#sassy alternator

[thecatfight2023]

ANNOUNCEMENT

mod calico and i live together now (with a third roommate) and we welcomed two new additions back in june that you guys may like to see :D

say hello to beanie weenie (bean or beans for short; gray one) and sassy alternator (sassy for short, calico) 🎉

will eventually update with more pictures when i get on browser bc of the apps 10 image limit 😔

but !! a little info about them ! my brother's fiancee and her parents rescued them since the mother ran off but couldn't keep them so we gladly adopted them :) and they have been a delight ! also despite everyone thinking bean was a boy and sassy a girl, they were confirmed by the vet to be both girls!

[seamistgale]

Bernard was being haunted.

His sus-o-meter isn't up to 100%, but if he's being real, it never is. The downside of being into conspiracy theories was that you were only partially sure which one was more skewed than the other. One day he could be convinced Batman is more cryptid than man, and then he'd stumble on some fascinating witness accounts that make him rethink the Vampire hypothesis.

This time, however, he's fairly sure this sort of freaky shit only happens to people in those cookie-cutter horror movies.

… Except this particular ghost might be of midwestern decent, or something, because they sucked at properly haunting.

Example number one:

It was rare that Bernard had dishes piled up. He lived alone, and occasionally Tim would come to his apartment; with a couple of games, some takeout boxes, and a movie later, there would be way more things to clean up than a whole weekend on his own.

The last time Tim came over, Bernard didn't bother cleaning up for the night, and then the trash just…. Disappeared.

Not like 'a burglar broke in for some weird fetish reason, and my trash is now gone' gone, but more 'the trash is in bags, the dishes are clean, and I swear the air smells fresher' gone.

That was strike one.

He brushed it off because Tim had been there. It was unlikely he just went on a stress cleaning spree at Bernard's place but… Well, Bernard's caught him doing way weirder shit. It's fine.

(it's not fine. You just didn't move things around on someone else's turf.

"…Clean up?" Tim echoed back from the phone, sounding as confused as Bernard felt the following morning. "I-- no, of course not!" and then hurriedly continued to reassure Bernard he'd never do that. Because Tim was nice like that, even after Bernard low-key accused him of giving him the Gotham equivalent of pissing in someone else's yard.

So, that was strike one in the back of his hindbrain that something was up.)

Strike two and three came together.

See, in Gotham's economy, sometimes your employer doesn't have your paycheck the week it should be. Who cares if you need to pay rent through or your landlord will double your rent? Neither your boss nor the landlord in question, obviously. So what he usually did was have a nest egg the size of his rent just in case.

But this month Bernard had splurged a little too much, so he was short. It was nothing big, he was just five bucks short.

The issue was, that his landlord was paranoid and was already breathing down his neck for not paying the next month's rent the day before the new month started. Like clockwork, his landlord put a warning under his door, ready to evict him the same day the month started if Bernard didn't have the rent in cash the next morning.

He knew the eviction notice was at the door, but chose to ignore it because it didn't matter, he'd get those five one way or another by the end of the day.

By the time he came back, two things were out of place. The first was the eviction notice on his table. Again, no one moved someone else's shit around.

Strike three happened while counting his nest egg, and would you look at that! He had more money than he'd counted. Nothing ridiculous, just… He had those five bucks now.

All these little things were easy to miss, or misremember, but Bernard was not most people. But the catch here was… All these things were good things. Sort of.

So not only was this happening when he wasn't around, but they were happening to his… Advantage? He'd even call it good fortune if one was willing to ignore the lack of privacy… And maybe he would have, if this wasn't Gotham. Privacy was a mix between a luxury and a currency. Sometimes a kindness.

In some ways maybe it would have been an effective scare tactic, to mess someone's shit up, but this was not the way he'd personally go about it if he wanted someone to leave the building.

So here Bernard was, staring again at the dishes he had placed as bait, because he wasn't an idiot and tempting a ghost into anything remotely violent was stupid. The dishes were cleaned.

He squinted at the ceiling, then at the rest of his apartment, trying to gauge whether trying to make first contact was going to get him more haunted, killed, or turn him into a Saturday morning cartoon.

Finally, he picked up a cup. Not a glass cup, because why would he give the ghost any ammunition, but a couple of fairly clear plastic cups, a marker, two sticky notes, and filled both cups with tap water decently enough so a mild tremble would be noticeable.

The first sticky note said "Yes", and the second, predictably, said "No."

"So." Bernard sat in front of the cups, feeling halfway like a dumbass for doing this in the first place, and halfway like he's about to do the worst decision of his life because it might just work. "You from out of town, or are you just really shitty at this?"

[allebasimaianunes]

“three-way swimming„

(a ideia for an au!fanfic×nicholas alexander chavez × cooper koch × female protagonist, yes, it's a very inspired challengers here!!!)

a some kind of challengers where the boys are played by nico and cooper, as swinmers and tennits (more swinmers because I love swinmg!!!), rich kids who's make out with everyone (less among them, not yet) and the girlboss who's make them mind goes crazy.

nico played the softy, darkeyed and poor boy who's gonna make everything (and a little more) for the girl, his muse, his godnness, his new mentor.

cooper played the ambigous, selfish and kinda immorality boy who's gonna fuck with everything and everyone for his owns goals.

the girl have some fun with both. and will be the first time in they life what the boys gonna fuck each other. she's at first time choises the darkeyed poor boy – likes tashi with art.

but both he and she realize that the presence of the selfish it's too more important in their own life than a ruined marriage of about ten years since the youth events.

ofc it's a au!!!, almost kinda of idea of a fictional movie (or series) in a fanfic style format, where both of then are bi/pan guys who's gonna do a lot of things for love, approval and victories.

that's a little pictured scenario, who can'll be a entire fanfic or just a garbage of ideas. (idk!!!)

[dreamsandmilk]

𓇬 ❀ ᭢᜴꤬ ིιྀ ㅤㅤ᭩ ㅤཐི ͏⏝ིYou're my dahlia, tulips and daisies

느리게 번지는 향기 ❀ — ۫

[tanema123]

I saw this post on Carmilla Carmine's old designs on twitter... And I finally drew one. This one is sassy. 83

Link to the post:

[starry-nights-17]

Just wanted to say Happy Christmas to you all and leave this here. A short festive story, set in the canon world but sort of AU (in that Ian is living with Clayton).

*Mickey breaks into the wrong house....but maybe it was the right house after all 🤔

(Some derogatory language ahead, not mine, all Mickey!)

----

Christmas was just around the corner, meaning Terry was working them harder than normal. And by work, he meant stealing. Breaking and entering.

Mickey was the perfect burglar. Quick, quiet and small enough to squeeze through tight windows. Tonight's target, a fancy West Side house, which featured a large expensive looking tree in the front room. At the base of it, was a pile of exquisitely wrapped presents. Jackpot.

Mickey jimmied open a window at the back of the house, expertly so, given the practice he had. He crept into the connecting living room, eyes darting around and ears on high alert.

