A place for all my clone yandere's and their Darlings. Trigger warning: Contains descriptions of unhealthy relationship dynamics and possible age inappropriate content. All content is purely fictional and should not be applied in real life.
Hello! Wanted to reach out and ask if it was okay for minors to interact and tag you about your yandere clone series/family?
Any nsfw, or 18+ content will be tagged as such and I would prefer if minors didnt ask about those peices. Or reblog them. However any other peices, feel free to ask about, or send in requests appropriate to your age.
I am aware this is a tricky situation since I cannot controll who sees my work. Especially since I post both nsfw, and sfw content. Best I can do is ask that minors not interact with any of my tagged 18+ content.
There will always be warnings for anything that may be inappropriate such as violence, drunkenness, or any intimacy.
I know there are some grey areas. Sometimes I tag NSFW for violence and fight scenes, and older teens, say 16 and up would have seen that kind of thing any amd everywhere, but it's a precaution to put 18+ up on them anyway, as an attempt to controll an otherwise uncontrollable audience.
And since I am an adult, 21+ I dont feel comfortable interacting with minors about any nsfw topics like sex or the like.
If you pay attention to tags, and see anything like sex scenes in them, do NOT reblog or ask me about them if you are not over 18. However, if you wish to interact with any of my other material woth fight scenes or gore, then I leave it up to the reader to determine if they feel themselves mature enough to interact. And since I cant controll who sees my content, that's basically all I can do.
As such, of course I have made up my own backstory for him.
First off. I KNOW this man came from an abusive household. Dirt Poor. Addicted. His apparent satisfaction at torture and pain that he inflicts suggests that he himself was once tormented and this is how he feels in control. I think he was the eldest of WAY too many siblings. His mother was the definition of wasted potential. So smart... and ye she hung off of drugs and alcohol and male approval. The drugs and alcohol destroyed her. And she kept having kids. Shacking up with any man who would enable her to get her latest fix.
He is the spitting image of her.
He had seen so many men come through their too small, falling apart home that he didn't even remember their names.... with the exception of his own father... who came back years after he was born, resulting in another mouth to feed. His only full sibling.
His role at home, as the oldest, and with an obvious intellect, was to keep the kids out of his mother's, and her latest boy toy's way. Keep them fed, keep them quiet or it's a beating.
He figured out how to splice electricity from the neighbours, how to turn the water back k on when his mother inevitably blew all the money on drugs and alcohol. He had no issues breaking and entering to make it happen.
It would make sense to me that he used to hang around rich schools, to offer to do the entitled students homework in return for payment.
He gets money. He gets to know what the upper-class are learning. And they get gleaming report cards.
He soon found out that he had a talent for science and medicine. Genetics fascinated him.
His obviously controlled temper (as shown in the last episode where he very clearly had to adjust his tone when speaking with tarkin, going from reactive to cold and neutral) also suggests that the environment he grew up in was loud. Anger conveyed by shouting as well as physical fighting. And while I don't think he has a fear response. At all, I think he hates to be seen loosing controll as he now seems himself above such primative behaviour.
Another think that got me thinking.
When he said nala se was well cared for, I think he meant it.
Compared to what I believe he grew up in nala se, as well as the children in the vault. In his mind he's probably providing the utmost care.
Clean spaces, food, clean clothes. Designated areas for each person.
No one shares a bed or a cell or is forced to go hungry.
They may choose to starve. The food he offers is for sustenance. Not enjoyment. If they choose not to eat. Too bad.
He provides everything they need to stay alive and healthy. Nothing more, nothing less.
Which is far more than he was awarded.
I have a headcanon about hemlocks relationship with one of his siblings. His youngest one, his baby half sister.
She was born drunk, and addicted. Her mother... his mother, wanted nothing to do with her. His sisters father tried to take her away. Drop her off somewhere.
Hemlock, for some reason, didn't want that. She was just another baby. He'd seen plenty of them. But she was so small. Sad, pathetic. She looked like him too..
Maybe it was his pride or ego, but he stole her back. Brought her back home.
She cried and cried and cried.
Both sickly and in withdrawal. But he cared for her best he could.
As she grew it was obvious her illness was not getting better. She was sick all the time. Pale, coughing, skinny.
