd never seen snow. His eyes were open wide reflecting the earnest wonder the rest of his face didn't convey. The hand previously cardling his fist clutching his encrypted comm close to his heart slowly reached towards the colorless cristalls dancing in the cold air, palms facing towards the grey sky offering more and more of its frozen tears. It was bitingly cold, so cold that their breaths were visible.

They had stepped down the ramp in silence, not announcing their arrival was the safest thing to do. Their dark hair, brows and lashes were already contrasted by white decorations of snow flakes after a few moments of standing still. His eyes began to slowly crinkle in a smile, it was subtle but noticable to anyone who knew what to look for. The few who had seen his smile in the private quarters they had shared back when all of them had still worn blues. Tilting his head towards the one man at his side, Fox closed lips turned upwards and his signature dimples appeared on his slightly gaunt cheeks.

"It smells so nice."

Bacara had never realized how being stationed on Triple Zero meant more than the pressure of working constantly surrounded by natborns. The Guard would've met more cultures and races during their service than any other corps. But they were also working on the planet with the least natural phenomena present, the least space to decompress. The endless jungle of buildings, durasteel floors and artificial skies did a poor job at imitating the galaxy's vastness. It was a poor attempt of representing cultures when there was no room to actually express those in a shared experience even one as simple as maybe gardening. Unless you were karking rich of course. He briefly pondered if all his brothers in the Guard got to know were the everlasting Kaminoan rain and the Coruscanti sunny weather simulation. Then he nodded slowly.

Fox was directly facing him, his eyes closing fully now, while he kept breathing in the clear air deeply as if he had been deprived of it before. He didn't even flinch at the shriek of a local bird but for once seemed to enjoy being oblivious. Existing in this very moment, he looked serene and trusting and safe. The bucket was clipped to his belt and the rest of the cold assault armor he'd lent from the 21st did nothing not hide the warmth Fox radiated into this private moment shared between two brothers. Bacara swore to himself then and there he would find a way to confide in the other commanders to one day gather them to witness the peace of their own secret safe space.

I just think Fox and Bacara would make a terrific (and probably terrifying) duo. But they could also be the best frenemies in the "I am the only one allowed to shit talk about this idiot" way

Fox and snow!!! The inspo was this cute reel 🦊

Fox is scouting the holonet and sliced databanks for planets suitable to hide troopers facing decommissioning. Confined to Coruscant he asks Bacara for help not realizing his brother had already started to establish a safe space to sent the troopers deemed "not fit" to serve with the Marines to

He'd never seen snow. His eyes were open wide reflecting the earnest wonder the rest of his face didn't convey. The hand previously cardling his fist clutching his encrypted comm close to his heart slowly reached towards the colorless cristalls dancing in the cold air, palms facing towards the grey sky offering more and more of its frozen tears. It was bitingly cold, so cold that their breaths were visible.

They had stepped down the ramp in silence, not announcing their arrival was the safest thing to do. Their dark hair, brows and lashes were already contrasted by white decorations of snow flakes after a few moments of standing still. His eyes began to slowly crinkle in a smile, it was subtle but noticable to anyone who knew what to look for. The few who had seen his smile in the private quarters they had shared back when all of them had still worn blues. Tilting his head towards the one man at his side, Fox closed lips turned upwards and his signature dimples appeared on his slightly gaunt cheeks.

"It smells so nice."

Bacara had never realized how being stationed on Triple Zero meant more than the pressure of working constantly surrounded by natborns. The Guard would've met more cultures and races during their service than any other corps. But they were also working on the planet with the least natural phenomena present, the least space to decompress. The endless jungle of buildings, durasteel floors and artificial skies did a poor job at imitating the galaxy's vastness. It was a poor attempt of representing cultures when there was no room to actually express those in a shared experience even one as simple as maybe gardening. Unless you were karking rich of course. He briefly pondered if all his brothers in the Guard got to know were the everlasting Kaminoan rain and the Coruscanti sunny weather simulation. Then he nodded slowly.

Fox was directly facing him, his eyes closing fully now, while he kept breathing in the clear air deeply as if he had been deprived of it before. He didn't even flinch at the shriek of a local bird but for once seemed to enjoy being oblivious. Existing in this very moment, he looked serene and trusting and safe. The bucket was clipped to his belt and the rest of the cold assault armor he'd lent from the 21st did nothing not hide the warmth Fox radiated into this private moment shared between two brothers. Bacara swore to himself then and there he would find a way to confide in the other commanders to one day gather them to witness the peace of their own secret safe space.

I just think Fox and Bacara would make a terrific (and probably terrifying) duo. But they could also be the best frenemies in the "I am the only one allowed to shit talk about this idiot" way

Fox is scouting the holonet and sliced databanks for planets suitable to hide troopers facing decommissioning. Confined to Coruscant he asks Bacara for help not realizing his brother had already started to establish a safe space to sent the troopers deemed "not fit" to serve with the Marines to

He'd never seen snow. His eyes were open wide reflecting the earnest wonder the rest of his face didn't convey. The hand previously cardling his fist clutching his encrypted comm close to his heart slowly reached towards the colorless cristalls dancing in the cold air, palms facing towards the grey sky offering more and more of its frozen tears. It was bitingly cold, so cold that their breaths were visible.

They had stepped down the ramp in silence, not announcing their arrival was the safest thing to do. Their dark hair, brows and lashes were already contrasted by white decorations of snow flakes after a few moments of standing still. His eyes began to slowly crinkle in a smile, it was subtle but noticable to anyone who knew what to look for. The few who had seen his smile in the private quarters they had shared back when all of them had still worn blues. Tilting his head towards the one man at his side, Fox closed lips turned upwards and his signature dimples appeared on his slightly gaunt cheeks.

"It smells so nice."