Confident that the house was vacant, considering the car that was usually parked out front was gone, he started tossing the packages into a large holdall he brought with him.

"Mickey, what the fuck"

His blue eyes blinked into the darkness, until he eventually made out a shape and spotted familiar red hair and freckles. The Gallagher kid had moved away a year back. His sister Mandy had whined about missing her BFF for weeks, droning on about how he discovered his mom's affair and that the man who raised him wasn't his real dad.

He made a run for it but the kid grabbed his arm, "I can't let you take it Mickey, not all of it anyway".

His voice was soft, those green eyes even softer, an understanding there. Gallagher picked out a few packages and held them out to him.

"Your dad's an asshole".

Mickey felt his eyebrow pull up and his face scrunch up in confusion, "What's it to you, carrot top?"

Ian, that was the kids name, chuckled and took a step back, his face lit up in amusement.

"Just know what he's like, what will happen if you return empty handed. Just take them, I can replace them tomorrow".

"This a trick, you gonna call the cops on me or something?"

"Course not, South Siders don't snitch".

Mickey gestured around and caught Ian's eye, "in case you haven't noticed freckles, we ain't in the South Side".

"Whatever, I'm still fucking South Side Mickey and more than that; I'm still a Gallagher".

Mickey nodded slowly, feeling the kid was being genuine. "Well now I really can't take this shit", he sighed and dropped his bag, "fucking tainted or whatever".

Ian laughed again, a sweet and bright sort of sound that had Mickey's lips curving up at the corners. He didn't know why he was still standing there, hovering, loitering. And at the scene of a crime, although technically he hadn't stolen anything.

"You want a beer or some hot chocolate or something, Clayton, um I mean my Dad and his wife are out, won't be back for hours".

Mickey snorted out a laugh, "you fucking serious, you like retarded or something? I just tried to rob you and now you're offering me hot chocolate?"

Ian grinned and shrugged casually, "not like I haven't stolen shit before. I get it. I know you haven't exactly got a choice Mickey. And," he paused and looked away, almost shyly, "miss the South Side I guess, don't see my family as much as I'd like. Figured you could catch me up on shit, on Mandy".

"That annoying bitch," he joked, "she's still a pain in my ass and a huge slut. There, all caught up freckles".

He turned to leave, feeling awkward now and feeling his cheeks flush with colour as the goofy kid smiled confidently back at him. It was as though he actually liked Mickey's abrupt manner or some shit.

"C'mon Mick, I'll even toss in some marshmallows. I remember you have a sweet tooth".

Mickey raised his eyebrow in a question, "the fuck you know that?"

Ian laughed and started towards what he presumed was the kitchen, "you think I didn't know about all those snickers you swiped from the store?"

Before he registered it, he was walking forward, following him, as if he was a magnet being drawn in that direction.

"You fucking stalking me or something, watching me, kinda creepy man".

His tone was easier and lighter than intended. Shit, he almost sounded like he was dangerously close to flirting.

Ian cocked his head and studied his face for a second before replying, with a wide devilish grin.

"Kinda my job Mick, to keep my eyes on you".

Mickey tried to hide an emerging smile with his hand and was forced to look away, from that intense green gaze. His skin felt electrified and he was sure his cheeks were glowing.

"Well it's not anymore, guess you don't need a job since you moved up in the world".

Ian set a large mug down in front of him, complete with mini pink and white marshmallows floating on top.

"Not so sure I did," Ian paused and seemed thoughtful, "kinda miss it, working, earning money, even miss the fucking ghetto".

Ian laughed dryly and Mickey shook his head at him in disbelief.

"I just mean it's different here, fucking boring and like dad's just trying to make up for lost time so he never yells or says no. Its weird".

"Oh poor you, shit, you don't know how lucky you have it man. Complaining like a spoilt princess about being rich and living in a place like this, where you don't get a black eye every other day".

"You think I don't hear myself Mick. Course I know I sound like a prick. I just don't feel like I belong here. I don't fit in. I don't know how to live this fucking normal life".

"Well, I'd swap places with you any day," he muttered, blowing on the hot chocolate before talking a long satisfying sip. Damn, it tasted good, like proper expensive shit, not that crappy dollar store stuff that masqueraded as "chocolate".

"I'm sorry, I know I suck. I go to a great school and have everything I want. Meanwhile the rest of the Gallaghers are still living in that shithole, with fucking Frank".

"Actually, heard he's shacked up with some rich bitch over on the North Side. Never stops bragging about it in the Alibi".

Ian laughed and shook his head, "course he is. Frank always manages to land on his feet".

"Looks like you take after him in that respect Red, even if he's not your real dad or whatever. Suck it up, you got out. You can make something of yourself. Mandy always said you were smart, so don't waste that education. Go cure cancer or whatever the fuck".

Ian settled down, sitting opposite him, as they both smiled quietly around their mugs. The situation was weird but only in how it wasn't weird, not really. Mickey felt at ease, like he was naturally able to talk with Ian, his usual shyness not present.

"Not really a science geek, believe it or not," Ian joked, an attractive smile on his face again, "more of an English Lit geek".

"You mean like books and shit. Rather you than me pal".

"Wait, you can actually read, Mickey?"

Mickey sat up straight, ready to knock the fuckers teeth down his throat. That was, until he caught sight of Ian's cocky smirk. He flipped him off and felt a smirk of his own creeping up.

"Fucking comedian over here," he muttered, "course I fucking can, dickhead. Might be a Milkovich but doesn't mean I'm a dumb fuck".

"Never thought you were," Ian replied with a gentler smile now and a fondness in his eyes. "Always figured you were smart. And, funny too".

Ians eyes darted away, his lips lowered to the mug again, his cheeks faintly pink.

"Funnier than you anyway," he teased in return, "not that it'd be hard".

"I meant it, I want to help. Don't want you getting into trouble or whatever...with Terry".

Ians eyes appeared sincere and possibly full of concern too. Mickey was surprised, wondering how this kid, who was almost a stranger to him, was genuinely worried about him returning home empty handed.

Then again, he probably witnessed Mickey's battered and bruised face on numerous occasions. Perhaps at the Kash n Grab or at the Milkovich House when he hung out there with Mandy. Likely his sister confessed some harsh home truths to her BFF too. Fuck.

"Can't take your shit Gallagher. It's fine, I'll hit some other place up on the way home".

Ian rose to his feet, taking out his wallet, offering a wad of cash to him.

"The fuck," he stood and swatted his hand away in offence, "don't want your money either; not a fucking charity case. And just cos your whore of a mother fucked some rich prick doesn't make you better than me".

Ians face grew red with anger and he stepped forward, invading his space, "don't fucking talk about her like that Mickey. I know I'm not better than you, never fucking said I was. Just don't want you getting punched in the face, or worse, by that evil psychotic prick. Fuck me, for giving a shit".

Ian shoved him and Mickey shoved him back. Both of their chests heaved up and down, both clearly emotional.

