Life, my beloved and beloathed

Haha, it’s been a while since I drew them.

Shirt says 'mpreg is possible. always'

shorts say 'god won't let me die'

and he's wearing a sexy goldfish costume

and ultra high high heels

Kill me

In which, at the beginning of the war there had been hiccups where Palpatine wasn't sneaky enough or forgot about Commander Fox being around and some use of the force made it easy to hide the memory. When that began failing, he simply started ripping the memories out one by one. After that, harsh lessons to help his commander forget after shuffling his mind up were given. By the time the war was at a high point and Palpatine was busy with his plans, he got bored of Commander Fox 'learning' about any truths so he simply sends him back to Kamino for reconditioning every time Fox makes the smallest of mistakes. At first Fox was able to come back from the reconditioning but as time went on and his numbers of reconditions grew, the less of Fox came back until eventually CC-1010 was the only thing that ever came back anymore.

His fellow Guard commanders could only stand by as they could see something was wrong in beginning, at first thinking Fox has a defect that had even missed and worked to help get him back. Then the first reconditioning came and it was tears shared when a dull eyed CC-1010 stopped in middle of a meeting, turning his face downwards and light showing back in his eyes as he frowned with a scold towards Hound but a smile rising as Grizzer happily nudges his hand for attention under the table.

From there they all developed different methods and ways to try triggering Fox out of CC-1010, to bring their Commander back. And for a glorious time, it worked without a hitch. Then it became harder as more intense sessions of reconditioning happen and Fox gets harder and harder to bring back until one day nothing in their books work. They're left with CC-1010, not Fox. Desperately, they tell him truth, of who he is and what's been done, spilling out everything to him in hopes it works but not only does CC-1010 remain but he is angry enough to confront the Chancellor on the wrongs done to him.

Ponds let himself into Mace’s quarters. His Jedi was meditating in the central room, had been since he returned from questioning Palpatine.

Bad sign.

Until Mace finished meditating, there was nothing Ponds could do to directly comfort him. But he went and got down the weighted blanket they mostly used on Caleb when the Force was just Too Much. He checked the food supplies and put in an order with the quartermaster. He chopped vegetables and made a stir fry.

By the time his Jedi finished meditating, Ponds had made enough stir fry for both of them and sent an extra box of it to Gree. His di'kut brother might be getting all of his flimsiwork done while he sat with Fox, but he was terrible about actually eating.

“Ponds.”

“Mace.” He handed his Jedi a plate of stir-fry then sat down on the floor with his own. They ate in companionable silence. After seconds for Mace and thirds for Ponds, he set his plate aside. “All right. What happened?”

“Too much.” Mace gathered the dirty dishes with the Force and stacked them on one of the side-tables. “I can confirm Sidious has Commander Fox.”

Ponds clenched his fists. “What is that demagolka doing to him?”

“On the surface, he’s keeping the commander as a pet.”

“What,” Ponds bit out. He knew he wasn’t shielding his anger well; he could see it in the sudden tightness around Mace’s eyes. But honestly, he thought he was doing pretty good by staying seated and not immediately running off to the prison to commit a murder.

Mace grimaced. “He invited me to share a meditation with him. It was… Unpleasant. In it, he had Commander Fox’s constrained in such a way that he looked like a Guard-red fox.”

“If I crack his skull open, do you think Fox can get out that way?” Ponds mused, tapping his comm awake and checking the guard roster for Palpatine.

“No, Ponds.”

“What if Master Che did it-”

“Still no, Ponds.”

—

Ponds had learned something from General Windu that he was refusing to share, so Thire had been recruited to grill him over a group lunch. Well, Thire had agreed to come along and have food with them at least. He didn’t want to know what the Chanc- the Sith Lord was doing to Fox.

He knew far too much about what the Sith Lord had already done to Fox.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Thorn said, a phrase which never heralded anything good in Thire’s experience, “what’s with Wolffe’s boytoys?”

