#best baby creche

[lunian]

KARLACH DESERVES THE WORLD AND PEACE AND ALL HUGS PLS

[iturbide]

Poor Naga just… is a bit delicate with Baby Grima. She doesn’t hold them because… what if she breaks them?? What if she holds them wrong and snaps a bone??? They’re so small! And fragile!! Have they been eating enough?? Is it just that divine dragon hatchlings are built different from fell???

(She doesn’t even realise she’s becoming one of Grima’s Mums. Baby Grima gives baby eyes, and they’re suddenly getting headpats and being fed Naga’s best food. The (Adult) Grima’s aren’t even sure how to react.)

I suspect that Naga just...wouldn't know what to do about Baby Grima at first. This is a miniaturized version of a former foe turned tentative ally -- how is she supposed to address that? She knows how to handle Divine Dragon children (she did have Tiki, after all, even if her stint at actual motherhood was comparatively short), what about Fell Dragon children? Honestly I kind of see her starting out as that person who says they hate cats, comes over, and immediately becomes the cat magnet: she tries very hard not to engage and encourage it because, in her case, she just doesn't know what to do.

Yes this will eventually lead to her getting a Baby Grima curled up in her lap like a cat, tail over their nose (and feathers fluttering every time they breathe). And eventually, because she has to do something with her hands, she just...starts petting the baby. And huh, those feathers are actually quite nice. Very silky. She always expected they would be rough or oily, for some reason. And while the bony protrusions are a little spiky, the scales are smooth and quite warm.

And that's probably where Naga starts falling into the parent role without actually realizing she's doing it.

[evilminji]

My ONGOING "SI-OC Ponderings that my Muse is haunting me with but I may never get around to write" Series!

Because, fuck it, might as well. Maybe it will inspire somebody?

Jedi Youngling! Staring down that double barrel Order 66! FUCK.

Now, see, they don't blame the Clones. They don't even blame the Jedi. Whole lot of "victims of circumstance and our Wrong Place Wrong Time environment" going on. But? Are they gonna lay down and take it? Fffffuck no!

They JUST got this body!

Also?

THESE ARE BABIES.

They, An ADULT, have a god damned MORAL OBLIGATION to save as many of this itty bitty alien babies as they can. They warn the adults, obviously. But they FULLY expect? And are unsurprised? When they DON'T LISTEN.

There is a Force Damned PRECEDENT for that. (May you finally rest in peace now, Master Sifo-Dyas.)

The younglings though? THEY didn't get to make a choice. THEY are innocents. And as the only ADULT with knowledge of what's to come? It's HER moral, ethical, and Force given obligation to PROTECT them until they can do so themselves.

As a Jedi... she has to PICK.

Try to save the adults? Those who willfully chose ignorance AND have the ability to defend themselves? To fight and flee under their own power? Or... save the younglings, the infants and babies. Those whose ignorance is that of the young and still learning? Who CAN NOT fight. Can Not run?

It's no choice at all. And if they truely understood? She can only hope they would command her to do EXACTLY as she is doing. Would demand no less. Consider it UNTHINKABLE to ever choose them.

She searches out the hidden passages. Practices lifting things instead of sword stances. She will need to carry so much. Move so quickly. She KNOWS where the attack will come from... Force willing, if she plans well? The Creches will be EMPTY by the time the soilders arrive.

But for that? She must steal. Redirect. Take things from where they should be. It is easier then it should be. First because no expects true mischief from a child, then? Because a war has begun.

Restriction Bolts of the Temple droids and a simple explanation is enough to gain their assistance. It's illogical not to have a plan, even if you never use it. And through them? "Liberated" data jewels. Already plumbed for all the information they're good for. High end, too.

Perfect.

She wipes them all. Fashion's a belt that, one day, Force willing she might wear as a necklace. Then sets to work coping EVERYTHING about the Jedi. When the temple is lost? Their history should not be.

So long as this string of jewels alone survives.

The Jedi are remembered. Luke with not have to start over from half memories and hearsay. They can learn from the past AND still have it. She puts diaries, prophecies, books the jedi wrote for fun. Various Force sects both past and still alive. Teaching methods. Anything. Everything.

A time capsule.

It HAS to be enough.

She fears it's not. Sneaks into the hall of retired Sabers. Sits. And opens her mind to them all. Please. Please! She knows. She's so, SO sorry. You were done. You EARNED your rest. She would not ask this if youngling were not on the line. If Illum might not become to dangerous to travel too.

....if she did not fear what would become of you, should you stay.

The Sith is coming. He WILL take the temple.

Will you come with me now?

Some do, some promise to die, and die VICIOUS. Swear to blow to deadly shrapnel in the hands of any who dare come for them. Others leave their casings. Willing to come, but not as they were. She apologizes for the indignity, as she stuffs them all in the hidden paths.

Honestly? They muse. They've seen worse. Remember that-? WE DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT. HE WAS TRYING HIS BEST, OKAY?!

And all throughout? One must wonder. What do the other younglings think? That OC is strange? Mad? To be ostracized? No, of course not. She is nice. Listens when they're upset. Does not judge or make every emotion a test. Hugs come readily and her mind FEELS older. Like the Creche Master.

And? If Master YODA can be short? Why not OC? She just lives with them. The other Knights and Master's don't listen to her because she Sees things. It scares them. They SAY they do. But children know the difference, don't they? Between what you promise you'll do... and what you'll ACTUALLY do?

But see, the Creche Master's? Increasingly distracted. Preparing the eldest of their charges for WAR ZONES. It's stressful. The fact that the youngers are quiet? SHOULD raise alarm bells. They KNOW better. But they are distracted.

The ones who DO notice? Are the orphan Padawan. The older initiates. People assigned to "help out".

There aren't enough mind healers. Not enough hands to help around the Creche. It was considered a good idea. Young children are full of uncomplicated Light! Yes, Yoda. They are. But as with Obi-Wan, so too with the Crechelings? Children are NOT here to mend the hurts of their elders. That is NOT their purpose.

They are exposing the youngers to Fear and Grief. Broken bonds and the echos of war. This is NOT good for young force sensitives.

Yet... are THEY not young Force Sensitives? Children too? OC knows they are. And it is a bitterness on her tounge. She does what she can. Because SHE is and adult. They notice too. How can they not? The other children turn to her, she guides them through their day. She gives "projects" and listens to concerns. Walks everyone through meditation.

......runs everyone through the Evacuation Plan? WHAT Evacuation Plan?

Oh.

It... it helps. Having something they are PART of. Doing TOGETHER. Something to combat the growing, creeping, darkness that is not violence and death. This? This is planning. Preparation. It... it feels like have some sense of control again, after everything has become senseless and OUT of control. Yet? It is not DARK. Not seeking to force control on others.

It is just... quietly stepping back.

One foot, then another. Calmly and with grief. Letting go, knowing you have tried, as you leave those who have made their choices to the fates they chose. Silently slipping out the door before the building begins to burn. Just as you warned them. Just as they refused to hear.

It's okay to grieve.

Even those who are still alive.

Of course, Shadows ARE supposed to notice unusual movements. Spies and Falling are a concern. Heeey, little youngling! How's things? Just swinging byyyy~☆ soft interrogation tactics~! Gonna admit to any of the Blatant Theft?

Yes, actually. Good you are here. Saves OC the trouble of trying to figure out who is and isn't a Shadow. Kinda convenient, Master Vos, that it's you. What's the fastest set of ships you could stash at the exit to this and THIS hidden path? By this date?

He's sorry, what?

You heard her.

Tiny youngling, unflinching, staring him down and asking for ships like that's a thing she has any right to do? Why? Well... that depends. Are you actually going to listen, Master Vos, or do you want an answer that will comfort you?

Excuse me.

Do you remember? Master Vos, the suffering of Sifo-Dyas? A temple full of Jedi, a seat upon it's council, yet not a single soul would hear him. Would truely listen. How many Knights? How many Masters? Tell me, Master Vos, exactly how many have DIED for willful ignorance and attachment to peaceful days?

There could not POSSIBLY be Sith. So we will not train or prepare. There can not POSSIBLY be a war, Sifo-Dyas, so be consumed by your fear alone. Die, alone. Let Padawan and peacekeepers be Generals. Because what the Force has shown you? It is happening today.

So we refuse to see it. Cling to the present, Master Vos.

Isn't it so COMFORTING here?

You don't have to know what might be. Don't have to ACT. Can be blind and choose ignorance.

A vision then? He surely concludes. For he is no fool. And the Youngling just looks tired. Eats their meal. Answer the question, Master Vos. Do you remember? Was Master Kenobi's suffering also ignored? How well did that work out. Will you LISTEN or have you already come to your conclusions, and now simply seek information to support them?

....he wants to. He does. But you're like, four.

OC nods. Fair. She can see the genuine conflict on his face. He HEARD her. But can not let go of what his eyes tell him. The Force is too muddled here. She too, would have a hard time trusting a small child with something so serious. But.... she can not change her path. And neither can he.

May the Force Be With You, Master Vos.

Plan Besh it is.

She is a small adorable child. The Coruscant gaurd are overworked and filled with spite. Who wants caff and bribery~? Do they clock her immediately? Yes. Is this hilarious. Also yes. Who did you kill, small child? We promise not to be mad.

No one, yet. Could change. She would prefere it not. But who knows. Anyway~☆! Do any of YOU caff loving (here have a refill) gentleman happen to know of any asshole Goverment Officals with REALLY fast ships that run primarily of droid piloting? With potentially easily disabled trackers? Not that she, a small child, would be DOING anything with this information!

It's just neat information to know! *innocent blinking of innocence*

Uh huh. And they were decanted yesterday.

That SAID.... they have a list. Oh noooo! They dropped the list! So much effort to pick it up. Hey, kid, could pick that up and definitely not steal it for us? Good baby Jedi. Thanks for the Caff. Tell Vos to stop haunting the lower levels. It's OUR job to hunt criminals for sport, not his.

Yes, sir o7

Of she goes? To the Senatorial Garage. It's mostly droids. Of LOOK! I have this handy little tool! Pop. Pop, pop, pop~! Hey? Wanna fuck over the asshole who doesn't appreciate you, steal this ship, AND save the lives of small children?

BOY WOULD THEY! Says local every droid in the Ship pool.

Great! Just figure out where the trackers are, how to turn them off, and when it's time? Meet a one of these locations for pick up. We're gonna NEED you. Like... actually NEED. Not "I'm throwing my money around on the latest and greatest then not USING THEM FOR ANYTHING" supposedly need. You'll have SO MUCH WORK.

(They're gonna cry in Binary. Omg? Fuckin FINALLY???)

