#full name chancellor

[crassinova]

Writing this just in case, the mysterious stranger you see in my account is an oc. Since the stranger in canon has Just eeny weeny atom sized story i decided to put my whole ass and blood to making some story that it just turned into an oc.

[izzystizzys]

Half the jobs Fox is sent on are not within his jurisdiction. This certainly isn’t.

Planetary protection unit, they said. Military police. Orbital security force.

And now Fox is being pointed at Count Dooku on some backwater planet and told to fetch. How the mighty have fallen.

He’s pretty sure Kenobi, Skywalker and their units could’ve karked this all up perfectly fine on their lonesome; they don’t need three Guardsmen there to watch them do it. But the Chancellor says jump and Fox surpressed the urge to bash his head in with a durasteel chair. So it goes.

Which is when things start going terribly, terribly wrong, of course.

“Is that Spinder?!”, Skywalker exclaims, arms wheeling out in the air wildly to try and catch his balance. “The Count fucks?!”

Across the room, Cody rips his helmet off, several shades redder than a baseline human should be. “The Count fucks my brother?!”

Two lightsticks hover uselessly in the air, Skywalker’s zig-zagging in a relentless hum with his gesturing. Fox stands stock-still, in the hope that maybe he’ll spontaneously turn invisible if he does. Around them, 501st and 212th troopers gape through helmets. Behind him, Nuisance gasps for air amidst screaming laughter.

Ping, went Fox’s comm unit, in that unmistakeable lascivious jingle sound. Ping, answered Count Dooku’s within a split second. Match found close by.

For a moment, Fox considers what it would be like to run at the Count’s lightsaber at full speed.

…not like that.

“Count”, Kenobi says, with a face like he’s bitten into a rotten fruit. Not that Fox knows what fruit tastes like. “This is a highly… unexpected development.” He fwoosh-es his lightsaber shut, obviously having given up on fighting. “I’d call it a conflict of interest, but I’m not sure that applies?”

“Oh, it’s gonna be a conflict of something, for sure”, Cody hisses, fists clenched at his sides. He looks about ready to boil over, with Crys and Waxer inching closer in preparation. “What have you done to my brother, you monster?!”

“I don’t think you want to know that, Commander”, Nuisance gasps out between barks of laughter, proving why he’s eternally Fox’s least favourite. Cody’s splotchy red complexion slowly fades into ghostly white as a sheen of horror settles over the room. “Thanks for the fancy chocolate bouquet last week, Count!”

Dooku, who has been thus far staring at the floor with an empty thousand-klick stare, looks up at that. Fox has seldom seen a man that defeated outside of the mirror, he has to admit - but shudders when he remembers exactly what the chocolates were for.

Oh Force, he’s sexted Count Dooku into buying him gifts. Does that make him a Seppie spy? Traitor by proxy?

“I feel”, says the Count, gravely, still holding his long red laserknife in a white-knuckled death-grip, “that I have been taken for a fool.”

“Uh”, says Fox, nervously. All eyes snap to him. Oh Force, oh Force, oh Force. They’re going to invent a whole new kind of decommissioning for this and name it after Fox.

“Is it really scamming if you actually get what you pay for?”, asks Grids, considering. Fox slowly pulls off his helmet just for the comforting feeling of burying his head in his gloved palms. The sounds of a struggle ensue, and Kenobi makes a choked-off noise. Maybe if he’s embarrassed enough he’ll give himself an aneurysm.

“Grandmaster, why are you paying people for naked pictures of themselves on the holonet?!” Kenobi asks, despairingly. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”

“Oi, no one said I was naked!”, Fox exclaims, head whipping up.

“So naked”, Nuisance laughs, palm thumping against the floor. He might be crying.

“I’m not decrepit”, the Count blusters, and Skywalker makes a gagging noise. “I have - there are needs, and they are perfectly natural!” It takes three troopers to restrain Cody from launching himself at the Count.

[sforzesco]

The Art of Dreams: Reflections and Representations

The Tomb of Caterina della Ratta and the Iconography of the Reclining Reader in Renaissance Sepulcharl Art, Yonni Ascher

Ancestor Masks and Aristocratic Power in Roman Culture, Harriet I Flower

okay so just. play connect the dots with me for a second. Girolamo Basso della Rovere is Giuliano della Rovere's (Pope Julius II) cousin. Ascanio Sforza was a long time rival, and later ex-enemy of Giiuliano's. this kind of familial mirroring in the tombs, the way that Ascanio is being subsumed into a matching visual with someone of della Rovere's family is. interesting. because it goes well beyond the expected patron-client relationship between the pope and his cardinals. like, these were companion monuments.

there's also a kind of tragic romantic violence to it, given Ascanio's persistent loyalty to his family and Milan, and Ludovico's plans to have Ascanio's body brought back to Milan in the event of his death and interred in the same chapel as Beatrice d'Este.

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

[david-talks-sw]

Dooku didn't leave because of the Jedi.

At least, if you're going by George Lucas' word.

In deleted scenes of Attack of the Clones, when we learn about Dooku's departure and his values, there's no mention of the Jedi or "the Jedi Order as an institution".

And every time Lucas refers to Dooku's disenchantment and reason for falling, he doesn't mention the Jedi.

"When you realize that Dooku is Darth Tyranus, it explains what Darth Sidious did after Darth Maul was killed: he seduced a Jedi who had become disenchanted with the Republic. He preyed on that disenchantment and converted him to the dark side, which is also a setup for what happens with Anakin." - Mythmaking: Behind the Scenes of Attack of the Clones, 2002

"[Dooku is] one of the few Jedi who became disenchanted with the Republic and left the order and he is leading a separatist movement." - Vanity Fair, 2002

"I wanted a more sophisticated kind of villain. Dooku’s disenchantment with the corruption in the Empire is actually valid. It’s all valid.  So, Chris plays it as, 'Is he really a villain or is he just someone who is disenchanted and trying to make things right?'" - Starlog Magazine #300, 2002

He probably meant the Republic/Senate in that last one, but you get the point. And you're seeing the pattern, right?

Dooku's problem isn't the Jedi, it's the Republic.

He's become disenchanted with a system that - according to Lucas' prologue in the 2004 book Shatterpoint - worked for 1,000 years...

"For a thousand years, the Old Republic prospered and grew under the wise rule of the Senate and the protection of the venerable Jedi Knights."

... but has been rendered ineffective because of 1) senators becoming corrupt and 2) corporations gaining political power.

"But as often happens when wealth and power grow beyond all reasonable proportion, an evil fueled by greed arose. The massive organs of commerce mushroomed in power, the Senate became corrupt, and an ambitious named Palpatine was voted Supreme Chancellor."

That's the message Dooku runs on, when he rallies the systems to form the Separatist Alliance.

"By promising an alternative to the corruption and greed that was rotting the Republic from within, Dooku was able to persuade thousands of star systems to secede from the Republic."

The Jedi aren't really a factor in his decision to leave.

Why would they be? Their political status isn't very high, they're virtually powerless, as illustrated by the film's narrative and stated repeatedly by Lucas.

On the contrary, as we already established in this post, Lucas full-on confirmed that Dooku actually carries the sympathies of most of the Jedi. Again:

Most Jedi agree with Dooku, ideologically.

As far as the Jedi are concerned, the politicians are effing up the Republic, and it sucks because the Jedi see this but aren't allowed to interfere in the political process. They have to resort to looking for loopholes in their mandates to actually get stuff done.

That's what that whole "she's a politician" scene is meant to hint at. In the commentary of Attack of the Clones, Lucas uses a similar turn of phrase as he does with Dooku.

"[This scene gives us] a chance to talk a little bit about politics and the Jedi’s disenchantment with the political process, due to the corruption and the ineffectiveness of the Senate." - Attack of the Clones, Director’s Commentary, 2002

Considering all this, it becomes clear that the intended narrative surrounding Dooku's decision to leave the Order is not:

"The Jedi are dogmatic and asleep at the wheel except for Dooku, who is ahead of the curb and sees the system is flawed, so he left."

It's actually:

"ALL Jedi see the system is flawed, Dooku's the only Jedi who decided to take it a step further and leave the Order so he can try to get into politics himself and change things."

That's why they hesitate to accuse him of murder.

That's why in an earlier draft of the Attack of the Clones script, by the end of the second act, Mace STILL has his doubts that Dooku would sign a treaty with the Trade Federation to attack the Republic.