"Shit, I shouldn't have said that about your mom; not like mine was much better. Not cool. I know she had fucking problems or whatever, " he thumbed his nose, stumbling on his words, "just don't like handouts alright, I can take care of myself".

Iam nodded and his expression softened further, "I know you can take care of yourself Mick. Just nice sometimes to let other people help. Not like I can't spare some cash. Please, just let me help, let me feel like all of this," he gestured around, "means something. If it means saving that pretty face from getting another pounding, then its worth it".

Mickey's eyebrow pulled up and a sharp breath left his mouth, "did you just call me fucking....pretty....think its you thats looking for a pounding pal".

Ian smirked and approached him, head cocked to the side, his voice lowered to a whisper.

"Generally I do the pounding...but I'm always open to trying new things".

As if Ian's bold words weren't having enough of a mind-blowing affect on his body, the asshole winked (actually winked) at him.

Mickey opened and closed his mouth like a fish, rendered utterly speechless. Not only was the kid gay but he was openly flirting with Mickey, implying shit; not just about himself but about Mickey too. The giant sized balls on Ian. He was pretty impressed though, considering Mickey could easily be kicking his ass right now. Talk about a risky move.

"I uh, better go"

He mumbled and pointed vaguely in the direction of the door, "Terry...you know...fucking schedules or whatever".

Ian chuckled and stepped forward again. His hand reached out, trailing down his chest; smoothing out the creases on his shirt, and then he was stuffing something in his pocket. Before Mickey could argue, Ian was shutting him up in the most unexpected and unsettling way. By pressing his warm lips against his.

Naturally his reaction was to push him away, which he attempted to do but Ian was stronger than he looked and held his hands at the wrists. Green eyes locked on his, questioning, searching. And somehow Mickey relaxed enough to nod up and down.

There was that predatory smirk again before those lips were on his once more, firmer now, with puprose and determination. But it was a brief and tame kiss, which he was grateful for. Because if Ian tried to take it further, put his hands on him or slipped him the tongue, he wasn't quite sure what would happen. Could end up in a fuck or a fight, Mickey wasn't certain. All that he was certain of, was that his skin was on fire, his heart was thumping wildly and he was breathing harshly.

"Think of it as an advance payment...or a loan," Ian said next, waking him from his haze.

"Huh?"

"You can repay me"

"How the fuck do you expect me to pay your pampered ass back. Piss poor here, remember".

Ian laughed, once again causing an unfamiliar flutter in his chest and Mickey smiled automatically upon hearing the pleasant sound.

"There's other ways to pay me back Mick," Ian replied with a cheeky grin.

"Fuck off, you think cos you kissed me I'm some sort of prostitute...I'm not even gay man".

He almost choked on the lie and judging by Ian's amused expression he wasn't buying it either.

"If you say so. Besides, that's not what I had in mind....but now that you mention it...."

Mickey scratched his eyebrow and flipped him off, barely containing a smile.

"Fine. No sexual favours, got it, " Ian joked, his hands held up in the air, "I just meant you can pay me back by maybe hanging out with me once it a while, that's all".

"You just want me to hang out with you...and you'll basically pay me for it...the fuck is wrong with you man?".

Ian cackled and shook his head, "nothings wrong with me. I just fucking like you or whatever and I already told you; the moneys insurance, protecting that pretty face of yours".

Mickey's middle finger was raised once more while his face was busy heating up, "ok fuck, fine, i'll take the cash. But not promising you anything. You're fucking weird man, not sure how much more of you I can handle".

Ian's face lit up and he cocked his head in that boyish, mischievous way again, "pretty sure you can handle a lot Mick," he paused and hummed, "hopefully".

"The fuck," he whispered, the word coming out in a shuddery breath. "I'm outta here. Good luck with being rich now or whatever".

He waved at him, clumsily and awkwardly, before swiftly heading towards the door.

"Don't be a stranger Mickey".

He didn't even need to turn around to recognise the grin that cocky redhead was undoubtedly sporting. Ian Gallagher. Of all the houses. Of all the situations. This night had not turned out like he had expected. He paused at the door, his fingertip tracing over his bottom lip, somehow still feeling Ian's lips there. Fuck. Mickey already knew it. He needed to kiss him again.

"Whatever. See ya later, firecrotch".

❤🎁🎄🌈

[sassy-bitch-since-2007]

Got hyper fixed on Island of the Slaughtered and-

Imagine the knife wasn't the killer's weapon. That was actually something Noah had on him, for protection. The moment that rope came around his neck he took out the knife planning to cut it, but didn't get the chance.

For a small moment, Noah actually has hope that he'll get away. He has the knife in his hand, all he has to do was cut that stupid rope. Simple, right? No. Because Noah was too slow and the killer saw the weapon and took it. He stabbed Noah with it, which wasn't actually planned. Then he drowned him in the lake too, just to make sure he stays dead for good.

And you know what? He might have had a chance of survival, if not for that stab. There are cases in which someone was brought back by performing CPR. If someone found his body soon enough…

But he lost so much blood too, due to the stab wound. There was no hope for him.

And he brought it all to himself.

[env0]

Me checking out your tumblr avatar.

[mysticcherryblossompersona]

Pov: me a grown a$s woman

* not getting the results I wanted 😒

I created bluesky btwww check that shiet out it's p. Cewl

[pastelaspirations]

Inktobertale Day 19: Tears or rain? Y e s, another late inktobertale entry, I just thought it fit, okay-

Also, it's over my own au, I k n o w. I JUST HAD A SPECIFIC SCENE THAT FIT THAT PROMPT PERFECTLY, YOU'VE GOT TO UNDERSTAND- I don't always succumb to the urge of drawing my own au for inktobertale, but sometimes I do, man, I'm sorry ;_;

I had looked on tumblr for a long time trying to find other people's entries for this day in particular because rain is hard. But finding other people's entries to this specific day turned out to be really hard too, but don't worry, I managed to do it I think-

Here are two versions without the filter and captions lmao. Now, watch me dip for another 3 weeks-

[effieotto]

Effie and Tessa Trinket- sisterhood

-i am a little too obsessed with this two, sorry

[fabulous-fic-quotes]

I would prefer to be involved at every stage.” Obi-Wan’s voice came out more than slightly waspish. 

Anakin rolled his eyes, and popped the last of the candy in his mouth, speaking with his mouth full. “You would, you micromanaging busybody.”

“Excuse me?” Obi-Wan snapped, crossing the hold to stand closer. “Care to repeat that?”

“No, you heard me just fine.” Obi-Wan glared at him, and Anakin smiled winningly, sliding down from the water canister and moving to sit beside his R2 droid. 

War Drums - @intermundia

[kalee60]

My latest AU fic is finally up - my twist on royalty!

Title: made you look

Rating: E

Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Guards, Pining, Sassy Bucky, explicit sexual content, bottom Bucky, POV Bucky Barnes, slight dom/sub, mild fighting scenes

Summary:

Being part of the Wakandan King's Guard was a job Bucky never thought he'd fall into. But apart from the uniform, it was a great gig, especially since he got to stare at Captain Steve Rogers when the changing of the guard occurred. The same Captain who six months earlier promised him the night of his life then disappeared, ignoring him after.