And so... inevitably. The clock ticks down. The drama of adults ramps up. They smuggle a few clone troopers through surgery. Try to warn the others. Know it won't be enough. The momentum is too great. The gears of War will grind over everything.

Like a forest fire... the old has to burn away for new growth.

But like hell is she letting that come at the cost of tiny bodies. Clones trapped in their minds forced to fire upon children. There will be enough horrors this day. This can be on less. They WILL be ready. And... they are.

She sees the council running out. Knows what it means. And she does NOT hesitate. Her signal goes out. Her Padawan helpers dropping everything to BOLT for the Creche and the go bags stored there. They are followed by friends. Who do not understand, but trust them. Who's Master's do not understand, but assume this is some plan they were not told off.

It certainly seems so, when in the distance? They hear the temple gaurds fighting to hold the line. Hear blasterfire. They race down the hidden paths. Are met with droids, loading up food and medicine, leave as soon as each ship has the assigned numbers. Again and again. Senatorial chips mean instant pass into space. Important business, you understand.

The droids will follow, with everything. Including what was nailed down. Probably the nails too.

Might steal the hammers while they're at it.

Next stop? Wild Space.

Explorcorps newest finds. FRESHLY deleted. All points warning already being sent. A Fuck You Very MUCH, Sith-y Pants. You'll not be getting ANY of the Corps workers if THEY can help it. And hey... the Masters and a few knights were a pleasant suprise. Them and their squad of rescue troopers? Almost make enough adults to take care of everybody!

Now all they have to do? Is hide, rebuild, and regrow.

Return when Luke has down his Luke thing.

Who knows... not her. She made a plan and she DID it. Some one else can decide for a while. She's just a kid. Tell her when they get there, okay?

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: I'm Starting To Think That This Drow Guy Is Kind Of An Asshole Edition.

Probably a Ranger in the hunter subclass. I actually intended to multi-class him as fighter/ranger at some point and make that his official class, but I haven't had time/quite figured out the best build that would still suit him - Ranger makes a LOT of sense with his backstory, arguably more than fighter, but he's still supposed to be a magic-less brick-house with 19 strength who hasn't handled a bow and arrow in 10 years, so I'm not sure where that leaves us LOL

A lot of people have suggested that Berserk Barbarian would fit him well, but I think that implies a lot of other characteristics that do NOT suit him at all so 🤷

HE DIDN'T EVEN GO TO THE CRECHE, and honestly it made the game feel much more immersive to pick one path and stick to it like Halsin suggested, even if I did have to endure the shadow cursed lands without the shiny mace 😂

Probably for the best, it'd be a real shame if the story ended there just because he didn't like Vlaakith's attitude.

But yeah Lae'zel (who, for the record, I adore) never stood a chance in his playthrough. Sorry baby girl.

I'm either uninformed or we have different definitions of what constitutes a crush, but sure I'll play in this space LOL

He's both jealous but also kind of aloof when it comes to things like that. It's yet another symptom of his arrogance, where it seems unfathomable that anyone who has him would be genuinely tempted by someone else. He doesn't mind a normal amount of glance-stealing and flattery, even playful flirting to a degree, but if there's persistence or if his partner seems to seek another person out for things he thinks he should be providing, he feels threatened.

Also, he has a difficult time discerning that "deep emotional connection" does not equal "romantic interest". So, at least immediately after the events of the game, he's more likely to be made insecure by his partners forming deep bonds with others than any throwaway expression of physical desire or fleeting infatuation.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Let me preface this with the (hopefully unnecessary) disclaimer that this murderous dark-elf's opinions are not my own, and that I very much purposefully made a bit of an asshole character because I find that entertaining.

And now that you're hopefully primed for what's coming - DU drow is pretty damn judgemental of people's looks save for the rare times when they give him a good impression right off the bat. He notes people's appearances and makes preemptive assumptions about them without even realizing it. He definitely does not equal beauty to value or prowess (in fact he will very much still mock of you if you seem too concerned with your appearance) but he does prescribe things based on looks.

I don't think he'd take issue with what you're describing, It sounds like a pretty average body, but he would assume that person is weaker and less fit to "keep up with him", basically. Which kind of diminishes interest.

As far as to what he finds immediately attractive, he definitely prefers people who seem physically fit (not more than himself though - gods forbid). But, the caveat to this whole tangent is that once you get past initial impressions, he could definitely come to be sexually attracted to pretty much any type of body attached to the person he's in love with.

Thank you! There was no main event, just the building up of resentment over time and the opportunity she saw opening up when the Chosen's plan came into motion. She definitely didn't always hate him though, they had a fairly close relationship until his obsessive behavior and arrogance became an issue.

Thank you!!!

They call him the/that drow, dark elf, or "big drow" if there's more than one present. In private they might facetiously call him Bhaalspawn if they get tired of referring to him by race.

I'll be honest, I forgot whether or not I found it in his playthrough LOL but if he did stumble across that would be VERY funny. He'd be like "look at these idiots and their fake murder god. What kind of dimwit would worship carnage as a religion. Hey Shadowheart get a load of this-"

HAPPY YOU ENJOY HIM! I think his unique situation overall with having been such a overwhelmingly horrid person and forgetting all about it is my favorite bit. That's kind of vague, I know, but I often think of dreams I've had where I committed a crime or did something horrible, and that immediate feeling of relief and disconnect that follows immediately after waking up. That's kind of what I imagine it's like for him - he knows of the things he did, but he doesn't really. In theory it's all true but that's a truth far too fantastical for anyone to conceptualize even if it's put right in front of your face.

That, tackling the guilt (or lack thereof) of something you genuinely don't feel like you've done and the intricacies of it, that's a fascinating state of mind to explore. I love how many directions you can take that.

For me, having a character who is not good, but is not necessarily pure unadulterated evil, makes for a lot of complex thought experiments and contradictory values. DU drow has a lot of those - things he believes and abides by absolutely except for this specific instance, being contradictory is a pillar of his character and it can be a little challenging to keep up with it - but I'd be lying if I said I don't deeply enjoy that aspect as well all the same.

THANK YOUUUU It took me so long to figure out how to draw Astarion in a way I liked, I'm so relieved that others enjoy it too 😂

Shockingly he did succeed it and was immediately put-off by it, lmao. They wouldn't really develop much of a relationship for a while after that, so at that point DU drow just figured he was trying to get something from him and wrote him off, much as he did with everyone else with the exception of Shadowheart.

He didn't meet her at the Tiefling grove! I didn't even know you could meet her before-hand for the longest time. But he did super, duper kill her at camp of course.

He managed to hide the body and everyone else was none the wiser, huge blood bhaal-sigil on the ground aside lmao. He was a little shocked but didn't feel all that bad about it, kind of resigning to that primal feeling of satisfaction at a job-well-done that overwhelmed him instead. He decided she was too weak to survive out there and he had just spared her the trouble.

[threepandas]

Counting Down: 1 [Next ->]

The worst part about knowing the end? Is the beginning and middle. The waiting to change. The hoping it can. Days, spent with the low fear, ever churning, that it will all make no difference. Your actions. Your plans. The hopes you have placed in Fate's fickle hands.

Entering the Creche at an awkward age, too soon to be Legend, too late to be Peer. I was destined to be an adult by the time Anikin arrived. Getting up there, by the time the Order fell. Not yet old enough to be an Elder... yet destined to never live long enough to see such an age.

Obviously, I refused.

Looked around, locked eyes on the closest most manageable Character Of Relevance and took a chance. After all, was it not? The Jedi WAY? To inconvenience the Sith at every turn? So... first Crecheling, then Initiate, then baby Padawan Me, tracked the poor man down. Hunted him for SPORT.

Meditate with me, Knight Dooku! Can you teach me about this or that, Knight Dooku? What is the correct use of seashell tongs in formal dining, when attending a formal feast with the aristocracy, during this specific religious holiday, Knight Dooku? (No, no, on the moon not the planet.)

Congratulations on you Mastery! Master Dooku!

Pushing and shoving my way into his life. Persistent, much to everyone's amusement, and his baffled chagrin. It was like befriending a fussy, regal looking, semi-feral cat. Force knows, for all his training, he's terrible at casual interactions. He was older them me, yes. And Mentor of sorts, certainly. For a time. But? We became... friendly? I like to think? I certainly chased him down enough.

He's a dramatic and awkward man, Yan, and he'd be lost without us; Sifo, Nu, and I. Occasionally Yoda, but that does come and go. Not to metion... well... his Padawans. (Damn it, Yan. They can't read the subtext from your pointed silences! Use your WORDS.) The sort of man who is... sturdy, but brittle. Like an old, unbending tree.

Which makes it all the worse, when the pressure becomes too much. Because it does not merely crack. No. No, such men? They shatter in terrible and unpredictable ways. Unbreakable right up until they are not. Unending right up until the crash.

It is...? Both tragic and hilarious, in a that way, that Yan should live surrounded by so many prophets. Yet he does not, can not, and never will see the end coming. Surrounded by legends, both old and new. Born with every marker for greatness. Yet he...? He will be considered little more then a footnote, in someone else's history. At best.

And the worst part of his Fall? The absolutely worst part? Is the Light I still feel, each time I look at him, the GOOD I know is there. Resolute and noble, dignified and full of grace. A diplomat. Expert swordsman. Makes magnificent tea. The driest wit imaginable. He... he is YAN. Not Count Dooku. Not some Sith Apprentice. Just... just Yan.

My friend.

I meditate on it a lot. The Force gives no clear answers. Still, I do try, sitting in the gardens. Tucked away several stories up, past the considerate veil of several sweeping branches. I never did succeed in figuring out which planet the tree hails from, I suspect it might be either a long dead one or some small moon. It's a truely lovely, sturdy, thing nonetheless.

Far below, younglings shriek and play growl. Running carefree, to work off energy before evening meditation. Each a tiny blaze of starlight dancing at the edge of my vision.

A bit bright, I note, but nothing concerning.

The Halls of Healing will have to increase my prescription again. My glasses are no longer blocking enough... I sigh. Considering that. My sight? Is at least partially genetic. While I may be predominantly human, just because someone looks human passing, doesnt mean they genetically are one. My ancestors were, to put it mildly, a bit... Mandalorian.

Where their was a will, there was apparently, a way; And now I pay the price for it. It's honestly a miracle they never "married", as it were, themselves into a genetic dead end. Some sort of metaphorical space mule scenario, as it were. Yet? Despite all that seeming success? Luck is not eternal. And should you keep gambling? Eventual you will roll poorly.