Bly choked on his drink, while Ponds gave Thorn that flat look he’d honed from watching General Windu. “Boytoys.”

“You know, those two CTs he’s always got with him.”

“They’re the other survivors of the Malevolence.”

“OH.” Enlightenment crashed across Thorn’s face. “Yeah, okay, not surprised. Lots of vode get like that with other survivors.”

Ponds’s look got even flatter. Bly, who could clearly only be allowed to play sabacc with natborns, winced. (Most of the GAR was very expressive by Guard standards, but Bly took it to another level.) Apparently this was another thing that was Guard-normal, or at least Guard-common knowledge, and GAR-disturbing as heck. Which usually meant one of the GAR CCs was going to try to hug him. Gree was still with Fox, so…

Don’t get him wrong, Thire was glad as heck the rest of the CCs hadn’t been through what the Guard CCs had been through. But the distress from the GAR was so much, everything he had learned in the Senate insisted it had to be performative. He knew it wasn’t, but he couldn’t make himself believe that.

He tried to lighten the mood and preempt any hugging attempts. “Thorn, I’m begging you. Please. Please. Call them boytoys to his face.”

That got snickers from the other three. “Make sure his bucket’s off and you’re recording,” Ponds added. “I want to see his face.”

—

His owner was showing him off. That meant his owner wanted people to focus on him instead of anything else his owner was doing. That meant he needed to be lovely and obedient and delightful.

Foxiyo everyday moments ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Riyo and Fox getting ready for an important mission™

dont look too closely, I drew this way too small and the copics didn’t play nice ;-;

I feel like I could see this being a Wolffe quote, so here ya go.

I have decided to still post new content and just reblog once the tags are working again and hope for the best. So ya. *yeets this into the void*

original without text below

Previously on…

—

Bly set down the last comm-disc and dialed Cody. On the other discs, Doom looked up from repairing his armor, Bacara set down his datapad, and Wolffe stepped back into camera pick-up range.

Cody flickered into being on the comm, helmet and uppers off like Doom. Good, he was somewhere private and safe enough. Bly felt something in himself relax a little bit. The Nova Corps was still too much in the thick of things; Bacara had been reluctant to even take his helmet off. Wolffe was down to his black and obviously agitated; Bly was pretty sure Sinker and Boost were out of camera-range but still in the same room. When Wolffe got upset, he needed to know those two were safe.

Bly himself and Ponds had also taken off their helmets and uppers. Gree was in his blacks with a black Jedi robe around his shoulders; Bly still hadn’t gotten the story of that out of him. Stone still had his armor on so he could relay the conversation to Thire, who was on duty. Thorn was in patient robes; according to him, the healers said the Dark was lingering in his wounds and scars, like an infection. Three days in bacta hadn’t healed him anywhere as much as it should have, even despite the injuries he got from the clusterfuck of arresting Palpatine. He was having to heal the old-fashioned way, with near-daily visits from the senior-most healers to prevent the Dark from worsening his wounds.

Cody looked around, taking them all in. He settled minutely then glanced off-camera. “Come say hi, Rex.”

There was an aggrieved sigh as their blond vod'ika leaned into pick-up range long enough to wave. That got a tiny smile out of Bacara; Rex always was his favorite outside the Nova Corps.

Ponds frowned. “How’s Skywalker taking-?”

“Badly,” Rex interrupted. “He can’t decided if everyone is lying because his mentor couldn’t possibly be the Sith, or if Palpatine betrayed and used him. It’s exhausting. ‘Soka bit him.”

Ponds nodded. “Mace doesn’t think he should be in combat, but that Skywalker coming back to Coruscant would be even worse.”

“The High General isn’t wrong,” Cody said. “Obi-Wan is doing damage-control. He’s barely glanced at any of my plans before signing off on them. He usually at least reads them,” he added at Thorn’s curious look.

“Fuck this noise.” Oh, look, they’d reached the end of Wolffe’s patience. “What the kark is going on with Fox?”