As far as the Jedi are concerned, Dooku is out there fighting the good fight, making noise because whenever they try to protest it falls on deaf ears... until his betrayal on Geonosis.

After all, let's not get it twisted: the Dooku we're introduced to in the films and The Clone Wars, isn't really just Dooku anymore.

He's Darth Tyranus.

A point Lucas makes sure to highlight in his Shatterpoint prologue:

"Unbeknownst to most of his followers, Dooku was himself a Dark Lord of the Sith, acting in collusion with his master, Darth Sidious, who, over the years, had struck an unholy alliance with the greater forces of commerce and their private droid armies."

It's not about doing the selfless thing for Dooku, anymore. He's knowingly part of the problem.

He's all about ambition, now. His personal goals are things like overthrowing Sidious and becoming the most powerful Jedi.

"[Anakin's] ambition and his dialogue here is the same as Dooku’s. He says “I will become more powerful than every Jedi.” And you’ll hear later on Dooku will say “I have become more powerful than any Jedi.” [...] It is possible for a Jedi to want to become more powerful, and control things." - Attack of the Clones, Director’s Commentary, 2002

"If you put two Sith together, they try to get others to join them to get rid of the other Sith. [When revealing the truth to Obi-Wan], Dooku's ambition is really to get rid of Darth Sidious. He's trying to get Obi-Wan's assistance in that and help in that, so that he and Obi-Wan could overthrow Sidious and take over." - Attack of the Clones, Commentary Track 2, 2002

Y'know? Selfish things.

Dooku - like all other Sith, and like the very corporations and Senators he had sworn to destroy - is consumed by his own greed.

[tossawary]

Something I found surprising when revisiting the prequel trilogy is how much the clones aren't full characters in the movies. They're props. They're devices. The films give them the same weight and attention as they give the Separatist droids, really. The only two clone troopers I can easily name off the top of my head who get "named" in any way are Oddball and Cody, who are both just barely in "Revenge of the Sith", and interchangeable in their roles with any other background clone.

It's interesting when held up against "The Clone Wars" and other extension material, which had the time and inclination to say more directly, "Hey, these are people and what's happening to them is wrong." Like, obviously what's happening in Ep2&3 is wrong, the audience can draw that conclusion on their own, growing people as cannon fodder is a clear part of the greater tragedy if you take about five seconds to think about the situation here. Even without the element of the entire war being constructed and controlled by the main villain, the clones are a tragedy.

But, oh man, the movies themselves don't really care to focus on that. It's SUCH a background element. I had a "oh, yeah, Order 66 being programmed into a control chip was a later addition to / clarification of canon" moment while watching, because as far as Ep3 actually shows us (as was the initial intention by some, I know), Cody apparently knew the entire time that he might be called to fire on Obi-Wan Kenobi and was just waiting on the call. The "homogenous evil army" trope is... very much present and even more identical than usual here.

By the films alone, you can easily assume that the clone troopers have no love for any of the Jedi (whom we're meant to believe are relatively decent people) for a variety of reasons. Their upbringing and training on Kamino was presumably cold and brutal. They're (possibly enslaved) soldiers in an even more brutal war. This army is offered no development or individuality that makes the appalling Jedi Temple massacre out of character for any of them.

But when the various Clone Wars shows first turned the clones into individual characters and even protagonists, many of whom are shown to be good people and become friendly with the Jedi through years of teamwork in life-or-death situations, Order 66 became weird. "Wait, why would the majority of clones (all the clones we see in the movies, at least) just go along with this? What went wrong here?"

I get why TCW and SW canon settled on the control chips option and I find it interesting enough. The tragedy of it all makes me want to lie facedown on the floor. Darth Sidious is really winning at sheer evilness here.

On the other hand, there are some really fun and interesting "Order 66 was taught, not programmed" AUs to revisit here. Especially when some of the other (Legends canon now) contingency orders include what to do if the Supreme Chancellor is incapacitated or declared unfit, or even getting rid of the Supreme Chancellor and assuming control by lethal force if necessary. Presumably these orders existed as a back-up in case Palpatine wasn't elected to the seat in time for the war or didn't manage to get rid of term limits and was replaced as Chancellor at any point.

That really sounds like Palpatine's evil army of ruthless Jedi-Killers (unchipped) could have easily backfired on him if they'd ever decided all of these non-clones were unfit and organized to take power for themselves. I love any scenario where Palpatine's arrogant and overly complicated plans get him in trouble. The "homogenous evil army" often gets treated as a mindless mob, but while the clones may have some degree of emotional suppression, they're clearly very capable and not unintelligent, and they're not given many (if any) reasons to be loyal to the Republic. And it is FUNNY to imagine any Dark Lord's created army deciding that he fucking sucks at war (there's obviously a leak, why the FUCK are they losing so much ground to fucking droids) and they're overthrowing him for better benefits, so that they can create and run a more efficient Evil Empire themselves.

You could make this angsty as hell or a comedy, or both. I'm imagining the clones at the eleventh hour murdering Chancellor Palpatine with such brutal efficiency that it feels like its own kind of prejudice. And he gets revealed as a Sith Lord in the process (this was taken into account as a potential problem when planning the assassination), so there's an initial moment of: "I can't believe it! He was the Sith Lord in the Senate all along! How did you know?"

Cody: "Didn't."

Obi-Wan: "...Pardon?"

Cody: "This is a coup, sir."

Like, if we're going by what's shown in the movies alone, there's a clear Emperor Cody AU to be had here. Which can be played as a temporary (years long) measure to reinstall a Republic with proper checks and balances, while a bemused Jedi Order and Senate are held hostage, or the First Galactic Empire is established as per canon just with the clones running it and reaping the benefits. I'm currently enjoying thinking about the latter scenario as a dark comedy, in which Future Emperor Cody (or the clone of your choice) has to negotiate in his spare time with the various demands of his fellow clones. (Who are, let us remember due to the horror that is the accelerated aging, a bunch of teenagers at the oldest here.)

Rex: "I want Tatooine."

Cody: "The whole planet?"

Rex: "Yeah."

Cody: "It's a shithole."

Rex: "Yeah, but it'll make Skywalker so kriffing mad, so I'm calling dibs."

Cody: "Noted."

And if you want to write shipfic, there's always the AU of various Evil Army Clones meeting their love interest and then going, "Not evil anymore! Sorry, guys." Which could be angsty or another dark-ish comedy.

Cody @ the clone commander group chat: "WE'RE NOT GIVING UP ON THE 3-YEAR IMPERIAL COUP PLAN JUST BECAUSE YOU HORNY ASSHOLES WANT TO FUCK JEDI!!! STOP TALKING ABOUT THE POWER OF LOVE!!! STOP IT!!!"

[stealthetrees]

If anyone bothered to count, Marshal Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard would go down in history as having the most blackmail ever. Not on him, he’s too good at covering his tracks. On literally everyone that could potentially move against him. He has a unique advantage of being able to walk into peoples houses and office buildings and go through their stuff and computers claiming to be looking for “Sepratist activity” and only the Supreme Chancellor could stop him.

Fox has your bank account numbers, your transaction history, tax records, addresses of your mistresses, photos of you paying off the mob, medical history. Everything. He takes full advantage.

The rest of the GAR think he’s a Secretary because he’s been seen going through peoples desks and making bank withdraws in their name. He can’t deny it because then they would start asking questions Fox dosnt want to answer.

[saphronethaleph]

Double Dialing

Anakin looked around, cautiously.

“Was that the last of them?” he asked.

“Last ones we know about,” one of the liaison wookiees reported. Chewbacca, Anakin thought his name was – the son of Attichitcuk.

“All right, good enough for me,” Anakin decided, deactivating his lightsaber. “Skywalker to Five-oh-first command, report in?”

“Their attack has stalled, sir,” Appo reported in. “We’re preparing a counteroffensive move, but it’s not urgent – I’d appreciate your input if you can give it, sir.”

“I’ll head back to the command post,” Anakin replied, rolling his shoulder a little.

He had a pleasant burn in his muscles, and he’d done some really cool things so far today. Sure, he wasn’t a Master, and that was still a bit annoying, but it was a lot harder for it to feel annoying when he was helping out to save an entire planet!

Again.

And saving a planet full of wookiees was particularly good at making you feel like you were completely kickass and amazing. If they needed help, and you could give them that help, it was well worth it. Especially as a sign that the Council was willing to let him pick his assignments.