I was that poor hand. That unfortunate luck. Loved of course. Expected even. My parents both wanted and were delighted by me. But? I screamed. Could not bear to be near people. My inheritance? A truely unfortunate luck of the draw. When combine with Force Sensitivity? My eyes reacted to "Light" poorly. Very, VERY poorly.

They were blinding to me. A mere child with no shields to speak of, no Force training to push BACK with. Like being force to look direct at the sun, again and again. It HURT. Because I could See.

Where others saw merely flesh? I saw deeper. Not infalliblly, not perfectly, I was hardly some omniscient god, but... oh. Oh. The world was so Bright. So LUMINOUS. The Force swirling and burning and flowing. In everything, from humble to grand. People shine, and yes, it is beautiful. But it also? Hurts. Because it IS, ultimately, being forced to stare directly at bright, ever shifting, sometimes flickering LIGHT.

I have a lifelong disability. Can not FUNCTION without my filtering shade glasses.

Or, if you are one of the ignorant assholes, who even NOW still seek to use me? I have what you might call? A"gift~☆".

According to Healer Che, it was some highly recessive trait. (From a planet I honest didn't even know I had heritage on, much less could find on a navigation system.) A subterranean people, due to the truely ungodly surface conditions. VERY sensitive to energy signatures and light. Which...? When you slap on a whole NEW super special Force sensing ability? Filtered through the same brain? Wires unfortunately crossed.

It could have happened it anyone. Unfortunately, it happened to me. Now I'm effectively blind around large collections of sentients. Or Life in general, depending on the intensity. To say NOTHING of Force Nexus! Dear merciful FUCK, that was the sort of accident only you make ONCE and then NEVER again. I was lucky to keep my vision. At all. Full stop.

Sifo was not so lucky. His Visions being neither natural nor kind. The Force seizing him again and again, to plunge him into vivid scenes of carnage. Death and horrors in the home he so loved. I would would be forced to, should I fail, see the Fall of the Order once. But Sifo? Oh... oh, dear Sifo...

Sifo, had seen it fall ten thousand times.

Even Yan did listen to him. Not truely. But there is camaraderie, in the horrors. In whispering, "it's not their fault", through choking tears. Forgiving the victims that will one day kill us. There is... a certain, heavy, sort of friendship... born of pressing your foreheads together, fingers intertwined, knuckles white with terror, as you shudder in the dark.

I think it helped, helps, that he has someone, who believes him. Anyone. Not just humoring him, the mad man sprouting prophecies of doom. But truely believes him. Knows he is right. And that if nothing is done? Everyone will die.

But... BUT! It CAN NOT, be Kamino, Sifo. Not that, never that.

In the dark, I remind him of prophets, seeking to avoid their visions, and instead? Ensuring the worst, comes to pass. Defense, Sifo. Escape. We are JEDI. Do not let fear blind you, to who you ARE. Do not let it take down a path of darkness.

I wrap him in the Light. Tuck my Force presence close, like I'm hiding him again my side, a youngling tucked into the safety of my robe. Shhhh, my friend. It is okay to be afraid. I am too. We can do this together. We are not alone. I believe you.

We are the pillars of his mental health, Yan and I. It concerns the healers greatly. The council. Honestly? It concerns me. But what can I do? No one else CAN help Sifo, until the first take the step of recognizing he is not, in fact, insane. He is a perfectly SANE man, reacting in entirely reasonable ways, to unspeakable Nexus born horrors. Slowly cracking under the isolation and grief. A jedi pushed and pushed, far past the point lesser men would have broken.

And if? He need a woman young enough to be his one of his student's, to rely on? So be it. I am a Knight now, I can handle it. (I have been handling it, since the incident. Since I was a Crecheling. Where the fuck were all of YOU? Ah, that's right. Calling him insane. Making things WORSE.)

I breathe out slow and controlled. My meditation is getting me no where. Rising, I carefully hop down, using the Force to slow my fall, much to the awe of various Crechelings. I can not help but smile. Was I ever that small? So easily impressed? I bow to my tiny fellow jedi. Delighted, they scramble to bow back. Thrilled to show off how grown up and serious they are, how well down they can do it.

Reaching out with my senses, I look for Yan, politely avoiding doing more then the briefest brush as I reach past others. I am not the first, nor will I be the last. There are hundreds of such searches a day. Some clumsy and heavy handed, from Crechelings or Initiates. Some soft as brushing strands of silk. Knights or Masters, looking for friends, looking for students where the should not be.

The Temple feels alive, noisy even, when you know how to feel it.

Ah, there he is! Heading from the High Council's cha-Grief. Horror. A gutting pain that numbs and spreads.

Caught off gaurd, I am sent reeling. Stumbling, without grace, over my own feet into a nearby wall. Glad for it, as I desperately grab at my chest and wheeze, drawing the alarmed attention of nearby Knights and Guards. Because... because, the other direction? Had I stumbled in the other direction, I would have hit the railing. Fully doubt I... I would have been able t-too.... oh Force-!

It takes entirely too long to seperate my emotions from Yan's. To realize what's happening. My panic feeding into the pain. My pain feeding into the panic. Yan. S-Something happened to Yan! I manage to gasp it out. P-please! S.. Someone! Go! Go check on Master Dooku!

The world spins as I try to force air into my body. It refuses to come. Whatever horrible pain Yan is in, leeching down our connection. Into me. Hurting. Made so, SO much worse, by my having been actively looking for him. I close my eyes, teeth gritting, and trying to stop digging my nails into skin. I-It won't help. There's nothing physically there.

But it hurts! God, does it HURT!

It feels like my WORLD has been shredded. My heart, crushed, cruel and slow in my chest. H-he's having a panic attack. Has to be! Or-! Or being attacked! I d-don't... don't KNOW!

A passing Master has hurried over, now kneels next to me. Various Knights pushing whatever calm and safety the can at me. No one is quite certain what will help. But they try. Desperately, stubbornly, resolute to the last... they TRY.

Breathe with me, begs the Master. Pressing my hand to his chest. Just copy my breathing. Help is coming. Release what pain you can, into the Force. We will help you. Let us help you.

I try.

Desperately, I Try.

The Healers end up having to give us sedatives, Yan and I. Sifo ends up... worse. The entire event triggering another, nasty, round of visions. He is incoherent. Trapped. Staring up at the Death Star from the surface of Alderaan, through countless eyes, begging to be heard. His soul, small and desperate, replaying the end, over and over. Even as he tries to protect what souls he can from the inevitable.

He cries for this too. They won't believe him, I know. Even as he thrashs and begs. For the lives of the innocent to be spared, for monsters to hold their fire. I will though. I will. I always do.

But Sifo will be lost for days. Yan, however? As he sits, on the bed, just the other side me? Sits stiff and properly. Blankly. As the healers words wash over him. I doubt a single on has registered. Of the three of us, I am the only one even remotely functioning. Yet... yet I still, don't know what has happened.

Nodding one last time to the healer assigned to me. Promising that yes, I will most certainly rest. I slip my my bed and sweep over to stand next to Yan's. The Healer's concerned and frustrated. He knows Yan's not listening. But has to try. I shoot him a strained, closed lipped, smile. Quietly take charge of my unresponsive friend.

The Healers relief is palpable. Our notes and instructions are not terribly dissimilar. Rest, food, no missions or upsets. Got it.

Gently, I guide Yan from the Healing Halls. Alarmed, that he let's himself be led. He never let's himself be led like this. Insists he is no invalid, to be coddled. Yet... here he is. Mind a thousand parsecs away.

Bringing him to his rooms, I key in his code then gently guide him to his favorite chair. Lightly guide him down into it. Not... not once, during the entire walk back, has he responded to anything. I am beginning to grow afraid.

Fussing, I drag up that terribly pretentious Serranian musician, on his music system. The one I can't stand. I am worried. Sacrifices must be made. Boring and insipid music fills the room. Very fancy! Come on, Yan. This is his new piece! Don't you want to comment on it? Come, tell me why it's so much better then the racket youngling blast these days. I'll call you an old man...

Nothing.

Worry growing, I begin making his favorite tea. Digging out his special occasion snacks. Something, anything, to get a reaction. As things brew, a sound too wounded to truly be a laugh, chokes it's way out of him.

"Xana-...My..." he starts. Stops. Normally sharp mind refusing to obey him, as he tries to summon words. He looks lost.

"My Grand-Padawan is dead." His voice is brittle, alien sounding in his mouth. I nearly drop the plate of snacks I was carrying over, in response. Horrified. "He was supposed be returning a knight. Qui-gon was.. was so proud of him. Adored him. This has destroyed him. Will destroy all of us. I... I have lost everything."

No. No, you have NOT.

Striding forward and all but dumping the plate on the side table next to him, I reach for my friend with both hands. With my Force presence. I refuse. No, damn it! I Will NOT lose him. Not like this, not TOO this!

Listen. LISTEN to me, Yan Dooku. So help me Stars, Gods both big and small, you will not succumb to this!

The greatest lie the Dark has ever told, is that it will make things better. That it can help you with your pain. Would Xanatos want his death to destroy you? Would the child of your child, want his legacy to be the ruin of everyone he loved? It is okay to grieve. You NEED to grieve. But remember you Padawans. Remember their Padawans.

Your Lineage still lives, Yan Dooku.

It is hurting, mourning, but ALIVE. Don't you dare run from it in your grief. You are better then that. I am here. Sifo and Nu are here. Yoda, is here. We will carry this pain together, okay?

Closing his eyes, he let his head rest more heavily against my hands. Dampness darkened his eyelashes, but no true tears formed or fell. He didn't seem to have it in him. Not yet. His hands though... his hands? Shook as they slowly, haltingly, like a droid with seizing joints, reached out for me.

I moved from leaning over him to sitting on the arm rest of his fancy Serranian high backed chair. That he didn't even grumble over me "abusing his furniture" by putting weight on the arm rest like this? Gods.

Leaning into him, I wrapped my arms around his head and shoulders. Like a shield against the universe. Used the Force to pull the tea, finally done, and pour it into a nice cup. Properly of course. See, Yan? I remember your lectures. Here, drink.

He... did not.

Just leaned, sagged against me, as he shuddered with grief. Hands wrapped around a cup of fragrant tea. Music filling the air. Tucked safe inside my Force presence, as best I could.

In... Out... In... Out... There was a slight stutter to it, a hitch, that in a less controlled man? Might have broken into a sob. But... instead, Yan meditated. That first cup going to waste. The second following, as it slowly went cold. Needs must, though, and tea? Can be replaced. Yan can not.

