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dragonsandwolvesohmy · 11 hours

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Anecdotes of a Guard Life: Oh honey, honey

Senate Galas were one of the... Less interesting parts of Fox’s job. Stand around, look imposing yet approachable and pretend he’s not sneering behind his helmet at all the drunken Senators. Other then the approachable part, it’s a cakewalk.

That isn’t to say they don’t have their perks. One being that he’s not doing datawork. The other... Well...

The internal comms crackle to life. “The Prune’s approaching the soapbox, operation Flavour’s a go.”

Fox calmly turns and walks towards the podium, placing himself in full view to the left. He tucks his arms neatly behind him, grasping wrists and sets his feet perfectly apart in parade rest. The Chancellor passes him with a “Commander! How lovely to see you!” and Fox salutes crisply, before returning to position.

“Decoy in place,” he reports, and gets a “Received!” in return.

The rest of his role in the operation is simple. Stand there and be obvious. It’s not hard. He’s well aware of what he looks like. White painted chest armour a beacon against all the red. Helmet sticking out amongst all the uncovered faces. There’s always a few Senators who dismiss the Guard along with the rest of the serving staff, but if one is looking for them, he draws their attention.

He’s also strategically placed himself under the slightly brighter light near the podium. Carefully orchestrated by their best engineers.

He’s pretty sure this is not what the Kaminoans intended when they flash-trained them in Infiltration methods. But fuck ‘em. They also debated engineering out their tastebuds so they would eat basically anything. Instead they just fed them that anything and expected them to like it anyway.

This is their own fault, really.

Thorn casually walks around the crowd, helmet facing out, checking for any signs of trouble. The hand facing away from the crowd twitches in a series of handsigns and Fox sighs.

“Thorn, comms work just fine.”

Thorn’s sigh is heavier. “Fox, have a little fun once in a while.”

“No.”

Several different snickers come over the internal comms and a noise that is very clearly Thorn blowing him a raspberry.

Fox rolls his eyes, safe in the knowledge that no one around him can tell.

“You did get that we’re halfway done though, right?”

Fox groans, just managing to keep from tipping his head back in exasperation. “No, I forgot how to read hand signals.”

“It’s all that caf, rots the brain.”

Fox doesn’t even dignify that one with an answer. Not all of them can be all flowers and sunshine first thing in the morning.

Actually, he has absolutely no idea how any of them can be like that. Thorn is a freak of bioengineering. Somehow they got away with their blonde hair, but Fox isn’t sure how the Kaminoans missed the disgusting morning cheerfulness.

Clearly something had critically failed in their tube before decanting.

He nods absentmindedly at a Senator who’s approached and is drunkenly thanking him for his “fine service”. A click of the tongue sets his helmet to circulating internal air, but it’s not quite quick enough to prevent the stench of expensive red wine from getting through the filters. Great. He’ll have to sit with that for a while.

The man is just slurringly getting to the point where he’ll ramble about how his planet’s taxes are funding the Coruscant Guard’s efforts when Thorn speaks again.

“Fox, Taa on route to point Alpha.”

“Apologies, Senator,” he has no idea what the absolutely kark-faced Senator’s name is, but the title always works. “I am required for an internal matter.”

He doesn’t wait for the man’s wide-eyed enquiries, simply turns away and walks towards the buffet table at the other end of the hall. He can already see Senator Taa weaving his way towards the buffet table, taking advantage of the other guests being distracted.

There’s a saying. One about smart minds thinking alike or something. Fox is a little less then impressed to find Senator Taa thinking along the same lines as them. He would not bet on Senator Taa against a Kowakian monkey-lizard.

“Senator, may I have a moment?” He slides infront of him, standing like a barricade in the path of the man’s assault. Senator Taa actually jumps a good inch off the floor.

Fox probably shouldn’t be amused at that. He is though. He was also recording it. That’ll make for good viewing on a rough Senate duty.

“Ah, Commander, must it be now?” Senator Taa looks anxiously over his shoulder, and Fox calmly sidesteps to block his view of the buffet table.

“I apologise sir, this won’t take a minute.” Fox clicks his tongue at the end of that, switching the outward going comms off.