Bacara had never realized how being stationed on Triple Zero meant more than the pressure of working constantly surrounded by natborns. The Guard would've met more cultures and races during their service than any other corps. But they were also working on the planet with the least natural phenomena present, the least space to decompress. The endless jungle of buildings, durasteel floors and artificial skies did a poor job at imitating the galaxy's vastness. It was a poor attempt of representing cultures when there was no room to actually express those in a shared experience even one as simple as maybe gardening. Unless you were karking rich of course. He briefly pondered if all his brothers in the Guard got to know were the everlasting Kaminoan rain and the Coruscanti sunny weather simulation. Then he nodded slowly.

Fox was directly facing him, his eyes closing fully now, while he kept breathing in the clear air deeply as if he had been deprived of it before. He didn't even flinch at the shriek of a local bird but for once seemed to enjoy being oblivious. Existing in this very moment, he looked serene and trusting and safe. The bucket was clipped to his belt and the rest of the cold assault armor he'd lent from the 21st did nothing not hide the warmth Fox radiated into this private moment shared between two brothers. Bacara swore to himself then and there he would find a way to confide in the other commanders to one day gather them to witness the peace of their own secret safe space.

I just think Fox and Bacara would make a terrific (and probably terrifying) duo. But they could also be the best frenemies in the "I am the only one allowed to shit talk about this idiot" way

Captain Desh is not amused to catch Cal trying to crawl into one of the vents of the Albedo Brave again when he's just been summoned to accompany him to the General. Their little Padawan Commander will give him grey hair if he doesn't stop disappearing and reappearing out of nowhere like a little tooka hunting loth rats.

Thank you OP for creating this clone picrew!

Well, on day 7 of creating my own clone oc picrew I am happy to announce that!!!

The picrew is officially out!

CLICK HERE TO PLAY

For anyone new, for the last week I’ve been creating a clone oc picrew for anyone to use and have fun with

It includes:

7 piercing and 5 earrings types,

18 tattoos,

7 facial haircuts,

18 haircuts, all in 13 colors and with highlights,

9 scars,

9 armor colors,

16 armor patterns in 9 colors,

Items specific for a commander, arc, captain and a pilot,

9 fun accessories

All to create your dream copy paste man pfp or reference!

If I get enough requests or ideas the picrew will be updated in the future <3

Thank you for feeding this brainworm!

Sorry about Stone :( I feel like we need more stories about him disappearing, there's so much untapped potential..

Unlike his brothers, Marshall Commander Fox hadn't suffered a single scar on his regulation perfect face over the whole course of the war

The GAR's system armies returned to Coruscant to reunite with those who survived the war that had come to an abrupt break after High General Windu had decapitated the Chancellor to rescue General Skywalker. Suddenly the heart of the republic was flooded by men who had lost everything but themselves to protect it. Men who were trying to recognize their brothers in scarred faces and warm voices.

Fox had always been adamant about wearing his distinctive red armor. His bucket was the only face he'd ever shown to natborns and GAR troopers planetside Triple Zero alike.

The only sentients who had consciously looked into Fox eyes during the years of war shared on Coruscant were those on duty with the Guard. It was not like there was anything special to see, all his features were picture perfect according to the regs set up for the alpha CCs on Kamino. Not a single scar or hair out of place, no glint in his eyes and no personality to his curt responses.

Wolffe didn't recognize his little brother in the man standing in front of him. He didn't know that this was how Fox had been able to wear a thousand faces on Coruscant. That after Commander Stone had vanished during a prison riot one year into the war the Guard had never been able to retrieve his body, only his armor. That since then it had been Fox or Thorn who had worn it. Or how the Marshall Commander still desperately wished he had been the one wearing the SIC armor on an escort mission to Scipio. Wolffe didn't know the recently promoted Guard commander, a young CC named Thire, was way more experienced than his mission profiles let on.

Wolffe didn't know what Fox had not told him. He did not know how every single scar lighting into his brothers body had faded without medical attention. How the pure pain etched into the smooth skin over and over had made Fox numb. There was no sign or proof of what he had suffered. So Wolffe just handed the package he was tasked to deliver over to the blank version of Fox that Triple Zero had spat into his face, his cybernatic eye trying to catch any sign of what thoughts ran through the other's mind. It was one of the first times he could look into Fox eyes with no visor in between. He still came up empty.

A quiet "Thank you Commander" was all Wolffe got when Fox carefully accepted the bundled item with two hands and retreated into the empty room he and Thire had been assigned to. Wolffe wanted to scream at the door closing in front of his face. He just kept staring at it in silence.

Looking at the package didn't give away much about it's origins to Fox. It was a pathetic thing honestly, something small, not bigger than a pauldron but flat, and wrapped in old rags looking like some destroyed fabric from prison blacks. Fox hands began to tremble slightlyat the familiar smell. He carefully turned the bundle around.

There's a small piece of flimsi stuck to the back. Fox recognized the chicken scribble without reading the words. He knew it from thousands of little annotations that had been stuck to his data pads over the last years. He could not bring himself to decipher it.

Fox slowly unwrapped the item. The sharp edges would have cut into his skin if not for the gloves he was wearing. Thire had not yet convinced him to leave more than his bucket on the armor stack in the room.

Fox blinked at the shard in his hand. His own eyes stared back at him. His brothers' eyes stared back at him. His face looked like a million other faces on this force forsaken planet. He could be anyone, there were no actual scars on his skin that had been burned by lightning countless times.

But the face looking back at him was distorted by a single crack in the makeshift mirror, running straight along his nose and down to his left jaw. It was Thorn who was looking back at him. Thorn whose armor had been destroyed on Scipio. Thorn who had carried him through the pain and desperation when they had lost Stone. Thorn who he had trusted the most, whom he he had loved more than any other brother even his own batch. Thorn who had died kriffing a tenday before the war ended. It was Thorn's scar carefully etched into this small unpposio shard.