Emptying wasted cups, I poured more. Rested my head atop his own. Matched his breathing as I slipped into a light meditation with him. The room was quite enough. The position not terribly comfortable. But honestly? We'd both meditated under worse conditions, and it had been... A DAY.

To put it mildly.

I didn't like the look of Yan's Force Presence. It was like a fault line had been struck. Spreading terrible spiderwebbing cracks in otherwise sturdy stone. I was no mind healer... really, not a healer at all, I was a Seeker, but? I had learned a few tricks. After all, not every child I had found? Was found in a safe and loving home. Most weren't, honestly.

You learned to soothe, as a Seeker. Learn how to help. Children, after all, don't know Light from Dark. They just know that if they reach for the magic in their head? Bad things go away and good things tend to happen. Sometimes they hurt themselves by accident. Sometimes they hurt themselves... because the alternative was worse.

"You know, my dear? Some days I think you are the only Jedi with any compassion left. The boy never should have been sent there. Not for his trials. The lives of others are not a child's test. And to be asked to face one's own family? It... it was cruel."

Yan sent his cup around me, to rest on the side table, before gently tugging me down into his lap. He hugged me close, like a child squeezing a stuffed animal for comfort, face buried in the crook between my shoulder and neck. Like he was hiding from the world. I rest my head against his shoulder, eyes closed.

We were both... so tired, weren't we. This was nice.

"When did it all become about proving ones purity? One's superiority of morals? We are supposed to help people. Not lord over them. If I wished to do THAT, I would merely need to return to Serrano. Become a Count. You and Sifo are the only one who seem to understand me."

"I think I would go mad, without you."

Yes. I worry that you would, Yan. I worry that you would.

[bull-at-the-gate]

Aftermath

More brainrot. I think Sehkmet sees a lot in Lae'zel; a fierce ally and warrior; a tactical mind; a cub whose got a lot bigger of a heart than she'll admit; above all though, she sees someone who's lost and doesn't know who she is without her kin to define her.

A buncha silly stuff under the cut. I'm by no one's opinion a good writer, but I just wanted to try and see if I could give Sehkmet a unique voice and spent a bit too much time noodling on it

*cough cough* I am a big nerd about these things, and evolutionarily speaking (based fully on my assumption that the astral plane is chilly), it would be more beneficial for Gith to have a larger air chamber to warm the air they breath for longer before it reaches their lungs. I also just like drawing them a lil' less 'human' adjacent and making them feel a bit more reptilian *cough cough*

Sehkmet is probably around her early to mid 30s and has seen a lot of conflict firsthand. She's seen friends become Oathbreakers and former foes redeem themselves time and time again.

After the creche, she'd spend a lot of time checking in on Lae'zel. Just being present sometimes and occasionally offering advice or sparring with her.

She's dumb, but not naive enough to assume she knows exactly what Lae'zel's feeling, her whole people is raised from birth to build their identity on the dogma of Vlaakith for Bahamut's sake.

She's got no clue how much loss that must feel like. But she tries her best to keep Lae'zel from shutting everything out.

Anyway, I'm not good at breaking down character personalities, I'm a science aud/hd nerd with middling media literacy q-q. But here's just a silly bit of writing

Since getting a safe enough distance from the monastery to make camp, Lae’zel had been sitting at a cliff’s edge staring at the horizon. Her sword lay across her thighs, fingers tracing the designs along the cross-guard. After finishing her normal camp chores and starting the fire, Sehkmet walked over. Squatting down with some minor protest from her sore knees and joining the young Githyanki in sitting on the edge.

‘She really was young, wasn’t she?’ That particular fact had never been so clear as when she looked over at Lae’zel’s face. Clear of her warpaint and cast in soft shadows, Sehkmet could see a growing vulnerability that she’d tried to hide behind ferocity and dogmatic loyalty to a queen who'd cast her aside. Could see her brow crease and eyes squint as she fought valiantly against the tears.

The Dragonborn cleared her throat, she was pretty sure a certain cleric would be ‘subtly sneaking’ into Lae’zel’s tent again, especially following the mess back there, so she didn't want to take too much time.

“You know, I was barely 6 when I tried to apprentice in my order?”

There was no sign of acknowledgment from Lae’zel, “My clan’d been slain by Tiamat’s followers and there were survivors only because of this cranky ol’ paladin of Bahamut.” Sehkmet chuffed under her breathe at the thought of the old gal.

Lae’zel’s fingers had stopped tracing the inlays on her crossguard, her gaze was still firm on the horizon, but the slightest twitch of her ear had Sehkmet continuing her story.

“She’d shown up all silver and blue and righteous fury, tore through the cultists who’d killed my clan and the rest of the caravan.” She looked out to the mountains, following Lae’zel’s gaze to where, if there wasn’t a good chunk of forest in the way, she’d be staring right at the Rosymorn Monastery.

A wry laugh slipped from her as she remembered how the events played out, “Know what Dorna said when I threw myself in front of her and begged her to train me to join the order to avenge my clan?”

There still wasn’t any clear indication of Lae’zel hearing her, but she could hear her breathing relax the faintest bit. “She told me to fuck off and ask again when I wasn’t covered in blood ‘n didn't have baby fat left. Cried something fierce for hours.” The fighter’s eyes left the horizon, just for a moment, to flick towards her. “I didn’t get it back then.”

“I do now.” Sehkmet’s shoulders hunched as she leaned forward, feeling the beat of her once stilled heart in her chest.

“She was telling me to not pledge myself when I was still a cub trembling with the fear of pain and death, fueled by the anger of grief, grasping for an idea of power to feel safe.” Sehkmet exhaled sharply, a fine icy mist clouding in front of her. “She’d wanted me to mourn, grieve, to heal. To feel sure that I was making the decision I wanted, not because of my loss.”

“I had choice, Lae’zel. She didn’t fill my head and soul with Bahamut’s justice when I was a scared and angry cub who’d already lost everything. It had been my choice to follow Him even once I was safe, to still choose to become an instrument for His justice.”

Her voice was more serious than the Gith had heard before, "Everyone deserves it to be a choice, a true and free choice, where to lay their loyalty and devotion."

She squeezed Lae’zel’s shoulder, “You weren’t afforded choice young one. You’ve not done wrong, far as I’m concerned. And you've got allies at your back, whatever choice you make now, as long as it is truly yours, we'll support it.” Sehkmet’s words were gentle as she glanced out to the horizon one last time, the sun was setting and filling the sky with one last colorful display.

She stood slowly, ruffling Lae’zel’s hair playfully with a laugh as the Gith tried to slap her hand away. “C’mon then, let’s help with dinner, Gale’s been chopping veggies for that whole talk and I can almost smell his irritation at Astarion's daily complaint time.”

A hand grabbed her wrist as she turned to head back to camp, hearing rather than seeing Lae’zel stand up. “How is it you keep your faith, when you know the gods to be fallible?”

Sehkmet had to pause for a moment at that, humming softly as she turned it over in her head. She knew how, even if it was a contradiction. She questioned things. She didn't doubt in Bahamut, in His merciful justice, but she did question to keep her faith from growing stagnant and unyielding to change. She felt the divine call of the Wyrmking guiding her where His justice was needed, she felt His presence in every beat of the heart He'd breathed life back into. Her faith was etched into the marrow of her bones and there were no words she knew good enough to explain it.

"I dunno, really, just do? Guess s' comforting that there isn't really true perfection, even among the gods." She finally settled on with a shrug. Lae'zel's hand released her wrist and Sehkmet laughed softly hearing the Githyanki scoff at her poor answer, but started walking towards camp anyway.

She smiled as the Gith crossed out of her blind side, the longer the party had been together, the more she noticed those small habits of Lae'zel. Staying out of her blindspot unless it was to cover her; shoving magic items in Gale's hands before the wizard could protest; hunting with Astarion some nights for safety.

Sehkmet hummed as she followed Lae'zel to camp, picking up a pairing knife off Gale's "prep table" to help.

Lae'zel would make her right choice and she would find her path as this band of fools stopped a cult to save each other and the planes. Sehkmet could feel it in her gut, in each beat of her heart, and down in the very marrow of her bones.

[jebiknights]

Quinlan's backstory (which is mostly legends canon but I don't think we've gotten much new canon backstory for him) is complicated, and we don't really know how much time he spent in the temple or not and since he doesn't have a new canon backstory I sort of get why he kinda just gets shuffled into Obi-Wans creche clan - HOWEVER

I think there should be more fics of baby Quinlan being forcefully adopted by Obi-Wan and Bant and everyone. They're all still initiates, and Quinlan despite being under the age of 10 is already a Padawan!! Which means he doesn't really need a creche clan, Tholme has been handling all of his education, but he probably takes some initiate classes when on Coruscant. Just them seeing this too young Padawan and being like.... New crechemate let's fucking go! Baby Quinlan would not know how to handle it.

Like not only just so he has connections on Coruscant and friends, I'm also just imagining the trouble they'd talk him into. Sneaking him into the creche for a sleepover. Making sure he knows all the best secret passages in the Temple. Convincing him to use his psychometry to get gossip on their rivals.

Like Quinlan naturally was a bit of a trouble maker, but he doesn't often have accomplices hyping him up and digging the hole deeper with him. Doubly funny because like, Obi-Wan was a pretty rambunctious pre-teen and his other initiate friends were also pretty silly and fun. I just think we're missing opportunities not having more fun with Quinlan's Legends backstory wrt his friendships and relationships within the Order.

[graylinesspam]

Your Ahsoka & Mandos AU just made me tear up pls ARE YOU PLANNING TO WRITE THAT ???????

That plus clones being jealous and not even bothering to hide that because Ahsoka was THEIRS first would be absolute peak

Umm, I could write some if you guys are interested. It would be more like a series of isolated one shots than a real series though. Since it kinda contradicts ASOI and it isn't cannon to SH.

But first some context would probably be good i think.

This "AU" takes place after Ahsoka leaves the Jedi. As we know canonically that she stays with Bo and her Mandalorian faction for an indeterminate amount of time after the disaster on Oba Diah. At the time of spilling those thoughts onto a text post I was just wrapped up in question marks about exactly what that environment would have been like for Ahsoka.

Ahsoka who just left the GAR and is feeling all kinds of guilt for not being there with her men, watching their backs like she's "supposed to". (it is my personal extrapolation that Ahsoka would have been moved from the 501st if she had returned to the jedi anyways. Bc knights and masters have never lead the same faction. The graduated knight has always been moved to their own faction to lead. And I think part of the reason Ahsoka left the jedi was bc she didn't want to return to the war without Anakin and Rex.)

