#not even the younglings survived

[maulfucker]

thinking about all my au ideas where no one dies. thinking what if when shmi is "kidnapped" by the tuskens it's actually not for hostile reasons at all, but because she got hit by a stray bullet from a misfire and they took her to try to heal her. but tuskens aren't near-humans, so their medicine doesn't work very well on humans. when anakin finds shmi she is still near death, but it's clear that was not the tuskens' intention. he takes her home, and gains a new perspective about the "savages" he had always disdained.

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 06

Kinktober Masterlist coitus more ferarum - "fuck like animals" TF141 x f!reader Kinks > omegaverse, comeflation, hurt-comfort, fuck or die, medical discussions about dicks and puberty Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

An Omegaverse AU. You are a professional, one of the best. As a Guidance Omega, you are happy to lend your (well-paid) skills to any Alpha in need. However, when one of your regular clients asks you to help his friend through his very first rut, you wonder if there are some challenges that are beyond your expertise. 

You were no doctor, but that definitely did not look good. As you stood next to your long-time client, Captain John Price, the Apex Alpha of his pack, you studied his soldier’s condition. It was the man’s first rut, which was very odd indeed, but nothing about this situation was normal. Apparently, he’d been living as a Beta for years, thinking that he had just missed his parents’ genetic code. But, now that he had been exposed to some sort of Konni terrorist drug, his genes had mutated, awakening latent Alphic traits. 

“How old is he?” You asked. 

“Twenty-nine. Too bloody old to be going through a first rut,” Price sighed, crossing his arms over his wide chest, “Mine was painful when I was a lad, and my cock was half the size it was meant to be. To be stretched like this… We’re lookin’ to you, Omega. You ever seen anythin’ like it?”

You shook your head. You hadn’t ever seen this before. When Alphas went through their first puberty as younglings, their genitals swelled, growing three or four times their size, breaking the thin skin they had since their birth and replacing their reproductive system with functioning Alpha hormones and fully equipped physical traits. As they matured further, their genitals would still grow and change with them, but not nearly as much as the first time. The initial switch in puberty could be traumatizing for younglings that went through it in later years rather than earlier. 

“No,” you sighed with him, “If he were younger, we could obviously opt for the surgery, but this is his mature skin. It’s not the membrane. All those years as a Beta, and now for him to be going through this… The pain must be unbearable. Perhaps… no, no. I don’t think that’s possible.”

“What?” Johnny’s Alpha, Simon Riley, interrupted your thought, insisting, “Tell us. We’ll do anything. We need him to survive this.”

Any other time, you would say that this was a gross overreaction, but in this case, their new Alpha friend may lose his life if he failed to make the change. If his skin cut and bled, if his hormones failed to take over in his Alphic glands, he might not live to even have a rut at all. 

“And you’ve tried the warm baths? The ones with the numbing oil I sent you?” You clarified, wondering how he was responding to other treatments.

“Every four hours. They help him get through a few hours of sleep at night, but it’s not sustainable. He can’t even wear clothes for fuck’s sake,” Gaz, an old friend of yours who had known you before your work as a Guardian Omega, spoke up. He was curt, obviously stressed about his friend. 

You walked over to Johnny’s bedside and held his hand, 

“Hey, Johnny. I’m the Guardian Omega John told you about. I’m here to help you, okay?”

He writhed, sweat beading over his brow, and he glowered down at his naked body, fiercely glaring at his red, swollen prick,

“Serves me right for all the bloody wishin’ I did as a laddie for havin’ a bigger knob, aye?”

The fact that he managed a slight smile and a wry joke, even if it was said through clenched teeth, immediately won you over. This man was exactly your type; brave, funny, and built like a beast. You didn’t know if you could help him, but you wanted to try. 

“Johnny, we have to let your dick stretch to its true size. If it stays trapped behind your foreskin and the outer epidermis of your sheath, you could have internal bleeding, or worse.”

“I didnae ken the word epidermis could turn me on, bonnie, but the way you say it… proves me wrong.”

His soft blue eyes finally met yours, and you could tell he was just putting on a courageous face. He knew he was in trouble, and he was probably in more pain than you previously suspected. 

“What was your idea?” Simon pressed, coming to stand next to Johnny’s bedside, staring at you with some urgency. 

You looked down at Johnny, rubbing the back of his hand with your fingers, feeling the ridges of his knuckles,

“I could keep you in me. We could… soak the skin in the Omegan oils. It would be…” 

You stopped talking. It was ridiculous. And based on the look on all of the men’s faces, they couldn’t believe you were even suggesting it.

“You cannae do it, lass. It’d throw you into a wee heat, and I’m in no state to help you. Ah! Shite,” Johnny gasped, wincing in pain as his cock throbbed, obviously eager to be a part of a heat, hypothetical or not. 

“I’ll stay, love. You’re gonna need some help gettin’ yourself to that state and keepin’ it that way,” Price volunteered. 

“I can’t ask you to do that, John. You’d be in just as much pain as Johnny by the end of the heat.”

“Aye, but I’d be alive, and if it works, so would he.”

John was stubborn. But, he was right. If you were going to try to soak Johnny’s aching cock in you for hours, you needed to prepare. Gaz could see the gears turning in your head,

“You’re gonna need us in shifts, and you know it. This is gonna take a fuckin’ village.”

And so it did. You had John bring in supplies – food, hydration, lube, and every comfort item you could imagine needing – and you got to work. The first step was getting Johnny settled inside of you so that you could allow his skin to soften in the oils from your glands. But, you couldn’t produce those on your own. You needed to be worked up to it by an Alpha, preferably one who knew how to get your body to come hard and quick. Wash, rinse, and repeat. 

You wouldn’t be able to get any pleasure from Johnny’s straining cock while he was inside of you. Thrusting would be beyond painful for him, and it would be dangerous to his system. You would need to cockwarm him, and John and his men would need to make you come without fucking you. The only problem was, if you were made to stay in that deep, orgasmic state for long enough, your body would toss you into a heat, and that’s when the real fun would begin. 

In your heat, you would expose all of the Alphas in the room to your pheromones. They would rut, and they wouldn’t be able to rut into your cunt with it occupied, as it were. They had to endure the cycle without your soothing oils, sacrificing their own comfort so that you could help Johnny’s foreskin and swollen tissue endure the change. 

You thought it might work. It was the best idea you had, but the problem was staring you right in the face: Alphas in a rut physically needed to fuck for it to stop. If – and it was a big if – your plan worked for Soap and you could coax his prick to form a knot, you would then need to service the other three. They might fight each other to be first in line, they might hurt you. It was so risky, but it was a risk you were all willing to take in order for Johnny to get better. 

“Johnny,” you woke him from the nap he was taking while you were all gathering supplies, “We’re ready.”

“Mm,” he groaned, his eyes wrenched shut from the pain, “Alright, bonnie. I’m ready for you.”

“This will be the worst of it, I think. And,” you made sure he was looking into your face, “It will be very, very painful.”

He nodded,

“I ken it, lass. Dinnae fash yourself. Needs doin’, and I know you… Angh! Fuck,” he hissed, grabbing your hand tighter when a pang struck him, “You’ll be there for me.” 

“I will, Johnny. I won’t leave you. This is gonna work,” you leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, trying to be respectful of Simon’s claim, even if it was now – at least hormonally – invalid.

You stood on the bed, straddling his hips, and Simon and Gaz were there to help lower you into position. You wanted to be able to settle your hole on him as carefully as possible. No sudden movements. 

You poured copious amounts of lube down his shaft and used your fingers to spread it around the outside and inside of your entrance. You wanted him to feel as little resistance as possible. This was about comfort, not pleasure. 

“Alright, slow as you can,” you instructed, letting the two giants by your side lower you down into position. 

The moment your skin made contact with Johnny’s ruddy cockhead, he screamed out in agony,

“Creepin’ Jesus! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

“Hold him, John!” You called out to their captain for help. If Johnny jerked forward, he could rip his flesh and cause permanent damage. 

Price’s huge hands pinned his friend to the bed, and you could see tears streaming down Johnny’s cheeks. You wished you could take his pain away, but stopping now meant giving up on him, and you weren’t going to let it come to that. 

Another inch and you had half of his pulsing head inside of you. It was smooth and easy for you to take with all the lube, but if you hadn’t prepped yourself, Johnny’s giant phallus would be a challenge. If he lived, he would be quite a formidable Alpha. You couldn’t let him down. 

“A little further, Gaz,” you said in a low voice, not wanting to scare Johnny of more pain. 

Another inch and the crown popped into you, sealing itself within your warm, wet body. 

Johnny cried out, shouting for mercy, begging for them to just let him die. 

“You can’t fuckin’ die, Johnny,” Simon said, trying to comfort his mate, “C’mon, love. You can do this.”

“Si… please, I cannae…” Soap looked up at him, pleading. 

You dropped a little more, and each time you did, you felt your heart clench at Johnny’s groans of anguish, ready for it to end even though you had just begun. 

Finally, after more than thirty minutes of this terrible limbo, you reached his base and you settled your weight on his body, staying as still as possible to minimize his discomfort. 

“Fuck, bonnie. I cannae do it. I’m sorry, I’m… It hurts,” Johnny was sobbing, and Simon rushed to his side.

Price finally let him free, and he laid there beneath you, throbbing inside of you, aching in your warmth. 

“John,” you whispered, getting Price’s attention, “We should hurry.”

The captain took one last look at Soap and then came over to your side. He stripped off his clothes and tugged on his already-hard cock, drooling for you despite the drama. Your pheromones were strong even without a rut; it was why you had been so successful at your job. You just hoped it would be enough. 

Price sat on the bed next to where you were straddling Johnny’s cock, and he began to kiss you, making sure to take care not to move you too much, but still taking charge of your pleasure nonetheless. You felt his hand begin to rub your lubed folds, prepping your body for your first of many orgasms. 

“Mngh,” you gasped, “Your hands are always so damn good.”

“Love touchin’ you, sweetheart. Gonna make you come for me,” John purred. 