But she was brilliant.
Curious. Like he was.
When he finally left his home for a better life he took her with him, refusing to leave her with their pathetic parents, whod beat her and crush her spirit under their heels. She needed to be so.ewhere that kind of hers could grow.
When he went to school, she'd go with him. Essentially receiving her own education.
Things were good .. for a while.
Her condition worsened. He had found out it was an autoimmune illness.
There was no readily available treatment to him and she passed.
Whatever good he had in him died with her.
He was different after that. Cold. Calculating and cynical. Openly taking pleasure in the suffering of others. His work reflected his mental state. He kept diving into more and more questionable topics.
His ambition and willingness to cast aside human morality is what got him his spot as nala se's apprentice.
Before he left for kamino he visited his old family home.
After getting drunk on the birthday of his sister he went back to that trailer to find his parents. His other siblings that were there didn't recognise the caretaker that had left over 10 years ago. And he didn't care to remind them.
In his eyes, they were as wasted as his own mother.
Thankfully, there were no new faces.
By the time he left, both his parents were dead.
Years later, after his exile from. Kamino. He took the name royce hemlock.
Royce for his father .. ...
And hemlock for the poison he used to kill him.
Ultimately... hemlock wanted to recreate his sister.
But better. Stronger.
He only needed to work his way into a position. Where he would have the resources to undertake such a personal project.
Bonus headcanons:
-the scar in his eyebrow and his crooked nose are a result of beatings he got when he was young. He has more.
-he is constantly holding his hand because it was crushed. He got reconstructive surgery in the hopes that he would be able to practice again. It failed.he no longer has full range of motion or strength in that hand.
- He is incapable of performing many procedures during to a lack of stability. He has to keep his hand constantly warm and covered. The skin on his hand is very tender and delicate. Both from the surgeries and initial injury.
-his constant need to controll himself and his surroundings is a result of trauma.
-his hand being crushed was caused by the same incident that got him exiled from kamino.
-He was unethically collecting samples of genetic material. Usually by force.
-he had a raging obsession for a young jedi master who he was acting as a dedicated docto for.
-he has developed many drugs. And tested them all on himself.
A yandere alpha 17 who falls prey to the natborn osik "love at first sight" he swore it would never be him. COULD never be him.
He has the emotional capacity of course, but he believes his logic, his intelligence to Trump any sort of bullshit hind brain emotions.
Them he sees her. And she's just.... so perfect.
He couldn't even describe her face if he tried. His initial assessment of her physicality long since dissipated now all he can recall is just... his love.
In human form.
Sweet and kind and smart and perfect.
And it makes him furious.
It infuriates him how he's now daydreaming. Infuriates him how he finds himself wondering if your safe in the middle of a firefight.
His dreams so tortuously sweet and spicey.
Lust and passion give way to protection and love as he cradles you close to his body... only to be snatched away leaving him to feel empty, achey, cold and so viciously, viciously hard.
He can't live like this.
He WONT. ..
But he has to take care of himself before he can take care of you.
If he approaches while he's so pent up, raging and hot blooded he WOULD do something to scare you away. He'd have to find some willing girl to lay with so he could get it out of his system, but he will be coming for you before long.
You are an absolute blessing to the Clone Wars society, I mean it. Literally one of the greatest fanfic writers I’ve ever seen. For your Clone Wars Family au, okay one is Fives still alive? And if so what would he be like as a yandere? What would he do if his darling escaped him? What would he do if they flat out said they hated him? And would he reach out to any specific clone brothers for help to find you? What happens to the repeated offenders who never learn from their mistakes in general? (Sorry if this is a lot I just love your writing and want to absorb and soak up as much of it as possible)
He was in pain. Fives knew that much.
They say that after dying, a human remains lucid for 7 minutes, replaying their best moments. memories suspended in time to make a man's final momets more bareable.
He couldn't move, couldn't vocalise or do anything for himself. He could only sit there in raging pain, confused.
"This couldn't be right," he thought to himself.
Fives felt betrayed... hurt. He had only ever been a good soldier. Loyal and brave. Why had they treated him like some rabid.... dangerous animal?