But it took her like maybe a handful of weeks to end up on another war front with another set of soldiers. And yeah they aren't hers and she's not leading them but it feels like a betrayal anyways. If she's still gonna be fighting a war, it should be with her brothers. So Ahsoka does what she always does, tries to make herself useful and block out the guilt with work.

She's in a mandalorian camp now. One with a wide range of smaller clans in it as they are preparing to take back the planet of Mandalore. She's interacting with Mandalorian elders (And Ahsoka has always been good with elders. From the jedi council to the elders on her home planet to members of the senate, elders love Ahsoka). They Enjoy her Youthful energy and her manners. The fact that she brews excellent tea and is hard working and smart. She's interacting with younglings as well. Something else she's experienced with as a former leader of her own creche clan. She isn't afraid to pick up a crying kid, dust them off and tell them to walk it off. But she's also gentle and really good at deciphering baby talk. She tells fun stories for them around the camp fire and makes their toys float to entertain them.

And when actual combat happens, she's great in a fight. She can understand hand signals and follow orders, but she can also take on a battalion of droid alone without breaking a sweat. She has never been bested in a spar. And though her blaster skills leave much to be desired she can wield most bladed weapons like an assassin.

It's not all sunshine and rainbows. A lot of Mandos just aren't going to be happy about having an ex jedi in their camp. BUT it has been a long time since the jedi and mando were actively in conflict. And Ahsoka willingly leaving the jedi actually gives her a lot of credit in their eyes. That and the fact that she has obviously began mandalorian training (of some sort). She is totally eligible to be taken into a clan. Now in what way is the real debate.

Because Ahsoka is in that awkward young adult stage where she's mostly too old to be taken on as a foundling and she mostly too young to get married.

She shows every single Mandalorian virtue. Respect for the religion, Good child rearing skills, Good combat skills, The ability and willingness to hunt large game, An anti-individualistic community focused mindset, A lust for life and freedom, heart bleeding loyalty, weapons proficiency, and most importantly, honor. And there's the little detail that she's working with the top ranking clans as an advisor and hand for hire. A weird not rank that is none the less very admirable.

When I say every mando expects Ahsoka to join a clan. I mean every one of them. The elders are asking to train her and finding it hard to find some area of training that she isn't proficient in (not everyone can teach her to shoot). Meanwhile she is blissfully unaware that this is the first step to being adopted.

The youngest adults, the ones in her age group, are either trying to finish their training and graduate so that they may be free to start courting, or they're saying fuck it, ima court the highly powerful ex-jedi anyways. Bc can you even imagine what an asset she'd be to any clan? The Mandos have a weird relationship with force sensitivity since they're never trained to use it, but damn can it be an asset in battle. Can you imagine how strong her children would be? it's like a mandos wet dream.

Huge super powerful riduur move things with mind, fight with cool weapons, make clan strong.

Ahsoka is only minimally knowledgeable on Mando culture and the courting goes right over her head. They want to spar with her *shrug* ok. They want to share her meals? cool she'll hunt fresh meat for diner. They want to gift her weaponry? She's kinda picky actually she's on the look out for some specific pieces, but if you hear anything about weapons traders, let her know. They want to teach her Mando'a? okay she's just been using flashcards for a while, don't make fun of her pronunciation though.

And that's when they're just chilling in camp and not when active combat is happening.

Ahsoka dropping an enemy Mandalorian in five seconds flat.

Ahsoka finishing kills with her teeth

Ahsoka jumping fifteen feet vertically

Ahsoka free falling out of ships without a jetpack

Ahsoka sensing danger with pinpoint accuracy

Ahsoka speaking to giant animals

Ahsoka using the force to snatch a knife off your belt to kill an enemy with.

Ahsoka lifting an angry mando in the air and refusing to put them down until they calm down

Ahsoka who can disarm an enemy without touching them

Ahsoka who can snatch you out of the line of fire

Ahsoka who can take a stun bolt to the chest and keep walking

With teeth like knives and claws like daggers

and gentle hands and a soft voice

Now, the context that you really wanted. Which is bringing the clones into this.

That would require stretching out the siege on Mandalore which I am totally game to do. Lets wedge this into a O66 didn't happen Au. Lets put the 332nd in a camp of Mandos for weeks (not unlike on Onderon when they were training the rebels).

Rex and Jesse and Kix reunited with their Commander. Ahsoka blooming under the company of her brothers. Ahsoka running to greet them and getting pulled into a keldabe immediately. Ahsoka responding to her rank and leading men like it's as easy as breathing. Ahsoka who apparently already has a clan and wears their colors with pride. Ahsoka who is given back her lightsabers and becomes an absolute beast in the battlefield like nothing they've ever seen.

The clones who know just enough about mando culture to see the flock of gangly late teens that follow Ahsoka around and bring her food and beg her to spar and go all stiff whenever she touched them. Clones that go "excuse me, that is my vod'ika. Back off"

Rex who wears a permanent scowl. Kix who feels sorry for the poor kids throwing themselves at Ahsoka just to get brushed off absentmindedly. Jesse who is laughing his ass off at the jealousy radiating out of them.

Ahsoka who is even more mando like than they thought as soon as her brothers are around. Who breaths loyalty like its air, who speaks broken bastard mando'a like its a real language. Who spars with no less than 15 clones and usually comes out on top. Who hunts with her favorite brothers with nothing but her bare hands and comes back triumphant. Who gives orders like a clan leader and takes them like a soldier. Who Is referred to by rank with so much affection that you can taste it.

Ahsoka curling up in a pile of men in armor and sleeping around a fire, more at peace then anyone in this camp has seen her before.

And brothers who are so fond of her that they'd cut their own hearts out if she asked. But are more than willing to deliver yours to her instead if you don't back the fuck off. She belongs to our clan. I will best you in ritual combat about it.

Seething side eyes. Arms always around her shoulders. Plastoid flanking her at all times. The days of Ahsoka being alone are over. You'll never pry her out of their hands again.

[not-poignant]

Daily excerpt from today's writing, chapter 56 of A Stain that Won't Dissolve:

‘You know,’ Sam said. ‘I had the wildest memory tonight, of when we were all really little. We must’ve been like four, or five, in that little creche that Pam’s sister used to run, I think? I was super sick that day, I can’t remember why, and my mom was away for some reason, and I remember your mom coming to pick you up. She realised I was sick, and just gave me the biggest hug. Like, just this huge hug. ‘It must’ve been winter, because she was wearing this big fluffy sweater, and a giant scarf with an M embroidered into it, after her name. Remember how she always did that? But like, my mom gives fierce hugs, but your mom just held me so tightly and told me everything was going to be okay. I asked her if I was coming home with you, until my mom picked me up, and she said no, and I used to think it was because she didn’t want to get sick. But as I got older, I realised...it wasn’t that. I realised there was a reason no one went to your place.’ Alex’s hands were still in the sink, he’d forgotten about them. He stared at Sam, speechless, because he didn’t remember any of this at all. But Sam described it all so well. Alex’s mom loved embroidering the first initial of people’s names into the clothing she made for them, whether they were babies or adults. It might not have been winter, because she often wore full-coverage clothing to hide the bruising. She gave the best hugs in the whole fucking world. ‘I really like the name you chose for your character,’ Sam said, looking down at the floor. ‘That’s all. What a weird way to say that, huh? But I do.’ Alex nodded after a few seconds went by, forcing himself to move. ‘Uh, thanks.’ ‘So you’re playing a princess,’ Sam said, finally looking at him, mercifully saying nothing about Alex’s wet eyes, or how shocked he must have looked. Alex braced himself anyway, unsure of where this was going. He just shrugged. ‘You want to hang out some time?’ Sam said.

[marvelstars]

I have been reading time travel post ROTJ Vader fics and it´s been such a treat for me, they have a certain charm and allow for such awesome character work, especially when he goes back to the PT.

Because by all rights post ROTJ Vader is the most unaligned character your will ever find on star wars and at the same time the one who worries the most about the other characters given what he knows and his own experiences with both sides of the force picture his perspective, he understands and wants to protect people he feels a kinship for their experiences, including sith like Count Dooku, Ventress and Maul just as he tries to protect his family and the Jedi Order out of guilt and remorse and because it´s the right thing to do, inspired by his Son example that I want to hug him.

He even has some very complicated and intrincate feelings for Palpatine, as he should, because wether he likes it or not, he spend more than 20 years with him and genuinely liked him for a good period of that time. He was there with him even if they killed each other in the end and that isn´t easy to forget.

One of those fics, the "force of many sights" is one of the best because there Vader comes back as baby Anakin and its just so cute to imagine terribly menacing Vader in the body of a small, cute and even more traumatized kid than he was originally, but more than that, the changes he did to the past there, like getting himself into the creche instead of being trained by Obi-Wan as a way of getting close to Palpatine and convince Dooku of not falling to the darkside, it´s so nuanced and so well thought.

His love and care for Obi-Wan but also his hurt at remembering him abandoning him on mustafar so he avoids developing a close relationship with him this time around while also making sure he is getting over losing his Qui-Gon because he can´t help but worry, he definitely didn´t miss having feelings!! (he says with feeling XD) For this same reason he avoids Padme because he wants her to have a happy and long life without him even if only he will remember their kids :(

This context allows Vader/Anakin to be hurt, afraid and angry over so many of his young experiences but now understood as an adult what was done to him and what he did, like remembering killing the younglings while living with younglings and teaching them how to play hide and seek so they learn how to protect themselves(ouch my heart) or remembering his father figure leaving him to die but without hating or blaming Obi-Wan while also considering him family and loving him so he does his best to protect him from Palpatine, such a fresh take.

All of this mixed with his own mental games with Palpatine´s "mentorship" their "power games" he used to enjoy as Vader, now fully aware of what he is doing, doing his own kind of playing the "innocent victim" being fully aware and angry/sad/afraid of his old mentor, while undoing all of Palpatine´s plans and at the same time fight himself to stay in the light for the mere fact he was a Sith for 20 years and it´s actually hard to get over that without some time to process.

Such awesome reads everytime.

[shewolfofvilnius]

My Own Soul's Warning (Ch. 4) [Rolan x Dark Urge Tavaria] is now live

Read Chapter 4 on AO3 (as always, strong cw: for violence and gore for this entire fic, plus cw for matter-of-fact discussions of past sex work)

The one in which The Dark Urge meets Alfira, aka Alfie, aka the little girl who followed Tavaria around Elturel like an awestruck baby sister. Who idolized Tavaria.

And who the Dark Urge now really, really wants to die.