So when Bucky ends up on duty with Steve, he wasn't expecting to be recognised, nor was he expecting a rogue intruder to interrupt his less than platonic thoughts.

First save the palace - second get the guy?

Or was there some other plan in motion that Bucky didn't know about?

~*~*~*~

If this sounds like something you'd be interested to read - click on in here!

This is also for the @stuckybingo prompt - N2: "jerk"

[dreamsandmilk]

Every time that forget who i am. ꫀ ㅤׂ 㞫 ִ ✸

　 　 ▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|

[thegreatwicked]

Unbreakable Bonds: Chapter One

Unbreakable Bonds 

A novella in the ‘How it Should Have Ended’ Universe. 

TheGreatWicked

In a galaxy where Anakin Skywalker has resisted the dark side and fulfilled his destiny as the Chosen One, the Jedi Order faces a new dawn. With Palpatine's arrest reshaping the galaxy, Anakin steps into the role of a Jedi Master, guiding the Order into a transformative era where the nature of attachments is under scrutiny.

During an urgent council meeting, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi encounters an unexpected and enigmatic young boy waiting outside the chambers. This chance meeting stirs something deep within Obi-Wan, pulling him toward a revelation that threatens to upend the fragile peace the Jedi have fought to rebuild.

As the Jedi Council grapples with the implications of their evolving philosophies and the resurgence of past secrets, the balance of the Force teeters on the edge. The galaxy stands on the brink of profound change, and the shadows of Obi-Wan's concealed past loom large, with the potential to reshape the future of the Jedi and the Force itself.

Pairing: Obi-wan/OFC (Cressida Vox)

Rating: Explicit, depictions of violence and sexual encounters between consenting adults. 

Chapter One: Return to Coruscant

As the shuttle engines wound down with a soft hum and the ramp descended, the cool artificial air of the planet's capital washed over them. Stepping out onto the platform, the vibrant world of Coruscant was revealed to them in all its bustling, high-tech, and enigmatic glory. It was alive. Speeders zoomed overhead and the crowds of people, more than the boy had ever seen in his life, went about their daily routines. The air was filled with an amalgam of sounds, all intermingled together, forming the city’s pulsing heartbeat. The hum of vehicles, the constant chatter, announcements being read over speakers, droids, and their mechanical workings carrying out their tasks. It was hard to decipher what one person was saying unless they were right next to you.

The woman beside him seemed to take it all in stride; it was nothing new to her, but she understood all too well the rush of excitement and bewilderment he was feeling, as his head whipped around, unsure of where to look first. The sheer scale of the cityscape and the cacophony of sounds was enough to make anyone's head spin. In the ten years she had been away from the place that had once been her home, the shadows had grown longer and darker. There was something immediately familiar and comforting, yet she knew many things had changed. She wanted to be completely at ease, but such was the fate of those who walked in the boots of a Jedi.

Despite the excitement and anticipation of returning to the homeworld of the Jedi Temple, Cressida was unable to ignore the nervous knot in her stomach. Memories of her time from within the temple walls, both triumphant and challenging, flooded her mind in a wave of uplifting nostalgia but ultimately left her with disquieting questions. 

She looked down at the boy who was so enraptured in the world around him, his very presence was a testament to the light that Cressida carried within her even in her darkest moment. This day had been coming and she knew it. Regardless of the outcome, she knew that either way, the existence of her son was about to complicate many lives greatly, so much was about to change today. 

She thought of the times the Jedi Council had granted special permissions for Jedi to have children, there weren't many but it wasn’t unheard of. Still, her circumstances were vastly different from any precedent that had come before. Doubt and worry continued to gnaw at her and she questioned her place among her Jedi Brethren. 

"Are you nervous, Mom?" the boy asked, glancing up at her with a piercing gaze that suggested he knew her innermost thoughts before she could even think them. Her presence; one that was intimidating to some, was nurturing to him, yet it was his deep connection to his mother through their bond that alerted him to her troubled spirit.

“Nervous about being home?”

A quick glance at her, if you happened to notice her at all, might make you ask the question ‘How long has she been there?’ She blended seamlessly into the crowds of people around her, suggesting the shadows were as comforting to her as the safety of a favored blanket, her demeanor observant and unassuming. Perfectly forgetful. The storm clouds in her eyes churned with hues of silver and charcoal, carrying the same oppressive weight as an overcast sky just before a monsoon. 

Beside her, the boy looked up with his own eyes projecting the wisdom of an ancient sage rather than the eyes of a child, though he was still very much a child. His youthful exuberance radiated from him as inescapable beams of light, reflecting his wonder and carefree nature of the world around him as he saw it; a stark contrast of his mother’s mysterious nature.

A soft smile graced her lips as she met his gaze. "No Solan, I'm not nervous. Just happy to be back," 

She spoke with a comforting tone, filled with warmth and reassurance, but as he studied his mother, it was clear he was unconvinced.

"Are you sure, Mom? You look a little... different," he gently prodded.

Her smile softened further, and she let out a soft chuckle, admiring his perceptiveness and she shrugged. "Maybe I am a little nervous. The High Council is not always accepting of those who stray from the accepted path."

Solan's steadfast optimism knew no limitations as he brimmed with unwavering confidence and he squeezed her hand tighter. "It’s alright, Mom, we're safe now. We'll find our way."

His words brought a sense of peace to Cressida's heart, lightening the weight of her apprehension. She knew he was right, and their bond provided a strength that surpassed any external challenges they might encounter. With renewed determination, she turned her attention to the grandeur of the Jedi Temple that loomed before them, its towering spires reaching toward the sky.

"Come, Starlight," she said, "Let me show you the Temple."

As they disembarked from the shuttle, they blended in with the bustling crowd. They did not stand out, their plain and functional clothing offered no clue to their identities or what their purpose was. In no time, they were swallowed up by the tide of bodies, disappearing into the throng.

A surge of elation rushed through her as she watched her son take in the city's grandeur, his mouth hanging open. A gentle laugh bubbled up from her chest as she reminisced about a time when she too gazed upon the capital with wonder. 

His eyes darted to his mother's face, wide with disbelief, as if trying to discern whether the scene before him was real or a figment of his imagination. She responded by squeezing his hand. Reassured, he turned back to gaze in awe at the towering skyscrapers that seemed to scrape the sky.

With every stride, Solan’s words reverberated in her thoughts, giving her just enough bravery to continue moving forward. As the temple drew nearer, she reassured herself with quiet whisper:

‘Everything will be alright. We're finally home.’

The steps of Obi-Wan and Anakin making their way through the bustling corridors of the Jedi Temple echoed softly off the walls with each footfall, their conversation turned from the nature of this last-minute meeting of masters to more personal matters. Anakin's gait held a touch of restlessness, his thoughts consumed by the impending birth of his and Padmé's children.