Everyone looked to Bly, because for some Force-forsaken reason, they’d come to expect him to know how to translate Jedi Force nonsense into something usable. “To start, he’s in a coma. I know you already know that,” he said before Wolffe could interrupt. “There’s Dark lingering in his scars, like Thorn’s injuries.” At the confused looks from the vode not on Coruscant (except Wolffe), he elaborated, “Apparently the Dark Side lingers in injuries created with it, like an infection. It slows, and sometimes stops, healing.”

Everyone glanced at Wolffe and the very prominent scar on his face, despite a week in bacta.

“Fox was Palpatine’s favorite,” Thorn added, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “He got… damaged a lot.”

Tortured, Thorn meant. It was still too much of a habit for the Guard to downplay how bad everything had been. Bly knew he’d start crying if he thought too much on it. Sometimes he wondered how a clone who regularly cried when he got overwhelmed with emotion had made marshal commander.

“So he’s in a bad way, physically,” Bly picked back up. “The healers are doing what they can-”

“Master Che comes in every day to pull some of it out. She’s always slate with exhaustion when she’s done.”

Everyone off-Coruscant, except Wolffe again, looked to Ponds to translate what Gree said into something intelligible. “Master Che is a twi'lek, a little darker blue than General Secura.”

Nods all around; 'slate with exhaustion’ actually made sense with that context.

“So, he’d be in bad shape even without whatever else is going on,” Doom said, prodding them back on track.

“Yeah.” Bly let out a breath. “Okay, the next part involves a lot of Force-stuff. Apparently, Palpatine had been entrenching himself in the minds of the Guard-”

He wasn’t even slightly surprised to be interrupted by the four vode off-Coruscant all demanding more information and/or threatening Palpatine. No one ever took that bit of news well.

“Near as we can tell,” Thorn said when the noise started to die down, “he was mostly keeping up our morale, despite everything happening to us, and mildly improving communications. For day-to-day, anyway.” He shrugged. “Could have been worse.”

The Guard’s nonchalance about it never, ever helped. Bly still wasn’t sure if they did it on purpose, or if they genuinely thought they were being reassuring. But that statement caused another explosion of noise as even Ponds felt the need to remind the Thorn that 'could have been worse’ didn’t change that it was a deeply awful thing to do.

Gree snapped something in a language Bly didn’t recognize, cutting across the din. The meaning was clear enough when he repeated it and made a lowering gesture with his hand.

“He did it the most with the officers, more with the commanders than the lower ranking ones, and most of all with Fox,” Bly said when everyone quieted down.

“We have standing appointments with the mind-healers,” Thorn threw in.

“And Palpatine used that connection to basically steal Fox’s mind?” Bly hated how he wound up phrasing it as a question. But he still didn’t think he entirely understood what Aayla had told him about Fox’s condition, because what the fuck.

“I thought the chakaar was in Force-suppression cuffs,” Cody bit out.

“He is.” Stone didn’t elaborate. He wasn’t a talker like Thorn.

“He is,” Bly echoed. “According to Aayla that means that he’s both really powerful and deeply entrenched in Fox’s mind.” He didn’t tell them that the healers weren’t sure Fox could even wake up without Palpatine coiled into his mind, the demagolka had tied himself in so deeply. They didn’t need to be distracted by that while they were winding down the war.

(He was pretty sure Gree and Thorn knew; it was part of how General Unduli convinced Gree to stay instead of going back out to help his vode fight.)

—

Fox never strayed far from his owner. He wasn’t always within arm’s reach, but the two of them were always in the same room. Often, Fox curled up next to his owner, too tired to do more than chrr when he was petted. If he was awake to notice being touched.

Previously on whatever I’m doing here…

—

“He’s my brother-in-law,” Aayla said reasonably. “As family, I would like to know what’s going on.”

“How,” Saesee asked, sounding more curious than anything, “is Commander Fox your brother-in-law?”