Plus, Rolan and Lia get into an argument, and we learn how Lia survived - and helped Rolan and Cal (and eventually Alfira and Lihala) survive - Avernus. We get the first peek into Rolan's inner monologue that lets us know that god yes, his teenage crush and sister's best friend has turned into one hell of a woman. Lastly, Lae'zel finds a willing aide in her quest for the Creche - in Cal.

[notitlesapply]

Star Wars AU idea: Jango lives! But we don't really care about how this changes the big plot points in the galaxy. No the story is all about now that the clones are out in the galaxy, everyone is comparing Jango to his clones and finding him... wanting.

For example: he takes on a job protecting some important political leader. When he shows up, they're disappointed that there's only one of him on their security detail. The politician keeps rambling about that one time they had a whole squad of Coruscant Guards protecting them. The Guard was soooo professional, their armor so nicely painted they looked quite fetching, they had cute massifs on hand, and their Commander (I'm thinking it was probably Thorn) was a great conversationalist. Meanwhile Jango is kinda just...there. His armor is scuffed and mostly unpainted, he doesn't like talking, and worst of all he doesn't have pets! (Not to mention, hiring Jango is much more expensive than getting the Guard assigned to a politician by the Senate.)

Then there's bounty hunting jobs. Yeah he's a great bounty hunter, probably the best in the business, but there's only one of him. Most clones are trained to have a similar skill set to Jango, so hiring a clone isn't really a downgrade. Most of the time, it's an upgrade depending on the job and costs less. When clones take up bounty hunter work, they come in a group, and often cost less than a normal bounty hunter group. Not to mention clones tend to work well together as opposed to other bounty hunter groups that are constantly backstabbing each other. The Bad Batch, who do take up mercenary work, are also enhanced, allowing them to offer more specialized services.

Then there's the times when Jango wants to hook up with someone. His refractory period is not as good as a clone. Most clones are very sweet and excited to go out with a natborn for the first time. They're very good at taking directions and are attentive to their partners. Also, if a partner wants, a clone will bring others to the bedroom! When you get with a clone you get the option of a 10 for 1 deal. Jango, much more jaded and alone, can't offer any of that.

And there's the general view of Jango vs. the clones. The clones are seen as the heroes of the Republic. For the most part, they're well liked. They've rescued quite a few planets, including Mandalore. Every single clone battalion has honorary citizenship somewhere for saving a planet. Meanwhile, Jango is either not known or regarded quite poorly, especially on Mandalore. He was the former Mand'alor that abandoned the planet! And once it comes out that Jango not only sold his own clones children, but that he subjected them to brutal tortures, reconditioning, and decommissioning, wellllll...yeah there's one thing that almost all Mandalorians agree on (from New Mandos to Death Watch) and that is that Jango Fett is dar'manda.

We don't even need to go in depth with what the Jedi think. (But we will anyway.) We all know the Jedi adore the clones and think they're the best thing to happen ever. Meanwhile, Jedi younglings have all heard terrifying tales of the Jedi Killer who is scary and also super mean to all their clone friends. One time a creche clan all sent letters to Jango with messages like: "why were you so mean to all the Commanders? They play with us, and are super nice and give us candy!" and "be nice or else! The Force doesn't like mean people!" This becomes tradition, and every couple of months, Jango gets hate mail from baby Jedi who are practicing their writing. Meanwhile the clones always get regular mail from the Temple full of happy messages from the younglings and care packages. Many Jedi who served with the clones attack Jango on sight (he's been bitten more than once by Padawans) and even the more serene Jedi are not above tipping Slave I over on its side to piss off Jango (Master Yoda did this once, and Slave I tipping became a beloved Jedi tradition).

Basically, everywhere Jango turns people are like, "oh darn, it's you? I was hoping for a clone 😑"

[trashdragon4]

Jedi padawan besties (they're studying btw)

My baby girl Alema again, this time before she became a mando.

Lore dump + extra sketches under the cut :)))))))

Putting this in dotpoints so that i have some semblance of order

Alema was raised in the jedi temple

she wanted to become a temple guard and wielded a double sided lightsaber

Zif (the zabrak in the first image) was her best friend

she and her creche mates had a tooka called Lutal

became a padawan at age 13, shortly before order 66 and the end of the war

was on a mission in the outer rim with her master and their troops when order 66 happened

her and one of the clone medics (whose chip malfunctioned) managed to escape via escape pod

they crash landed on an uninhabited planet

where they met my other, yet to be introduced mandos

I have so much more for her and the rest of the gang but i'm gonna call it a night for now, will probably post more about her tmrw.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Hi, I just discovered your Baldur’s Gate fic series recently, and ever since reading it I am unable to stop trying to imagine how team tadpole would react to our world’s mundane technologies .

For example, what would Lae’zel think of one of those dancing cactus toys that went viral a while back? Would she get spooked by the movement and noise and try to kill it? My mind is under strain from the endless possibilities.

I think she'd see one of those "babies startled and crying about it" videos and sneer about our soft young failing such meager training, githyanki are expected to have bested at least three of their creche-mates by that age, etc lol. She later takes a sword to an unexpected furby.

I think Gale would lose his shit about electric kettles. Yes, internet--that's expected--but an electric kettle? Amazing. So easy for tea!!!

Karlach deserves the craziest roller coasters, the shit that goes upside down in a corkscrew ring. Wyll get a kindle unlimited and a goddamn massage. Astarion gets indoor and city nighttime lighting; selfies if cameras can see him. Shadowheart gets animal Youtube, and if she takes the Selunite path, those ex-vangelical/boundary-setting playlists; accidentally watches like thirteen hours of cottagecore videos.

They all love ice cream (Wyll loves raspberry sherbet). Even Astarion, though he gets his through Tav's blood about thirty minutes later. Mint gives the blood the most interesting taste.

[coruscqte]

dear @lesbianbootheng + @sundays-wing-piercing ask and ye shall receive! i have some answers for you about xiayu under the cut :)

the astral express trio:

- xiayu’s parents! dan heng, stelle and march 7th are probably one of the longer passengers of the express, definitely spend a couple years (read: closer to a decade) still aboard the train with pom-pom, himeko and welt

- (crossing every finger on my hands himeko survives hsr)

- regardless of what happens towards endgame, the three of them are dating for quite a while before dan heng finally actually asks to mate with both of them. stelle and march (obviously) readily accepted. i think march made a bigger deal out of it than the other two intended it to be, but it was a cute little party with their friends to celebrate it.

- (perhaps the luofu races have mating ceremonies? headcanon i suppose)

- im not sure if marriage is a concept in hsr (as we still havent come across any married couples yet) but they have matching jewelry. necklaces, with jade pendants on the chain. for two people who use two handed weapons, rings were out of the question anyway.

-xiayu was wholeheartedly an entire accident. i dont think dan heng ever expected to be able to have children of his own for obvious reasons, it probably never really crossed stelle’s mind, but march mightve had some serious baby fever a few times in those ten years. just because they were cute, not so much because she wanted to raise one.

- but i also think all three of them were pretty okay not being parents because being a nameless is dangerous work. as many times as theyve come home to the express scratched and beaten to hell, it wasnt something they wanted to put onto a child.

- but again, xiayu. she’s an odd little bean. mostly because how she came into existence at all is a bit of an ongoing question even bailu's still stumped over decades later. vidyadhara shouldnt be able to reproduce, yet her running theory is that something about the stellaron + vidyadhara biology interacted and the three of them just got unreasonably lucky.

-(or unlucky, if you ask a very morning sick dan heng)

-i don't care to get into the nitty gritty or even just details of how one child came from three different people, im very handwavey in that sense. easy enough to say dh (for lack of better terms) incubated her egg, she stayed in said egg for another couple months after being “born”ish and pop goes the new vidyadhara baby lol

- egg! i hc xiayu came out of an egg just like any other vidyadhara, but she cracked out of it way earlier because she’s a brand new person. in that in between time thought, she was carried around by the three of them. one of them was always with her, whether on them or in the little nest she stayed in.

- march was no longer allowed to go shopping for xiayu somewhere around a month or so before she was born. himeko was required to go with her if she wanted to buy anything else for the baby — one kid only needed so many things, and march was not the best about staying on topic. or budget.

- stelle was also, naturally, excited. but mostly curious, after all the only vidyadhara child she’d met was bailu, so she was a little concerned itd be different from human children. still, shes the one that assembled the creche and such, as well as sitting w the egg most of the time. the stellaron helped keep it warm.

- i think dan heng was the most worried about xiayu. from the fact that he was the one who incubated her to another fact that theyd created a whole new person together, he was a bit of a nervous wreck. tried not to show it much, failed pretty miserably towards the end of that period.

- xiayu’s egg cracked while march and stelle were away on a trailblaze mission, terribly harrowing moment for everyone involved when dan heng called in a panic. thankfully, she waited to make her proper debut until her moms could be there but dan heng had never been more stressed

- i have a very clear vision in mind of their skin-to-skin session directly after xiayu cracked her egg. gently pulling the shards off their daughter, cleaning her up a little. pulled close to stelle’s chest, warm and so soft. all three of them absolutely in love. there were tears. lots of them.

- so, so small. even with the extra time in her egg she was still smaller than most vidyadhara “newborns”. certainly smaller than dan heng had been — had he ever been that small? as innocent as the little person staring up at him? he doesnt know.

- and a million and one photos taken by march afterwards. she documented all of her achievements and milestones with her trusty camera. she never wants to forget these moments, her first moments as a mom, her first moments with her daughter.

- stelle is so content with her baby. parenthood was something she’d been mostly neutral on the whole process, and yet it seemed like everything they did was worth it. healthy, cooing in her arms, these cute little fingers that all wrapped around one of her fingers with a surprisingly strong grip. oh yes, xiayu was her baby. she’d be up to bat soon enough.

about xiayu:

- xiayu was a terribly fussy baby. never wanted to be left alone, never really wanted to nap, cried probably excessively. but she also babbled plenty, was all too happy to spend some time on her parents hip or to see the stars outside the express. this is why welt coined the nickname nova for her. the way her little eyes would light up in the parlor car seeing space was just adorable.

- dan heng purrs. this is relevant because i think a content xiayu also purrs.

- floppy toddler. likes to scare her parents a little by just going limp whenever. contrary to stelle’s belief, this is not as funny as xiayu thinks it is to her other parents lol.

- stelle likes to toss xiayu in the air. dan heng is not as big of a fan. march im not sure minds, she just loves that xiayu is happy.

- stelle is more of a … hm, a mom who cares a lot but doesn’t smother. likes to let xiayu figure things out on her own, see the world for herself. of course, she always keeps an eye on her, ready to swoop in whenever.