Then his comlink crackled again.

“...guiding light to big handful,” Obi-Wan’s voice said. “Guiding Light to Big Handful, over?”

“Master, it’s me,” Anakin replied.

“You’re supposed to say, Big Handful copies,” Obi-Wan pointed out, reproachfully. “Really, Anakin.”

“Sorry,” Anakin said. “You know it’s me, though. And I still think whoever picked that codename was being cruel. I wouldn’t have picked it for me.”

“Nobody picks their own codenames,” Obi-Wan replied. “It’s like nicknames. Anyway, Anakin – I’ve got some good news.”

“Oh, that’s… good?” Anakin replied. “Hang on, I think I remember, weren’t you on Utapau?”

“Yes, but that was a while ago,” Obi-Wan told him. “You must have missed the last update for the Council.”

Anakin felt a bit guilty about that, except that he had been in the middle of a lot of fights on Kashyyyk over the last few days. So he’d probably just ignored his comlink when it was ringing, because he’d been trying to cut a tank droid in half or fend off STAPs or make sure his crashing hoverspeeder crashed into the enemy without anyone on board. Instead of crashing into their own command centre while there were still two liaison wookiees on board.

It really had been an eventful few days.

“I probably did, Master,” he admitted. “So what’s been happening on Utapau?”

“I beat Grievous,” Obi-Wan said, just tossing it off there. “He was quite good, but not quite good enough. But before our battle I overheard him telling the Confederacy council to run away, heading to Mustafar.”

“Mustafar…” Anakin repeated, thinking. “That’s not all that far from here. I could probably head over-”

“Alas, you’re too late,” Obi-Wan replied. “The Open Circle fleet chased them to Mustafar. That’s actually what I’ve been doing, I led the assault on the mining facility they were holed up in twenty minutes ago. The whole CIS leadership has been captured.”

“Great!” Anakin said. “Does that mean we can bring an end to the war?”

“Not just yet, Anakin,” Obi-Wan apologized. “I’ve been interrogating the Trade Federation leadership, and Nute Gunray is quite clear that he’s been working for Darth Sidious for the last thirteen years at least – since before we met. Which is why I called you.”

Anakin was silent for a long moment.

“...I don’t get it,” he admitted.

“I captured their computers, Anakin,” Obi-Wan explained. “Including current comcodes to contact Darth Sidious. I’m hoping to get R2’s help in tracing them.”

“Yeah, he could do that,” Anakin replied. “Though…”

“Though what?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I’m just thinking about something the Chancellor said, once,” Anakin explained. “He said that, if Darth Sidious walked through the door he’d try and negotiate with him.”

He shrugged, not that Obi-Wan could see him. “Just a thought.”

“That might actually work,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin stared at his comlink, not that Obi-Wan could see that earlier.

“It might?” he asked.

“Well, it’s a plan you came up with, Anakin, and I’ve had plenty of experience in how well those go,” Obi-Wan replied. “Which is to say… distressingly well.”

“Thanks,” Anakin said.

“It’s better than the alternative,” Obi-Wan replied. “Unfortunately, the codes seem to be secured to this computer. We can’t just send them to you or to the Chancellor.”

“That’s okay,” Anakin decided. “I’ll get back to the command centre and hook up R2-D2…”

“Chancellor, you must appreciate your position,” Mon Mothma said, reasonably. “Your arguments that we are still in a crisis situation are becoming increasingly threadbare; this is not, necessarily, a problem that is impossible to solve, but it is a problem that needs solving.”

“I hardly see how it would qualify as a problem, Senator,” the Chancellor replied.

“The war is coming to a conclusion, Chancellor,” Bail pointed out. “It is going to be time to transition back to normal governance at some point soon… that transition is going to go more easily, for you and for the Republic as a whole, if you are willing to make it rather than dragging it out.”

“I’m not sure what you are insinuating, Senator Organa,” Palpatine began.

“It’s not an insinuation,” Bail replied.

He shrugged. “It’s a statement of fact. Speaking purely from the point of view of securing public support, it is a matter of fact that the public responds better to someone who is willing to face an electoral challenge than someone who fends it off as best they can. If you continue to run the Republic in a crisis situation until the end of the war, then – speaking purely in terms of fact – that makes it far more likely that you will lose the subsequent election.”

Palpatine glowered.

“Assuming I accept your assessment,” he began. “What is your suggestion, then?”

“Abandon your emergency powers, or make a clear statement with a short timeframe as to when those powers will be abandoned,” Mon advised. “There are also issues relating to the courts, to be clear.”

“I don’t consider such issues to be issues at all,” Palpatine said, then there was a beeping sound.

He picked up the comlink from his desk.

“Yes?” he asked, then smiled. “Anakin, my boy! It’s good to hear from you. How have you been doing on Kashyyyk?”

“Is this… a bit impolite?” Bail murmured to Mon.

“Skywalker did call him,” Mon replied. “You know how the two are friends.”

“...that sounds marvellous,” Palaptine said. “Oh? ...yes, I remember. I’d be happy to negotiate with the CIS leadership… I’m sorry, who are you talking to?”

“And… there we go,” Static declared. “It’s using a priority override key, the only one in the system. You’ll show up as being Nute Gunray, since we know he had contact.”

“Excellent,” Obi-Wan replied, nodding to the expert. “Anakin?”

“Ready, Master,” Anakin replied. “I’ve got the Chancellor on the other call, I’ll put the comlinks next to one another.”

“Very good,” Obi-Wan said. “I’ll do the same.”

He triggered the system, and for a long moment nothing happened.

Then the call connected.

“Explain yourself, Nute,” came a sinister voice, and Obi-Wan shuddered.

Who would ever think such a man had their best interests at heart?

“I assume you are referring to Nute Gunray?” the Chancellor said. “I believe he is not available. However-”

“Begone, then,” Sidious snapped.

“Please, allow me to finish,” the Chancellor requested. “This war has been going on for too long already, and I believe there are grounds for a peaceful settlement.”

“A peaceful settlement?” Sidious asked, chuckling darkly. “What kind of peaceful settlement could you possibly be talking about?”

“Surely the conflict between the Jedi and the Sith has some basis in the past, but that was hundreds of years ago,” the Chancellor pointed out.

“The conflict between the Jedi and the Sith is quite recent,” Sidious replied. “The Sith have developed techniques which some would consider… unnatural… and the Jedi were opposed to them from the start. They wished to keep the secret of healing the very ill out of the hands of the galaxy… many of them won’t even know it themselves.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling to ward off his intense dislike for the Sith.

That was an obvious tissue of lies, phrased to manipulate and with a built-in reason why the listener might not have heard of it.

“There must be a basis for peace,” the Chancellor protested.

Sidious made an amused noise. “Very well, then, here is your proposal. The Jedi Order must be dismantled.”

“I will not accept that,” Palpatine replied. “Some Jedi are my personal friends. Anakin Skywalker, for example, is a hero.”

Sidious chuckled. “You’re not expecting me to change my mind based on that, are you?” he asked, sounding amused. “What if I revealed to you that the Jedi do not have your own best interests at heart?”

“I would be very much inclined to not believe you,” Palpatine said, with a sigh. “Your Confederacy has caused enormous bloodshed!”

“The Confederacy was never a Sith creation,” Sidious replied. “It was a creation of my apprentice, Count Dooku. But Count Dooku is not the Sith. What the Sith want – what I want – is to be free from the tyranny of the Jedi.”

His voice became silky and insinuating. “Haven’t the Jedi resisted your own influence? Prevented that hero you spoke of from achieving the rank of Master? What other reason could they have – they must be hiding something.”

Obi-Wan felt sick for a moment.

The way this Sith was speaking was almost calculated to get under Anakin’s skin, as well as that of the Chancellor.

“I… don’t think the Jedi Order is quite so corrupt as you suggest,” Palpatine replied, after a moment, which was almost worse than an agreement.

Did the Chancellor really think he could give orders to the Jedi?

“You know what it would take for a peace,” Sidious said. “It’s the only way to stop the bloodshed. The only way that the Sith would feel… comfortable… sharing our superior knowledge of the Force.”

Then the call ended, unceremoniously.

“...well, that could have gone better,” Anakin muttered.

“It was worth a try,” Obi-Wan said, though he privately agreed with Anakin.

Static and Sparkle were checking if they’d managed to track down Sidious during the conversation, and once they delivered their verdict Obi-Wan would check with Anakin to see if R2 had achieved anything. Maybe he’d even managed to send a virus.