"I can't help but feel a bit uneasy," Anakin admitted, his voice laced with vulnerability. "Is it strange that I'm more comfortable on the battlefield than in this new frontier of fatherhood?"

“That is a little strange, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s blue eyes crinkled with amusement. "Fatherhood can't be all that scary.” His tone shifted from teasing to a more comforting nature, sensing Akanin’s worry. “You'll be an exceptional father, just as you've been an exceptional Jedi… Most of the time.” He punctuated his pep talk with a slight jab, and Anakin appreciated the gesture but his unease remained. “Are you honestly going to tell me you would be more comfortable on Geonosis than in the medical wing with a newborn?” Obi-Wan chuckled. 

Anakin shrugged, it sounded ridiculous when he put it like that, “With Padme by my side, it wasn’t so scary. But this?” He paused gesturing vaguely with his hands, “I feel woefully unprepared.” He huffed out a deep and cumbersome breath.

“Well, it can’t be worse than anything you've faced so far.” Anakin offered a non-committal shrug of agreement and Obi-Wan continued. The work of a Master was never truly done. “Keep your head, be there for Padme, and do your best to fulfill your duties as a Jedi. The Force will be with you in all things just as it has your whole life. Besides, newborns aren’t that hard, they just sleep most of the time.”

Anakin scoffed, barely stifling a laugh, his expression infused with sardonic humor. "How about you save the lectures on fatherhood for when you become a father yourself."

It was Obi-Wans turn to laugh, "Very amusing, Anakin. What woman would put up with my penchant for adventure?"

The question held a hint of playfulness, but it carried an undertone of melancholy as Obi-Wan's mind briefly conjured up memories of Siri, Satine, and Cerasi.

Anakin shook his head, fully aware of the string of broken hearts Obi-Wan had unintentionally left across the galaxy.

"Oh, I'm sure there's someone out there who can handle you, my friend." A dismissive wave of his hand brought about a change of topic as they stepped off the turbolift, “So, you don’t know why this meeting had been called?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan shrugged, “No, I don’t. Why would you think I do?”

Anakin gave him a look that he’d given him at least a hundred times before, one filled with skepticism, his eyebrow arched and his mouth quirking sideways in a half-amused, half-disbelieving expression.

“Because you often know more than you say you do.” 

Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled with mischief, though he didn't laugh. He neither confirmed nor denied the accusation, a smirk reminiscent of his cheeky padawan days playing on his lips.

“Not this time, I’m afraid.” Again, Anakin gave him that same look that said he didn’t quite believe him and Obi-Wan slowed his steps, “I’m just as in the dark as you.” 

As they approached the Council Chambers, Anakin's newfound status as a Jedi Master buoyed his steps with palpable excitement, causing him to stride ahead. This left Obi-Wan momentarily trailing behind, though that wasn’t the only reason for Obi-Wan's lagging pace.

To his right, just outside the door to the Council Chambers, his gaze was drawn to a young boy sitting alone on a bench, swinging his legs with an air of lightheartedness. The boy didn't quite fit the image of a Padawan or a Youngling; he lacked the traditional Jedi braid and tan robes. He looked around the temple with a bright smile, taking in the splendor of his surroundings, until his eyes eventually landed on Obi-Wan.

Intrigued, Obi-Wan let his hands come to rest casually tucked into the folds of his robe's obi. Anakin, noting his Master's absence, glanced back with a puzzled look, caught off guard. Sensing Anakin's unspoken question, Obi-Wan gave a reassuring nod and motioned for him to proceed without him. With a welcoming smile, he approached the boy.

"Hello, there."

The boy's smile brightened further at Obi-Wan’s greeting, his eyes sparkling with a radiant joy that contrasted with the Jedi Temple's solemn atmosphere. 

“Hello, Master Jedi,” he greeted respectfully.

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise at the boy’s keen observation. Not many outsiders would have noticed the subtle detail on his obi that signified his rank - an extra loop in the braided cord, intricately woven into the design. A spark of recognition sparked in the depths of the Jedi Master's eyes, though he couldn't quite pinpoint it. Their interaction felt strangely familiar.

Obi-Wan looked to his left then to his right, but he saw no one nearby. "Are you waiting for someone, young one?"

The boy nodded, still smiling his happy smile. "Yes. I'm waiting for my mother. She's in a meeting with the Grand Master and the High Council. But I think she might be gone for a while.”

“Why’s that?”

“I think she’s in trouble.” Some of his smile's radiance dimmed at the admission. He nervously chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously and his previously swinging legs now hung still.

His answer was perplexing, to say the least, civilians didn’t answer to the High Council, in fact, the opposite was true, it was the Council that served the Republic. He couldn’t imagine a reason for the boy's mother to have trouble with the council, unless... 

“Why would your mother be in trouble with the council?” 

He motioned for Obi-Wan to approach, playing along with the young one's game. He took a seat next to him and leaned in closer, ensuring that their words would not be overheard by anyone else nearby. He cupped his hand around his mouth and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“She’s a Jedi, and Jedi aren’t allowed to have children.”

For a moment, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what to say, the boy looked around again and went back to swinging his legs, albeit less enthusiastically than before.

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed as he pieced together the information. "What’s your name, young one?" 

"My name is Solan Cael," he answered, his name unfamiliar to the Jedi Master. “What’s yours?”

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi” 

Obi-Wan extended his hand waiting for Solan to grasp it, but he didn’t and Obi-Wans hand just hung in the air, unshaken. Solan, however, sat unmoving with a mixture of disbelief and awe that seemed to root him to the spot. 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi?" 

Taken aback by Solan’s reaction, Obi-Wan nodded slowly, his curiosity deepened. "Do you know me?" 

“General Kenobi!?” 

Solan's outburst drew the attention of a few passing Jedi, their heads turned to the unusually loud voice in what was a tranquil space but Obi-Wan shooed them away with a wave of his hand.

Obi-Wan answered him with a chuckle, "At your service, young one."

Solan was barely able to contain his surprise, as he turned to face Obi-Wan on the bench, he was speaking to one of the most notable heroes of the Clone Wars!

“Hero of the Clone Wars, you served on Geonosis, you defended Kamino, defeated General Grievous, and you led the 212th Attack Battalion!” 

Obi-Wan chuckled at Solan's rapid-fire recitation of his accomplishments, and he was a bit more grateful for his beard to hide what he was sure was a bit of pink on his cheeks. However, as flattering as it was to hear someone speak of his deeds with such reverence it was a bit bittersweet. Guilt and remorse nipped at his heels for all the lives lost during the war, both on the Republic side and on the Separatist side. To a Jedi, any loss of life was terrible, no matter whose.

“How do you know of me?” He asked humbly, now more curious than ever as to who Solan Cael really was.

"My mother told stories about you.” 

The delight that had colored his cheeks and lit up his face, faltered slightly at the mention of Solan’s mother again. The mystery of who this woman was deepened, for her to tell her son of Obi-Wans achievements suggested a familiarity or perhaps a connection from long ago.