And he was right. It didn’t take much effort from him, and you were at the precipice of your first descent into the dark abyss of bliss, trying to come without accidentally humping forward, controlling your breathing, focusing on your core. 

“Motherfuck–” You let out a deep guttural groan, your belly twisting in on itself and punishing you for staying so still. 

“Good girl,” Price murmured, picking up the pace to chase another one down. 

Two, three, four more, and you were sobbing with pleasure. You couldn’t stop yourself from pulsing around Johnny, but he was trying to be brave. He hadn’t complained once during this part of the process, and as you felt your body produce its slick from high up in your cunt, you hoped his flesh would yield and allow his cock to grow. You weren’t sure exactly where your body was going to fit more of him, but that was a problem for later.

“There it is,” you told Price in a slurred voice.

“Your slick? Aye, I smell you, love. Smells like heaven.”

“Keep going,” Simon said over his shoulder, “Please.”

You nodded down at him, holding onto Price for stability, trying your best to stay in this submissive state without any overt movement. It was not easy. All you wanted to do was hump the life out of Johnny’s fat cock and make him drop his load inside of you, but you knew, logically, that couldn’t happen. So, you stayed as still as you could, holding your hips in place, trying to be as stationary as possible for him. 

The afternoon turned into evening and then into night, and Price had switched out with Gaz who was now buzzing your high-powered vibrator on you with a dark look in his eyes. 

“Babes, I think we have to stop.”

“No,” you gasped, sweat pouring off of your brow, “It’s working. I can feel him growing inside of me. It’ll work.”

“That’s not what I mean. You’re droppin’ into heat. Look at you, you’re burnin’ up.”

You knew he was right, and you also knew it was way too soon. If you fell into your heat now, the whole process would be even harder. The three Alphas who were helping you would have their own needs, soon. And you would be the only one able to solve their rut. 

Price was already not faring so well. He’d needed to step into the other room to cool off, and you could see his knot hanging heavy above his balls. He was producing so much of his own slick and come, and your body was feeding off of that knowledge. 

“Look, Kyle,” you nodded down at Soap, “He’s asleep, deeply, and he finally has some relief. This is working, and we can’t stop now.”

“Come again, then. Come for me right now,” Gaz used his voice to command you, and you were so weak to his Alpha's power that you did. He had forced you to come just then, and you had to clutch him around the neck to stop from sliding back and forth over Soap’s growing cock. 

“See?” Gaz glared at you, “You’re in the early stages now. Your fever isn’t the only bloody clue.”

He grabbed your hair at the nape of your neck and made you look down at his cock. It was huge, and the tip gleamed with an iridescent bead of his Alphic slick. That wasn’t his normal precome. It was a rut, and you were staring at the first drop of his breeding fluids, ready to be painted inside of you to eas the way for his seed to take root. 

“Yeah,” Simon sighed, showing you his rainbow-covered palm, “I’ve had it for a while, now. I was just hopin’ Johnny’d be better and we could stop the rut from setting in.”

“Johnny’s knot is just starting to form. If we stop, he’ll have to go through the rest without the oils, and he… mngh…” The vibrator teased your clit, making you feel another orgasm coming on. It was painful for you to come, but you could handle it. Overstimulation was not life-threatening. You gritted your teeth and continued, “He can’t do it alone.”

“Then, come again,” Gaz swiped a wet thumb across your tight asshole, pressing the vibrator even stronger to your body, making you tumble and struggle with another orgasm, “The faster he knots you, the sooner I can have this pretty fuckin’ cunt.”

“Sergeant,” Price snapped at Gaz, forcing his attention away from you, his voice full of a different kind of hunger. 

Gaz blinked, the dark look in his eyes giving way to his usual sweetness, and he started to apologize to you,

“Fuck, I’m sorry, babes. Just got a little carried away. You smell so fuckin’ intense in your heats. Your scent…”

“It’s okay, Kyle,” you kissed him on the mouth, “It’s not your fault. Just take a break. I can handle John.”

Gaz kissed you back and retreated, clothing himself and ducking outside on the patio for a smoke. As John came to your side, he helped you onto some pillows, placing them under your knees. 

Just when you were settling in again, trying to stay as comfortable as you could, you both heard Soap wake up with a start. Simon was making some tea, but he was right back at Johnny’s side. 

“Johnny, careful,” he helped him readjust, waiting for the cries of pain to begin again. 

But, the screams didn’t come. Sure, he didn’t look like he was having a particularly good time, but he was not crying out in agony. He seemed more surprised that you were,

“Oh, shite. Bonnie, that feels… better. Feels like I can breathe again. Fuck. The base though. It’s so fuckin’ swollen.”

“Your knot,” you panted, “Your knot finally has room to form. I can feel it stretching me.”

Price moved his hand to the edge of your puffy, aching lips, feeling around the place where your body met Johnny’s, checking to see how far he had knotted you. 

“Tha’s our good girl,” he smiled up at you, “Been givin’ him your come, love?”

You nodded, resting your head on Price’s neck, exhausted, but trying to push onward. Soap still needed your strength. 

“Let’s give him a little more, yeah?” The captain’s hand moved to your arse, dipping his finger into your tight hole, even tighter now that it was fighting Johnny’s raging erection for space. 

“Holy fuck,” Price moaned, “He’s got you so fuckin’ full.”

Between Soap’s spread legs, Price laid down on his belly on the bed and began to kiss and bite the meat of your ass, his warm, wet tongue heading straight for your hole. 

He began to lick the outside of your rim, lapping at you in big, long licks. His huge hands were holding your cheeks apart, squeezing their plumpness in his fingers indulgently. When the tip of his pink, writhing muscle reached just beyond the inside of your hole, you cried out, gasping from the sensation. John began to fuck you with his mouth, and you felt your whole body come alive with sparkling need. 

“Mngh! John, please!” You shuddered, your knees trembling on the pillows. 

John hummed, talking to you between decadent licks,

“You smell so bloody good, Omega. You’ve got me fuckin’ dripping down my cock. My knot is already so full for you. Ready for you.”

“Ngh! You’re comin’ on me, lass. I can feel you, and it actually feels bloody brilliant,” Johnny commented, moaning through gritted teeth. 

The man in your pussy was still so sensitive; it was hard for him to focus. But, Soap was growing. His knot was filling with his blood, hardening within you. You could feel it. He was becoming a true Alpha. 

“Are you okay, Johnny? Does it hurt?” You asked him, watching as Simon rubbed his hands all over his chest and belly, trying to sooth him. 

“In the best way, hen. It’s workin’. I know it is.”

Price’s mouth, and the relief you felt at Johnny’s progress, worked together in your nerves and allowed your muscles to relax. You melted into an orgasm over him, pouring your Omegan oils all over his skin. In that same moment, as your come surrounded Johnny’s immense knot, you felt it slip just that much further into you and plug your hole with its girth. He’d done it; he had knotted you without injury. 

“Unhgh! Fuck! Fuck, bonnie, that feels… oh, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

You screamed in a wild shout, coming even harder now that you felt Johnny’s thick cream burst inside of your belly, hot and sticky and trapped within you. It made you feel so full of him, his knot and his come leaving little room for anything else. You dared to roll your hips on him, helping drain him dry, pulling more and more come from his heavy balls and letting it churn inside of you, swirling around his cock within your walls. 

Price came back up for air, and after you caught your breath, he helped Johnny slip himself out. His cock was red and bruised from his ordeal, but it was the prick of an Alpha. He’d lived through the change. 

Just when you were going to lean forward and congratulate him, Price’s hands clenched around your shoulders and yanked you from the bed. 

“John! Wait, it’s –”

“It’s my turn, love. You’re in a fuckin’ heat for me, and I’m ready for you,” his face turned dark and serious, just like Gaz had done, and there was no man in the room capable of saving you from John Price. 

“Just let me have a moment. I’m so sore, John. If you can wait for–nghah!!”

He threw you down on your hands and knees and thrust himself inside of you, his large shape too much for your body to ignore. You felt the glide of his slick, and you knew he needed to rut inside of you. He’d mate with you, and it would take, even through your pharmaceutical-grade blockers. He was an Apex Alpha, and there were no drugs on the planet to keep him from completing his birthright. You were about to be bred. 

“Waited long enough, pretty girl. Johnny’s got you so warm and soft. Shouldn’t be long before you’re taking my knot, too,” he growled in your ear, laying over your body as he tried to squeeze every last inch of his shaft inside your hole. 

You could feel his knot swelling at his root like a giant’s fist, bigger than you had ever felt it. But, you’d never serviced him during a heat. It wasn’t done. Guardian Omegas were there to help with ruts; they handled their heats on their own. But, goddamn it was nice to have a real cock for it this time. You’d been single for a long time, and you’d forgotten just how luxurious your body made it feel when you did the right thing and fed a true Alpha right inside your core. 

His thrusts were lewd and cruel. John banged himself into you, a hammer and its tack, dragging you under him and covering you with his hulking body. He was trying to knot you already, but you weren’t prepared to take him. Your whole body felt like it would burn up if you let it, and your skin flushed hot with need. 

“John… I can’t. You’re too much for me. I’m not… Oh, God, fuck!”

Price didn’t listen to your pleas for mercy. Or, he couldn’t. When you looked at him over your shoulder, you saw his eyes, unfocused and half-closed, glancing down every few thrusts to stare at his cock as it whet itself inside of your pussy. He was gone. 

He shoved himself forward, planting his hand in the middle of your back like a hawk with its talons, clutching at his soft prey as he devoured it. His knot pressed, and then retreated, only to press again, determined to get stuck inside your cunt so that his come could fill your womb. 

One more hard thrust, and he was in. 

You wailed out in high pleasure, and you felt your body begin to shudder and tremble from the mind-breaking lust of taking his enormous knot. It was so heavy inside of you that you felt like you were being pushed down by it. When you tried to lift your hips to roll them against him, you couldn’t move. He was too big. 

“Tha’s it, love. Tha’s it. This cunt belongs to me.”