A crackle of internal comms then “Understood, troops, one minute.” from Thorn.

They could be efficient and professional, when the need was high.

What followed for Fox, was an excrutiating minute of going over security plans he was already very certain of, and manouvering himself to prevent Senator Taa from slipping round him. The Twi’lek Senator was... Persistent, would be a good way to put it. Fox was the taller of the two of them, which was fortunate, as the Senator kept rising onto tiptoes to try and look longingly over his shoulder. He’s never tilted his head so much in conversation and frankly, his neck hurts. He actually resorted to raising up on his own toes at one point.

The things he does for his troops. Force damn the little fuckers.

He can see them in his peripherals though. Casually moving towards the long table set with food, as if on a floating patrol. He’s pretty sure he spots Thire carrying away a whole roast bird of some sort, and if that’s actually the case he might have to promote the cheeky little shit...

Finally, FINALLY, Thorn walks up behind Senator Taa with a “Sir!”. The Senator jumps again, and sadly, Fox wasn’t recording that time. He’s not entirely sure how a man can be so completely oblivious to everything going on around him, but it works for their purposes.

“Commander?” Fox enquires, and as the Senator turns to face Thorn, flashes a slightly-more-emphatic than he intended THANK YOU hand signal.

“The Chancellor has requested a further perimeter sweep.” Thorn intones, voice carefully modulated to project bored professionalism.

“Understood,” Fox looks back to the Senator and nods at him. “Apologies Senator Taa, we can discuss this matter further later.”

“Yes yes, mustn’t keep you from your fine work, good job Commander,” the Senator waves dismissively at him, then heads over to the buffet table with an air of victory.

Fox watches him go, then turns back to Thorn.

“Do you think he realises you’re the one who stopped him?” Thorn asks, a thoughtful tilt to their helmet.

Fox just sighs, and walks away to the sound of Thorn’s snickers in his ear.

------

He’s only able to review their proceeds after the Gala is completely done and over, made sure everyone has left for their own homes, and checked Senator Deechi isn’t, once again, comatose drunk under a table somewhere. He marches back to the barracks (alone, because he isn’t making any of his troopers stay at one of these stupid events any longer than necessary) and makes his way straight to the second rec room.

The sound of laughter and joy hits him as soon as he rounds the corner to the hallway, and he lets go of the tension with a grateful breath. Pulling off his helmet, he strides into the room, where troopers in various mismatches of bodysuits and armour are sprawled around a lumpy pile covered in a white sheet with CG stamped in red in the corner.

“Took your time!” Thorn waves at him, grin wide and delighted. “Deechi wasn’t passed out again, was he?”

“Thank the Maker, no,” Fox rolls his eyes to chuckles from the others. “You waited for me?”

Thorn rolls their eyes right back. “Duh, get your shebs over here.”

Fox goes and sits next to them, then promptly gets back up when Thorn tries to side-arm him into a hug and goes to sit next to Comm who snickers at the pair of them. Thorn pouts. It’s a good pout, full and wide-eyed, but Fox has developed immunity to their banthashit and graces the attempt with a middle finger.

Thire sighs loudly and exasperatedly. “If the two children would kindly settle down, the adults would like to check out the spoils of battle now please?” He glowers at the pair of them, and Fox glowers back, showing him how it’s done.

Thorn reaches forward and grabs the edges of the blanket. “My friends, my family, my wonderful idiots! Enjoy!” They whip off the sheet with a flourish, and there’s gasps and noises of joy as even Fox feels his eyes widen.

They’ve outdone themselves. There’s little squares of delicate crisp bread with curls of meat pate. Glistening honey-coated carrots roasted to perfection. Candied nuts and fruit sitting powdery in a bowl. The roast bird he’s going to have to make Thire a commander over. And even...

“Is that sugar?” Fox breaths, picking up the beautiful ceramic bowl filled almost to the brim with beautiful, wonderful, white crystals of perfection...

Someone passes a steaming hot cup of caf over his shoulder and holds it out for him. “Commander,” Stone murmurs, a warm smile on his face as Fox turns to him. Comm holds out a small spoon, and Fox is not an emotional man, but he kind of wants to kiss the whole kriffing room at this point.