Fox clutched it like a a lifeline. His breathing started to rasp. Desperate for a word from the brother he had lost he tried to concentrate on the message that had been attached to the fabric. But the flimsi didn't offer any explanation, just two questions stealing more air from his lungs.

"Can you acknowledge that I live? That we lived?"

Fox armor clattered when he fell to his knees. A high keen tore from his throat before he began to weep loudly.

Wolffe overrode the door lock and ran to his little brother.

The cracked mirror resembles Thorn's facial scars to a t. It is wrapped in a piece of fabric of the same kind Stone wore on prison duty the day he died. It still smells like prison. Fox mourns the brothers who can only live on in his memory because Thire hasn't been around long enough. I wish this piece turned out different but I could not find the right words. Maybe I'll rewrite it one day. Inspired by @howdidthisevenhappenanyway's post on how Lichtenberg figures actually fade over time and this post by @cc-tens

Ohhhhh! Thank you for adding another perspective. Why did I read the timeline wrong? My bad! But I've never picked up on the possessive connotations and now this will live in my brain again.

Assuming the inhibitor chips are designed to surpress emotional processing / responses and not just free will it's interesting to think about how Fox was angry before Order 66.. or maybe a malfunction during his chip's activation escalated his unhinged behavior further.. or maybe he wasn't angry at all but a prematurely activated chip made him act like a competitive angry overachiever. So many options!

(Außerdem hallo German speaking folks, kinda didn't expect to meet you in this small corner of the internet)

Fuchsteufelswild

German, adjective, literally: Fox - Devil - Wild

Grimm Dictionary volume 4, column 357 (Leipzig, 1878): “so upset that it seems like you’re with the devil”

This leaves two interpretations

Fox mad as hell is unstoppable and therefore might just as well have sealed a deal with the Devil Sith Lord sacrificing his soul to fend off any danger to his corps and operating wildly out of jurisdiction with no apparent consequences ever (The Corries are actually profiting of a corrupt system, after all only they know how to fill tons of flimsiwork in time and they're not opposed to using loop holes nobody ever realized were there to protect their unhinged Marshall Commander)

Fox is always livid when he's with the Devil Chancellor, something about that old man set off his inner alarm bells the second he read the assignment papers for his posting on Coruscant and it only keeps ringing louder with every observation once he's in the same room as his CO and no way to escape (Serving corrupt senators and clonephobic natborns lowers Fox inhibitions to not just go bad shit crazy so he throws himself into "friendly" competitions with his GAR brothers earning him way too many military awards and decorations for someone not stationed on the front lines. Also seriously who kriffing includes an extravagant roll when charging into a rescue mission)

Not sure how Basic and other Galactic languages actually compare to real life languages but I am convinced nobody should feel safe from Fox' wrath, not even the devil Chancellor himself the Commander has to report to

It's also interesting to note that the emphasis on "devil" being the dangerous and angry identificator of the compound changed to a "fox" centric interpretation in modern days (mostly referring to wild foxes being dangerous when they're sick with rabies), so the fox is perceived as more of a threat than the devil

Logbook entry #1

I'm still struggling if using past or present tense for fanfic drabbles makes more sense to me. Consequently I always feel like editing when rereading them after a day or two

I usually post on a whim because inspiration mostly strikes when I should probably get some sleep.

Using the Tumblr drafts as a brain dump doesn't help organizing any thoughts for coherent story telling.

Maybe I could cross post on AO3? Idk why but AO3 feels intimidating to share on. So many tags. Such a low level of polish to my drabbles.

What if reading other people's works unknowingly led to me writing a very similiar idea?

How does one write a convincing story arc with motives and climax, it's all just feels and moods to me while I'm actually a very clear T person.

Btw really appreciate anyone reading and sharing thoughts on my brainworms THANK YOU hope they're worth your time! Communication on social media is hard lol.

Unlike his brothers, Marshall Commander Fox hadn't suffered a single scar on his regulation perfect face over the whole course of the war

The GAR's system armies returned to Coruscant to reunite with those who survived the war that had come to an abrupt break after High General Windu had decapitated the Chancellor to rescue General Skywalker. Suddenly the heart of the republic was flooded by men who had lost everything but themselves to protect it. Men who were trying to recognize their brothers in scarred faces and warm voices.

Fox had always been adamant about wearing his distinctive red armor. His bucket was the only face he'd ever shown to natborns and GAR troopers planetside Triple Zero alike.

The only sentients who had consciously looked into Fox eyes during the years of war shared on Coruscant were those on duty with the Guard. It was not like there was anything special to see, all his features were picture perfect according to the regs set up for the alpha CCs on Kamino. Not a single scar or hair out of place, no glint in his eyes and no personality to his curt responses.

Wolffe didn't recognize his little brother in the man standing in front of him. He didn't know that this was how Fox had been able to wear a thousand faces on Coruscant. That after Commander Stone had vanished during a prison riot one year into the war the Guard had never been able to retrieve his body, only his armor. That since then it had been Fox or Thorn who had worn it. Or how the Marshall Commander still desperately wished he had been the one wearing the SIC armor on an escort mission to Scipio. Wolffe didn't know the recently promoted Guard commander, a young CC named Thire, was way more experienced than his mission profiles let on.

Wolffe didn't know what Fox had not told him. He did not know how every single scar lighting into his brothers body had faded without medical attention. How the pure pain etched into the smooth skin over and over had made Fox numb. There was no sign or proof of what he had suffered. So Wolffe just handed the package he was tasked to deliver over to the blank version of Fox that Triple Zero had spat into his face, his cybernatic eye trying to catch any sign of what thoughts ran through the other's mind. It was one of the first times he could look into Fox eyes with no visor in between. He still came up empty.