John began to come, grunting and growling out nasty words to you as he spilled his seed inside of you. You felt it pool within you, mixing with Johnny’s, overwhelming it and soaking into your womb. He just kept filling you and filling you; you thought it would never stop. In fact, your belly began to feel tight against the floor, swollen with his milky white come. 

But, your legs were dry. He had knotted you so tightly that nothing escaped. When his hips tried to hump you, reflexes from his sex-fueled brain, he dragged you back across the floor with his dick, strong enough to yank your whole body back and forth with his knot. You felt like a ragdoll, tossed about, stuffed and cock-drunk.     

When he finally did pull out of you, you felt the gush of fluids burst out of your hole and cover the floor. It was a sickening, oozing sort of feeling, and you had to catch your breath from the way your belly clenched and spasmed from the stress.

Just when you thought your ordeal was over, you felt another set of hands take their place on your ass cheeks, holding you down again. 

You looked over your shoulder, and you realized that Gaz had come back inside, ready for his turn with you. 

You started to protest, but John’s callused hand grabbed your face, lifting you up and setting your mouth on his cock, breathing hard and groaning,

“Good little Omega. Be sweet for Garrick, love. You’ll have me again soon. Quite the fuckin’ rut you started. Had no idea this pussy could be so nice. Might have to send you into heat more often.”

idek what the hell this is. someone put me out to pasture holy hell what is wrong with me

[fellthemarvelous]

It pisses me off to see the way some Star Wars fans are so dismissive of Reva, Third Sister.

She's complex. She's interesting. She's clever. She's intelligent. She's strategic. She's conflicted. She's traumatized. She's scared. She's angry. She's a survivor.

The Obi-Wan Kenobi series literally opens with her and her friends watching one of her Jedi mentors get gunned down by clone troopers during Order 66.

She was a FUCKING CHILD!!! They were in the middle of a lesson when the clones walked in and started shooting everyone!! These were Anakin Skywalker's troopers and they were executing every single Jedi around them.

These children had NO idea what was going on. They were scared and they tried to run to safety.

We remember this scene from Revenge of the Sith and we all immediately knew what it meant.

These are the same bodies that Obi-Wan Kenobi found when he and Yoda returned to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant after having to kill so many of Anakin's clone troopers just to survive.

These are children that the Jedi Council wasn't there to save.

Palpatine snuffed out the light of the Jedi in one swift act of terrorism and then blamed the Jedi for their own genocide after taking over the entire galaxy.

And in times of war, the weakest among everyone always suffer the most.

This is what Reva, Jedi youngling, remembers most about the end of the Clone Wars.

Anakin Skywalker, hero of the Clone Wars and former padawan of the great Obi-Wan Kenobi, murdered all of her friends and injured her.

She had to play dead amongst the dead bodies of her friends, and that's how she survived. She witnessed Anakin Skywalker murder all the Jedi in the temple with no one there to stop him because the other Jedi Masters were being executed in a war they had never wanted to enter into in the first place.

She blames herself for not being able to save her friends because she wasn't strong enough to fight back. No youngling was ever going to be strong enough to stand against Anakin Skywalker. She wanted revenge against Anakin Skywalker, and she was just as desperate to get to Obi-Wan Kenobi as he was. She wanted to kill Anakin Skywalker just as badly as Darth Vader wanted to kill Obi-Wan.

She was alone in a galaxy that tortured and executed surviving Jedi. She spent ten years plotting her revenge against Anakin. She was angry at Obi-Wan for not being there to stop Anakin, and rightfully so.

The Republic fell. Reva and her friends were left unprotected. She was the only person she relied on because everyone else failed her. She was only a child when she lost everyone.

And it's clear she was conflicted by her role as an Inquisitor. She doesn't have the training the other Inquisitors do because she volunteered to be an Inquisitor while all the others were tortured and terrorized into falling to the dark side. She only wanted access to Anakin so she could get justice for what he did to her and her family.

Unlike Anakin, Reva couldn't find it in herself to harm a child. She was seeking revenge solely against Anakin Skywalker. Luke and Leia are the same age she was when she watched her friends and family die in front of her.

Yes, she was prepared to torture Leia, but she consistently hesitated, and when Tala walked in, Reva turned away. She stopped. Yeah she was mad, but she didn't have to go through with it. She'd already planted a tracker on Lola. She was already planning on allowing them to escape so she could locate their secret base. She just needed to bait Obi-Wan. Her plan worked perfectly, and she didn't even have to hurt this child who was annoying the shit out of her (not realizing she was dealing with Anakin Skywalker's offspring).

She went to Tatooine to kill Luke, but she couldn't. She hunted him down without bothering to kill Owen or Beru. She only cared about one thing. Getting justice for what happened to everyone she had been unable to save at the end of the war. She was only a child, and when she realized she was about to kill a defenseless child just to get revenge, she couldn't do it. She saw her face when she looked down at Luke and cried when she realized she couldn't do it.

She was so horrified by what she had been prepared to do and returned him to Owen and Beru alive. She fell to her knees and sobbed because she thought she failed her family in the end.

Obi-Wan was there for her this time. He reminded her that by showing mercy, she was giving her friends and family peace. She was not going to become the monster that Anakin Skywalker was.

Obi-Wan helped her and reminded her that she gets to decide who she wants to be from this point forward. She refused to become Anakin Skywalker, and a weight was finally starting to be lifted from her shoulders. A weight she had been carrying for ten long years.

She did what she thought she had to just to survive. She had only been a child with no guidance because everyone she loved died. She survived by joining the ranks of the enemy so she could plot her revenge. Obi-Wan showed her mercy at the moment she needed it most. He wasn't angry with her. He was compassionate. She survived Order 66 just like he did, but she had been defenseless when they were thrust into a galaxy that tortured and killed Force sensitive individuals and those who helped them. He had failed Reva during Order 66, and he wasn't going to fail her this time.

She is getting a second chance at finding her path in life despite the bad things she did. Everyone deserves a second chance. She was robbed of her childhood and had to grow up overnight. She had to learn how to survive. And that's exactly what she did. Just not in the way she expected.

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere self-aware Cristons—duty before love or love before duty?

cw(s): yandere themes and mentions of sexual assault

Yandere Show Ser Criston who gently adjusts the script so he is able to be shown more. He just captured your attention. He cannot lose it quite yet. He makes his training scenes even more of a spectacle. He feels unworthy to know of a being so great that it casts its gaze down upon him, so he has to impress you. You get hours and hours of footage of tournaments that were never part of the original script. You mused that this must have been a marathon of unreleased footage. It all centered around Ser Criston and his fighting abilities, which made so many others envious.

Yandere Book Ser Criston first noticed you after he earned his position as a kingsguard. He noticed your eyes drifting from the words on the oddly modern parchment to the box that flashed a person supposedly imitating him. He could not bear it in that moment. It is as if the gods had looked down upon him, and you looked down upon him with such a loving gaze. He had to guard the nobles and king, and eventually that duty was extended to include you.

Yandere Show Ser Criston takes it a step further and includes you in his daily routine. He feels almost like a youngling again, feeling himself flush when he removes his shirt and purposefully angles himself for your viewing pleasure. He has been stripped of his autonomy all his life and was simply a plaything for younger Rhaenyra. It felt so satisfying to finally have control over when he showed his body, how he went about displaying it, and the privilege of giving it to you instead of it being taken from him—forcefully.

Yandere Book Ser Criston is curious as a newborn babe. He wishes to impress unforgettable memories on your mind. His eyes always soak in the world beyond the book that he is caged within. He manages to knock open the cover more than once just so he can observe more. He is respectful, but he can't help but want more.

Yandere Book Ser Criston becomes consumed by his duty in an effort to keep himself away from you. He can't stop thinking about you. He forces his body to the brink and then survives off of exhaustion. If he doesn't, then he may scare you off. He may not fulfill his purpose as a kingsguard. He became the knight he is today for a chance at something greater than the life he has been given. He so selfishly wants more and wishes for you to give. He forces his true emotions inward and hides himself from the pages you consume. If he disappears, perhaps you will forget about him. He can forget about you. He will be able to return to who he was before. He can't, no matter how hard he tries. 

Yandere Show Ser Criston who uses Queen Alicent as a replacement for you. He may be unable to go to your world, but at least he is able to show you what he wishes to do to you. He can give all his devotion to a woman who is merely second to you. For if you know his skill in the ways of love, won't you lust after him the same way he lusts after you?

Both are not willing to share you with the other. Book Ser Criston knows that he is the superior kingsguard. Show Ser Criston retorts back that his devotion to you trumps any of Book Ser Criston's 'feelings' about you. One of the only things they can agree on is that you are in danger as long as you are not physically protected by them. They need to get you into their world, but how?

[evilminji]

You know? I kinda wonder...

In a Self Insert type scenario, in Star Wars?

They would be MUCH more open to listening to "buddy, a storm's comin'" type warnings. Their Cannon knowledge, even if spotty, would probably echo with the Force and draw its attention to them somewhat. Because they KNOW.

KNOW what is going to happen. Not guess. Not assume. KNOW. Like the Force does. And that? Coupled with their inherent strangeness? Would make them the oddly colored duck of the flock, as it were. Not Super Important... buuuut? Easy to spot.

One of the Force's Blorbos.

Just cause, really. Cause they look funny. The Force doesn't even have a plan for um! But they turned up, ate the Force's food, and look at their wittle faaaace~☆! So it's keeping them. You know... assuming they survive.

Which?

Brings me to my point?

Since they LISTEN? The Force probably chatters like a mofo. Since a Self Insert would be anxious and constantly ASKING for wisdom. For help. A friend. Guidance of any kind. The Force would be draped around them like a particularly pleased with itself shoulder cat. A hovering backseat driver.

Because you DO keep asking, after all.

It's like muscle memory. Building strength. Not... not GREAT, in all actuality? Because Self Insert is avoiding making their OWN choices, probably out of fear? But on the OTHER hand? Both of them KNOW that there is literally a Sith Master like... less then 5 minutes away from where they live. Constantly.