“Thank you,” he sniffles, taking the proferred mug (and decidedly doesn’t care that it’s the pink one with a Fox-head that Stone got him as a joke) and places it in front of him. With gentle fingers, he takes the spoon from Comm, gets himself a hearty heaped spoonful of sugar, and stirs it into the inky-dark liquid in his mug.

Reverently, he lifts the mug to his lips, tilts it gently and... Oh...

“Mesh’la,” he whispers, eyes closed and lips curving into a smile in the wake of the sweetened nectar of the little Gods.

There’s laughter all around him, and he opens his eyes to the sight of his family, all taking carefully selected pieces of food and trying them out with noises of glee and excitement.

Fox sits, sipping his delicious cup of caf, and thinks life doesn’t get much better than this.

#and how thire got promoted is now canon. it's too brilliant #tcw #coruscant guard #sw #short fanfic #short ficlet #commander fox #commander thire #commander stone

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dragonsandwolvesohmy · 12 hours

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Tell me a soft memory

#soft memory #faith in humanity #text post #story

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dragonsandwolvesohmy · 2 days

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via @indiarosecrawford

𝑓ₒᵣ ⲕᵢ𝑛𝑔 ₐ𝑛𝑑 𝑐ₒ𝑡𝑡ₐ𝑔ₑ

#frog and toad #stop motion #videos #cute video #animals #felt animals #creating #crafting

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dragonsandwolvesohmy · 2 days

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Please return us to a world where Notp and squick are used for a ship you don’t like instead of just making up a load of bullshit about how immoral it is or w/e lol

#fandom #fandom etiquette #fandom acronyms #acronyms

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dragonsandwolvesohmy · 3 days

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My Biggest and Most Annoying Fictional Horse Pet Peeve

Big Horses are a Very New Thing and they Likely Didn’t Exist in your Historical and/or Fantasy Settings.

You’ve all seen it in every historical piece of media ever produced. Contrary to popular belief, a big black horse with long legs and long flowing mane is not a widespread or even a particularly old type of horse.

THIS IS NOT A MEDIEVAL THING. THIS IS NOT EVEN A BAROQUE THING. THIS IS A NINETEENTH CENTURY CITY CARRIAGE HORSE.

All the love to fancy Friesian horses, but your Roman general or Medieval country heroine just really couldn’t, wouldn’t, and for the sake of my mental health shouldn’t have ridden one either.

Big warmblood horses are a Western European and British invention that started popping up somewhere around 1700s when agriculture and warfare changed, and when rich folks wanted Bigger Faster Stronger Thinner race horses. The modern warmblood and the big continental draught both had their first real rise to fame in the 1800s when people started driving Fancy Carriages everywhere, and having the Fanciest Carriage started to mean having the Tallest and Thinnest Horses in the town.

Before mechanised weaponry and heavy artillery all horses used to be small and hardy easy-feeders. Kinda like a donkey but easier to steer and with a back that’s not as nasty and straight to sit on.

SOME REAL MEDIEVAL, ROMAN, OTTOMAN, MONGOL, VIKING, GREEK and WHATEVER HISTORICALLY PLAUSIBLE HORSES FOR YOU:

“Primitive”, native breeds all over the globe tend to be only roughly 120-140 cm (12.0 - 13.3 hh) tall at the withers. They all also look a little something like this:

Mongolian native horse (Around 120-130 at the withers, and decendants of the first ever domesticated horses from central Asia. Still virtually unchanged from Chinggis Khan’s cavalry, ancestor to many Chinese, Japanese and Indian horses, and bred for speed racing and surviving outdoors without the help of humans.)