A quiet "Thank you Commander" was all Wolffe got when Fox carefully accepted the bundled item with two hands and retreated into the empty room he and Thire had been assigned to. Wolffe wanted to scream at the door closing in front of his face. He just kept staring at it in silence.

Looking at the package didn't give away much about it's origins to Fox. It was a pathetic thing honestly, something small, not bigger than a pauldron but flat, and wrapped in old rags looking like some destroyed fabric from prison blacks. Fox hands began to tremble slightlyat the familiar smell. He carefully turned the bundle around.

There's a small piece of flimsi stuck to the back. Fox recognized the chicken scribble without reading the words. He knew it from thousands of little annotations that had been stuck to his data pads over the last years. He could not bring himself to decipher it.

Fox slowly unwrapped the item. The sharp edges would have cut into his skin if not for the gloves he was wearing. Thire had not yet convinced him to leave more than his bucket on the armor stack in the room.

Fox blinked at the shard in his hand. His own eyes stared back at him. His brothers' eyes stared back at him. His face looked like a million other faces on this force forsaken planet. He could be anyone, there were no actual scars on his skin that had been burned by lightning countless times.

But the face looking back at him was distorted by a single crack in the makeshift mirror, running straight along his nose and down to his left jaw. It was Thorn who was looking back at him. Thorn whose armor had been destroyed on Scipio. Thorn who had carried him through the pain and desperation when they had lost Stone. Thorn who he had trusted the most, whom he he had loved more than any other brother even his own batch. Thorn who had died kriffing a tenday before the war ended. It was Thorn's scar carefully etched into this small unpposio shard.

Fox clutched it like a a lifeline. His breathing started to rasp. Desperate for a word from the brother he had lost he tried to concentrate on the message that had been attached to the fabric. But the flimsi didn't offer any explanation, just two questions stealing more air from his lungs.

"Can you acknowledge that I live? That we lived?"

Fox armor clattered when he fell to his knees. A high keen tore from his throat before he began to weep loudly.

Wolffe overrode the door lock and ran to his little brother.

The cracked mirror resembles Thorn's facial scars to a t. It is wrapped in a piece of fabric of the same kind Stone wore on prison duty the day he died. It still smells like prison. Fox mourns the brothers who can only live on in his memory because Thire hasn't been around long enough. I wish this piece turned out different but I could not find the right words. Maybe I'll rewrite it one day. Inspired by @howdidthisevenhappenanyway's post on how Lichtenberg figures actually fade over time and this post by @cc-tens

A dazed Fox wakes up confused and alone with no functioning comm tools. Maybe it's not so bad to just lie down for a bit longer?

The artificial sunlight tricked his mind into believing feeling a subtle warmth on his exposed skin. The shallow breaths he took fueling bitingly cold somewhat sour air into his lungs told him otherwise. There was no smell or sound besides an eerily muffled gust of wind rustling along the heavy fabric of his kama. Strangely everything around him felt light and confusingly clear. No underlying pain in his temples, no insistent hunger in his stomach, no sticky sweat on his face trapped under a unmovable mask consisting of layers of duty, anxiousness and guilt.

Awareness creeping into his mind, he slowly started wondering where he was. The time didn't really matter, it was clearly some hours into the day cycle and he should probably tend to a duty someone brother now would have to cover in his stead. Thinking about leaving his work to someone else finally provided a string for his wandering thoughts to hold on to. Before trying to peel his eyes open he slowly started moving his fingers. Bending them one by one and relaxing again he didn't notice any strains. Continuing to take stock of the state of his body all he noticed was relaxed muscles and the desire to drift back into oblivious sleep.

Then the light before his closed lids started to dimm. He took a deep breath and finally opened his eyes to the sight of a cloudless orange tinged sky. With each intake of breath the weight returned to his limbs and chest. He recognized this view from the many trips around the upper levels on Triple 0. He did not recognize the silence. Slowly he turned his head to the right. Ok that hurt quite a lot. His bucket lay just out of reach mockingly facing his way, the dark visor mirroring his dazed eyes back at him. He should really try to reach for it and check his comms. But the crack running through the deep red plastoid already told him he'd definely need to schedule a trip to the armory and get a replacement. What a waste. Slowly he tried to lift his wrist comm into his line of sight only to stare into a empty slot on his vambrace. Maybe he should start worrying?

Before any (clearly unwarranted ?) thoughts of panic which would not lead to any solution could form he caught a glimpse of one of his blasters lying a few spaces next to his bucket. As much as knowing a weapon near probably increased his safety it was the barely noticable charm embedded into the handle he zeroed in on and was able to anchor his thoughts to. Surely his commanders were looking for him. Maybe he could just lay here for a bit longer and give into the urge to close his eyes again without risking to freeze to death once night settled in. Right?

Thire furiously leapt across the roofs of Coruscant. Why didn't Fox pick up any of his calls. His CO was not allowed to leave here without him, he would not take over the worst post of the whole corps after staying alive for two years on this cursed assignment - no chance.

His HUD pinged a notification that he was now close to the location his Marshall Commander had last been tracked at. Taking the indicated sharp left and skidding to a stop abruptly he almost missed the timing to make the last jump. He wasn't carless but seeing an unmoving brother flat on his back, the familiar dark brown curls surrounded by a dark substance stopped his heartbeat for a second before it came back in full force, trying to leap out his chest. No no no. What the kriff happened to never removing your helmet!

Thire closed the remaining distance in no time already kneeling down beside Fox while reporting the need for a medical evac over his wrist comm. His voice was steady, it didn't betray any of the worry clutching at his heart. The young commander knew better than to try and move someone with an obvious head injury so he forced himself to not do anything more than ripping off his gloves to feel for a pulse. It took a few seconds to register the faint but steady drum under his finger pads.