And they are a Youngling.

So???

At What Point?? Does the Force? Engage "Fuck it, we take our baby and run" protocols?

Just? FULL ON "you stop midway through making your dinner, turn off the soup, pick up your kids, leave the house, and NEVER LOOK BACK". Because? Yes. The Jedi KNIGHTS and MASTERS may have vows to try and protect the people of the Republic?

BUT THE YOUNGLINGS DO NOT.

They, in fact, need to be PROTECTED.

And if the Force itself? Says "if you stay here, they WILL die."? You gotta go. Hopefully? You have enough warning to like... pack a ship. But, ya might NOT. Might just be "aaaand, everybody put down your pads! Suprise field trip to Anywhere Else! IMMEDIATELY. Single file, younglings. No running!" Like?

What would you do?

I kinda wanna see it.

Just this somber, vaguely haunted, crechling walking up to import figures like Madam Nu and Yoda going "if I tell you The Force told me we have to take the younglings, ALL OF THEM, and any history we think is worth preserving, and LEAVE... would you listen? Or would you let us die here?" With their tiny lil face and to serious expression.

Like a prophet of Doom.

And WHERE? Exactly? Are they supposed to go? Oh, simple. They are to Trust In The Force. And let it guide them. Out IN THE UNKNOWN REGIONS of wild space! Because THATS fine! Is this a joke?

No.

No the youngling is dead serious. Terrifyingly serious. Has been studying how to pilot a shop like they will have to do so THEMSELF. Asking questions that paint a concerning portrait of a child that fully intends to take their peers on this journey, with or without them.

And the Force? The Force says they MUST. That it is impossibly important they DO.

WELL THEN....

Do they... TELL anybody?

No. Not a single soul. Specifically, not a single soul In The Senate. Ah. Concerning! Guess we're? "Losing" a ship in the war? Oh dear. Such casualties. All those lives. Oh noooooo, and such and so forth. UNRELATED note! It's been FAR too long since this temple was cleaned! Unacceptable. You, random clones definitely not assigned to that ship we definitely just lost! Help us... clean!

Just?

The power of "fuck it, we took our ball and went home/left"? Should be USED more in fics. The Force TOTALLY knows where some sweet, sweet habitable planets are. You'll NEVER fuckin find them if they don't want you too! An entire temple of Jedi asking for the SAME thing? Versus a crusty lil shit?

They asked first. And nicely!

With THIS, balance is maintained. Not through FORCE. But through walking away for a bit. Allowing OTHERS to decide if this is what THEY want for themselves. Order 66 may or may not still happen? But? At most? All you would kill is the current fighting adults. Not the teachers. Not the elders. And CERTAINLY not the young.

They? Are far away. Where the Force is still clear and the light is strong. Growing up. Reflecting on what went wrong. Farming. Building a new temple with the Clones. You know, the ones who didn't have their comms. Never GOT that dreaded order. Get to live free men on a peaceful planet.

Cause historically? You send your kids AWAY from active wars zones. Places that are priority targets for your enemies. And if the Force itself is saying "move the babies"? Welp! Guess you gotta move um, don't ya? It's scary. Uncertain.

But it is an act of faith.

And I just? Wanna see Sith's plans just COMPLETELY fuckin implode? Because they could not plan for Faith. For Trust and Community and Hope. All the things they believe so trite. So worthless. The very things that would lead grown adults, POWERFUL PEOPLE, to actually? LISTEN to a mere youngling. Then follow their lead.

It would be?

Inconceivable to them.

@legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @hypewinter @babbling-babull @hdgnj @starwarsblr @starwars

[prankprincess123]

It's kinda poetic that most of the Jedi who survive 66 are younglings or half trained Padawans. Cause for all the propaganda painting the Jedi as baby stealers who sentenced those children to death, every single one of those Jedi are children whose Masters did everything in their power to keep that baby alive - even when it meant their own death.

[thatforkedroad]

Sun-hearted

[ao3] Anakin Skywalker is not human. The people around him try not to think about it.

----

Shmi had always known her son wasn’t like her. 

At first, she had assumed that the pregnancy had simply happened without her knowledge. Or that perhaps her mind had blocked out the event — a slave knew better than anyone how the brain killed the past to protect the present, to keep you surviving. 

But the more she tried to dig up the memory-that-wasn’t-there, the more she ran through scenarios, the more she realised that nothing that made sense. If it had been… any of her theories, she would have known, there would have been evidence, Watto wouldn’t have been so angry when he found out. Eventually, she realised she had to give up logic alltogether. Anakin’s father was not something knowable to her. He (it?) had been something else. Something impossible. 

A miracle.

The theory only grew more convincing as her pregnancy progressed. She began to sense things no human should have been able to. Objects falling before they’d even been knocked. Watto’s bad mood from two rooms away. Her baby’s strong soul, loudly proclaiming it would be a survivor. 

She held her new sixth sense dear for those nine months she had it — but not as dearly as she held her baby boy, to whom the sense really belonged. Her darling miracle baby boy, who always knew too much too soon, who read intentions as easily as he read schematics, and whose quick hands and quicker mind did the impossible on Boonta Eve. 

Slaves were supposed to cling to their miracles, so few and far between as they were. But a mother was supposed to do what was best for her son, and Anakin was her boy above all else. She let him go, hoping the Jedi would understand and care for his impossibility better than she ever could. 

(And as Shmi died, she did not need Anakin’s sixth sense to feel the anger running through his miracle veins. She did not need it to know what would happen next, either. 

She knew with all the certainty her slow-beating heart had that her son’s grief would raze the galaxy to ash.)

—

Obi-Wan knew Anakin didn’t fit in with the other younglings and padawans.

He wanted to believe it was just because of the boy’s upbringing, that it was only because he’d grown up in a much crueler, realer world to the others. Or perhaps it was because Anakin was already a padawan or because of how annoyingly easily it was for him to call the Force. Maybe they just heard the Council had tried to reject him. There seemed to be a few hundred thousand reasons that the children of the Temple would consider him an outsider — but one stood out like a sore and mythical thumb. 

There was no Chosen One or such thing as a child born of the Force. There was certainly no chance that the other children (even the ones who tried to accept Anakin with open arms) could sense otherness in his blood. He was just like any other Jedi, if a little more reckless. 

As Anakin and the other padawans grew, they grew together. He became like well-sewn patch on an old shirt — the difference was there, yes, but only noticeable if you were really looking. It was better for everyone if Obi-Wan stopped looking for the gap, so he did. 

Anakin had never seemed to notice it, anyway. 

(And as he watched Anakin’s slaughter of the Temple, the hot drowning of dread and horror and nausea was joined by a cold, parasitic realisation. The gap between Anakin and the other Jedi had never grown smaller; Obi-Wan had only grown more blind. 

Jedi were taught from a young age that they could not hold or control the Force, that they were to let it flow freely else they would face the consequences. Obi-Wan had been a fool to think that something made of one half Force and one half heartbreak could be held any more than its parent.)

—

Anakin grinned, and Ahsoka felt every clone in the hangar’s mood lift. Ahsoka couldn’t help but smile in return — and then he cracked a joke, and the worry and grief of the battle became a distant, shrouded memory.

It always went like this. They came back from the latest campaign dirtied, injured, and with a tiredness that ached into their very bones. They all wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep and mourn and not talk to anyone for several hours. But then Anakin — still riding the high of a good fight — would clap Ahsoka on the shoulder, make a stupid comment to Rex, and everything would feel fine. Better than fine even. 

Morale seemed so reliant on him that if her master was angry or sad or upset, so was the entire ship. When he was in a mood, meditation became impossible, no matter how at peace Ahsoka felt. She once considered that it was more than just moral, more than just his stupid jokes, but she had grown up in the Temple, raised on lessons of a Jedi’s few limits. A single man could not project his emotions onto an army. 

Anakin just had a friendly smile, was all. 

(And when Maul told her — warned her — of what her master would become, she did not listen. She could not listen. She thought only of his grin, and the sunny sureness in her chest that always accompanied it.

And so she fought for it again.)

—

Rex knew, theoretically, that General Skywalker was human. 

He’d seen enough medical scans from Kix (on the unusual occasion that the general submitted to care) to know that Skywalker’s biology was just like any natborn human’s. He didn’t have strange-coloured blood or an extra eye and all his (mostly-intact) organs were in the right places. The records showed that he was completely, one-hundred-percent human. 

Theoretically, this made complete sense. 

And it made sense he would seem slightly off. Rex had spent the first decade of his life surrounded entirely by his brothers and Kaminoan scientists; his idea of a ‘normal’ person was someone who looked and sounded identical to him, not a tall, barely-tanned Tatooinian with the wrong accent. Even if it hadn’t been, Rex knew Jedi were different from your average natborn. They could do all these crazy things that belonged in storybooks and myths, not the battlefield. Swaying people, moving objects (or clone captains) with their minds, seeing the future — if Rex hadn’t been trained to do so, he wouldn’t have believed a word of it. 

But if being a Jedi had been the reason, wouldn’t Rex have noticed the same thing with Commander Tano or General Kenobi? He understood that maybe Commander Tano wasn’t old enough to develop whatever it was General Skywalker had — but Kenobi was older, more trained in the Force. Surely Rex would have noticed the same thing, that same surely-not-quite-human feeling with him? 

Maybe he just spent too much time around the General. Maybe this thinking was just a part of having a good natborn friend.

He hoped it was, at least. 

(And when Rex heard of the attack on the Temple, he understood his hope was for naught. 

He and his brothers weren’t an isolated incident, he knew; Ahsoka had felt the deaths across the galaxy. He had no doubt the clones on the battlefield cut down their generals — who trusted them like they trusted their own right hand, who stood alone in front of a one-thousand strong army — with an alarming ease. 

But he heard reports of the Temple, of blue-painted clones massacring all there, and knew they couldn’t have done it alone. Only one Jedi was strong enough to take on a Temple of their own kind and win.)

—

Padmé wondered if her husband was made from the stars themselves.