He was ready to give his life for his brothers... for their home. Maybe once, for the Republic.... but not like this....
NOT like this.... he deserved better.
He could still hear, but there were no memories flashing behind his eyes. no playful or peaceful moments.
Only the vivid recollection of one of his vod shooting him through the chest and his confusion at his brothers actions.
Fox and Fives had always had their differences, and on more than one occasion, the irate commander had to drag him off to the drunk tank to sober up, but Fives had always admired fox for his work, always commended and praised his older brother.
Fox's dediction and more than that, his restraint had been something Fives had long since come to admire. It took a far better man than Fives to protect the entirety of coruscant, and the galaxies most foolish senators, an not completely lose his mind.
So why is he still replaying the clones' actions in his mind? Why can he still hear hs beloved's voice commanding the clone to back off?
Why could he hear Fox, distressed and muttering to his brothers that he swore it was on stun. that he wasn't supposed to shoot his brother, ony sedate him. That the aster was on stun... he was sure of it....
Why could he hear his jetii talking to him? telling him it was going to be alright.....
No, fives wasn't dead. Not yet. his love, his clever little healer was battling the darkness away on his behalf. She would not let him die here like this.
Fives had reached out to her after escping the Emporers clutches.
He was.. for lack of better word... hysterical. begging her to meet with him, Captan Rex and General skywlker. Saying that there was a conspiracy and he needed to get the truth out, or they would all die.
Fives begged her to come. Saying he needed a trusted companion who would listen to him, and could make others see reason.
Y/N agreed, as long as she could bring Kix with her... just in csse.
Fives barely agreed but eventually gave in. kix already knew what was hapeing with fives and also wanted to get to the bottom of what was happening to his broher.
It had already gone to shit by the time they arrived at the coordinates.
When Y/N and Kix arrived, Fives had already trapped Rex and Anakin withing the ray hield, and was attempting to warn them but what was happening, however even Y/N was having trouble deciphering what Fives was trying to say through his panicked babble.
The tension in the room was high when she and Kix revealed themselves to Fives.
The tightly wound clone jumped and aimed his weapon at her when she cleared her throat to announce her presence, ignoring Anakins' order to stay back.
Fives sighed and dropped his weapon back down to his side, his hands shaking.
"It's you... your here....." he said quietly, his voice shaking.
Y/N almost cried with how... vulnerable and scared he seemed to be.
Fives looked at her again, pulling her to the ray shield and looked at the general and captain.
"I know you don't believe me... I know you think I'm crazy... but I'm not! She can tell you.... it's the Emporer, he planning something... something g bad! Tell them Y/N! Look into my mind... see tham I'm not insane!"
Fives took Y/N's hands and placed them against his head.
Anakin tried to reason with Fives.
"The Emporer has only ever protected this galaxy... whatever you heard... there must be some sort of mistake!"
Y/N didn't know who to trust... but she was scared for her dear friend and wanted to know what had scared him so much.... and proceeded to gently probe into his mind.
However it was strange.... as if some sort of shield had been put up... to stop any sort of probing.
Y/N leaned away from Fives.
"I'm sorry, Fives. I can't see anything. There's a mental block... I can't access your memories."
Fives shook his head, his force signature reeking of distress.
But then his head shot up, eyes wide.
"No... but that proves my point! I couldn't have put that block in! The emporer did! To stop anyone seeing and proving what I know to be true!"
Anakin seemed to have lost his patience with the clone at this.
"That's enough Trooper! Release us at once, that's an order!"
Fives glared at the general. He didn't know why skywalker was behaving so.... closed minded. So blind.
"No. Your staying there.... till you hear what I have to say!"
Fives had tucked Y/N behind him, holding her close to his body. She could feel him trembling. Anger swept through the force at the Generals' refusal to see what Fives knows to be true.
Y/N saw Rex. He seemed to be lost in thought, concerned for what was playing out.
Fives continued to speak.
"I almost lost my brother. We have chips... ALL of us. All clones. The emporer... the emporer had them implanted in us when we were infants.... he means to use them to take control of us... General... we can't let that happen... it would mean the extinction of the Jedi!
But I have a plan... maybe we can reprogram them.... cancel out the order.....save our Jedi!"