Only after taking a deep breath he registered how eerily alone they were up here. There was no real sign of a fight, but Fox bucket was destroyed and his comm was missing. His favorite blaster lay off to his side and Thire reached for it in an instance. The magazine was still full. His thumb lingered on the customized handle slowly tracing the pattern to distract himself from the rising pressure in his chest. The medics' eta of 2 minutes before touchdown flashed across his HUD. He redirected all communication to his vambrace and unsealed and lifted off his bucket. The air was crisp and slightly sour in his nostrils. His eyes fixated on the relaxed face of his oldest brother. Strangely even surrounded by blood the expression didn't seem out of place at all. Before the pressure in his chest could build any further Thire started counting the barely noticable freckles dotted across the tan complexion of Fox nose and cheeks.

Thire used the biggest tooka eyes to convince his fellow commanders that adding a totally harmless little charm to their favorite blasters would go unnoticed by everybody but him. Stone, Thorn and Fox folded like wet flimsiwork when he presented them with his selfmade trinkets begging them to accept a gift of their youngest commander. They didn't know he put a tracking device into it linked to and traceable only from his HUD. It was his best work yet.

Meeting Cal - Star Wars Jedi : Fallen Order (PS5)

Entries when Cody looks up "Toad" on the encyclopedia Obi-Wan kept in The Negotiator's database:

Oggdo Bogdo (Bogano) filed by Jedi Master Eno Cordova, scholar and archaeologist

Worrt (Tatooine) filed by Padawan learner Anakin Skywalker, Year c. 7945's Boonta Eve champion

*the command batch group chat* Cody: Which animal do you think you could take in a fight? Wolffe: How much time do you have Rex: oh my god Fox: Toad Cody: Elaborate Fox: no

Everyone has a special talent they are admired for but Fox just keeps pretending

Fox may not have Cody's brilliant tactical mind, Wolffe's great resilience, Bly's incredible adaptability or Pond's patient emotional genius, but all CCs - to a certain extent - shared qualities that enabled them to inspire brothers to follow them into any battle. They didn't brag about it but over the course of the war the GAR clearly noticed their commanders and ranking officers excelling in difficult missions, paving new ways by taking personal risks and eventually creating methods better than reg standards.

Fox batchers were aware nobody could outmatch him in his directional subtlety. Other would have called him manipulative but that didn't sit right with them. He used his talent to support his brothers, not to harm them. The batch knew their youngest brother was always able to catch what went unnoticed by others but they didn't always realize he could also hide anything in plain sight.

His ability to pretend was a gift morphing into a curse. Fox pretended to punish troopers ruthlessly while actually saving them from greater harm that could not be undone. It slowly turned into the GAR believing the Guard's Marshall Commander was a heartless und cruel Fierfek. Fox welcomed this portrayal to keep as many brothers as far away from the Guard's grounds as possible. His fellow Guard commanders started feeding into the narrative by joining forces with him and stripping their men of their individual armor paints. Better to keep everyone away from 000 and endure the hostility of the ones you were designated to protect on your own.

During the first year of the war his brothers tried to counteract the rumors spreading about Fox and his Guard. They knew him as a sensible and protective brother so there had to be reasoning to his actions. Fox didn't bother to elaborate. The constant deployments kept the batch apart and messages from the front lines became few and far in between.

Fox hadn't been in contact with the GAR outside of official business for months now. Until news of his oldest brother being shot by a cadet pinged on his comm. The whole incident was kept off the datapads so he wasn't able to read up any additional info. Fox felt an icicle lodge into his trachea. He rushed to the healing wards as he was ordered to accompany General Windu safely back and forth between checking on his units and talking to the Chancellor.

General Windu was whispering to a healer from the Jedi temple who he seemed to have been put in charge of taking care of his heavily injured commander. Standing in front of the bacta tank was a cadet in non standard clothing, his shoulders set straight under the thick robes and his face turned up towards the lifeless face distorted by the gelatinous healing substance. Reflected in the thick glass Fox noticed a familiar blank stare and lips set into a thin line. The cadet was clearly pretending to not be affected by looking into the face of a practically dead brother. What was he doing here, alone and away from his brigade?

General Windu turned towards the Guard and signed for them to wait for further instructions. They saluted in perfect synch and kept their position. Behind his helmet Fox eyes drifted to the figure suspended in bacta. His heart rate was dangerously slow, his usual exhaustion drowned by the anguish crawling up his spine trying to claw its way out through his clenched teeth and part his lips. When was the last time he had seen his brother face to face?

The hole inside his chest kept growing and churning and he barely kept it beneath the surface when running on no sleep and food, only caf. However, there was no use in dwelling on past decisions and paths diverging. He didn't regret keeping his batch mates away. Fox knew with them around the smallest outwardly shown signs could endanger their carefully crafted image, his brothers weren't dumb and maybe the Jedi were actually as perceptive as he was led to believe by reports and talks inside of the GAR.

So Fox pretended to be indifferent. He was okay. As the Head of the Jedi Order eventually started moving towards them and addressed Fox personally with unprompted reassurance of his brother being in the most capable hands, the Marshall Commander only thanked him formally and on behalf of the clones for going beyond standard measures to save Republic property. Windu seemed taken aback before swiftly moving out of the healing wards without sparing another look at the Guard falling in step behind him. Fox didn't look back at the two brothers staying behind. He still felt the heavy stare at the back of his bucket. Everything was fine.

Ponds definitely would have picked up on the atypical stiffness in Fox' gait, but his oldest brother might not call him out on his bluffs ever again.