It seemed like the only explanation, sometimes. How could anything mortal be so beautiful? How could anything born on solid ground hold that much love in its heart? He was impossible. He looked her in the eye and saw right through every mask she wore, saw that all she was at the core was an overworked girl from Naboo — and still beamed like she was the most perfect thing in the galaxy. He loved her for who she was, not what she could do for him nor for the stature of Amidala. That seemed rarer than stardust. 

She would see him and her breath would catch with something that had to be more than love. He stood by the window and stared into the Coruscanti night like he could hear every thought in the city-planet, his golden-brown hair catching the edges of the hundred-colour lights. She ought to walk up to him, hold him, tell him she loves him and pepper him with kisses — but all she could do was stare. In those moments, he was perfect and divine, and she could not interrupt them with her mortality. 

(And as Padmé lay dying, her life force dragged out by some dark presence, she thought of her star-husband. And she thought of the refugees she had once helped when their sun imploded. It should have been a lesson learnt; stars were beautiful in the night sky, warm in the summer, but dangerous. Able to end entire planets in their own cosmic pain. 

Some small part of her knew this when she first said I love you. But she could not listen. She saw only the star-beauty in his eyes and all the love he held in his sun-heart.)

—

Anakin Skywalker had long questioned whether he was human or not. 

But as Darth Vader looked down at his mechanical hands, heard his pressurised breathing, and ignored the pain that followed his every half-sedated movement, he found his humanity was no longer a question. 

[hx4x4enthusiast]

Optimus realising he is a dad (PART 2)

HAHA your god has heard your prayers my followers. I finally wrote part two. *I am running on energy and spite excuse the god complex*

Part 1

“Oh, man I missed the bots so much. I can’t wait to go dune dashing with Bulky and Jacky again.”

“I agree, I love my family but I missed Bee, playing games with my cousins isn’t the same as with him.”

“Yeah I can’t wait to go on a long ride with Arcee.”

Despite exhaustion tugging on the kids, the prospect of seeing the bots again filled all of them with excitement. They collectively agreed to wait at Jack’s house for their guardians to pick them up or a Ground bridge to open. The roar of a powerful engine captured the attention of the children. Which promptly turned into confusion as well as curiosity, when they spotted a very familiar blue and red truck instead of their respective guardians vehicle modes.

Grabbing their bags and locking the door behind them the group walked over to the truck parked on the curb. Jack reached the Prime first and opened the door for Miko to crawl into first, afterwards he helped Raf before climbing into the drivers cab.

“Uh hello, Optimus uhm where are the others?”

“Did something happen to them?”

“Greetings young ones. I can assure you Raphael everyone is well, the lull in Decepticon activity, allowed for an increase of free time, which was as far as I witnessed well used. To answer your question Jack the other are at base, receiving a standard medical examination Ratchet insist upon.”

“Yeah no disrespect OP but why are you picking us up.”

“A valid question Miko, while all of you were on vacation a discovery was made. We… I didn’t plan would…could happen.”

Silence encased the small space of the cab as the truck started moving and pulling out of Jasper, never have the children witnessed Optimus so unsure. Even without really knowing the depth of the position of Prime. Optimus was always a pillar of strength knowledge and confidence, witnessing him being so unsure was concerning.

“As you know due to the war the birthing place of all Cybertronians the Well of All Sparks has stopped working. One of the consequences was a stop in the creation of new sparks, the human equivalent to a child. When a New Spark is created it outer protective layer is still soft and easily damaged, so they have to rely on a protector to help them. These protectors are called Foster additionally they makes sure that all of the Sparklings basic needs are met. When the outer shell has hardened the new spark is referred to as a Youngling and enters a mentoring program for their assigned task. Once they gained the basics and graduated the Youngling program, they are recognized as full Cybertronians.”

“Why are you telling us this, Optimus?”

“Yeah I mean didn’t really wanna have a lesson in school free time.” “MIKO.”

Jack snapped at her, but still he was just as curious as Raf about the answer the Prime would give. While Optimus wasn’t necessary a quiet wallflower, he also wasn’t the most vocal bot.

“Your question is reasonable Raf, to explain what happened in your absence and not shock you I deemed it reasonable to explain Cybertronians relationships as they differ in aspects to human concepts. So allow me to continue, through the entire prospect, you would refer to as “growing up”, no emotional relationships are formed. You are one in many as you start life, opening your spark to someone is in every sense a deeply personal and vulnerable experience on Cybertron. Hence such bonds are sacred and them shattering will negatively impact all parties of the bond. One of the strongest bonds known is the Carrier or Sire bond. To ensure the survival of our species every Cybertronians has a set of coding typically referred to as the Sire/Carrier Protocol. Though it’s activation differs for every bot, the programming makes us protective of our own it typically happens when we form attachments when they are young before they are recognized as Cybertronians. It is a bond the same as the ones you form with your parents at birth. To answer your question Raf, in the absence of all of you my body displayed most unusual behaviors. A scan from Ratchet revealed that nothing was wrong with my frame physically. After another analysis it was revealed that my Sire Protocol was running and my frame acted upon the missing of my Sparklings.”

“OMG DOES THAT MEAN THAT YOU HAVE KIDS, WHY HAVE WE NEVER MET, OMG THEY GOTTA BE SO CUTE-“

“MIKO-Jesus keep it down would you I appreciate not losing my hearing yet.”

“Wait guys, Optimus said that he didn’t know he was running this protocol so he didn’t knew he had children. And if his body acted because his Children were missing. And we were all gone. Then…then we are…”

Optimus came to a stop, opening his door allowing the children to exit his cab. Though none of them moved, realization now also displaying on Jacks and Mikos face. Optimus carefully transformed back into his bipedal form positioning the children in his servos. Carefully he sat down his back against the wall of the small cave he once found patrolling. Slowly the kids, one by one looked up at him. Countless battles a millennia of war and still never was the prime this nervous and unsure as in this moment.

“So does that mean I get to call you Dad?” “Seriously Miko?” “What, I get an alien space Jesus as a dad that is cool as hell.” “Omg why am I friends with you.” “Because you love me, Jackie Boy.” “Shut up Miko.”

All of his fear and stress left his frame as he saw the children bickering with each other like always. A fond huff escaped the prime as his intake stretched into a small smiled, his faceplate shifting into something soft, something loving. For the first time in a long time he was at Pease, his Sparklings, with him, safe and happy. Slowly as to not jostle them he raised his servo to his Chest right by his spark. The movement interrupted the little argument between Jack and Miko, both focusing back on Optimus. This time Raf stepped forward holding onto the Primes thumb for support before speaking.

“Optimus we kinda already saw you as a father figure.” “Yeah you always help us when we need us and y’ know have really good advice.” “Thank you I am truly grateful to have already fulfilled such a role for you.”

With fondness in his optics observed he his two youngest, but as his gaze met with the oldest of the three, Jack looked away. Noticing the avoidance of his gaze Optimus send a commlink to Ratchet with his location, a second later a Ground Bridge opened up, turning to the other two.

“Raf and Miko this Ground Bridge will bring you to base Bumblebee and Bulkhead are already waiting for your return. We will join you later”

Before Miko could start to argue Raf took her hand and shaking his head. Optimus carefully lowered his servo back onto the ground, allowing Raf and Miko to hop down. Turning around to meet Jacks gaze he gave them a nod, sharing a look between them a silent conversation happened. It always fascinated Optimus how human managed to communicate without speech, ERP fields or commlinks. The silent conversation ended with Miko and Raf turning around and disappearing into the ground bridge, which promptly disappeared afterwards. Leaving the cave empty and silent except for the Prime and young human. Optimus lifted his servo back up to his chest allowing the Jack to not have to make direct eye contact with him. The silence continued neither of them making conversation.

“I…I never had a dad. I mean I do he is somewhere probably, obviously otherwise I wouldn’t exist. Mom said he was still there in the beginning but then one day he just left. I don’t really remember for me it’s always been just Mom and me. But then I met Arcee and you and the others and there where so many people there. And I am not alone anymore but everything changed so fast and what if this isn’t real and everything will be gone.” “Change is never easy, but change is also a chance. It forces open doors and shows us possibilities we couldn’t see before. Sometimes that means that we are met with harsh pain and suffering. But it can also push us, it makes us grow and without it we cannot go forward. Sometimes it is fast and happened in the blink of an eye and sometimes it is slow and happens in the span of millennia. Go this way in your own time Jackson, the door is open but it is your step to take.” “Thanks Optimus.” “You are welcome, Jack. Would you like to stay here a moment longer or do you wish to return back to base.” “I…I think I want to stay here a bit longer with you if that’s alright? “I do not mind.”

 Relaxing against the Primes chassis, the two beings of different species stayed like this until the sun bid farewell and the younger one fell asleep. Protected by the millennia old titan with the war worn spark which found peace and love in three small humans.

Masterlist

[everyoneprotector]

If I keep seeing terrible star wars takes on timtok I'm literally goi g to start just reading @gffa 's posts word for word o there. Shut the fuck up the jedi were never baby snatchers (except in rare cases where the child was in actual danger) facism and genocide are both BAD actually and the victims of both are NEVER asking for it the jedi were not slavers anakin was not some blameless Saint corrupted by the jedi/the jedis rules (what????), it does make sense that padawans and younglings survived order 66 especially with how few of them there are (afaik there's 5 - ahsoka, kanan, cal, bode and grogu and bode + kanan both die before the og trilogy anyways!) The inquisitors + vader aren't supposed to be cool power fantasy and the dark side isn't morally correct or even framed as a happy choice in the narratives you dumb fucking cunts!