“She said you weren’t just a skilled warrior but a wise and compassionate Jedi and you stood for what was right. That you fought fearlessly and saved countless lives. She holds you in high regard and she’s told me your stories since I was little." Solan quickly looked at himself and shrugged before amending his statement, “Well, littler.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t stop the rumble of amusement on his chest at Solan’s observations, “Well, I’m honored to have your mother’s high opinion,” He felt flattered by the praise and intrigued by the tales Solan's mother had shared. “Tell me, Solan, do I know your mother?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

The nonchalant response left Obi-Wan perplexed. It was true he had a reputation in the Clone Wars but it was still a bit odd for one person to speak of his exploits so fervently with no personal connection. Surely, there had to be something.

“What is your mother’s name?” 

Solan went very quiet and he even slightly pulled away from Obi-Wan. The response was strikingly perplexing given the nature of the conversation they’d just been having, it was like a switch had been flipped. Obi-Wan knew a sensitive subject when he nearly stumbled across it and while he sensed resistance he decided to gently press a bit furhter.

“Does your mother know me?” 

This time Solan hesitated for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek again, and he simply stated that he wasn’t supposed to talk about it. It was a secret. Obi-Wan nodded.

“Secrets can be burdensome, but necessary. Your mother must trust you a great deal.” He spoke with an understanding that put Solan at ease again, his thoughts racing as he tried to piece together the puzzle of Solan's presence and his mother's identity. 

“Solan, you said your mother was a Jedi?” Solan nodded but his responses had become very guarded and his eyes frequently shifted from Obi-Wan to the floor. “Where have you and your mother been if not here at the Temple?”

A little thread of something dangled loosely, and Obi-Wan could tell just a tiny tug might see it unravel but along with it, Solan would too. 

His previously swinging feet had now crossed at the ankles, his entire body drawing inward as if he wanted to curl into a protective ball. His hands fidgeted uncertainly, not knowing where to settle. All previous excitement vanished, replaced by a fear bordering on paranoia. 

“I’m not supposed to talk about it…” He sounded so small now.

Obi-Wan extended his arms, palms facing outward in a calming gesture. He nodded reassuringly, his gentle smile radiating comfort and understanding as he spoke softly.

“I won’t pry your story from you. Your mother trusts you with her secrets and it’s admirable that you guard them so well. Perhaps she and I will meet someday and we’ll get to know each other better.” Solan’s eyes shone a bit brighter and he offered a small smile as Obi-Wan stood, “I’m afraid I must leave you here, Solan, but it’s been a pleasure speaking with you.”

Solan’s smile returned and he nodded, realizing Obi-Wan’s duties as a Master called him elsewhere. 

Before Obi-Wan could respond, the young boy spoke again. 

"May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi," 

“And with you, Solan Cael.” 

Obi-Wan returned the sentiment, surprised once more. Although he wished he could sit more with Solan and further unravel the mystery he’d just discovered Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding lingering in the air. The Council awaited, and as he rejoined Anakin at the entrance of the Chambers, the concerned look on his face did not go unnoticed by his former Padawan.

"Is everything alright?" Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan rubbed his beard thoughtfully, he looked back to Solan who had gone back to happily swinging his feet, his gaze fixed on the closed doors of the Council Chambers that Anakin and Obi-Wan were about to enter. 

"I have no idea, but something tells me this meeting is about to bring quite the revelation." 

The Council Chambers were brightly lit, with beams of sunlight streaming through the high windows, flooding the room with light. Other masters had arrived and taken their seats, some appearing via hologram projections that materialized around the room. The atmosphere felt charged with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity but nothing overtly unusual for a hastily called meeting.

There was a figure already present, standing with her back toward Obi-Wan, arms resting at her sides. Her long, auburn hair cascaded down her back in a loose braid, swaying gently as she shifted her weight slightly from one foot to another. 

She didn’t look like a Jedi, from what Obi-Wan could briefly see as he and Anakin made their way to their seats, he did, however, notice that she seemed to stiffen a bit with their arrival, though it could have been a coincidence.

She strayed far from the traditional Jedi attire; instead of their tan and brown robes, she wore form-fitting clothes that more closely resembled those of a roguish smuggler or perhaps a stealthy bounty hunter.

The fabric clung to her form in a way that highlighted her silhouette, yet it was loosely knit, suggesting a design meant for warm climates. The material was breathable, allowing for ease of movement, comfort, and practicality rather than Jedi decorum. Her complexion boasted a sun-kissed olive hue, that belied a great deal of time spent outdoors. Yet, he still couldn’t see her face.

Obi-Wan's gaze traveled down, he caught sight of a lightsaber hilt nestled securely against her thigh, positioned for quick and easy access. It was the only thing about her that suggested the identity of a Jedi. It struck him as an unusual placement, different from the customary position on the belt, more befitting of a blaster. His curiosity deepened, and he found himself growing more intrigued by the woman before him.

Her body language exuded strain and protectiveness as if she were a tightly wound spring. 

She stood tall with her back slightly arched in a way that looked downright uncomfortable, fingertips occasionally twitching at her sides like she longed to cross them over her chest. Her gaze was fixed forward, avoiding eye contact with anyone else in the room except for Grandmaster Yoda and Mace Windu. There was a wariness about her, and it was clear that she was on guard and wary of those around her.

Obi-Wan was beginning to understand why Solan thought his mother might be in trouble, she certainly looked it. It reminded him of a Padawan trying to remain unaffected as they waited to receive a reprimand. 

His attention quickly shifted to the ongoing conversational whispers, he didn’t like the way Council members had a tendency to speak as though the person they were discussing wasn’t actually standing in the room.

Yet, in a way, he didn’t blame them. This council chamber had witnessed countless deliberations, and seen more scandal than a HoloNet rumor mill but this particular gathering held an air of hidden significance. He closely observed his fellow Jedi, noting the mix of expressions on their faces—curiosity, intrigue, contemplation, and worry.

The woman with the auburn hair maintained her sphinx-like stance, her back still turned. Her identity remained shrouded in mystery, an enigma that intrigued Obi-Wan.

The council chamber grew hushed with anticipation as Mace Windu, stood from his seat, hands clasped behind his back. It was time to begin.

His booming baritone resonated through the chamber as he began to speak.

"Thank you all for your timely presence at this gathering, esteemed masters," he addressed, his gaze sweeping across each Jedi in attendance. "We are confronted with an unprecedented situation, one demanding our collective wisdom and the utmost finesse in our handling."

Anakin's gaze flickered towards the door, then back to Obi-Wan his expression betraying a hint of restlessness, while Obi-Wan responded with a subtle shrug. A quick nudge of his head prompted Anakin to look back to Mace, he certainly didn’t have any answers, in fact, he hardly knew the questions.

"The circumstances we face pertain to the child of the Jedi Sentinel among us," Mace continued.

Well, it seemed Obi-Wan knew a little more than his fellow masters, at the mention of the child, Solan, other Council members sat a little straighter. Becoming noticeably more attentive at the revelation. The room seemed to hold its breath, as everyone waited anxiously for more details.