I'm not sure about this drabble as it took a different direction than I intended. It also doesn't properly convey the desperation of reaching your goal of keeping as many people as possible safe from harm at the expanse of your own safety net

Parenting difficulty ranking by Alpha-17

Wolffe

Fox

Bly

Cody

Ponds

Parenting difficulty ranking by the batch

Boba

Boba Fett

Boba Fett, alias CT-1313

Boba Fett, alias CT-1313, angry feral much too clever child with access to too many weapons

Rex

While every brother chose a name to have just for themselves and to distinguish themselves from each other, Boba chose a designation number to have something in common with his brothers and to blend in

Fuchsteufelswild

German, adjective, literally: Fox - Devil - Wild

Grimm Dictionary volume 4, column 357 (Leipzig, 1878): “so upset that it seems like you’re with the devil”

This leaves two interpretations

Fox mad as hell is unstoppable and therefore might just as well have sealed a deal with the Devil Sith Lord sacrificing his soul to fend off any danger to his corps and operating wildly out of jurisdiction with no apparent consequences ever (The Corries are actually profiting of a corrupt system, after all only they know how to fill tons of flimsiwork in time and they're not opposed to using loop holes nobody ever realized were there to protect their unhinged Marshall Commander)

Fox is always livid when he's with the Devil Chancellor, something about that old man set off his inner alarm bells the second he read the assignment papers for his posting on Coruscant and it only keeps ringing louder with every observation once he's in the same room as his CO and no way to escape (Serving corrupt senators and clonephobic natborns lowers Fox inhibitions to not just go bad shit crazy so he throws himself into "friendly" competitions with his GAR brothers earning him way too many military awards and decorations for someone not stationed on the front lines. Also seriously who kriffing includes an extravagant roll when charging into a rescue mission)

Not sure how Basic and other Galactic languages actually compare to real life languages but I am convinced nobody should feel safe from Fox' wrath, not even the devil Chancellor himself the Commander has to report to

It's also interesting to note that the emphasis on "devil" being the dangerous and angry identificator of the compound changed to a "fox" centric interpretation in modern days (mostly referring to wild foxes being dangerous when they're sick with rabies), so the fox is perceived as more of a threat than the devil

Fox is trading classified information and his brothers indulge the high prices probably because they love him

Even though they barely saw him, Fox was actually the most sought after little brother in the command batch for several reasons:

Not only was he still adorable to his barely older brothers as they still noticed the same stubborn curl of hair not sticking to the regulation style and the curiosity fueling every very intentional move under all his gruff and overworked exterior, he was also the most experienced in solving civil conflicts.

Contrary to the GAR being deployed wherever necessary, his corps stationed on Cruscant dealt with living (in most cases) breathing sentients of all shapes, forms and in various states of coexisting on a day to day basis. The Corries might not have been as efficient in fighting clankers, couldn't identify the typical formations and moves as fast, but much like their Marshall Commander they were patient and exceptionally well trained in reading social context clues.

Subsequently they were the clones with the vastest knowledge on how to not offend, peacefully interact with and even more importantly protect civilians. The Corries operated on a completely different scale when it came to navigating politically or culturally charged conflicts. One could say what Fox lacked in social skills needed to bond on a personal level, he made up for tenfold on a professional level. He keept tabs on everyone who owed him a favor and never ever ended up in debt to a brother. This put him in a position of being able to unofficially request parts of the other corps' rations and medical supplies even though he was the one who should have the easiest access to all resources available to the clone army.

Bacara has been watching this spiel go on for almost two years by now. He's one of the few who had only dealt in the Guard's currency of datachits for physical resources once. Information about the Outer Dim was hard to come by even for the Guard. He's also sure he paid a bit more than strictly necessary. Sure, it had been his own fault for not striking a better deal, but he wondered if the other commanders were actually oblivious to Fox subtle manipulation tactics or if they just liked him enough to indulge his antics. It's not like Fox was unlikeable. He never asked for truly unreasonable amounts in exchange for admittedly very valuable and not seldom crucial information on their next mission targets. But the Corries still took all they could get.

The Marshall Commander of the Galactic Marines was pretty sure the Guard got their info by spying on the Senators. He and Neyo mused their brothers on Coruscant had to be pretty close to some of the biggest assholes in the galaxy to be privy to those details. No politician would be dumb enough to carelessly discuss highly confidential tactics and locations in the corridors of the Senate building or the official meetings their brothers guarded, right? After all the Corries were no aides expected to be present all the time to bend to the Senator's every wishes, they only provided security where necessary.

Bacara wasn't very close to any of the commanders and wouldn't consider them friends per se, except for Neyo. The 21st was currently on their first and very limited shore leave after more than eleven months in the Outer Rim. His troops only returned to Coruscant for a classified mission for Mundi to run planetside. They all respected their General, but nobody was really interested in the Jedi duties the Cerean cited for their impromptu stay. What his men were actually interested in was stocking up on perishable and therefore rarely available foods and getting a drink at 79's. So that's where he currently found himself nursing some spotchka in a small booth in a corner. Nobody would dare to cause serious trouble and risk ending up in the drunk tanks or worse confined to their own cots back on the ship as long as he's present.

Their leave to Coruscant was scheduled on short notice. He didn't tell the other commanders about it because they wouldn't be at the homefront long enough to organize a meet up for batchers from different corps anyways.

So Bacara didn't expect to see anyone tonight. But even in the half darkness of the bar the very distinctive red of the local Marshall Commander's armor caught his eye instantly. Bacara was well aware the Guard always knee who was staying on Coruscant (he was pretty sure Fox also knew exactly where the others' deployments led them to and who of the commanders was currently sporting an injury grave enough to be reported to their medics and for what reason).