- march is more of an emotional mum. she leads by her heart, as per usual, and xiayu usually goes to her for comfort naturally. ofc she goes to all of them, but if she just wants to be babied, its march she seeks out.

- march and dan heng are usually the ones dressing her, you can tell who did what rather easily.

- dan heng isnt … strict per se (he values xiayu’s autonomy and freedom just as much as he values his own) but he is more worrying than stelle or march. perhaps its because she’s the first new vidyadhara theyve had in literal centuries, or that a fear of the preceptors finding her scares him shitless, or just trying to keep his own fears in line, he keeps her safe the best he knows how — with his tail wrapped around her middle if she wanders too far away.

- (though, xiayu thinks this is hilarious and attempts to run away a lot. it was a curse for her to pick up toddling so quicky)

- she has a raccoon toy that goes with her everywhere lol. his name is caelus 😌

- infinite loop of “goes ask your mom” “go ask your mum” “go ask your dad”

- stelle is called mama, march is mummy, and dan heng is baba in the early years. as xiayu matures it becomes mom, mum and dad.

- auntie himeko and uncle welt! xiayu likes to see the maps and such that himeko works with, and welt usually has a different selection of books than dan heng has. it’s a treat when they visit.

- the four of them live on the luofu until xiayu is about twelve. it’s simply safer to have a baby in a more concrete location, and have a permanent home base. they disembark the astral express for a few years, but promise to return when she gets a little older.

- given they dont stay long. dan heng is far too paranoid about the preceptors doing something terrible to her, and xiayu isn’t well received by the wider vidyadhara community. people find out eventually that she’s a descendant of dan feng, and hell breaks loose. when she comes home crying one day from lessons that her playmates won’t play with her anymore, dan heng blames himself even if his partners tell him not to.

- jing yuan does enjoy her visits when they bring her around. after all, who could say no to such a cute face? (march concurs. dan heng is worried about the pair of them). a beloved baby under the watchful eye of the luofu’s general.

- bailu is just happy to have another baby vidyadhara around, though the concept is a bit foreign.

- xiayu doesnt call the luofu home, which opens up confusion when introducing herself. the express is her home, moreso than somewhere that didnt even truly accept her.

all about trailblazer xiayu:

- xiayu herself is a bright soul with a great deal of trailblazer branded curiosity about the world around her. she just loves to explore, and has a semi decent sense of direction — its rare that she gets truly lost

- if she were playable, she would be nihility / imaginary. five star, obviously.

- her tone is a little bit deeper than that of march’s , probably alongside the timbre of stelle’s.

- star carver was commissioned by dan heng for her, and march and stelle had some input on it as well. theres a three star motif on the hand grip and on the axe blades themselves. its her birthright and beloved axe, though she doesn’t use it much until she boards the astral express as a proper trailblazer when she’s about twenty.

- never a quiet moment with xiayu. she always has something to say or something to share. bit of a yapper depending on the parent shes with. she and march are usually the ones doing something together, while pompom has probably lost a vase or two in the observatory car to xiayu and stelle working w their weapons. she doesnt really do the whole silence thing well, but it is comfortable with her dad while they work on separate things in the archives.

- i do think dan heng tries his best to teach xiayu about her heritage. whether she dislikes the luofu or not, she does still need to know what his kin do. im not sure if shes terribly talented with cloudhymn magic though, considering shes only been to scalegorge a few times with her father.

- xiayu i dont think considers herself vidyadhara. only for her lifespan, but otherwise chooses not to identify with them first. i think the wider community is split on opinion, but most are just in awe of her existence.

- at twenty, xiayu is considered a full trailblazer, and begins accompanying the current passengers on missions. by this time, stelle and march are both around 50ish, so theyre not always in attendance (similar to welt) but when they can be, they are.

- i think her parents are, understandably, a bit protective of xiayu when out and about on missions. they compromise that she always keeps her phone on if she just Has to go wandering around, but otherwise theyre usually together.

- she is not allowed to touch the archive, even as an adult. only for entries not organization lol

- she does get her own room on the express! big window to space, little window rest for her to sit and more often, nap on.

- i think she takes after march the most, easily. but you can see dan heng in her mannerisms, her quiet thinking at times. its stelle you can see when shes in a fight, those swings are trailblazer brand lol. and perhaps, when she goes about collecting trinkets wherever the express has stopped — akin to stelle’s foraging.

- re: vidyadhara: vidyadhara usually live anywhere from 10 days to aeons know how long. for those aboard the xianzhou alliance, likely children remain a bit younger-minded for longer. xiayu has always considered herself an adult when her parents began treating her as one, so her experiences on the luofu are a bit skewed. to put it simply, she is not particularly happy about some things being age restricted to those a hundred years and over.

- primarily, sushang and bailu are usually the ones accompanying her out and about. this helps her get around these restrictions a lot of the time.

- now, all good things usually come to an end. by the time xiayu is barely forty, march and stelle are already in their 70s. its odd, watching your moms age and grow grey hairs and wrinkles while your father looks nearly the same as he has all forty years youve been alive.

- they return to their old home on the luofu for their twilight years, while xiayu remains on the astral express.

- stelle doesn’t live to see xiayu’s fiftieth birthday.

- (contingent on hsr not removing the stellaron from the trailblazer) the stellaron was already corrupting her since before xiayu was even conceived, and age catching up with her rapidly doesn’t help. she passes away relatively quietly in her sleep at 74.

- xiayu was with her, curled up on her side. she won’t ever forget that moment when her mom didnt wake with her.

- the rest of the family is, obviously, devastated. little spider cracks appear then and there in xiayu, trying to stay positive for her parents. arguably not dissimilar to march, but even she has to admit that things won’t quite ever be the same without stelle.

- march goes later. it’s quiet, when she goes. dan heng is the one to discover her this time. around when she’s eighty six. xiayu is barely fifty five.

- this is where i think xiayu’s brand of whimsy comes in. xiayu has always been between worlds, treated like a short lived person by her immediate family, treated like she’s live centuries by her peers. in that disconnect, xiayu’s mental cracks.

- she calls stelle and march as if they were still alive, just waiting on them to pick up their voicemails. she takes pictures for march, sending texts and just ignoring the error messages. after all the signal is probably just bad, right? she keeps stelle’s original jacket to wear and march’s hair clips, after all, theyll come back soon enough.

- dan heng tries his best to cope for the same reasons. hes known that he’d outlive his partners, but hadnt been really thinking about it until theyd moved back to the luofu. he tries to keep xiayu safe the best he can, to the point of occasionally overstepping. shes not allowed to leave into the mara struck areas without sushang or yanqing, shouldnt be away for too many days. even on the express he has her check in with him or with someone who can contact him.

- its a mess. they both love each other to pieces because theyre all the other has left, but dan heng hasn’t exactly helped much to cope with march and stelle being gone. if anything they just keep feeding into each other.

- but for about fifty years, it was truly joyful. after all, caelus still accompanies her on her travels.

edit: send in writing / art prompts for her if youd like! ill happily do even more brain rotting over her by request lol

[questforgalas]

Who Needs a God When I Have You?

Notes: This is how I cope with my uterus throwing a tantrum: Rex being so soft.

Also, this is the first time I've actually put down on paper my OC, Kandri Kendra. She's been in my brain since I was probably a teenager (I'm in my 30s now for context) and to actually be sharing her with you all, even if just a snippet, is both exciting and terrifying. I may bring her out some more, but I hope you enjoy this little tidbit with her

WC: 2.7k

Characters: Rex, OC Kandri Kendra

Tags/Warnings: Menstruation, description of pain (menstrual related), mentions of throwing up (menstruation related), dry heaving (menstruation related), swearing, so much freaking fluff

Tay's Masterlist

For those who prefer Ao3

Kandri Kendra was not a religious woman. No god or gods hung over her head attempting to guide her through life or miraculously providing the answers to the questions swirling around in her head. She never gave the Maker a second thought since she passed through the temple doors all those years ago she doesn’t remember. But as she dry heaved into the toilet once more, she was starting to think maybe she had it wrong. 

“For the love of the force,” she pleaded into the bowl as spit dribbled past her chin. “Maker, if you make this stop, I promise I’ll give you a baby next month.” 

Lies. Pure and utter lies. The idea of a child made her shutter more than the pain stabbing below her stomach, but the Maker or the force or whoever else anyone wanted to believe was out there listening didn’t need to know that. 

As if detecting the desperate deceit of her words, another sharp pang ripped through her lower abdomen, and another surge of nausea rolled through. Another valiant attempt by her stomach at emptying its contents, but it ran out of ammo five tries ago. 

“Ugh, not you too,” Kandri groaned down at her traitorous uterus; the cool metal of the toilet a comfort on her sweating forehead. “We go through this every month. It’s not happening. You don’t have to throw a fit every fuckin’ time.” 

Deep breaths. 

In. 

Then out. 

In. 

Please for the love of the force.

Then out. 

I’ll sneak an extra ration from the mess tomorrow, I promise.

In. 

I will cut you out myself, I swear. 

Then out. 

Time passed. How much, Kandri wasn’t sure. She gave up checking the chrono on her vambrace after an hour of cramps with no end in sight, and that felt as far away as the creche at the temple. Oh, what she would give for those years again. Beautiful, pain free years when her own body wouldn’t throw a tantrum every month. When she could sit there and say, “Hey body, swell day we’re having, huh? Not going to throw any wrenches in it, are we? No? I trust ya!” 

A thought that reminiscing about her pre-pubescent years while her cheek rested against a toilet seat may fall under the category of “New Low'' flitted at the front of Kandri’s mind, and she decided now was probably the best time to try and make it out of here. Dredges of energy laid dormant in her muscles. She called on the force, digging past the exhaustion and the pain, and clambered from the spot on the floor. She half expected to see an imprint of a butt in the tile flooring. 

Another cramp flared to life forcing Kandri to grab onto the edges of the sink beside her. Focus on your breathing. In through the nose. That’s it. The rise of the chest. Slow. Slooow. Out through the, oh force. Oh, that’s awful. 

An unsteady hand grasped the empty glass sitting on the corner, and the mere seconds it took to fill it with water were almost too much for the fried nerves and muscles hanging on by a thread. She didn’t bother looking up into the mirror. She didn’t need to see the sweaty wreck her rosy hair was or how deep the bags under her green eyes were. She could feel it all. The sweat sticking to her shirt. The throbbing in her lower back. The muscles cramping up and down her legs. The desert in her mouth. 

Lukewarm water took care of one discomfort, and maybe there was a higher being watching over this poor performance of a human in a tiny venator fresher because suddenly Kandri found the energy to drag her stone limbs back to her wall alcove of a bunk.

Nearly there. 