[koiiiji]

fantasy AU series! lookism & windbreaker boys

tw ; supernatural, suggestive, kinda obsessive

starring ; gun & goo

author’s note ; pls if u know art authors bellow, let me know, i will tag them. i took all arts from pinterest and i haven’t found any credits

author’s note 2 ; let me know if you want part 2 with other characters, i decided to separate post in case if you guys won't like it 🙏🏻🫶🏻🪄

Gun & Goo

Oni & Kitsune

it was known that the creatures of the forest were not the friendliest. oni and kitsune divided the forests at the foot of the mountain between themselves, standing at the top of the food chain and becoming each other’s natural enemies, while the tengu lived high in the mountain. the way there was closed to almost all creatures, no matter if they were humans, animals or demons. but this didn’t mean that the young tengu didn’t come down from the mountain in the darkness of the night to look at the inhabitants of the forest. of course, it was forbidden, and the elders severely punished those who disobeyed, but still youthful excitement and interest led small groups of teenagers to the foot of the mountain.

tere's nothing unusual about that, you assured yourself as you made your way through the thick fog, along with the other tengus - your brothers and sisters. you often saw the older guys sneaking out at night to have fun, and in the morning they teased you, younglings, with stories about how entertaining and interesting it was downstairs. this has already become a kind of ritual among young people - teenage excitement and thirst for adventure forced them to run away late at night to the border with something forbidden, to meet something that was hidden from the eyes. the forbidden fruit is always sweet, right?

well, fruit wasn’t that sweet when you fell into a trap, while you were running away from the oni who caught you at the border. maybe guard confused you with kitsune, or even with humans, but they clearly didn't welcome outsiders into their territory. it was very difficult to take off, the forest was very dense, the branches of the pines were so dense that neither the light of the moon nor the light of the stars could be seen, you didn't even have enough space just to spread your wings completely. in a panic, all the brothers and sisters scattered to wherever they went, not sorting out the way, leaving each other alone with darkness, fear and furious onis behind them.

somehow climbing a tree, you tried to get higher so that you could fly out of this damn forest, now I don't care how you get home, whether you will be punished, now the main thing is to survive. * crackling* the branch under you crunches, the hand slips off. A body with wings seems so heavy when they are just flapping behind your back, unable to lift you higher or lighten the weight. and so, you're already flying down, breaking a few more branches under you.

it was unusual to fall. the last thing you remember - before you pass out from a painful shock - is a characteristic crunch in your right wing, for a moment you felt like you were doused with ice water, then the heat of a thousand suns pierced your body sharply. the pain was incredible, so much so that you didn't even have the strength to make a sound louder than a squeak squeezed deep in your chest. the blood was throbbing loudly in ears, pulse was just racing, but a couple of seconds on the ground seemed like an eternity before your brain gave up from the overwhelming amount of adrenaline, pain and fear.

when you woke up, the sun was pleasantly warming your cheek, persistently seeping through the coniferous thickets of the forest. "it seems this one is still alive," a high-pitched voice sounded somewhere above you, dismissively poking a healthy wing with a stick. “what's the difference, just finish her off and let's go, I don't want to be seen in the company of a fucker like you” - another, rough and low voice, boomed somewhere in the distance.

taking advantage of their small skirmish, you abruptly turned over, in the process backhand hitting the blond man in the face with a healthy wing, you crawled back to the trunk of a tree, painfully pulling up the wounded wing, covering yourself with it, and bringing clouds of dust with a healthy one. a pathetic attempt to delay the moment of death honestly. the agony from the broken wing pierced the entire right side of his body, waves of pain drowned out by adrenaline yesterday, now hit with renewed force. with a groan, throwing your head back, you turned your gaze up at the treetops, not wanting to see the faces of two bastards who will just kill you if you're lucky enough.

"but this one pretty adorable,what do you think, Gun?" the blond man said in an ordinary tone, turning his head to his companion, while a clawed hand squeezed your throat with incredible force, pressing harder into the tree. "oh! maybe she's some kind of an important person there? what do you say, poor thing? will they give us a reward if they find out that you're alive?" - the claws dug deeper into the skin when his face was so close, the vertical pupils piercing into your soul. "don't mess around, just kill her already, it's starting to get on my nerves" - an irritated voice approached, did the blond man call him Gun?

another clawed hand grabbed you by your cheeks, twisting your head, examining you. the pitch-black eyes narrowed, appraisingly surveying your entire appearance. "weeeeell, what do you think??" - the blond man drawled, slightly tucking his big ears in anticipation, several tails twitched animatedly behind his back. stop. stopstop. the blond one was a kitsune, but the black-eyed one had two thick horns sticking out of his forehead, so he was an oni. how could these two be standing here together?

"do whatever you want.." - clicking his tongue, oni turned around and headed into the thicket of the forest. "great! let me know when you want to visit us!" - his friend waved cheerfully at him, slowly turning to you and baring his fangs in a wide grin. "don't get him wrong, he liked you.." - he said affectionately, tucking your lock of hair behind your ear, - "we just haven't been able to grab tengu before... well, at least not alive. your brothers and sisters have never gone this far into the forest..." - his predatory grin didn’t leave his face as he examined your wounds and abrasions. "my name is Goo. my friend Yuzuru, but he prefers to call himself Gun," - a hot breath touched your ear when Goo whispered to you about his friend. "let's go heal your beautiful wing, what do you say, cupcake?"

another trap has just been snapped behind your back.

author’s note ; sammy, taejin, vinny and joker coming soon if u guys will like this series🫶🏻👅

[sleepyfan-blog]

Beautiful Soup

Author’s Note: This is another fic in Darsas’ Adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU. Masterlist is here. 

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: descriptions of food

Summary: Darsas gets some bread bowls from a local bakery and makes soup using some of the vegetables and herbs that he’s been growing in his garden, singing to himself. He plans on sharing this with his beloved Bonded, as it is a bitterly cold winter’s day, and soup is good for the soul.  

You were at work… Which was a state of being that Darsas did not enjoy, but he did understand that you needed to work in order to pay for the things that you wanted. He could find ways to trade his services and abilities with his brothers and cousins in order to acquire whatever it was that you needed or wanted in life… But you had told him that you enjoyed the line of work you were in, and felt that you wished to remain independent.

He had sulked for a while, as he wanted to provide for your every whim and need, but had been able to reflect on this. His drive to protect and care for you would never fade, of that he was sure. But he respected your desire for inner strength and self-reliance. He wouldn’t wish to be wholly dependent on another for his survival and well being, no matter how well he knew and cared for that person, either.

Still, today was a bitterly cold, windy winter’s day, one in a week-long march of bitter winds and high clouds that shaded the ground beneath just enough to make the winter winds bite even harder and do little else. The weather people were threatening Gannet Point with several inches of snow - which would ground traffic until the snow was cleared and mean that you would stay home with him.

A possibility that made the Chaos Space Marine purr in anticipation. He had also overheard you speaking to several friends of yours, wishing to have a hearty bowl of stew for dinner - heavy with vegetables and meat, and spiced to perfection, with fresh baked rolls alongside. While Darsas was not very good at baking - the precise measurements difficult for his eternally-armor clad hands to measure politely… Along with the fact that while he could make yeast rise faster,  the tiny, helpful fungi were always… Over enthusiastic when he sung them into consuming the sugar provided for them to eat and froth up into a fluffy base.

Luckily there were several wonderful bakeries within an easy walk of the den that you and he lived in together. One of them was run by a sweet if somewhat shy baseline woman who had, by some terrible misfortune, was bound to a very grumpy Black Templar. However, so long as Darsas came with mortal money and did not touch anything but his purchases, the growly corpse worshipper couldn’t do a damn thing, per the details of the treaty he had to abide by, if he wanted to stay within Gannet Point with his bonded.

One of Hura’s students - a Primaris youngling was in line, several baselines between the two of them. The boy was bouncing on the balls of his feet as the line moved slowly into the bakery. He kept looking around, as if searching for something or someone… Or hoping to not see something or someone. Hmmm, time to snoop. “Hallo, little Cousin. How are you today?” He called out.

The lad nearly jumped out of his skin and sent a startled glare his way, before squinting up at him in recognition “You’re… Darsas, right? One of Hura’s brothers that he cares for a lot. Not that he doesn’t care about all of his patients, of course.”

“Yes, I am. Hura and I have known one another for many long millenia.” Darsas answered with a smile. They’d served together since the Fourteenth legion had been known as the Dusk Raiders… But those memories were so long ago and so distant. Best not to linger on such things. “Is something bothering you, lad? You seem… Tense.” Then again the lad always did seem to be tightly wound, from the limited contact he’d had with him before.

“I’m… FIne. Just cold as all. Not all of us had the fortune of coming to Anc… Coming to this world with our armor on, and the wind seems to be passing all the way through me…” The lad grumbled, pouting a little.

Darsas could tell that was… While not necessarily fully a lie, there was more to what was going on with the lad then what he was saying.But, given that they did not know each other very well, and there were baselines possibly listening into their conversation, he wasn’t going to push. He was going to vox Hura later to let him know that his apprentice was more skittish than normal. “Fair enough. What are you getting at the bakery?”

“Hmm? Oh, I plan on getting a couple of pies! And some sourdough brot. Pallius is well enough to try mortal food and I really think that he’s going to like both.” Cedric answered, a small grin appearing on the lad’s face. “What are you getting?”

Darsas nods, saying “Oh, the sourdough is quite good! As are the pies they make. I am getting dinner rolls, to go along with the soup that is merrily simmering away at home. I’ve been cooking it all day.” He had tracked down a local butcher to get the beef and lamb bones for the base of the stock, to add to the depth of flavor, trading several pounds of his winter potatoes, carrots and onions for them, as well as some excellent stew meat to accompany the vegetables you’d so graciously allowed him to grow in the garden that you and he tended to.

“... What kind of soup?” The lad asked, going all anxious and tense.

Which was fair, given that Soup and soup were two very different things. “Beef and potato stew, with winter vegetables. I’m making quite a lot of it, if you’d like a bowl, once it’s ready. My bonded mentioned that they really look forward to soup season in winter.” 

The much younger Astartes relaxes, a breath whooshing out of him all at once. “Ah, That kind of soup… Maybe? I have quite a lot to do…”

“I”ll drop off a quart of it to Hura, and let him know that half of it is for you.” Darsas soothed, trying not to grin at how the other was reacting. “The line has moved, young one.”