Carpathian native horse / Romanian and Polish Hucul Pony (Around 120-150 at the withers, first mentioned in writing during the 400s as wild mountain ponies, depicted before that in Trajanian Roman sculptures, used by the Austro-Hungarian cavalry in the 19th century)

Middle-Eastern native horse / Caspian Pony (Around 100-130 at the withers, ancestor of the Iranian Asil horse and its decendants, including the famous Arabian and Barb horses, likely been around since Darius I the Great, 5th century BC, and old Persian kings are often depicted riding these midgets)

Baltic Sea native horse / Icelandic, Finnish, Estonian, Gotland and Nordland horses (Around 120-150 at the withers, descendant of Mongolian horses, used by viking traders in 700-900 AD and taken to Iceland. Later used by the Swedish cavalry in the 30 years war and by the Finnish army in the Second World War, nowadays harness racing and draught horses)

Siberian native horse / Yakutian pony (Around 120-140 at the withers, related to Baltic and Mongolian horses and at least as old, as well-adapted to Siberian climate as woolly mammoths once were, the hairiest horse there is, used in draught work and herding)

Mediterranean native horse / Skyros pony, Sardinian Giara, Monterufolino (Around 100-140 at the Withers, used and bred by ancient Greeks for cavalry use, influenced by African and Eastern breeds, further had its own influence on Celtic breeds via Roman Empire, still used by park ranger officers in Italy)

British Isles’ native horse / various “Mountain & Moorland” pony breeds (Around 100-150 at the withers, brought over and mixed by Celts, Romans and Vikings, base for almost every modern sport pony and the deserving main pony of all your British Medieval settings. Some populations still live as feral herds in the British countryside, used as war mounts, draught horses, mine pit ponies, hunting help and race horses)

So hey, now you know!

#horses #animals #history #animal history #writing info #writing resources #writing inspo

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dragonsandwolvesohmy · 3 days

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The mini dinos are proud of you! ♡

Chibird store | Positive pin club | Instagram

#chibird #dinosaur #tiny dinosaurs #art #dinosaur art

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dragonsandwolvesohmy · 3 days

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Corrie guard mood board

#fan art #artists on tumblr #star wars fanart #star wars: the clone wars #coruscant guard #commander fox #commander thorn #commander thire #commander stone #Implied other corries #Cw: blood #cw: Palpatine vibes #not mine

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dragonsandwolvesohmy · 3 days

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snail collection. which one’s your fav? 🐌

#snails #snail art #animal art #not mine

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dragonsandwolvesohmy · 3 days

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Vader: [opening a desk drawer in Obi-Wan’s old room] Let’s see what this old fool kept in here…[picking up a piece of paper] Obi-Wan: [in a letter]

Dear Anakin,

If you’re reading this, then you must be rifling through my belongings, which means you are either extremely bored (in which case I suggest going and tidying up your quarters, which I don’t need to see to know are a disaster,) or I’ve been missing for an extended amount of time and the Order needs the room to store extra chairs, or I’ve died, possibly while trying to rid the galaxy of General Grievous. If I am in fact dead, I hope this letter finds you well in spite of it, and that you have not gone off the deep end or murdered anyone in an attempt to avenge me. (…unless it’s Grievous, I suppose.)

You will find attached to this letter the receipts for several items in my room, such as the electric tea kettle. I hope you can at least return them for store credit.

I’ve set up a college savings plan with the Galactic Bank of Coruscant, because I noticed that Senator Amidala is obviously pregnant, and since I am not nearly as dense as you apparently think I am, I presume the child is yours. The account information is in my safe, which I would give you the combination to except that I know you have been breaking into it since you were 14.

If you do intend to eventually leave the Order, as I suspect you might, please make sure that you give the Council two weeks’ notice. It’s only polite, and you never know when you may need to use them as a reference. Even though I know you clash with them, they do care about you.

Finally, please make sure Duchess Satine’s nephew gets the inheritance I’ve left him (the information is also in my safe, and no, I’m not going to tell you any more details about this. I realize how much this is going to torment you, and I’d be lying if I said that’s not bringing a smile to my face.)

Your blanket is in the hamper. Wash it on the gentle cycle. The password for the wi-fi, in case you’ve forgotten, is BuyYourOwnDataPlanAnakin.

Be well, my Padawan, and I shall see you again someday – hopefully many years from now – when you, too, rejoin the Force. Don’t forget to change the payment settings for Netflix now that I’m dead or you’ll fall behind on your programs.

Yours, Obi-Wan Kenobi PS: Don’t let Vos speak at my funeral.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #darth vader #little fic #short ficlet #short fanfic

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