Mace Windu halted briefly, letting the gravity of his words settle before he pressed on. "We must tread carefully through this intricate matter," his voice resonated with solemnity. "Our decisions may ripple far beyond just this child, affecting the very fabric of the Jedi Order. Let us move forward with both sagacity and empathy."

An understanding rippled through the Council, with heads nodding in agreement. They understood that the path ahead was filled with challenges, yet it always was, their resolve remained unwavering. They were Jedi, after all, and it was their duty to safeguard the Order and protect those in need.

“Where is the boy?” Mace asked.

The Sentinel nodded towads the door, regretably looking the opposite direction depriving Obi-Wan further of her identity. Mace turned to the doors, and with a wave of his hand, they slid open, revealing Solan’s scrappy little form sitting there on the bench. His feet still swinging wearing a large grin. Mace held out a hand and beckoned for Solan to enter.

He hopped off the bench and briefly paused at the imposing temple guards stationed outside the doors, exchanging glances with each before cautiously entering the chambers. With a sprightly little hop, he quickly made his way to stand by his mother's side, drawing smiles from those in attendance. His face was alight with relief in the presence of his mother, his eyes shining unburdened by the weight of the Jedi Council's presence. He cast a bright smile at Obi-Wan.

His mother's delicate hands rested on his shoulders, firmly but gently guiding him towards the center of the room. He could feel her calming energy enveloping him, a silent reminder to remain composed before the Grand Master and Master Windu.

Mace looked at Solan, studying the young boy and he offered the boy something rarer than any ancient artifact: a smile.

"Welcome, Solan," he greeted warmly. "Do you know where you are, and who everyone in this room is?"

Solan looked from Mace to the council members around him, his face bright and eager. He nodded confidently. 

"Yes, Master Windu," Solan replied eagerly. "I'm at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, in the heart of the Galactic Core, where all the important decisions for the Republic are made!" He looked around the room, “and the people here are the members of the Jedi High Council." 

He began to list off the names of each council member, making eye contact with each one as he spoke. As he said their names, they would smile and nod in acknowledgment. Anakin's smile grew particularly brighter when Solan mentioned his recent promotion to Master on the council. Solan ended his tour of the room by addressing Grandmaster Yoda before finishing with Mace Windu.

Mace's amusement danced in his eyes. "And do you know why you are here, Solan?" 

Solan looked at his mother, seeking her guidance. She nodded subtly, wordlessly encouraging him to speak. The young boy took a step forward, took a deep breath, and cleared his throat. "I'm ten years old," he began, his voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and seriousness. "It’s time for me to begin my training as a Jedi."

Soft murmurs of intrigue rippled among the council members, no doubt surprised by the boy’s candid response.

"Tell me, Solan," Mace pressed on, "Can you sense the Force beckoning to you? Have you ever found yourself in situations where you've caused things to occur, yet couldn't quite understand how?"

A mischievous glint sparked in Solan's eyes as he fixed his gaze on his unsuspecting target. Raising his outstretched hand, he flicked his wrist, causing Mace Windu's lightsaber to hover in the air, tethered to his belt. His robes fluttered and billowed around him, the council members, struggling to contain their amusement, exchanged stifled laughs. Obi-Wan, himself held back a chuckle at Solan’s impish behavior, though he at least had the tact to hide it by rubbing his beard again.

At first, the Jedi Master's expression remained blank—neither angry nor annoyed, but simply absent. Then, after a beat, a faint warmth spread across his face, and he couldn't help but smirk or nod slightly. With a wave of his own hand, his lightsaber and robes drifted back into their place. Solan's mother shook her head at her son's playful antics. Meanwhile, Solan beamed proudly, pleased with the success of his prank.

The cheeky young boy had caught their attention. It wasn't a unique skill, but for a boy who had just arrived at the temple grounds, it was noteworthy and nothing to be overlooked.

Mace shifted his gaze towards Yoda, the powerful and wise Jedi Master, seeking his counsel. Yoda's face was a mask of serenity and ease, but Mace could sense the weight of his thoughts. He returned to his seat, his eyes fixed on the Sentinel standing before them. 

"Has the boy's midi-chlorian count been measured?" he asked, his voice low and commanding.

The Sentinel nodded respectfully, "Yes, Master Windu," she replied, her voice a soothing melody that seemed to calm the very air around them. And yet, despite its calming tone, nothing about it stood out or left a lasting impression. “It stands at 16,000.” 

The lighthearted air that had been present now gave way to a ripple of astonishment, spreading like wildfire. The Jedi Masters exchanged whispered conversations, their voices imbued with disbelief and awe. Even Obi-Wan found himself momentarily taken aback by the sheer magnitude of Solan's connection to the Force. Sensing the shift in the atmosphere to a more serious tone, Solan shrunk back, seeking the safety of his mother. He stepped back into the security of her presence, her hands once more falling on his shoulders.

"Is there more you can do, young Solan?" Mace asked.

Solan nodded slowly and once more his mother urged him forward with a gentle push on his back. He turned to face her, his once joyful expression now held traces of worry and unease. The look on his face made it clear that he was afraid. However, in the presence of so many brave Jedi, he pushed his fear aside, and stepped forward slowly, his shoulders drawn inward, toes noticeably curling inside his boots with a little bump.

"When I touch objects, Grandmaster," he began, his voice betraying his nervousness, "I can see their histories. I can see who held them last and they tell me their stories. I can even share what I see with others through touch." 

Psychometry.

A murmur of astonishment swept through the council members once again, their gazes fixed upon the young boy and his mother. Such a rare and unique ability, his nervousness was understandable now, and the faces of council members were graced with sympathy for the boy.

Solan continued, his voice still holding that tiny tremor that one often has when speaking to many. "I have memories, Master Windu," he continued his words carrying a weight that so few carried so young. "Memories of a time before I was born, of my mother carrying me in her womb as though they were my own."

The council members were captivated, their eyes growing wider as they comprehended the gravity of Solan's words. 

Yoda rose from his seat, hobbling towards Solan, his small cane helping his unhurried steps, he stood before Solan and his weathered face studied the boy carefully. For a ew moments there was only silence, sensing a trace of doubt Solan extended his fingertips, reaching out to make contact with Yoda’s cane.

Solan ran his hand over the smooth, gnarled wood and closed his eyes briefly before looking at Yoda. A tide of memories entered his mind from a time long before anyone in the council room drew breath. His head bobbed and he swallowed hard. 

"This cane," he began softly, "it's made from a special tree that grows on the world where your master became one with the force. You meditated there with the tree this cane came from, and it shared secrets with you."

He paused, glancing around before leaning in towards Yoda with a hand cupped around his ear. The two exchanged a few words in hushed tones, causing Yoda's eyes to widen in surprise. Solan then leaned back and spoke aloud once again. 

"This cane is very special to you Master Yoda," his voice carrying a hint of reverence. "That's why you’ll never part with it or trade it for another."