The standard issue blanket seemed like a luxury duvet in her eyes, ready to wrap herself and fall into whatever blissful sleep her body would allow. Just one more step and she’d be curled in…

Knock. Knock. Knock.  

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Kandri pounded her fist against the wall. She glanced over. Her chrono read 0300. “Who the fuck could that be? I swear-” She shuffled toward the door. “If that’s Skywalker, I’m putting my lightsaber right through his stomach and slashing him in-” 

The door to the sleepy halls of the Resolute swooshed open.

“Please, no lightsaber stabs. Especially in my general,” Amused honey eyes greeted her. “The paperwork would be a nightmare.” 

Kandri wanted to cry. No, sob. No, completely breakdown and let her body crumble and feel every cramp and pain it has thrown her way the past hours because she knew the man in front of her would catch her before her knees even buckled. Because she knew the arms and hands and fingers that would wrap around her and hold her to the warm body wrapped in his military blacks were the safest place in the galaxy she could be. Would ever be. 

“What are you…?” Kandri trailed off, still stunned by the miracle in front of her. 

“I could feel you,” he simply answered. “Well, not how you can feel me. At least, I don’t think so. I just woke up and knew you were in trouble.” Honey eyes glanced all over her, taking in every inch. “Are you injured? I swear, Kandri, if you hid another injury-”

“I didn’t hide another injury,” Kandri interrupted. “I promise, Rex,” she added on when he quirked an eyebrow at her. “It’s just the joys of being-” her explanation was cut short by a stab in her abdomen that caused her to double over, arms wrapping around her middle as a feeble attempt to stave off the pain. 

Immediately, her space was crowded by Rex’s presence as he smoothly put one arm behind her knees and the other against her back, effectively scooping her into his arms as if she wasn’t six feet tall and rivaled most of his brothers’ muscles. “Shh, it’s ok. I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he mumbled into her hair. 

Force, he was warm. Warm and comfortable and home. Kandri nuzzled into the soft crook of his neck, near whimpering at the ease merely his presence gave her. Gently, he lowered her onto the stiff mattress of her bunk and wrapped the blanket around her. “Stay here, ner cabur. I’ll be right back.” 

Ner cabur. My guardian. 

“You can call me your personal guardian, Captain,” she’d quipped at him years ago, at the beginning of the war, while she smiled down at him with an outstretched hand and a squad of droids in pieces around her. The squad of droids that had been on the verge of overtaking the captain. The captain who had been laying on the Felucian ground as he grasped that hand held out to him. 

“Nice to meet you, guardian,” he huffed back. 

It became their personal joke. Rex’s guardian having his back whenever Kandri joined the 501st. Rex’s guardian laying droids to waste around them.

Rex’s guardian finding him alone in the barracks, listening as he mourned his brothers. Rex’s guardian laying her head on his shoulder as she cried in the cargo hold. The war went on. Missions passed. Over time, Rex’s guardian protected more than his back on the field. Over time, she protected his heart as well. 

His guardian. 

Kandri didn’t have time to protest as Rex placed a kiss to her temple and walked out of the room. His strong back clad in black retreating away. The venator hummed. Her body ached. Her mind begged for rest. Not long after, dim hallway light flooded in from the doorway once again, and Kandri could feel the tears pricking at her eyes at the sight. 

“Mine should be a little bit more comfortable than the reserves used for the guest quarters,” Rex offered as he held up the long rectangle in his hands. “But before I tuck you in there, do you want a shower?” 

“I’d rather sit through an entire council meeting than move right now,” Kandri answered.

“Alright,” Rex chuckled. The low light of the room did nothing to dim the warmth in his eyes. “Let’s at least change your shirt, yeah? You don’t look too comfortable.” 

“Say that to my uterus.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t change your uterus.” 

“And I thought you clones could do everything,” Kandri teased.

“I’ll happily add it to Kix’s training if you’d like.”

“Sounds reasonable.” 

“Very.” Rex gently kissed her temple again. His favorite spot. Well, one of them. “Be right back.” 

The harsh light from the fresher briefly blinded Kandri, causing her to blink through it, squinting at the offending light. Rex searched the solo cabinet unit for a moment before a victorious “Ah!” left his lips, and he produced a small cloth in hand. The sound of running water drifted through the space before cutting off, and then Rex appeared by her bedside once again, cloaked in darkness with a wet cloth in one hand and a fresh shirt in the other. 

“Alright, off,” he gestured to the current shirt drenched in sweat while he placed the clean one on the end of the bed. 

“If you wanted me naked, Captain, you could-”

“Must be bad if you’re trying to crack jokes at 0330.” 

“They distract from the constant thought of wanting to carve my uterus out.” 

“Not dramatic in the slightest.” Kandri wished she could bottle Rex’s laugh and keep it for eternity. “You may not be up for showering, but you’re covered in sweat, and you can’t tell me you’re comfortable like that. Now, come on. Up and off.” 

“That’s what-”

“Kandri.” 

“If you don’t want my clothes off, you know you shouldn’t use the captain voice.” Slowly, Kandri disentangled from the flimsy cocoon and lifted the clinging shirt over her head. An unceremonious toss landed it near the pack on the floor. 

Rex started on her neck, the wet cloth a blessing against her heated skin, and with soft, reverent strokes, he wiped away the grime. Kandri watched, transfixed by the adoring look fully displayed in her favorite honey eyes. She never cared for the comments that these men were just clones. Never listened to anyone who said, “They’re all just the same.” Because they were wrong. Because they didn’t notice that Kix tanned a little easier or that Echo’s eyes were a whiskey, not a honey, or that Fives’ hair curled a little more on the sides than his brothers’ did. They didn’t notice that Wolffe had a mole on his shoulder or that Cody’s smile quirked to the right. 

They didn’t notice how Rex’s brow furrowed the same way while forming strategies as it does while he watches holoball. They didn’t notice the way Rex preferred sunsets over sunrises. They didn’t notice how the sun turned his honey eyes into gold. They didn’t notice the relief in his shoulders whenever he spotted her across a battlefield, still up. Still breathing.

But she noticed. 

She would always notice. 

“Did you have your cup on you?” Rex asked as he finished wiping the top of her thigh, finger gently tapping against the knee while he patiently waited for an answer. 

“Yes. And the cramps woke me up before the flow started, so no cleanup necessary,” Kandri answered, the soft smile on her lips matching his. 

“One less thing for you to deal with.” A soft kiss pressed against where the finger had tapped. The cloth joined Kandri’s old shirt in the corner, and Rex reached for the clean shirt waiting at the foot of the bed. “Arms up,” he instructed. 

“Rex, I can dress myself,” Kandri laughed. 

“Just, let me take care of you. Please.” 

Well, how can I say no to that face?

“Better?” Rex asked when the hem met Kandri’s thighs.

“Better,” she answered. 

Rex rested his hands on the mattress, leaning in until the tip of his nose brushed against hers. “Good,” he murmured. A whisper of a kiss touched their lips. Soft. Caring. Adoring. Matching the quiet of the room around them. Kandri would trade every relic in the Jedi temple, every treasure in Coruscant’s treasury, every trinket in the galaxy for her life to be filled with moments like this. With the quiet and the stillness where she can practically hear Rex’s heart beat in the darkness. Where they have the luxury of just being, of drinking in each other’s presence. Of ignoring the realities beyond the door. 

Where they know they’ll see each other at the end of the day. Each day. 

Where they know each goodbye is a “See you later” not a “Please come back to me.” 

But such is not the reality for a clone and a Jedi. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Rex interrupted, each movement of his lips causing them to bump against hers. “But we have a briefing in two hours.” 

“Nope. War’s over. Dooku retired.” Kandri would hold onto this for as long as the galaxy would let her. 

“Is that so? Anti-climatic if you ask me.” 

“Lazy, really.” Kandri brushed her lips against his. 

“And Grievous?” 

“Fell into a bottomless pit.” 

“One hell of a pit.” He brought a hand up, cupping her cheek, brushing his thumb against the skin. “General’s going to be pissed he didn’t get all of the glory.” Honey eyes looked into green.

“Skywalker will get over it.” She held the hand against her cheek, sinking deeper into the feeling. “You’re not leaving, right?” 

“Need any pain killers?”

Kandri shook her head. “Already took some and have extras in my pack.” 

Honey eyes crinkled. “Then no, I’m not leaving. Scoot.” 

Gingerly, stiff muscles and a cramping abdomen scooted to the wall along the bunk. Once Kandri found a position that didn’t irritate the pain more, she looked up at Rex with open arms. “Snuggles.” Grabby hands followed. 

That chuckle she was addicted to escaped past his lips. “Such a hard demand.” The warmth of Tattooine was ice compared to that which was in Rex’s eyes. 

The standard issue blanket draped over Kandri’s body once again, followed by a larger, thicker one. Kandri near purred. 

Finally, Rex lifted up the blankets’ corners and slid in perfectly beside her. “Come here,” he said as he snaked one arm under her waist and the other over, resting his palm between her shoulder blades. “This ok?” 

“Can I slot a leg? The cramps like that angle tonight.” 

“Of course.” Rex maneuvered so Kandri’s leg slid perfectly in between his. Her knee hooked over his calf. “Better?” 

“Better.” 

The venator continued to hum. The room remained still. Peace settled around them. A soft hand rubbed up and down along Kandri’s spine, occasionally kneading into the muscles stiffening along her lower back. Relief audible in the breaths puffed against Rex’s tan neck. 

“Thank you,” Kandri whispered into the dark. 

She felt the gentle tap of a finger under her chin. A command. A plea. “Look up.” And she obeyed, as she always did with him.

“You never have to thank me.” He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Taking care of you is an honor.” 

“Still.” She brushed her lips to the tip of his nose. “Thank you for taking care of me.” Her lips brushed his temple. “Thank you for choosing me.” Lips brushed his cheek. “Thank you for loving me.” Lips brushed his. 

“Ner cabur.” Whispered in the space between. Just for them. Always for them. “You are the greatest gift this galaxy could ever give me.” 

Their lips met. Slow. Unhurried. Savoring. 

Time stood still, the galaxy pausing around them. As if their love was enough to stop it all. To stop the war. To stop the bloodshed. To stop the missions separating them for weeks at a time. To stop the worry and the panic when their com channels remained silent. To stop the frantic check for injuries before each embrace. To stop the “Please come back to me”s. 

“I love you,” Kandri spoke when their lips broke apart. 

“I love you too, ner cabur,” Rex responded. 

Kandri Kendra was not a religious woman. But in the arms of the man she loved, her head nestled into his chest, legs intertwined together, she could certainly believe.