while thire is off john mcclane-ing and fox psychologically tortures three bountyhunters trying to break into the senate, hound is left in command of barracks where perimeter alarms begin to screech suddenly and LOOK, okay, YOUR first instinct would’ve been to shoot at the strange being on the roof of military property too!

is what he tries frantically to explain to the strange little creature that appeared out of nowhere exceedingly miffed at him for apparently accidentally shooting its boss. how was he supposed to know that man wasn’t trying to blow them up?! people do that all the time!

the little being who looks remarkably like general yoda if he was not green, wrinkly and himself at all turns up its nose at him. well tough shit it says. you still have to come live in the north quadrant now. congratulations, you have just been promoted to spanta clause.

what the kriff is a spanta clause hound asks. the answer does not make him any less confused. also, what kind of kriffed up hiring process is this where you have to kill the guy who had the job before you?! hound knows very little about natborn conventions, but even he’s pretty sure they don’t make senate aides fight to the death in gladiatoral spectacles!

(most of them, anyways. he’s not entirely sure about some.)

All‘s calm and quiet on Coruscant, for once - the Senate‘s either gone home to celebrate the universally beloved Xeshmas with their closest, or is attending the annual festive bash at the Spakatomi Splaza buildings, sponsored by Chandrila. At 79’s, a horde of merry Commanders get together to bask in the Xeshmas spirit (red, green and white shots) and celebrate another year survived. But wait, Bacara groans into someone’s boots only thirty minute into their jolly bash, where the kriff is Fox? Ignored the invite again?

A strange feeling comes over Cody. He spent the entire day brooding, telling everyone who would listen that he has the strangest sensation of having forgotten something important and being told it can’t be that important if he’s forgotten it (Wooley) or to quit being such a partypooper (Rex). Now, it dawns on him.

He never sent that comm to Fox.

yes of course! this is exciting because it’s a little out of the usual programming, but something i’ve been working on for like two years on and off since the idea just will not let go of me - now i’ve finally decided to sit down, write it out, and just do it :3

“winter is here” is the follow-up to “an eye for an eye”, and the basic premise of the series is this: instead of a son, jacaerys velaryon is born a girl. much proceeds as in canon. except for this: now there is an additional targaryen around of marriageable age, and no one except for viserys is excited about this grand idea, especially not aemond or jace. jace goes on a continent-wide tour (thinly veiled bid for fealty) to hand out personal invitations to the royal wedding, and lands on the last stop of her roadtrip - winterfell. it ends up being neither a quick nor simple visit, and upends more than it clarifies. for jace, at least. for the cause it’s kind of great.

honestly this is a big spoiler but also like the singular scene i have written for this, and i don’t know if any of you read hotd stuff anyways, so here you go!

It was a chaste, close-lipped press of mouths - nothing spectacular, truly. Jace had seen more heated kisses described by her childhood Septa over needle-work. It should have been entirely, utterly unspectacular. She was a dragonrider who chased her brothers through the sky, a Targaryen heiress to the Iron Throne, doubly descended from two ancient families of Old Valyria both amongst the richest on the continent, and yet-

And yet, when Cregan drew back, Jace immediately found herself chasing after the warmth of his lips, stopped only by the gentle press of his palm against her cheek. It felt like it spanned the whole of her face, swallowed her up entirely, wrapped her in this enchanting man and his enchanting being which had fascinated her from the first instant - and in that moment, she knew that there was now a before and an after in her life; an early Jacaerys who had not known what it felt like to kiss this impossible, incredible man, and then found death and rebirth on his lips.

There was no trace of duty on her mind, to the realm or her mother or even her betrothed, who could not have been paid to care if she threw herself on a blade right this instant.

“I love you”, the Lord of Winterfell whispered, voice uncharacteristically shaky, after a moment’s hesitation. Jace drew a sharp breath, clammy fingers tightening around his strong wrist, eyes burning as she gazed up at him. “I am sorry for saying it - it would have been easier, I think, if I had not. But it is true, and I am weak. I am sorry for that, Princess.”

And Jacaerys began to weep silently, because she loved him too, but if she said it aloud she risked losing everything dear to her.

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and tag as many people as you have wips.

- an apple a day

- uhhhh

- Concussed Fox

- an eye for an eye

- The Bombad Commander

- winter is here

tagging: @hastalavistabyebye @whiskygoldwings @rooksunday @cats-and-dr-pepper @stealthetrees

A month into his posting as least glamorous Marshall Commander in the GAR, however, he changes his mind. Or, rather: the ARF unit’s godless, homebrewed basement-hooch changes his mind. Fox now has one tattoo, namely a tramp stamp that says in shaky script, THORN WUZ HIA. AND THIRE. AND HOUND. AND STONE.

tagged by @sithfox @whiskygoldwings @hastalavistabyebye <3

could’ve put an apple a day whose second chapter is due to be posted any day now, but i thought you guys would prefer this long ass excerpt from an untitled work lmao

Fox’s hands develop a mind of their own, not that he can currently muster the will to care. Green spots are exploding at the edges of his vision, popping off into sparks. Huh. Are senatorial robes always this soft?

“You have very good shoulders, sir”, he tells Senator Organa, lowering his voice to a near-whisper. “Very… firm. Very broad. Mhhm.” Fox squeezes gently, gasping at the slight give of the hard muscle underneath the fabric. He blinks at the other man, whose mouth is slightly agape. Soft. “Have your eyes always been such a rich brown, sir?”

“He has a wife, Fox!”, Grids whisper-screams, from where she’s hovering over them a few steps away, hands fluttering helplessly through the air. Serves her right, Fox thinks with a haughty sniff. Always making him be the adult in the room.

“His wife is also very pretty”, he dismisses, and then adds, to Organa, “Her majesty is also very pretty, sir. Very handsome. Mhhhm.”

why? well, fox’ life is a tragedy of galactic proportions. he’s a slave at best and straight up non-sentient property at worst, caught at the crossroads of being the face of the republic’s most corrupt establishment to his brothers who resent him for being forced to bear an authority he has no actual control over, and being the closest and easiest target for that very authority’s ire. made to enforce the rigged and deeply unjust laws against his own oppressed peoples, and no one understands better than fox how much coruscant truly despises them. the chancellor at the heart of it all, and anakin, the favored pupil - taken in by the flattery and empty promises like all the rest of them, the jedi most intimately connected to the senate who yet cares so little to know the clones who shed their blood in it every day that he never sees beyond his own very nose. no one asks the guard what they think, and fox despises them all for it, but the jedi who play at caring more than anything. it’s an impersonal, distanced dislike for the most part, but with skywalker it burns all the brighter for how often fox sees him walk the halls of the senate and never think to ask.