“He and Bly are batchmates. I’m certain I don’t need to remind the Council that Bly and I married with your full permission and blessings.” The young knight looked around the Council chamber sternly. If she needed to remind them, she would, Mace thought. Insultingly as possible; she was Quinlan’s student.

Strictly speaking, Bly and Fox were not batchmates, Mace knew. Their numbers were too far apart. But they were squadmates and classmates; they’d trained and lived together their whole lives. It was the same with the other high-ranking CCs; Ponds had explained the whole system to him once. By the standards of many cultures, the Marshal Commanders and battalion commanders would all be considered informal adopted siblings.

—

Fox felt muted, for lack of a better word. His emotions were distant, his thoughts vague. He was somewhere he didn’t know with someone he couldn’t trust his owner.

How had he gotten here? A scratch behind the ears distracted him. He twisted his head to get those fingers in just the right spot.

His owner chuckled. “Look at you being so sweet for me, pet.”

—

Barriss mentally nudged Gree when she woke. From her sense of him, he was in the Halls of Healing again. Or still. She didn’t think he’d left Fox’s side more than he absolutely had to. (“I was gone the entire war. We’re lucky we both survived. Except-” Gree cut off whatever he was going to say ruthlessly. “Thire and Stone can’t be here all the time, and Thorn’s still recovering himself. I don’t need to be anywhere; I can be here for him.”)

One (1) of you asked for the scribble, so have some scribbling. (Also, I define ‘scribble’ in terms of my writing as “unedited and no attempt to be a full and complete scene, much less a story”.)

—

Two days after Palpatine was arrested and forced into Force-suppression cuffs, Commander Fox fell into a coma. Physically, there was nothing more wrong with him than there had been before.

Mentally, most of his mind was gone. There was just barely enough in there to maintain his body’s autonomous functions.

The other clone commanders did not take that well. Ponds hadn’t wanted to explain the histories between the commanders, but Mace was a Jedi. He could feel the gnawing guilt most of the commanders felt towards Fox. Worse, he could feel the resignation of the Guard commanders, the way they just accepted that Fox was gone.

*

Palpatine appeared to be meditating. The Force coiled around him; Force-suppression was not the same thing as being cut off from the Force.

It was a show of power, a taunt. Mace ignored it. “Ser Palpatine.”

The Sith Lord didn’t stir, but there was a sense in the Force of an opened door, a distant invitation.

Mace did not particularly want to play the Sith’s games, but what he wanted was particularly irrelevant. Palpatine had something to do with Commander Fox’s coma. Mace and Yoda were the only people the Council trusted entirely to never Fall, no matter the circumstances.

He knelt on the floor outside of the cell and settled into his own meditaiton.

*

At first, the shared mindscape was both a throne room and the Chancellor’s office. Mace exerted his own will on it, and the mindscape shifted and settled into a Senator’s residence.

Palpatine wore simple Naboo robes, elegant in cut and color rather than ornate with decoration. Something more suited to an aide than a politician. Both a personal preference, Mace judged, and a manipulation.

The Sith Lord carried a fox in his arms, its fur Guard-red, and a jeweled collar around its neck.

Mace let fury sweep over, through, and past him.

*

“You can’t blame an old man for wanting to keep his pet with him.”

Hatred rose in Mace, and he paused. The emotion was almost, but not quite, his own. If he was a shade less certain of his place in the Light, he might not have noticed.

He thought of Plo after the Malevolence, of sitting knee to knee with the Kel Dor master while Plo trembled under the weight of the memory of thirty thousand lives ending around him. Of Plo after he rescued Wolffe from Ventress, and that one terrible moment where Mace was certain this war would lead to yet another Jedi’s Fall.

very dumb sketchdump! can you tell I don’t know how to draw?

1. fanart of @kkrazy256 ‘s fic redemption inside the grave which made me cry

2. Fox with a mug my friend bought me

3. Wolffe’s here to kick ass and chew bubblegum

4. Cody as me, after the holidays