At least Sidious had stayed on the line for a while.

Palpatine heaved an enormous sigh of relief, setting down the comlink he’d been using to talk to Anakin.

He very much hoped to never have to do something like that again.

Then a tiny sound made him look up.

Bail Organa and Mon Mothma were staring at him. And, in a shimmering blue hologram, so were about half of the Jedi Council.

“...what. The kriff. Was that?” Mace Windu asked, eventually.

“Ah…” Palpatine began. “...performance art?”

Nobody seemed very impressed by that answer.

[phoenixyfriend]

Remember my post about Anakin pulling a Mike Murdock? Yeah, no, I have a full on AU concept now (with contributions by @threebea! indented)!

He lies so hard about having a brother that the universe invents a twin from scratch for him. It happens when Anakin is like twelve.

Anakin was just committing to the bit on a mission because he was bored.

The Force was also bored.

Oh no Anakin force manifests a sibling Obi-Wan: …That's not how the Force works. Anakin: You tell the Force that. Obi-Wan: Well, I suppose this would be your half-brother since the Force is your shared parent. Obi-Wan after the initial shock: This might as well happen.

New brother is better at some things and worse at others, as any person is. Anakin is, naturally, a fucking mess about all that, worries he'll be replaced, etc.

Obi-Wan just brings this to the Council and nobody can DENY this Skywalker from the Jedi after they already took the first one. So. Mace volunteers.

This Skywalker is a bit more Force than Anakin, got glowing eyes and visions and the Animal Communion buff. But is worse at flying, worse at tech, and unfathomably worse at people. Which is a FEAT, since Anakin's not too hot at social skills in the first place.

Mace has his hands full in many ways, including "keep this child from walking face first into the wall."

Obi-Wan: We are not calling him Anagain.

Anakin had many mixed feelings but! If he's going to have family then he's going to commit!

The other option is that the brother is younger by enough that the Older Brother instincts kick in, but I think the one-sided twin rivalry is funnier.

Anakin: I'm a big brother now. Anagain: I think we're supposed to be twins. Anakin: I have more worldly experience. Anagain: I'm taller. Anakin: wut Anagain: alpha twin alpha twin (that's his nickname until you come up with actual name lol) Obi-Wan: Well, I'm taller than both of you, and while that is the case you both need to listen to me. Anagain: (flash of foresight) So, not for long Obi-Wan: What? Anagain: Nothing. Mace: (the Shatterpoints are blinding) Yeah, I'll be taking this one. More seriously tho, Anakin definitely torn between what if everyone likes him better he's born from the force what if he's the chosen one what if and also: I have a brother I have family I need to take care of him. Probably some fun twin force bond too. Oh man Sheev after digesting all of that would definitely try to get some jealousy going.

Anakin talks about the new brother with terms like Freshly Hatched and Innocent Baby and it's mostly a joke except that now HE thinks Palps is a creep when it's aimed at Not Him.

Palpatine: When do I get to meet him? Anakin: [absolutely not] Mace won't let him [Yeah that'll work] Mace: Yeah, absolutely not, he didn't help save Naboo there's no reason for my Padawan to have a relationship with the Supreme Chancellor

I've decided to call the brother Aion (EY-yon). I like the whole thing about Anakin's name being based on Ananke, even if it's a disputed thing, so I go for Greek myth when doing alt names for siblings.

Mace still bitter about having to let Palps get time with Anakin not about to do the same if he can help it. Although that comic takes place later eh (handwaves) still The Jedi might try to be hush hush about where aion came from anyway since he would fall directly under Jedi business

Help I'm imagining Mace and Obi-Wan on a walk and the twins are on child leashes. Anakin because ADHD will have him trying to run off to look at something. And Aion because he's going to be so distracted by visions that he will walk into traffic.

"Can we send a letter to mom so she knows he exists?" The other thought was ANAKIN holding the child leash for Aion, and then Obi-Wan or Mace holding the one for Anakin. Lil chain.

Aion: Hey… I know I've only existed for a few months, and yes my memories of before are sort of built by the Force, but I'm pretty sure the Supreme Chancellor is evil. Mace: You saw that in a vision? Aion: No, he's just super creepy. Bad vibes.

Obi-Wan: Of course he's evil, he's a career politician. Anakin: What about your friend from Alderaan? Obi-Wan: That's different.

One of these boys is constantly zoning out. The other is smiling, but the smile contains murder.

They're both adhd but with wildly different sides of it.

EXACTLY

Also.

Aion: [silent, a bit upset but mostly chill] Anakin, holding his hand: He asked for no pickles!

[sollis-occasum]

a night like this - anakin skywalker x fem!reader

summary: you kept saying that everything was over between the two of you but anakin kept coming back to you every time.

warnings: angst, no use of y/n, insecurity, jealousy, miscommunication, mention of blood and injury, quinlan vos beheads a bounty hunter (just one sentence and it's not in detail either), mention of a vomiting twi-lek, reader is working in a pub, no proofread

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i haven't decided yet but i may write a few more parts to this story. i hope you like it guys. please don't mind the english mistakes, i'm not a native speaker.

Being injured was not unusual for Anakin Skywalker, but he could never remember feeling so vulnerable before.

As he moved, his battle-weary body convulsed with a kind of pain he had never felt before, reopening wounds that had begun to close, filling his nostrils with the metallic scent of blood. If your delicate sighs had not mixed with his moans from his blood-soaked lips, the pain he was in would have caused him to lose all sense of time and space. But how could he have allowed this to happen as you gently ran your hands over his face, wiping away the sweat from his forehead? This was perhaps the last time you would welcome him into this house where you had created so many precious memories together, and Anakin wanted to engrave everything from that night deep in his mind. Every sound, every image, every detail...

You had tried to tell him hundreds, maybe thousands of times before that everything between you was over, that you belonged in two different worlds. Anakin Skywalker was a young Jedi fighting to ensure that the light side of the Force prevailed over the darkness in the galaxy. You were just an ordinary barmaid working in a seedy pub in a backstreet of Coruscant. Unlike Anakin, your life was not full of fearless warriors and nobles with endless wealth, but of hardened criminals, addicts, and bounty hunters. How could you trust him and open your heart to him when he had been trained to fight the people you considered your family for almost his entire life?

And your experiences were very different, too. Anakin had traveled to planets you had never even heard of before, and met people you could never even see on the HoloNet. Some nights when you couldn't sleep, you would ask him to talk, to tell you things, thinking that hearing his soft voice would help you drift off. He would tell you stories from his missions. Sometimes these stories took place on a mountain on Alderaan, sometimes in an underwater city on Naboo. Usually, the people who accompanied Anakin on these planets were just as interesting as the mission itself. Master Jedi, senators, stormtroopers, sometimes even Chancellor Palpatine himself...

These stories that you listened to with great excitement at first, started to create a thin ache in your heart that even you didn't want to accept. You knew that Anakin had no bad intentions, that he just wanted to share something with you, but no matter what you did you couldn't resist the jealousy that was trying to take over your soul. Knowing that there is another life somewhere outside of this swamp you were trapped in and that you could only hear about it from others was driving you crazy inside.

Sometimes Anakin would ask you questions about your life, but you would either ignore them or leave them unanswered. You had no intention of appearing mysterious or keeping secrets. You just didn't have stories that would interest someone like him who had seen the entire galaxy. What were you going to tell him? Do you know, Anakin, today a Jedi named Quinlan Vos came to our pub and cut off the head of a bounty hunter with his lightsaber. The man's head fell into the lap of one of the stripper Twi-leks and she started throwing up. I had to clean up the vomit along with the blood on the walls. What a beautiful day, isn't it?

No, no... You would rather remain silent for the rest of your life than endure Anakin's pitying gaze as he listened to these. At least that way you wouldn't have lost your self-respect.

You took a deep breath to clear your mind and turned your gaze to Anakin lying on your bed. He looked so innocent and defenseless with his wounded state that your heart ached for him. You wanted to protect him from all the evil in the universe by hiding him in your house, which was a temple of memories for you, but how could you do that when you didn't even have the strength to protect yourself? The only good thing you could do for him was to get out of his life before you could hurt him any further. You tucked a lock of hair that had fallen onto his forehead behind his ear and muttered in a voice you could barely hear, "You shouldn't have come here, Anakin." You tried to make your voice sound firm and determined, but you couldn't stop it from shaking.