“Hmm? Oh! You’re right. Thank you.” With that, the lad hurried into the store, the door swinging shut with a merry jingle.

~

Darsas hummed happily to himself as he checked on the soup that he had put in the very large slow-cooking pot that you had gotten him, tasting the liquid and gently pressing on the vegetables, checking for flavor and doneness. He wished he could give you a taste of the soups that Grandfather had shown him how to make - but psykery was so much harder on Ancient Terra, and he was concerned that without the blessings that Grandfather bestowed on his followers, that the tastes of such soups would be too much for your delicate, baseline palette to handle.

Regardless, he added a little bit more delicious herbs and a pinch more salt to the thick, steaming stew. The rolls he had purchased were warming through in the oven, and he had made a special herby butter to go with the rolls. The noodles for this stew were going in now, as snow had started to fall in thick flurries, and you should be arriving home, cold and hungry, soon.

He desperately wanted to rush over to wherever you were and pick you up - bike and all and carry you home, but you’d scolded him the last time he’d done that. So he waited with bated breath for you to return home, the howling of the winds and the soft but er present sounds of the snow falling on the roof and windows an ever-present reminder of the chill that had taken the city.

He heard the crunching of footsteps and the jingling of your keys in the lock, racing over to the door as you opened it, stepping in. There was snow in your hair and clinging to your eye lashes. Despite being bundled up for the weather, your cheeks were red-chafed from the cold weather and you were shivering a little. “Welcome home, my flower.” He murmurs, scooping you up and nuzzling you with his helmet before setting you down.

“I’m happy to be home, Dar! What are you making for dinner? It smells incredible. I’m so hungry, I hope you don’t mind if I have a little snack, if it’s not ready yet?” You respond, smiling warmly at your marine. You quickly take off your winter jacket, gloves, hat, boots, and scarf, with Darsas gently helping you put your things away.

“Dinner is ready! I made beef stew. THe rolls are from that bakery we both like and should be warm soon. But eat as much as you like, my love! Food is good.” He purrs, nuzzling you once again as he swept you off of your feet, carrying you to the dining room table, where he has set up several finger foods for you to snack on, as well as a large mug of hot cocoa, to help you warm up. 

“You spoil me, Dar. You really do.” You sigh, as you grab the steaming mug of hot cocoa, letting the warmth of it seep into your fingers, before taking a sip. A soft sound of delight leaves you. Darsas, despite the reputation of his legion, is an incredible cook and has made this cup of cocoa just the way you like it. You grab a baby baked potato that has been smashed, roasted and covered in cheese, chopped bacon and green onions, delighting in the crunchy exterior and the fluffy middle. 

“Perish the thought, my love! I only treat you in the ways you deserve.” He rumbles, purring as he nuzzles your cheek again before leaving for the kitchen. He isn’t long before he places the massive crock pot in the middle of the table and ladles generous portions of soup for both you and himself. 

The rolls appear moments later, and look just as heavenly as they smell. You eagerly dig into the food, famished from a day of work and the bitterly cold commute home, enjoying the food that your beloved Marine has prepared, and thanking him profusely. 

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Ectoberhaunt 2023. Day 5. Hunt and Haunt.

~Well, here we go again, good old Ghost Hunger AU~

Description: The Ghost Zone is inherently a violent place. You can hunt or be hunted, there is no other options. However, for some reason the Halfa does not understand what is happening. And no one rushes to explain it. NB! ghost cannibalism is mentioned.

Prompt after memes

Suppose there’s a conventional division among ghosts. Some of them are potential predators capable of hunting their own kind, while others are only able to absorb the surrounding energy and therefore build up power more slowly than hunters.

So, predation is used as a method of survival in poor ectoplasm areas of the Ghost Zone, less often as a means of gaining power. Even less often hunters are created.

It is obvious that the appearance of a hunter who is the son of human ghost hunters in a haunting place without stable sources of ectolasm has caused panic in the society of the dead ones. For the newly formed ghost to have ectoblasts, fangs or ghost sense is a rarity and great luck. So the newcomer had everything and more to be a serious threat. An awful danger for the surrounding spirits…Right?

But Danny doesn’t know the specifics of his new biology ectology!

Even though he’s a hunter, he’s never had a ghost hunger. Probably because thanks to his parents he has an amazing ectoplasm concentrator in the basement. Soon everyone understands that the boy does not attack first. Those who return through the portal never report any losses at all. He does not bite or attempt to capture cores of other spirits. At first, the ghosts think it's a trap. Smart enough for a beginner. Not everyone has the tenacity to pretend to be an idiot to get close to them. But the Phantom never feeds on them. He’s…safe?

What’s more, Danny seems to think they’re a threat to the city. Which is fun and weird. Normally, there is no competition for feeding using human emotion. But the owner of the lair did not like the smell of fear in the air. Is this ghost broken?

When the ghosts who visit Amity realize that the halfa does not know that he can hunt them, rather than just guard his territory...Well, it explains a lot. Everyone agrees not to explain the situation to the boy so that the city behind the portal remains a relatively safe haven during the during a "hunting season" and other troubles in the Infinite Realms.

~~~~~

The problem arises when Phantom begins exploring the Ghost Zone. What if the other hunters make the boy stop being a freak?

In addition, more experienced ghosts may well attack the careless halfa. And Amity Park under the control of a more predatory spirit would be a terrible outcome. Most dead ones near the portal are used to the fact that the area before Wisconsin is open to travel and migration without the threat of being eaten.

All rational ghosts try to avoid the territory of hunters. If you can’t defend yourself, there’s too much risk of being a free meal. It’s much safer to settle down with spirits with similar energy levels at door clusters. If the hunter does not purposefully show up at your lair, you will have a much better chance of keeping the afterlife.

Those of the Ancients who have won their position and those of them who were created for it have become accustomed to isolation. Although all the Ancients have lost the need to eat 'cause they have absorbed enough energy, legends about their past are still be nightmares for all spirits. Just because they don’t need to eat other ones doesn’t mean they won’t. It is clear that a weaker hunter can also be hunted. No reason to risk.

Therefore, how freely and fearlessly Phantom communicates with Frostbite, Clockwork or Pandora is puzzling. Does he feel threatened at all? The Ancients find this experience refreshing. Lil communication without fear makes them feel sympathy for this youngling. Danny is always glad of their company. And the boy is not afraid to express his opinion. It is strange but...pleasant?

Their minions from time to time complain that they teach a potential enemy but it is very difficult to see a possible rival in Phantom. Danny is always in trouble. The youngster is silly and careless. Like a wet kitten that can’t even make a threatening hiss. So Ancients, to their own surprise, don't mind helping him. Why isn’t his naivety annoying?

For example, Frostbite’s trying to teach Danny hunting and tracking techniques because he thinks the little cub doesn’t know how to be what he supposed to be. Meanwhile Danny sees his attempts as a course of self-defense that he can use against ghosts who try to infiltrate his city.

~~~~~Bonus~~~~~

Some insufficiently powerful ghosts mimic predators to scare away dangerous spirits and protect themselves. Skulker is quite pleased that he managed to deceive halfa:

[ozzgin]

Various Predators x Predator! Reader (IV)

@avaleigh16 asked (a very long time ago, sorry for the wait!!) for a fourth part to the Predator saga, where Reader is brought to Yautja Prime. Therefore I bring a potential sequel that focuses on Predator culture, depending on who you’ve chosen as your partner!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Horror Masterlist]

Feral Predator

As promised, your new home didn’t stray much from your expectations. Feral Predator is from a different hemisphere, of a drier climate. The imposing, sprawling megalopolis of Yautja Prime is but a distant outline, fading before the marvels of raw, unforgiving nature this place has to offer. Tribal architecture and interminable tunnels are the prominent features of these ancient cities. One has no need for advanced technology. In a way, it does remind you of Earth, of your modest countryside roots. Communities are made of small family units, so days are spent hunting or training in the company of your partner. Feral Predator is a patient and caring father, guiding his offspring and showing them the ropes of survival. There will be frequent visits to Earth as he, too, favors its wilderness, especially when it comes to honing one’s skills. While he treats you as an equal, he does hold you in significantly high regards as the mother of his children.

Elite Predator

With great status comes great responsibility. Elite Predator has been eyeing the Elder status for some time now, in order to provide you with one further reason to be grateful for choosing him. That implies, naturally, that he is often on special missions to teach or rescue Young Bloods, or clear out Alien infestations. Your offspring will go through Spartan training as soon as they can crawl their way around: it would be shameful if his own younglings end up weak or devoid of skill. Although he does not worry about such outcome. He hasn’t picked you out of random chance. Only someone of his level could’ve made it as his mate, and he was certain of it from the moment he saw you. Hopefully you, too, can tell that this outcome was fated to happen. You most certainly won’t regret your life with him, he will make sure of that.

Fugitive Bad Blood

If you were hoping for an idyllic, peaceful life in a humble hut with ocean view, I have some bad news for you. Even settling on Yautja Prime is an optimistic stretch when your partner is a criminal on the run. You’ve unwillingly followed in the footsteps of your parents, watching your child grow from within the confinements of a ship, sailing through space with no ultimate goal. Not all is grim, however. Despite his ruthless nature, the Fugitive has kept his word when it comes to being a fitting partner for you. Your wish is his command and he will not allow anything endanger his family. To your great shock, he’s even willing to take risky detours on Earth whenever you feel particularly nostalgic. He will stare at you incredulously; why the hell would he have gone through all the efforts to court you if he didn’t want you as a partner? Have you forgotten who you’re dealing with already? Whatever your heart desires, he will make it possible.

Berserker

The Super Predator cannot wait for his younglings to be old enough to begin their hunt. He lives to kill and one can easily tell from his impressive collection of trophies he has gathered from all across the Universe. Truth be told, you’re somewhat afraid to see the outcome of your copulation. Berserker Yautja are much larger and much more aggressive than your species. You’d assumed his first choice for a mate should’ve been from his own kind, but for reasons unknown he’s preyed on you instead. The Berserker seems to have a fervent attachment towards you and will even growl at his own sucklings if they show any sign of disrespect. There’s not much space for freedom and sometimes you feel like you’re trapped under the suffocating affections of a savage animal ready to defend its territory. From his point of view, you should enjoy the privilege of belonging to the superior Predator. There’s no one out there that could go against him.

