Commander Fox Week is an Art and Writing Challenge that was created because Fox needs more love. It takes place in the week from the 9th to 15th August 2021.
You want to participate? The rules are simple:
1. Post your work on Tumblr and tag it with #CommanderFoxWeek2021 and @ me in the post. I will reblog it here. You can also post a link to your work if you posted it on another website.
2. Please tag your work! Use appropriate tags and warnings.
3. If anyone wants to do clonecest, I ask you to put a warning (that counts for everything sensitive) before your work and then put a read-more link after that so anyone that doesn’t want to be exposed to that kind of content can easily skip it. If you don’t do this I can’t reblog it.
4. All general rules are stated in the pinned post on this blog and apply to this event. That post also includes a suggestion as to how to format your post for anyone who struggles with that. You do not need to use that format, but your post structure must be in order with the rules.
5. Choose one (or both, if you want to) of the prompts for every day and be creative. Ships or no ships, everything is welcome :)
If you have any questions you can send asks or DMs
The last of my Fox week drawings. Each of his tattoos has its own special meaning.
The Fox: …..hes called Fox
The Waves: represents Kamino, the water world
The Red Bars: match his armour, which is probably what most clones think of when they think about how they look
The Eye: the Coruscant Guards have to bee as close to all-seeing as possible
The Sunflowers: theres very little sun on both Kamino and the part of Coruscant the guard barracks are on so the sunflowers are his own kind of sun
The Roses: the clones are never really allowed to be soft or delicate so the roses are a little bit of rebellion to remind Fox that the clones should be able to be whatever they want
I'll definitely color this but time is running so let me post at least one artwork dedicated to @loving-fox-hours Commander Fox week 🦊❤ Day 4 "Scars" and day 7 "Tattoos"
I chose to draw the tattoo & scars prompt in one drawing so have a grumpy and always tired Commander Fox after waking up with his beloved caf (in a cup he got from Wolffe bc I love them a lot as a ship or brotp)
I also included a certain huge chest part here bc @thatfunkyopossum started a real good thing and I love seeing all the beautiful and thirsty Fox artworks and writings xD
Fox design is my own here, I'm used to his grey temples and slightly longer hair too much now so I don't wanna change that anymore. But I'm excited to see so many possible great designs of him here ♡
They’d been encouraged not to use the public lifts. No need to crowd senators and alarm civilians with their armored presence. Read: clones belonged in the droid shafts.
But it was late, the Dome had emptied, and Fox was dead in his boots. A straight ride down lift one would park him at the speeder lot.
Fox pressed the button. He didn’t even have to wait. The doors opened as if by command—
To a Senate Guard captain.
Tufted and territorial, he squared himself at the sight of Fox like a blue-breasted ibbot, asserting his right—and that of the other occupant, a Pantoran lady—to ride in this plasteel tube unbothered by any clone.
Great. Fox cursed under his helmet and dithered. He’d catch the next one.
A small hand halted the closing doors. The lady. The pretty Pantoran with brilliant golden eyes—the senator with a senatorial datapad—was inviting him in.
“Please, Commander.”
She knew who he was. Well, if not him—Fox—then at least his rank.
Fox floated into the lift, his entire body tingling, as if he’d been released from it and was experiencing but the phantom pain of life.
Then she smiled at him, and his heart escaped too.
Fox’s bucket fell from nerveless fingers. He walked forward, scarce able to believe his eyes. The bacta tank was crammed into the corner of a narrow medbay—illicit, off-books, likely unlicensed; he’d pay credits he didn’t have that it served one of the local gangs. Maybe several of them. He didn’t care. Right now the whole of his attention was reserved for the clone bobbing gently in off-brand bacta, the hole in his chest livid in the eerie blue light, and the tattooed “5” over his temple proof of life. Fox staggered the last meter and pressed his hands against the transparisteel.
“Fives,” he breathed. He rested his forehead against the tank. “How?”
“General Kenobi knew some people, and they knew some people,” the 501st captain—Rex, his name was Rex—said from behind him. “General Skywalker kept him alive after your shocktroopers cleared out, and we managed to get him into bacta in time.”
Fox stared at the gash across Fives’s chest. The muscle was mostly knitted shut, but the skin was still healing. Who the fuck knew what kind of moonshine bacta cocktail they had him in. He whirled around. “Why isn’t he in a GAR facility!”
Rex stood unmoved. “He tried to assassinate the Chancellor. So I hear.”
That drew Fox up short. He’d said as much to himself over the past week; said it so many times it had almost lost meaning. He’d made the right call; he’d gone over it a dozen times in his head, even checked his helmet footage to make sure he wasn’t rewriting it in his memory, but it stayed the same: Fives had pulled a blaster on them and ignored direct orders to stand down.
Rex was right. No GAR facility would take him, unless it would be for immediate transport to Kamino for reconditioning. Maybe to a penal colony, if they felt generous. If not outright destruction.
He turned back to the tank, his fingers spread wide to try and touch Fives through the glass. “Why didn’t you listen?” he said quietly.
“Commander, you should probably know. The doc here ran a blood test before they dunked him, and he came up positive for voladizam.”
Fox stared up at Fives’s sleeping face, half-covered by the oxygen mask. “I don’t know it.”
“Apparently they give it to psych patients. Side effects can include paranoia, aggression, and anxiety if the dosing isn’t done right.”
Fox forced himself to look away, frowning at Rex. “Are you saying he was drugged?”
The mutie captain stood at ease, his thumbs tucked in his belt. He watched Fox carefully. “There’s a lot of unanswered questions floating around. Kamino won’t let us look into their files on the biochips. The helmet footage was erased from Fives’s armor; he didn’t do it, I didn’t do it. We were told his aggression and paranoia was caused by the removal of his chip, but then his blood tests positive for psych drugs?” He shook his head, looking past Fox to the body of his trooper bobbing in the tank. “I’m saying I’ve got some suspicions, Commander.”
Fox turned back to the tank. To Fives. They hadn’t seen each other in over three months, since the last time Fives had been called to CLONINT for a briefing. He’d only been on-planet for a single night; barely enough for Fox to reacquaint himself with the feeling of Fives’s hands on his skin.
And then, a week ago, Fox had been sent to apprehend a rogue ARC trooper, and his world had tilted sideways down the garbage chute.
For now, Fives was sleeping. But eventually, he would wake up. And when he did, Fox had some questions he wanted answered. Questions he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answers to.
He bent to pick up his helmet. “Thank you for showing me, Captain,” he said, putting it back on his head. “I believe I have some investigating to do.”