Anakin scoffed.
"What order?! Fives, your not making any sense!"
Y/N again reached put in the force, and felt overwhelming truth emanating from Fives.
Glancing at Rex, she saw he seemed... thoughtfully. As if he knew something.
"Anakin... I-"
But before Y/N could finish her sentence, shock troopers burst into the room, weapons drawn, and yelling orders for Fives to stand down. Anakin might’ve also been yelling. Y/N couldn't tell. It was all so loud.... so chaotic. Fives lunged for the blaster he had previously set down, raising it.... and then everything went so quiet.
The live blaster fire rang through the air and fives collapsed back onto Y/N, a hole in his chest.
Fox dropped his blaster, backing off into his brothers, swearing he'd set it to stun.
Y/N ignored him, and told Rex to take him somewhere, far from here.
Fives wasn't dead yet.
She was a healer. This is what she did. She saved people.
She could save fives too.
She HAD to.
"Kix! Do you have any bacta?" Y/N asked. Her voice steely.
"No, general. I left all my med supplies back at base."
Y/N nodded. Knowing what she has to do.
"Kix. I'm going to do something. It's... not a practice the jedi encourage. But it will buy us time."
"Sir?" Kix asked.
"There's a black magic ritual that will allow me to absorb some of his injury... it will... for lack of better description, take flesh and blood from my body. To heal his."
Y/N had already begun. The first step of the ritual was to bleed. She took a vibro knife and cut open her palm with a hiss.
Kix grabbed her wrist.
"Sir... it's a fatal wound... you will.die if you absorb it!"
Y/N took a kneeling position, fives head resting in her lap.
"That's why I'm going to only absorb half of it. It will injure me... but we will both be stable enough for transport."
Kix looked wildly concerned, but let Y/N go.
To him, it didn't look like she was doing anything. Just meditating. But then the blood flowing from her slit palm to Fives chest started to glow green, and Y/N's face screwed up in pain as a hole began to burn its way through her chest.
It was slow going. The longer the ritual went on, the more signs of life Fives started to show.
Rex returned. With a medical.team and alpha 17 and Fordo in tow.
Rex knelt down next to kix, eyes wat hing the jedi and the injured clone.
"There's timetables moved up. Fives confirmed what Alpha 17 amd Fordos jedi has long suspected. We are sending out word to begin.... fox has already been sent to eliminate Palpatine."
Kix looked at Rex, shocked.
"It's too soon, we aren't ready!"
Rex sighed and looked back at his oldest and most imposing Vod.
"We have our orders. All the clones are being informed. And prime is in the move. He's returning to kamino.
There's a med ship docked just outside. Take these two back to Kamino. Wait for further instructions."
Kic nodded, solemnly. Everything was so.... sudden. He knew of the plans but now they're happening.... he didn't know what to do.
Rex shoved him a bit
"Go. Take them home. That's an order soldier. "
Kix nodded.
"Yes sir!"
The clone medic ordered six men to gently load the Jedi healer and the injured clone onto stretchers.
On his way out, he was stopped by Alpha 17, his oldest Vod's large hand coming g to rest on his shoulder.
"Once your done with those two... I will have another assignment. Report to me when they're stable enough to be left alone woth a med droid."
Kix nodded, feeling like a young shiny under his big brothers intense gaze.
"Yes sir."
A twitch of a smile came over Alpha 17s face before he gently shoved kix towards his ship, where his two patients were waiting.
"Go. Tend to them. I'll see you soon."
Kix watched the shuttles door close as they rose up to coruscants surface and took off into the stars.
Hey! I just wanted to say how much I appreciate your blog! Your writing is truly incredible and inspires me so much! Thank you for being here ❤️
OH MY GOD!
I havnt heard from you in ages! (Mostly my own fault.)
Life's been hellish this past year and I'm gonna take this opportunity to explain myself for why I've been so silent and non existent.
The year 2024 has tested me.
In the beginning, my brother in law had a mental breakdown due to a run in with the cops, threatened suicide (he's okay now) amd because of the association with the place he was living he decided he absolutely had to move.
Now, what this has to do with me is that I was boarding with him and my sister, in their spare room.