[dark-and-kawaii]

I love soft Haarlep and I do love your parent!Haarlep stuff but I can't help but wonder about the angst that would come from Soft!Haarlep realizing that Tav is pregnant with their child, ie a cambion (DND lore states cambion births that stem from a human mother x devil/incubus/etc always results in the mother's death).

₊˚⊹♡ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʀʀɪꜰɪᴄ ᴏᴜᴛᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ. ᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏᴜᴛᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴀᴀʀʟᴇᴘ ɪꜱ ʀᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴅᴏᴠᴇ ɪꜱ ᴏᴋᴀʏ.

⋆˙⟡♡ Angst | Pregnancy | Soft Haarlep ♡

Haarlep’s usual guise of cruelty softened into something almost human as they watched you sleep, your chest rising and falling with the innocent rhythm of peaceful slumber. Oblivious to Haarlep’s unexpected worry. The incubus was always known for their merciless nature, feasting upon souls and taking whatever it is they wished without a care for the other’s wellbeing… But you… You were different.

Haarlep’s gaze drifted, lingering on the delicate features of your face before trailing down to your still flat abdomen. Inside you, unbeknownst to you, a new life was taking root. A life that Haarlep could sense with a clarity that cursed their very being...

Haarlep had always threatened to breed you, to knock you up with their demon spawn to show all of hell and Faerun that you belonged to them, once enslaved incubus, a lowly creature…

Closing their eyes, Haarlep realizes their very nature had gotten the best of them. That their very threat had come to fruition and with each beat of your heart, a silent countdown to your demise had begun…

The knowledge was a blade to Haarlep’s darkened heart. Incubi, like them, were no strangers to the fatal toll their offspring could exact on mortal lovers. History whispered of rare survivals, like Tasha the witch queen, who bore the children of Grazzt and lived to tell the tale. But you were not her. You were just some adventurer, who had gotten tangled with Raphael, which led you inadvertently into Haarlep’s embrace.

If this spawn was anything like a full blooded incubus, your mortal body would have trouble handling such a pregnancy. You could very well die trying to bring it into this world… If you even carried the spawn long enough for that to become an issue. The youngling may take you by surprise in the night and tear through you, feasting upon your very soul as it left your body.

With a heavy breath, Haarlep’s lashes fluttered back open as they placed their large hand gently on your stomach. They could only stare at it as memories flooded their mind of when you whispered dreams of carrying their offspring, begging for their threats of breeding to come true, wishing to feel your own belly swollen with a little mini Haarlep... You had smiled so brightly then… A smile they wished to keep to themselves… Haarlep wondered if that would be the last time they would ever see such a sight… Their favorite treat, always eager for a taste of the them… Always so loyal to them…

The incubus’s eyes began to harden…

A deep growl rumbled from within Haarlep, the sound echoing around the room as they thought of all the ways this could go horribly wrong. All the ways your precious mortal life could end.

The growing soul within you had to go. It must.

You were theirs. You were not supposed to be taken away from them…

They couldn't lose you.

Not you.

As they leaned down and pressed their lips against your stomach. It was a kiss, tender and loving, so out of place from their usual rough manner. Haarlep lingered there, lips brushing against the warm skin, feeling the flutter of your heartbeat underneath the softness of your flesh.

You were theirs.

Not Raphael's, not any other fiend or demon who thought they could get a claim on you.

Just Haarlep's.

Kelemvor, death itself, wouldn’t have you... Haarlep would seize the offspring, tearing it from your flesh with merciless hands if necessary…

[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?

[anon-e-miss]

A Tough of Sight - 12

“How ‘bout we go for a walk?” Jazz asked.

“A walk?” Prowl asked, flinching as he did. Though his doorwings were healing, they still had a considerable ways to go. He remained blind, wholly blind and completely off balance.

“I’ll be yer optics,” Jazz assured him. “Don’t seem like a good idea to me for ya to be shut in here ‘til yer doors finish healin’. Ya need fresh air.”

“I suppose,” Prowl replied. “I might trouble mechanisms.”

“No one’s stupid ‘nough to give ya a hard time while ‘m wit ya,” Jazz said.

“I am a little restless,” Prowl confessed. “I think Smokescreen would like to explore more but he is afraid to leave me for long.”

“When he ‘n Blue are done class, we can go for another walk,” Jazz offered.

Jazz took Prowl’s in his and helped him to stand. He wrapped his arm around Prowl’s arm and held his servo. It was almost romantic. Prowl flushed at the thought. Just the last dark-cycle, Jazz had kissed him as he said good dark-cycle. Punch had given Bluestreak and Smokescreen pecks on the cheek and Bluestreak had immediately wanted one from everyone and then for everyone to get one. When Jazz had come to give him a peck, Prowl had turned his helm and they had... kissed. Jazz had whispered an apology and Prowl had whispered back: I am not. What about him attracted Jazz, Prowl could not say but he could not deny it was mutual. It was more than a little crazy; it was utter madness but Prowl was drawn in anyways. He had never been courted, not even in secret. Deformed as he was now, Prowl real did not know what it was that Jazz found enticing.

“I thought we’d go to the carton,” Jazz said. “The smells o’ the crystals might help ya feel better.”

“I think I do like that idea,” Prowl replied. Even though he could not see it, Prowl knew Jazz was smiling.

He would have thought they would be expected to attend worship while being hosted in the Cornerstone temple but Prima-tur had come and gone and Jazz and Punch had spent the mega-cycle with them. Of course, Prowl remembered Jazz saying that Punch had no use for temples but he used Prima-tur normally to work on his wears but he had spent it with them instead. Punch had brought gifts. Bluestreak’s precious plushie had survived the fire, clutched against his chassis as Jazz had carried him and Smokescreen to safety but Punch had decreed it deserved a friend and he had also declared Smokescreen not too old himself for something soft to snuggle. He had given them blankets, softer by far than the ones the priests used. He had instead Prowl deserved the softest he could make after all he had endured. Prowl felt a little like an awkward youngling under the fawning but Punch was sincere and the Praxian court and all its archaic ways had been razed from the planet. No one had any expectation that Prowl maintain a stiff and austere persona.

The scent of flowering crystals filled the air as Jazz led Prowl outside. He smiled as he clung to the Polyhexians arm as he blindly followed along. Prowl knew each scent and it gave him a sense of reassurance and peace. If somehow Prowl’s sensory grid was more severely scarred by the burns than Ratchet had anticipated, Prowl could still enjoy crystals by this sense alone. Nearby, the Cornerstone’s bells rang a song, marking the mid-cycle, and announcing a joor of rest for everyone living and working in Iacon. Every bell in every temple in Iacon rang out at this time, but only Cornerstones sung. They were different than the singing crystals of Praxus but still they sang and Prowl enjoyed listening to it. The crystals the ringers played were not the only ones single. Prowl sat, carefully, as the crystals blooming around him sang with them. Smiling, he reached out his servo and brushed his digits along the petals of a crystals whose song and scent rang out especially sweet. It faded, as the Cornerstone’s tower went silent but Prowl continued to smile.

“Do ya know what crystal y’re touchin’?” Jazz asked

“Taafeite,” Prowl replied. “It is a rare crystal. Depending on the angle, you look at it, the colour changes.”

“Ya have an incredible gift, ya know,” Jazz said.

“The garden and greenhouse were my retreat,” Prowl said. “I spent every moment I could among the crystals as I grew. Every chance I could escape my lessons, I did, Even when I was a mech grown, I preferred the company of crystals to other mechanism.”

It had not been mechanisms as a whole so much as the mechanisms of his procreators’ and then his brother’s court. As the court copied the whims of its emperor, first Windbreaker and then Nightstalker, mockery of Prowl had been a favoured habit of all around him from his earliest memory. First, he had emerged with the glitch and then stuttered for vorns. He was plump and ungainly at the same time as a youngling and he had never lost he plumpness or grown into his doorwings. His brother had been a perfectly eloquent beauty. It had mattered little that Nightstalker was as mentally twisted and cruel as he was beautiful. Discontented whispers had only begun when Iacon and the Crystal Empire had come in defence of Vos. The court had tried to suggest surrender when the rebellion had taken control of the outer edges of Praxian. They had been slaughtered before they could escape. Prowl put a great deal of blame on them for Praxus's fate and found it impossible to feel much sympathy. So many innocent mechanisms, their vassals to whom they had owed a duty had died in hellfire because they had humoured Nightstalker’s sadism.

Jazz did not pry for details. Being he was the Lord Inquisitor, a master of secrets, it was a little surprising he did not pry. Prowl knew he had not pestered Smokescreen when Prowl had been unconscious, either or Smokescreen would have told him. Their shared past troubled Smokescreen perhaps even more than it did Prowl. He was haunted by the monster that had borne him. Time would help him forget, though the burns on Prowl’s face did not allow him to forget everything but time allowed for distance and distance was was Smokescreen needed. Perhaps realizing Prowl needed peace, Jazz retrieved a lyre from his subspace and he played for Prowl and the crystals. As he listened to the crystals sing in response, he identified the different crystals around them and where they were in their growth cycle. Prowl had not realized how anxious he had been feeling. Being out in the garden grounded him. Though he might have stayed out for joors, he was still healing and Jazz correctly noted that Prowl was tiring and needed rest. He still clung to Jazz’s arm as they walked back inside but it was at least in part because Prowl wanted to. There was a loud clattered of plating ahead. Jazz held his arm as they stopped where they were.

“Damn it,” a voice similar to Jazz’s cursed.

“My lord!” Prowl jerked back as he heard a familiar voice speak. “You’re alive!”

His help spun. Prowl swayed and Jazz held him steady. Prowl found himself slack jaw and it took a klik or two before he could speak. He stammered: “Ba…Barricade?”