The young Jedi tried to sit up in bed, but couldn’t. He winced in pain and slowly lowered himself onto the headboard. He pressed his mechanical hand to the wound on his abdomen, as if the coldness of the metal would ease the pain. You placed your hand over his and began to gently stroke the metal surface with your thumb. Even though he couldn’t feel your touch, the gesture always soothed him. When you realized that having a cybernetic hand embarrassed him, you started doing it to show him that you loved everything about him, and over time it had become a habit. To Anakin, this robotic hand might have been a symbol of his weakness but to you, it was just a part of the man you loved.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a burden to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ani, you’re not a burden to me. You couldn’t be even if you wanted to.” You slowly removed his hand from his wound, as if you were afraid of hurting him, and kissed it. “What I was trying to say was that the Jedi at the temple could take better care of you. You know, with spells and all that.”

"Jedi don't do magic, they use the Force." He smiled for the first time since he had come to you. You shrugged, smiling. "They're all the same to me. I'm not sensitive to any of them anyway."

Your smiles and chuckles were not enough to break the serious air in the room. You had to stop for a few seconds and gather your courage to continue speaking. Your eyebrows were slightly furrowed in the meantime, and your lips were drawn into a thin line. A sadder expression than Anakin had ever seen appeared in his eyes, reflected by the moonlight. The wrinkles on your forehead made you look like you had aged a few years in a few seconds.

"But we can't keep doing this, Anakin. You know that too. You can't come to me every time. We've talked about this many times before."

Anakin tried to get closer to you, but the burns and wounds were hurting him so much that he couldn't. He leaned back once more, taking deep, raspy breaths, and unconsciously began to squeeze the old sheet. Despite the pained expression on his face, he neither blinked nor took his gaze away from yours. You knew that by looking directly into you eyes, he was trying to see something deep inside your soul. Maybe a trace of the affection you had only ever felt for him, or maybe a glimmer of hope that you would never give up on him... But he could see nothing but determination on your face, blurred by his misty eyes.

“Don’t do this to us,” he said in a pleading voice. The tears he had been trying to hold back had finally started to flow down his cheeks. With a quick movement, he pulled his mechanical hand from yours and wiped his face, hoping that you hadn’t seen them. He hated the power you had over him.

“Don’t give up on us like this.”

When you saw Anakin’s wet eyelashes, you felt an overwhelming desire in your heart to pull him close to you, to lay him on your chest, to caress the soft hair he had grown for your sake while he cried and tell him that everything would be okay, but you couldn’t do it. You knew that the moment you showed weakness, your ex-lover would draw strength from your hesitation and try to fight against your inevitable end. You did the only thing you could do and shook your head, hiding behind your cold expression. "I have no choice, Ani."

"I love you, does that mean nothing to you?" The sadness in his eyes was giving way to anger, but his voice was so weak that he could not convey his rebellion to you.

"Of course that means something." you said in a calm tone, almost mocking his anger. "I love you too, but I will not allow you to waste your life on a relationship that has no future. If you are so determined to go against the Jedi Code, you should at least do it for someone worthy. Senator Amidala, for example. She is a beautiful and noble woman, and it is clear that she has feelings for you. She can use her power and position to help you. I will only be a hindrance."

"Nonsense," Anakin snapped. "Padme is nothing more than a trusted friend to me. You are the only person I need to continue. I can fight the whole galaxy as long as you're by my side."

You sighed slightly and got out of bed. “We won’t have this conversation again, Anakin. My decision is final and there is nothing you can do to make me change my mind.”

You knew you were doing the right thing for both of you, but why did it hurt so much? Why did the right choice always require such sacrifices?

You bid Anakin a last farewell with an innocent kiss on the lips and started walking towards the old wooden door of the room. You could feel the salty taste of your lovers tears on your lips.

“Stay the night here and get some good rest. But I don’t want to see you here when I get home from work tomorrow.”

Those were the last words you said to Anakin before you left the room and his life forever. “This can’t be the end of us,” he muttered as he looked at your shrinking figure. He started to tangle his fingers in his hair that you had been gently stroking a few minutes ago and started to squeeze it. He shook his head violently from side to side as if denying the cruel words echoing in his mind.

"I swear I will find a way to fix everything and bring you back to me."

[dailytudors]

FRANCES GREY, DUCHESS OF SUFFOLK, MOTHER OF A QUEEN

Born Frances Brandon, named after St. Francis of Assisi but also in honour of the King of France, Francis I, who was once the stepson-in-law of her mother and who had granted the marriage of her parents. Daughter of Charles Brandon, 1st Duke of Suffolk and Mary Tudor, Princess of England and Dowager Queen of France, she was the eldest daughter of her parents' union and after the death of her brother their eldest child. Sister to Eleanor Clifford, later Countess of Cumberland. She had two full brothers one elder and one younger, who did not reach adulthood. By her father, she had four half-siblings, like her full brothers her younger brothers did not reach adulthood. Granddaughter of Henry VII, King of England and Elizabeth of York, Queen of England. Making her the niece of Henry VIII, King of England and per the Act of Succession 1536 the first person in line for the English throne outside of her uncle's marriages, as her mother's heirs took precedence over her Scottish cousins who were through her aunt - the elder of Henry VII's daughters - Margaret, Queen of Scotland's line. Her first marriage was to Henry Grey, initially Marquess of Dorset who later acceded the Dukedom of Suffolk after her father's death. Henry Grey was related through their common ancestress Elizabeth Woodville, Queen of England, Henry through Elizabeth's first marriage and Frances through her second. Her second husband was Adrian Stokes, the Master of the Horse to her cousin Mary I. Mother to Jane Grey, Queen of England for nine days (technically thirteen if you take the date of the death of Edward VI) who was made heir by Edward VI brushing over Frances's own claim. Also, the mother to Katherine Grey and Mary Grey, who at times during Elizabeth I's reign were considered viable heirs by the court. She had a loving relationship with her stepmother Catherine Willoughby and socialized in the same circles, including the protestant circles of her uncle's latter reign and her cousin Edward's reign. Beloved friend to her Aunt by marriage Catherine Parr, Queen of England who was also a good friend of her stepmother. Friend to her cousin Mary I, even after Mary had put her Husband, Daughter and son-in-law to death. Mary, Frances and their cousin - through their aunt Margaret, Queen of Scotland - Margaret Douglas were all close in age and brought up in the court of Henry VIII. Mary ended up on the throne, with Frances being the mother of a Queen and Margaret being the mother of a King Consort of Scotland and later the grandmother of James I, King of England.

[Anna Chancellor as Lady France Grey, in Amazon Prime's My Lady Jane]

[izzystizzys]

There is a scratch mark on the floor of the Council chambers that Mace has never noticed before. Not a deep one, mind, quite shallow. This matters because it’s making the white-hot pulse of agony stabbing through his eyeballs ebb momentarily. Then, he chances a glance upwards at the fidgeting Knight in front of them, and it returns in full force.

Huh, he’s never seen Oppo Rancisis’ face turn that colour before.

“Hmm”, Master Yoda hums, deep and scratchy. His expression is unreadable even to Mace beyond a baseline gremlinness, and the force with which he grips the edges of his seat is making his bones creak. Master of the Order you should become, they said. Follow the calling of the Force, you should. A fulfilling purpose, it will be. Mace is going to hunt the little goblin for sport when this is all over, and he’s going to laugh the whole time.

“Show us the livestream again, could you, Knight Parvo?” Yoda asks. Mace bursts a capillary, he’s pretty sure, and so does poor Knight Parvo, whose orange Mon Cala skin tips all the way into blood red with stress. “Most unusual, this is.”

“Absolutely not!”, Ki Adi intervenes before Mace has to, thank the Force for little mercies. Plo Koon’s tusks tremble slightly with either suppressed laughter or abject horror, maybe both, and Stass Allie has her head in her hands. “The holo stills should be enough”, Ki Adi proceeds to add, and Mace has to reconsider all feelings of grace he just felt towards his fellow Councillor.

He never wants to watch Yoda zoom in on someone’s abs again. Or Depa raise her eyebrows at the curve of thighs bent over the dripping front of a speeder.

“Speeder Wash For Our Troops”, his former padawan reads out loud from a still of what has to be hundreds of the things gathered in the public senate parking lot. “Fund Our Boys And Get A Wet Seeing-To!” The series of images features dozens of Coruscant Guard troopers in various stages of unkitted, gleaming and shining with soap suds and water. The fact that the whole thing is also massive shatterpoint after massive shatterpoint is, quite frankly, insulting.