The council chamber was filled with a solemn atmosphere, heavy with the weight of Solan's revelations.

Yoda's gaze dropped to his cane, a seemingly insignificant object that often went unnoticed. He held onto it firmly for a moment, closing his eyes in brief contemplation. When he opened them again, a gentle smile crossed his face as he reached out and touched Solan on the shoulders, tapping each one in a way that none present seemed to understand.

“Strong shoulders you will need for such a heavy responsibility.” Yoda turned away but then stopped and tapped at Solan’s legs the same way he had his shoulders, “Stronger legs too. Small you are, but in time, quite tall I think you will become.” 

The members of the council shared incredulous glances, but their doubt quickly transformed into unwavering faith. Every statement made by Solan was seemingly validated by Yoda himself. Some couldn't help but turn their gaze towards the walking stick, wondering what secrets had been exchanged between the young boy and the old master.

Mace Windu found himself momentarily unable to form words, stunned into silence by the young boy's extraordinary abilities.

"I sense you have more to tell us, young Solan,"   

Solan nodded slowly, "Sometimes, Master Windu," he began, "I have dreams. Dreams of things that have been and some things that have not yet come to pass. They frighten me, and sometimes I wake up screaming and crying." He lowered his head slightly as though ashamed, “I know I’m not supposed to be afraid, but I can’t help it. I don’t know how to make the visions stop, and sometimes they’re so bad that I get sick when I see them.”

Anakin’s forehead furrowed as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His expressions awash in empathy, he understood all too well the burden of such visions and the nightmares that would often accompany them.

A sense of empathy washed over Obi-Wan Kenobi as he listened to the child’s confession. He had been unaware of the depth of the young boy's experiences and the hardships he had already carried at such a tender age.

With a defeated posture, Solan's shoulders slouched even further, his eyes trained on the floor as if anticipating a scolding. He retreated another step, seeking the embrace of his mother. This time, she didn't urge him forward; instead, her hands rested protectively on his shoulders.

“Feel ashamed for feeling fear do not, a heavy burden, visions of the future are. An absence of courage your fear is not.” Yoda imparted, clutching his walking stick a little closer to his chest.

Solan lifted his head, locking eyes with Yoda. As Yoda spoke, the shame that had held Solan captive slowly lifted from his small shoulders, and he stood a little taller. A glimmer of hope lit up his face, returning a spark of optimism to his eyes.

The room itself seemed to radiate a sense of compassion and acceptance. Solan, though still young and vulnerable, had taken a courageous step in revealing his fears and doubts. In the presence of Yoda's insight, the young boy's journey toward embracing his strength and resilience had just begun.

Mace Windu, his normally imposing voice softened, "Are you afraid of this room, or the people within it, young Solan?"

Solan took a moment to gather his thoughts, his small hand tightly grasping his mother's for comfort. "No, Master Windu," he replied honestly. "I'm not afraid of this room or the people. I'm only afraid for my mother."

The attention of the council now shifted to Solan's mother, the Sentinel. She stood there, her posture strong and unwavering, her gaze fixed on her son with a mix of protective love and determination. The council members regarded her with a renewed sense of interest, the spotlight was now on her.

"You needn’t fear for your mother, Solan. The council does not punish Jedi for having children," Mace explained. "However, there are rules in place for a reason, but our greatest concern is for your wellbeing, young one."

Solan's gaze narrowed slightly, a hint of suspicion. "You promise?" 

Mace met Solan's gaze with empathy and sincerity. "I promise, young one," he affirmed, his words carrying the weight of his authority. "We are here to guide and protect you."

Solan wavered for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek, but then he took a deep breath and stepped away from his mother. He straightened his spine and walked across the council chamber, extending his hand out to shake Mace's. Mace raised an eyebrow in surprise - only moments ago, Solan had been small and nervous. But in this moment, he stood tall as any Jedi Knight, unflinching in the face of potential repercussions for his mother. 

His small hand disappeared in Mace's large one as they sealed the deal. A sense of relief washed over Solan, and he huffed out a breath.

Another Master, his curiosity piqued, interjected with a question. "And what about the identity of the boy’s father?" he asked, directing his inquiry to Mace.

Mace's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as he turned his attention toward Solan's mother. The unspoken inquiry hung in the air, pulling everyone's attention towards the quiet woman who had stood by her son during the council's discussions. Solan quickly scampered back to her standing in front of his mother, looking nervously to Mace.

Mace's voice was measured as he asked Solan, "Do you know who your father is?"

"My mother told me he died before I was born."

The council members exchanged knowing glances, their attention now firmly fixed on Solan's mother. The woman stood there, her demeanor revealing a complex blend of strength, determination, and a hidden past that held the answers to Solan's lineage.

The chamber grew increasingly tense as Mace addressed the Sentinel, asking the question that had many members on the edge of their seats: the identity of Solan's father. 

There was a hint of defensiveness in her posture, barely perceptible to those not paying close attention, but she concealed it well.

"I know who his father is," she replied, her voice carrying a note of conviction. "And he is alive and well."

Solan looked up at his mother, his mouth slightly agape as if he too had questions for her. The tension in the room was palpable as Mace turned to address the Sentinel again. The Council had many concerns, secrets were a double-edged sword, dangerous, yet necessary. In light of such events, the need for transparency was never more important. Once again he asked her to reveal the name of Solan’s father.

She hesitated, her gaze flickering over her shoulder briefly as if seeking an escape.

"I’d hoped for the opportunity to tell the father in person first," she admitted, her words revealing vulnerability.

Mace's tone remained firm as he pressed further, his questions became more direct. "Is the father of ill repute or a criminal?”

The defensive edge in the Sentinel's voice became more pronounced as she quickly retorted, "Not a chance."

The tension in the room was steadily growing, twice now Mace Windu had asked a simple question and twice, he had not been given an answer. The council members keenly attuned to the standoff between Mace and the Sentinel. Mace refused to yield, his determination was evident. He insisted on the revelation of Solan's father's identity before the council.

The Sentinel, realizing her tactics were failing, changed her approach, requesting that she be allowed to tell her son in private, or at least have him leave the room before revealing the truth. Mace remained silent, his patience waning, as he grew tired of the Sentinel's attempts to delay a straightforward answer.

"You've had ten years to tell Solan his father's identity, and the time for secrets is over."

With slouched shoulders and a disappointed expression, she looked down at her son. She gently brushed his hair out of his face, giving him a sympathetic look and squeezing his hand. Solan, sensing the change in his mother's demeanor, grew visibly nervous as his eyes filled with apprehension and confusion. He didn't like seeing his mother like this, but he squeezed her hand tightly and nodded in understanding.

It was time.

With a defeated sigh, the Sentinel finally spoke, her voice laden with a sense of resignation. "Solan Cael," she began, her gaze fixed on her son, before shifting to meet Mace's gaze directly. "Is the son of Master Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Chapter Two

@decembermidnight This one is a long one but lots of Obi-Wan fluff and there IS SMUT COMING

[weaverofword]