Fox seemed to notice him as well but took his time talking to a natborn Bacara didn't recognize nor care for before sauntering over to the only other clone still wearing a full kit except for the buckets. Bacara resigned himself to a conversation undoubtedly more suited to be held with a sober mindset but seeing the glasses the red armored man carried and the three empty glasses already stacked on his table it was a little late for that, wasn't it?

"Commander, it's a pleasure to see you and your men in our humble abode after such a long time."

Fox voice was smooth and even though he looked exhausted his smile actually reached his eyes. That's not something Bacara had seen often on his fellow Marshall Commander. He's also sporting some barely noticable fine scars and Bacara can't tell for sure what caused those.

"I'll make sure my men won't bother you. We're only planetside for two days anyways."

Fox nodded as he held out both glasses for Bacara to chose from. For a split moment his hands seemed to be a bit unsteady but maybe Bacara's eyes played tricks on him in the dim lights of the bar because the movement was gone in the blink of an eye. He took the smaller drink and held the glass out for a cheer. Fox clinked their glasses but instead of the usual Mando'a used by the commanders he cheered in crisp Concordian.

Bacara blinked. Oh so that's why everyone happily played along with Fox little games. That cold hearted idiot actually cared about them. So even the rational leader of the Galactic Marines being well aware of Fox coaxing him into a slightly unbalanced deal couldn't find it in him to say no too much. Nobody needed to know that he also decided to join the line of GAR commanders sending the Guard even more supplies than they asked for.

I don't know if Concordian actually has a different word for Mando'a "K'oyacyi" and if the Journeyman Protector training Bacara would have any incentive to use it in front of cadets but in this AU Bacara feels valued by Fox acknowledging his ever so slightly different cultural background as well as giving him the opportunity which drink to chose

> Activate HUD

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> Open

Comlink

Flimsi

Holofiles

Logbook

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Uhm.. hi! English isn't my first language and actually I have no idea what I'm doing here '◡'✿

I created this blog to indulge in my renewed love for SW (esp JFO and TCW) and release some of my brainworms into the void!

Interacting on Tumblr is confusing to me but please feel free to talk to me anytime (unless you hate on Commander Fox & the Corries) ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

How does reblogging and communication via hashtags work.. Sorry I struggle a bit with this app

Thinking about Bly's armor reflecting sunbeams during golden hours on a crowded dirty plaza

Usually Bly would comm Fox to get a second opinion on resolving hostage situations swiftly and with no to minimum casualties, especially those like the one he was facing now: situated in a densely populated area, surrounded by thousands of unaware civvies.

This however wasn't an option right now.

His youngest batcher hadn't bothered to pick up his call over the official lines, which definitely was a first and frankly a bit worrying. That man was always on duty and never willingly passed on an opportunity to gather intel on missions he shouldn't even know existed. Nor on collecting blackmail on his fellow commanders to "ask" for a favor or two in an unknown future. It wasn't like they would deny reasonable requests from other units but what exactly did Fox need all those extra rations for? He would leave a message in their private chat later.

Right now time was of essence and it was slipping through his fingers, so with a sigh Bly decided to try the line of another brother he knew was also very versed in crowd regulation and conducting missions while staying under the civvies' radar: Ponds. What he didn't account for was his oldest brother not picking up as well. A bit frustrated he opened his HUD and shot a quick message to the full group chat. He'd really prefer a second opinion, if possible not disturbing his general.

[open channel <g4r/cc/000/17ahpla?>]

5052: anyone available rn <80:18>

5052: whatever just call asap <80:81>

[close channel <g4r/cc/000/17ahpla?>]

Why did he have a bad feeling about this? He caught a sudden commotion at the corner of his field of view and turned is attention towards his men standing close to the area. Galle was trying to calm down a natborn gesturing around but clearly didn't succeed in his placating attempts. They seemed to be agitated by the sight of clone troopers lingering planetside for no apparent reason. Just when Bly decided to ask his Lieutenant to evacuate the plaza in front of the building they were about to move in on a call patched through on his internal comm:

[connected]

"Marshall Commander, we need you to stay put and not interfere. Don't try to enter the building, it will trigger the detonation before you can recover the hostages."

[disconnected]

Why the frick was a very young very familiar voice in his ear and how did they know about his current situation.

[alert from channel <g4r/cc/000/17ahpla?>]

8826: you better tell me you found Boba. got a report about Ponds waking up from a forced nap but nobody's seen the kid <88:34>

[close alerts]

Bly's bad feeling quickly evolved into a tight knot in his stomach and the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He signed for Galle to wrap up his conversation and come over.

"Commander?"

"I need you to keep an eye on the situation on the plaza. Don't enter the building unless I tell you to. The General won't be happy if we kark this up, I got intel there's bombs inside and children involved. No heroic actions, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. For now just keep entertaining the locals. Maybe you can actually get some info to evaluate further."

He could feel the other narrowing his eyes at him through the visor before nodding and turning to resume his post. Bly scrolled through the contacts on his HUD before landing on [bitesized].

[connected]

"Why the kriff are you here, how do you know I am here and how did manage to leave 000 without a chaincode trail.."

"Sorry Bly.. I didn't exactly plan on leaving Coruscant, really! But it was either playing stow away on that shitty G9 rigger or letting the Weequay who knocked Ponds out vanish into space.. Also I can see your markings from three levels above with how low the suns are. It looks pretty."

"Kid you're supposed to call Fox or whoever is available planetside when something happens! You must not go after someone thrice your size while you're unarmed and on probation!"

"It's kinda hard to call someone who is unconscious."

"Boba.."

"I promise I had nothing to do with it! The idiot clearly misjudged the dosage he used to drug Fox cause he is still out cold. We're currently alone in here. I can't get closer but I can't see any blood on him or any major injury.. though it's hard to tell with that kriffing red armor. Wait.. hold on a seond. I think Fox is waking up."