“Well hello- oh dear”, Obi-Wan’s blue form crackles to life in his chair, followed by several sounds of choking that are definitely not him. Good, Mace thinks acidly. If he has to deal with this, then so does kriffing Skywalker. “I’m sorry, why am I looking at Commander Thorn using a washrag like a lasso on top of a speeder?”

“Oh, the Guard’s little fundraising project”, Bail Organa says, as he steps into the Council chambers. Normally, Mace likes the man well enough. Now, he just smiles and adds on, “I’ve already donated, in mine and Breha’s name. Remotely, of course.”

“The Guard’s fundraising speeder wash?”, Obi-Wan repeats, edges of his holo form flickering with what Mace suspects is Skywalker very unsubtly trying to edge in. Force, but the man really is horrible at any and all stealth, like kissing his secret wife in an open arena in front of his Master. “And they are fundraising for…?”

“GAR budget allocations have to come from somewhere”, Organa shrugs. “And with the tide of public opinion turning, they’ve been tending towards cuts. The Guard feels them more keenly than any other sector - they’ve been reduced from half to quarter rations, and medical supplies have not made more than a token appearance in the last draft. The Chancellor has cancelled three consecutive meetings on the matter, and thus it was agreed that a more hands-on approach was needed. Any surplus will go into the Army fund.”

“Surely it can’t be that dire”, Oppo protests, a slightly less concerning shade of purple now. Senator Organa shrugs again, jostling the smattering of cracks slowly building around his person in a way that makes Mace wince quietly. “It’s all publicly available data, Masters.”

It really can be that dire, as it turns out. And quarter rations is only scratching the surface of how dire, considering the Guard has apparently never had access to bacta in all their posting, and also includes requisitioning forms available to the Senate for reconditionings and decommissionings, two words Mace has only heard Ponds whispers amidst shuddering in the early days of the war before Shaak Ti went off and just about tore some throats out over it.

“Alright”, he concedes, rubbing at his temples. “Fair enough, we have failed to tackle a massive blind spot in the Guard’s well being. There is no Jedi assigned to Coruscant, and that’s an oversight on our behalf. But how in the everloving kriff did this get past the Chancellor and Commander Fox?!”

Who have both signed, black on white. Bail Organa smiles cryptically. “Well, if you scroll a bit past that one image, up to the industrial speeder in the back - Commander Fox is currently having credits stuffed into his codpiece in the back, I believe.”

“HE’S WHAT IN THE WHAT NOW”, Commander Cody screeches through the speaker of Obi-Wan’s holo image, and Mace has to summon every bit of Jedi-serenity he possesses in his body to keep from dropkicking a cackling Yoda through the chamber windows.

[tennessoui]

Oh you're so right about Anakin concluding it's probably Bail. Because maybe he got wind that the person Obi-Wan is in love with is happily married to someone else. It can literally only be Bail, right? Anakin says some pretty eyebrow raising things about the matter considering he is also a married man.

anakin, in newly elected chancellor bail organa’s office with a pen and clipboard full of possible names of criminal ne’er do wells that his master may be in love with: you know I killed the last chancellor in this very office. good times. I would kill a chancellor again. If something I loved was threatened. Or someone. Thoughts, chancellor?

bail organa who has never once even thought about sleeping with obi-wan kenobi: thoughts? no. concerns? yes

[agentarc]

i’m just gonna bite the bullet and post a wip of this fox whump fic i’m cooking

important background info: quinlan is undercover as a maintenance tech for senate droids, and he’s concealing his tattoos via makeup

also i’m genuinely always trying to improve my writing so constructive criticism is welcome

content warning for graphic panic attack and self harm by way of exacerbating injury — please let me know if there’s anything i missed

(also also hi if you like this and you’re in a clone trooper discord please invite me im dying to be social in the clone trooper fandom)

His quarters are on this floor — Fox is reasonably sure — but the distance his feet must carry him to get there stretches and warps until it may as well be a parsec away.

A good soldier would weather the storm and march on. A functioning clone wouldn’t struggle to expand his lungs, put one foot in front of the other, and navigate to his own quarters. Fox is not a functioning clone. Fox is hardly even a soldier.

He must abort mission. He will not make it to his office. He lurches for the nearest door. The keypad flashes red at him.

His knees wobble, and he’s supposed to be a soldier, a marshal commander; he’s knees don’t wobble. His knees can’t wobble, not when he needs to stand steady and lead the Guard; not when his brothers are depending on him to keep them safe. Not when his entire existence hinges on his ability to contribute. Not when he needs to face the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic and pretend he’s in full functioning order when he’s constantly grasping at the fraying edges of control. Fox doesn’t know if he’ll come back when the threads fly apart.

Time does something funny and Fox is on his knees. The keypad sparks and sizzles. The door remains tightly sealed.

“Commander?”

The world slams to a stop. His eyes fly open — when had he closed them? He’s too vulnerable, it’s not safe to fall apart here, he can’t — and a natborn human is hovering at the hallway junction, 20 steps away.

They take a half-step in his direction, and Fox doesn’t have enough control to mask his full-bodied flinch. He knows the natborn sees it because they instantly freeze, raising both their hands in a display of easy surrender.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want to help.” Movements measured and slow, they lower their hands until they’re relaxed at their sides, palms facing out. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Fox can’t. Can’t push words through his teeth, can’t steady his hands, can’t take a full breath — can’t choke back the strangled noise that builds in the back of his throat —

It’s like his armor is see-through, all his cracks on full display, his skin flayed open for the natborn and the vode and all the little gods to feast. It’s not safe. He needs — he needs —

Thorn, he signs desperately, the shape of his brother’s name mangled by tremors. His fingers aren’t listening, but natborns don’t know battlesign anyway, so what’s the point? Fox is well and truly going to die. Fox is going to shake apart right here on the floor of the hallway, his heart is going to smash through his ribs, and the Chancellor will have been right about him all along. Fox is going to die and it won’t even be in the glory of battle, protecting his brothers like he’s meant to, like he wants to. Fox is going to die, and he is going to die an embarrassment; a failure to the Republic and a failure to his brothers.

“Commander,” someone says, and Fox’s attention snaps back to the stranger so fast that it rends a shock of pain through his skull. They have not come closer, but they could have — could have slid up and pricked him with a hypo or put a blaster to his head, and at this range the bolt would zip through his bucket like wet flimsi, and Fox isn’t paying enough attention, this place isn’t safe —

“My name’s Quin. I’m a maintenance tech,” the stranger continues from the junction. They speak firmly, but soft enough that their voice doesn’t echo. “You’re at Guard headquarters, on level 83, maintenance hall 7B, and you’re safe. I think you’re having a panic attack.” Their hands are still visible, but their arms are positioned in a way that suggests they had just used their commlink — to call whom? Maintenance techs don’t usually have direct lines to upper command, who did he call — “You were trying to get into that storage closet, right? I’m going to come closer and open it for you, okay?”

Fox expects them to start approaching, and he flinches reflexively, his body wound tight enough to snap right in half, but the stranger doesn’t move, yet. They watch Fox carefully, though Fox can’t make out the features of their face through his blackening vision.

He shudders through the concentrated wrongness knotted in his chest, eyeing the stranger as would a cornered, dying animal.

It’s perhaps desperation, perhaps the stranger’s disarming words, or perhaps a result of Fox having fully lost his mind that leads him to nod, once.

Only then does the stranger cautiously begin their approach, step after measured step, both their hands loose and empty and visible — a human man, Fox finally notes through the haze of his malfunction — and Fox tracks his movements as he smoothly glides into Fox’s bubble.

Fox cannot move, will not flex a single muscle, because if he does, he knows he will die. He thinks his trachea may be collapsing, gripped by some invisible force —

He jolts against phantom hands (you must stop struggling, Commander) that exist and don’t in equal measure (hold still, now) [end this smoothly, god i can’t be bothered rn]

“Almost got it,” the stranger says from somewhere above him, and Fox inhales sharply, shallowly; the exhale punches out of him with a low keening whine. It could have been seconds or cycles but eventually the man backs off in one casual, languid movement, and the door to the storage closet whooshes open.

Fox all but tumbles inside. He vaguely thinks he should be embarrassed, but as he presses his shoulders into a corner and lets his head hang between his knees, he figures that he deserves a death just as pitiful and undignified as his life was.

The trill of an incoming comm — not his own, because the Chancellor insists he not bring it to their meetings — has him whipping his head back up to attention. The man has stayed behind in the hall, standing off to one side of the open doorway. He raises his wrist comm and a bolt of terror lances through Fox at the reminder that he called someone.

“This is Commander Thorn. What’s going on?”

Fox could cry, and he probably is.

“Commander Fox is in distress. He’s safe, but I think he hurt his hand. We’re in storage closet 83-7B-A113.”

His hand? Fox flexes it and gasps with a detached sort of surprise at the burst of sensation. He hears swearing and shuffling from the other line.

“I’ll be there in 10. Do not touch him, and do not let anyone else approach.”

Fox chokes on a sob. Thorn is coming. It’s going to be okay. Thorn is coming.

“Of course.” The man signs off, but Fox isn’t watching anymore. Thorn is coming.

“Hey, Commander Fox? I’m gonna leave the door open, ‘cause the mechanism’s kind of messed up and I don’t want it locking on you.” A brief rustle of fabric, and, “I’m just gonna keep watch until Thorn gets here, yeah? I’ll head anyone else off.”

When Fox risks a glance at the doorway, the man is no longer within sight. Alarm and relief flood him in equal parts — eyes on all threats at all times, trooper, you’re not out of this yet — but despite his lack of visual on the stranger, he’s finally and blessedly alone in the storage closet.

He paws at his bucket until he remembers he will almost certainly die if he takes it off, and curls his fingers around the edge of his cuirass instead. If it weren’t for the hard plastoid, he thinks he’d sink his fingers into his chest to still his thundering heart himself. Maybe preventing it from racing around would fix him. Maybe it would kill him. Either option is preferable to the way dread creeps into every corner of his mind, every organ and limb, buzzing like holo static in his hands as they scrabble at his armored chest.

A renewed shock of feeling from his right hand abruptly pulls the world into stark contrast. It aches, maybe, behind and underneath the layers of wrongness, a single shred of reality, and he closes his fist to feel the sparks again and again.

It’s not pain — not quite. It wants to be, but Fox’s nerve endings are misfiring, severing themselves from his synapses as his body corrupts. It’s starbursts of sensation that sear through an impenetrable, suffocating fog; clashes of a cymbal to accompany the percussion of his heart and the unfaltering hum of the fluorescent lights above.

Fox understands pain, but he doesn’t understand this. He understands pain for the lessons it can teach, but he is failing to learn this lesson. He’s not sure this is pain at all. Pain is getting caught outside of cover and taking a blaster bolt to the gut, or not being fast-strong-cunning-ruthless enough on the training mats, or failing to dodge the Red Guard’s electrostaff during the Chancellor’s extracurricular lessons. Pain is useful; endurance of pain even more so. A soldier unacquainted with pain can’t function on a battlefield, or learn from critical mistakes, or (gods forbid) tolerate torture without cracking open.

If this is pain, and pain is meant to be some sort of lesson, what lesson is Fox evidentially incapable of learning? Just how defective is he? He squeezes his right hand in his left, lets the pain-not-pain fill his awareness until there’s no room left for this wicked miasma eating him alive.

Suddenly, there are hands on his wrists.

A twisted thing crawls up his throat and tears out through his teeth, and he swings, disoriented, clamoring for a single inch of control in a tumultuous storm. The grip holds fast against his thrashing until Fox abruptly registers the staccato being tapped out on his vambrace. Vod. Vod. Vod.

A brother — Thorn, Thorn is here — hovers before him, the determined set of his shoulders betraying none of the alarm Fox thinks he’d see in his eyes if he had the strength to look. “Fox,” Thorn says, “Fox’ika, I’m here. You’re safe.”

He’s not safe. He’s not, but Thorn is here and whole and keeping the danger away, and that’s not nothing.

“Let’s get your bucket off,” Thorn suggests, and then to the tense breath Fox hisses out in response, “It’s okay; Stone’s outside, he’s keeping watch. It’s safe.” And Fox believes him, because Thorn never lies to him. Thorn tells it like it is.

A snap-hiss, and Thorn gently lifts Fox’s helmet off. Cool air rushes over his face and fills his lungs.

“Good, that’s good. A couple more of those, like this.” Thorn takes a big breath, and Fox tries to copy him but his lungs are broken; the breath he takes is in starts and stops. A strangled whine squeezes out with his exhale. “I know,” Thorn says, “It’ll get easier.”

And it does. Thorn has worked his thumbs between Fox vambraces and blacks, rubbing small circles into his wrists, and it feels like everything. The lighthouse coming into view from out on a choppy sea. The anchor that keeps him tethered to the waking world. The offer of shelter from a vicious storm.

His sense of time is fractured. By the time Fox can inhale and exhale a complete breath it feels as though hours have passed, Thorn murmuring words of encouragement and squeezing gently whenever Fox starts to get sucked back into the fog.

Fox opens his eyes, and Thorn meets it with a smile. “That’s it, vod. I’m right here. Keep breathing.”

Thorn is here. It’s safe. The tension he didn’t realize was holding him together suddenly abates, rushing out of him like debris out an airlock, and he sags forward into Thorn’s waiting arms. Thorn’s free hand comes up to card through Fox’s sweaty curls, the other still encircling Fox’s wrist, as the marshal commander presses his forehead into his brother’s armored chest.

Sorry, Fox signs shakily, but he feels Thorn already shaking his head.

“Don’t you dare. You have nothing to apologize for.” Gently, as though Fox is something deserving of of reverence, Thorn removes Fox’s face from his chest and pulls him into a keldabe. They breathe in sync like this for a long, peaceful moment. “How about we go see Lore and fix your hand, and then have some midmeal in the barracks?” At Fox’s dour expression, Thorn rolls his eyes. “Alright then, let me rephrase. We’re going to medbay, and then having some midmeal in the barracks. You’ll feel better. Think you’re ready to stand?”

Fox thinks he might never be able to stand again. He does, though, and with Thorn’s support, ambles through the threshold of the supply closet. Stone sweeps in to support Fox’s other side.

The stranger is nowhere to be seen.

[he4rtiz]

[𝐣𝐞 𝐭'𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞 ⋆ 𝐣𝐞 𝐭'𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞]

or, haku comforts you in his own unique way

pairing: haku kusanagi x f!reader author’s note: first fic in i don’t know how long and my first fic for tokyo debunker, everyone cheers! this fic is quite comical... at least for me lol to be honest this fic was born out of my love for haku, he and his flirting got me sick!!!! i demand more scenes in which haku flirts with mc!!!!!! possible ooc!haku but bear with me pls

english isn't my native language!

Your days at Darkwick Academy were never boring enough, not when every single ghoul and staff member was able to double down your already tiring and tedious workload. 

Your days spent running from house to house, from task to task, without even being able to take a small break.

Today wasn’t different from usual. Your day started with helping Kaito with his remedial classes, then you gave Sho a hand with Highway to Home, only to then sprinting towards Jabberwock to stop Towa from striking down an anomalous creature who accidentally hurt Haru, to then team up with Haru to bring Ren back to Jabberwock.

Cue said fugitive yelling about you and that clown not understanding the basic concept of boundaries.

Of course, your day wasn’t even far from being done. Your lunch break was cut short when you received a lovely call from Romeo, and between all the acronyms he yelled, you only understood that BTH, aka Sinostra’s famous troublemaker captain, was up to no good. 

You had just a minute to say goodbye to the delicious food Sho gave you, unceremoniously left on the table half-finished.

And there you were, sprinting towards Sinostra to avoid explaining to the Chancellor how in the hell the Darkiwick Academy population decreased in a few minutes. And why it was always Sinostra’s fault.

Not even the time to breathe, that you found yourself on Jiro’s shoulder as he and Yuri, who didn’t forget to remind you that he was a busy man, and he didn’t have time to play hide and seek with you, went straight to Mortkraken for your daily medical visit. Your fault? Forgetting about said medical visit.

At least you were able to relax a bit, until your phone rang up for the nth time, and it was Frostheim captain’s turn to call for your help, or in other words, giving you some tedious task he considered boring. 

Great, you were not done yet.

Maybe it was time to create a trade union with the cats and demand less work hours…

You were done for the day, at least until your phone rang up once more. 