[disconnected]

[open channel <g4r/cc/000/17ahpla?>]

5052: Boba is with Fox <103:09>

5052: Fox is one of the hostages I am supposed to retrieve <103:17>

...

3636: who is wearing Fox armor at my General's meeting with the Chancellor

[attached holocall_100:44] <105:58>

Even though he's beyond tired Thire instantly clocks that Wolffe's miniscule head tilt means the Commander of the 104th realized he's just a stand in pretending to be Fox. Thire's posture doesn't change at all.

Also thinking about Fox red armor hiding blood stains all to well. Clones helping clones and eventually saving themselves is my brand of happy rn

Currently reading a lot of Coruscant Guard fics

What if upon receiving info about their assigned positions the whole command batch came up with a strategy of regularly switching posts while on Coruscant.

Initially it's to provide cover for the expected medical emergencies (because Coruscant is safe) or if they'll be in need of different talents for specific long-term missions. Cause even after receiving the same standard training, all of them have specialized in different areas. Not enough to be noticed by outsiders since the batchers know how to secretly provide info and apply eachother's shared knowledge immediately.

Of course it doesn't work out because:

- Some Jedi unexpectedly pay way more attention to their commanders and men. General Kenobi spots Cody in the mess and goes to sit at the same table. Even when the clones switch around he recognizes everyone instantly, so Cody is staying on The Negotiator permanently. One of the best things coming out of this is the opportunity to meet up with Captain Rex and the 501st

- Wolffe sustains an injury that they won't be able to cover like they usually do with other tattoos or scars and after losing almost all of the 104th decides to stay and rebuild his battalion with a very protective General Koon

- Ponds is finds himself suddenly taking over responsibility for the most feral kid in the galaxy. He sometimes wonders if Boba distracting Sing before she could actually shoot him was an elaborate ploy to get a better chance to kill General Windu himself or if the boy actually cared about his not-brothers (Boba cares a lot)

- Bly cannot for the life of him stand motionless during another debate in the Senate without going crazy cause he just cares too much about every honest voice being silenced by corruption and greed. His general also seems to watch him closer than others do and he takes the chance to try to learn more about the war efforts from the perspective of the Jedi council

- Bacara, Monnk, Gree and Neyo are on missions taking them to the other side of the galaxy, so far away that they barely make it back to Coruscant. They can't even enter the batchers' secret communication channels most of the times

- Which leaves Fox to become the "permanent" Marshall Commander of the Corries. He guesses it's only fair because more than half of the awards and decorations on the wall of the office were rewarded for his actions. The other half are mostly thanks to Thorn and Bacara being reckless but highly competent idiots

- Thire, Stone and Thorn joke they got stuck with the most uptight of the batch but later realize that Fox strict approach is keeping their men relatively safe. Cause Fox realized very quickly that Coruscant is in fact not safe

- Everyone else takes a whole lot longer to catch on to the not so subtle dangers stretching their claws from the very inside of the Republic's heart, especially with the Guard starting to drift apart from the GAR silently. It takes the CMOs meeting and drinking too much moonshine to finally connect the dots of why the communication lines went mostly dead

- Cody immediately starts strategizing for escape scenarios and researches uninhibited planets. He needs to survive any possible scenario so he can reunite his brothers. His general notices. Rex does as well

- Wolffe is furious and the wolfpack starts finishing their rescue missions in record time to get to the homefront as quickly as possible. He stops drinking alone like he sometimes did and starts accompanying all of his actions with softer words than usual. His general notices

- Ponds is shocked and starts taking to the shinys more. He also asks Boba about his point of view cause the boy definitely notices things a grown man doesn't. He starts sending regular updates about the developments of the general public's moods and tries to find ways to engage in a positive way with the natborns to bring attention to the men fighting a war for them. His general notices

- Bly is sad and starts reading up on all political and especially civil rights debates he can get his hands on. His general notices and asks her master if he has more intel on current developments in all parts of the galaxy. General Vos hasn't been on Coruscant since the start of the second year of war but draws the conclusion he should dig deeper into the heart of the republic

- Bacara is seething and keeps perfecting his already optimized battle plans. The marines train to annihilate droids by hand. He also keeps stocking up on medical equipment. His general doesn't notice

- Neyo doesn't acknowledge feeling anything. He starts tinkering again. He's looking for ways to design communication and transportation devices from all the droid scrap they usually leave behind on the battlefield. He even learns Jawaese. His general doesn't notice

- Monnk and Gree are determined. They comm eachother and start researching on how to survive long term in unknown environments and writing guides on how to identify edibles plants, safe water supplies, how to test for breathable atmosphere and which species like to live in symbiotic or peaceful ways with humanoids. They mask it as personal interest. Their generals notice

- Fox is panicking. He needs to find a new way to keep Hound from being decommissioned for Grizzer peeing in front of a senator's door the second after a natborn noticed their carefully crafted loop hole to switch designations of fallen brothers for the ones they could still save in the official documentations the Guard issues. He hasn't slept or eaten in two days as his comm blinks with the notification of a General striding through the Guard's front door like he belonged among the Corries. He has no time to deal with whatever the Jedi council wants from them but Thire is already on the brink of breaking down scanning data pads for a new loop hole so he grabs his helmet and runs to stop the force user from asking his questions at the wrong time. Not-his general notices

No idea for an actual plot. Just wanted to think about some hurt/comfort and competent clone commanders being brothers before being soldiers

Rick's best friend - Star Wars Jedi : Survivor (PS5)

Shattered - Star Wars Jedi : Survivor (PS5)

Glimpse - Star Wars Jedi : Survivor (PS5)

Lights - Star Wars Jedi : Survivor (PS5)

Perspectives - Star Wars Jedi : Survivor (PS5)