Sitting on a bench with your eyes closed, your body relaxed under the gentle breeze of the night, a sigh of relief left your lips, you survived another hellish day, at least it wasn’t as bad as others. Luckily this time, you didn’t have to run and miss Romeo’s bullets as he tried to hunt you and Kaito down, all because the blonde still hasn’t paid his debt.

Tired and hungry, you groaned, your eyes opening to find the moon, half-moon to be more precise, shining all alone, as no stars were around.

You and that moon were so similar; the moon shining all alone in the dark night, and you alone in an academy full of ghouls and trying to find a cure to your curse.

Suddenly you felt the presence of someone, and before you could realize what was happening, a bag was dropped on your lap.

“There you are, [Name].” A familiar voice said, a so gentle one compared to the ones you were used to, and you realized who the voice belonged to. It was Haku.

“Why so surprised? You weren’t expecting me, how cruel~” He joked as he sat down next to me.

“Haku-san! Why are you here? Is everything alright at Hotarubi? Ther-” Haku stopped before you could say more.

A light frown adorned his face, as his finger was gently silencing your rambling, before with his other hand gently flicked your forehead. 

“You worry too much about the others. You should learn to focus first on yourself and then take care of us. We may look helpless to you, but we aren’t.” He scolded you, his expression still serious.

You whined a little, your fingers massaging your forehead. It was the second time that Haku flicked your forehead, it seemed his favourite scolding method.

 “I am… I am sorry.” You murmured “I will focus more on my well-being…”

He nodded before he pointed to the bag on your lap. “I brought you some food, with all that running you did today, I am sure you’re more than hungry. I bought everything from that first-year’s truck. The one from Vagastrom.”

Your eyes shined brightly after opening the bag, Sho’s food was a fricking God’s gift after a long and tiring day. 

“W-What!? Thank you so much, Haku-san!” You grinned as you happily ate your dinner. Haku, on the other hand, just chuckled at your grin.

You were so hungry that in a flash, the once full of food bag was now empty. As per usual, the food Sho cooked was delicious. 

“Thank you again for the food, Haku-san. “ You thanked him sincerely, a shy smile on your lips, you always felt in debt with him, he was always there whenever you need him. Even the small gesture of buying your dinner, that for many would be seen as something small, for you was a silent message, a gesture meaning he was always there to give you a hand when you were feeling down or in need of help. 

Pushing a strand of your hair aside, you turned towards him, smiling shyly. His presence was charming enough that even a simple smile from him, was enough to fluster you.

“Haku-san… Sometimes I think you like spoiling me, you’re always with me when I am in troubles. You always lend me your shoulders, and you always hear me out. I don’t know how to thank you enough. I am so glad to have you by my side.” You confessed, your eyes now on your lap, trying to hide your flushed expression. 

A pregnant silence fell, you slowly realized that your words might sound like a confession of a sort. Panic flew in your body as you furiously tried to explain yourself, and embarrassment blossomed on your face.

“H-Haku-san, i-it’s not like that! I-I didn’t mean to… I mean… I didn’t wan-” He just chuckled, shaking his head, his fingers running through his hair as he looked at your flustered reaction.

“You’re something else, [Name].” He snickered “Spoiling you…” He muttered, before a sly smile unfolded on his lips.

“You know… “ He began “I don’t mind spoiling you, and if you really feel guilty you can always marry me. Then you won’t worry about being spoiled.”

Oh my god…

Oh my god…

You were sure now you were blushing like crazy, how could he say something like that with that nonchalance?!

“H-H-Haku-san!” You whined out, jumping on your feet, your heart pounding furiously, almost leaping out your rib cage.

The Hotarubi vice-captain maybe took pity of your flustered state, as he got up too, his hand ruffling your hair.

“Take your time, my offer is always up~” He teased, winking.

You prayed that God took mercy of you and made you disappear immediately.

“C’mon princess, don’t stay there, I will escort back you to the chapel. And on our way back, you can always think about my offer~”

He was going to be your death, in one way or in the other.

[aernx]

꧔ UNDER THE RADAR — ! ❪엔하❫

secret relationships w enha hyung line (separate) non idol! university au （ maknae line ver ）

꒰ warnings ꒱ none i think, mentions of strict parents in jakes part

001. lee heeseung — ❪이희승❫ ᝰ

Subtle glances, quiet “i love you”s as you bumped into each other in the hallway becomes a daily routine for you and Heeseung. Decided to keep your relationship under the radar, you two had no other options but remain intimate behind closed doors. Heeseung has always been an avid believer to PDA and it killed him to not be able to hold you in the eyes of public. But he knew that there were consequences held under his name.

Being the ace of the university’s football team meant being the talk of the university, and you weren’t pleased at the thought of unwanted attention. You love your boyfriend, you really do. But with him being the centre of what’s happening around your university, you can’t help but feel unease if your relationship had been under the lights.

Though, that doesn’t stop Heeseung from loving you any less and vice versa. You know that out of all the attention and support he receives from the public, only yours matters. And in a crowd full of people chanting his name, his eyes will always be on you, only you.

002. Park Jongseong — ❪박종성❫ ᝰ

Jay looks at you with stars in his eyes and his friends wonder how people around you never seem to notice. With you sitting two seats away from him in your economy lecture, it’s hard to pay attention to the professor speaking in front. Especially when the middle seat amidst you, remains vacant.

It took all of his self control to not move over and sit next to you. Holding your hand through the lecture as his other free hand jots down notes of the subject. It was unfortunate that your relationship was kept in the dark, or Jay would be calling your name every time scores a goal for the university’s soccer team.

It’s not that you care about other people’s thoughts that’s why you decided to keep it a secret. But with you being the student council president and him the star player of your university’s soccer team, you both didn’t want to start any unnecessary rumors.

After all, PDA has never been a subject that strongly matters to you and Jay. And you both preferred the privacy. With your relationship being known only to your closest friends and relatives, you feel secure and out of pressure. Away from the prying eyes of others, and the heavy weight of responsibility under your positions.

003. Sim Jaehyun — ❪심재휸❫ ᝰ

The love Sim Jaehyun has for you outweighs any love he has for his grades and for sports. The thought of holding you hand as you both venture the hallways, sitting next to you in lecture halls and in the cafeteria, and overall public display of affection made him giddy to the heart. But he knew better.

He knew it wasn’t possible due to your strict parents. Your parents that loved their child so much that they try so hard to shield you from getting your heart broken by guys. Too bad you were a bit of a rebel.

Jake was your highschool academic rival. And it didn’t change now that you guys are in college and are dating. You knew that if news of your relationship spilled throughout your university, it’ll reach the ears of your parents. After all with your father being the chancellor of the university you both are studying in, it would be hard to keep something like this away from him.

The wrath of your parents was something that you and Jake needed to take count. If your parents ever found out, you fear that they will force you two apart or worse—they will take away Jake’s scholarship.

So you both agreed to keep things lowkey. Only being able to express the love you have for each other behind closed doors. Behind all the cameras set in every hallway in your university, behind the close watch your parents have all over you. Just you and Jake, alone in your own world.

004. Park Sunghoon — ❪박성훈❫ ᝰ

Your friends think that it’s obvious. His accidental shoulder brushes, his occasional glances, and the way his head snaps when he hears your name, it’s painfully obvious.

It’s not as if you guys are trying that hard to hide it anyways. With your position as the star player of the girls basketball, and his as the star player of the boys basketball, you guys can’t really avoid each other that much.

And unfortunately for you, Sunghoon can’t stop straining his eyes on you (not that you mind). It was a silly mission to keep your relationship from your team captains (and the others). The two of you bet on each other that whoever’s captain figured out the first will win and the loser will treat the other for ice cream.

It pains Sunghoon to see that his leader isn’t catching up to his little mission. Whereas on the other hand, Jungwon just shrugged him off thinking that his Sunghoon hyung was just being his odd self.

This bet went over for the span of two months before your captain figured it out. And gosh, Sunghoon doesn’t even care about the ice cream anymore. He’ll buy you all the ice cream you want if it means he’ll be able to hold you in public. If it wasn’t for you being stern on continuing the bet, he would’ve just given up in the middle. But now that it’s over, he can finally embrace you freely, before the news of your relationship spread like a wildfire.

© aernx 2023 / do not steal, copy, translate — hope you enjoy my works! let me know if you have any suggestions ! comment ur thoughts, reblogs n likes wld be appreciated <3