And i don't know if anyone here is familiar with Australian community housing, but you can't qualify for housing if the total income of the residents is deemed too high.
Because I had a job the income of the household was considered too high for my sister and brother in law to qualify for a new house so I was told that I would not be allowed to live with them any more.
So I had to make extremely last minute arrangements and ended up in a co tenancy in a week.
That turned out to be a bad decision as my housemate was in with... a bad crowd.
She also wouldn't pay any of her rent or bills on time.
By month 5 I had had enough and decided I would be leaving the tenancy at the end of my lease.
At the end of month five I got a knock at the door from the police telling me suspected drug runners had been seen peeling out of my yard.
I'd seen those bikes before, and they were definitely friends of my housemaid, although I am not sure just how deep in she was with all that mess (I suspect fairly deep, but I have no actual evidence)
I told the police I was just her housemate and worked nights so we didn't cross paths alot, and that I was planing to move in a month.
He basically told me that they were gonna be back to turn the place over, and that if I was leaving, I should leave sooner.
That was my 13th reason why. I quit my job at the petrol station, packed up my car and with the help of my sister and BIL was out of the house the next morning.
I moved back into my dads place where I went for my licence (and got it on the second attempt) and started job hunting. At that point I was looking for something with some actual perks so I looked into remote work.
A couple of months after applying around for any remote work I could find that included housing, I got an offer to work as a Cafe supervisor in a community in remote northern Territory and I jumped on it.
They flew me up to the other end of the country after my interview, for a recruitment trip so I could see where I would be living and working. At that point it seemed okay.
A month later I was moving and two days into starting my new job I realised I hated it and was horribly ill suited to do it.
So I spent about three weeks going through the right channels to figure out an alternative arenagement.
Now, getting people to work remote is a bitch and I was already up there so I was pretty confident that the company I was hired by was not gonna cut me loose, and they didn't.
I was moved to an office job where I was much better suited.
And I'm just gonna speed run what's happened over the last few months since moving up north (keep in mind my closest family is clear down the other end of the country, 5000 kilometres away, so it's just me up here)
I damn near fell in love with my team leader, and never said a thing about it cause I wanted to keep things professional and not weird in the office.
He has since left for a better paying job elsewhere.
I made best friends with a co-worker who has since been moved to the kitchen supervisor job that I didn't want, and she's so happy doing it.
One of our travelling support officers has left the company to work for a different business in the community where I live, the other Travelling support officer was moved to her next assignment.
All this left me the most senior staff member I. The office after only a month and a half. The only other staff member is also fairly... useless.
In my personal life,
My sister, who i lived with before is getting divorced soon, as she has had enough of him using her for free labor and not treating her with respect.
My brother is probably engaged to his boyfriend (who is a lovely guy) but I havnt heard any official confirmation
My mums had a health scare due to suspected complications after thyroid surgery. But she refuses to go to hospital cause she's the main carer of my young, disabled neice, and I suspect she's afraid she will be deemed physically unfit to care for her and my neice will be removed.
So yeah. After all that I managed to stumble my way into an extremely challenging, but very rewarding and secure full time job where they pay for all my housing and bills.
So... still got shit going on in my personal life but I'm in a much more secure situation now.
Between all this i just have not had time or energy to write. And I can't make any promises of anything coming out any time soon, but I still massively appreciate all the likes, comments and reblogs.
It was midday, and the townspeople of Tirharad were making ready to take refuge in the watchtower of Ostirith. Across a muddy road a young woman walked, her faded blue dress dragging in the dirt.
She came to a run down house, banging on the door and showing no sympathy for the man groaning on the other side, the stench of alcohol and stale urine washing over her as the door swung open to reveal a filthy, pale man.
“Son of the Dark One, Ingar, can’t you let a man rest for once?”
The hunched over man slurred, his breath stank of mead and ale even from a distance. It was no surprise to Ingar that he had been sinking into his cups again.
“We are moving out in two hours, I’m here to take the baby.” She said, already wanting to be away from this place as she saw his yellowed, drunken eyes clumsily climb over her figure.
“We… what?” He questioned.
Ingar’s brow pinched into a scowl as she pushed by him into his filthy, rat invested home.
“Oh, by all means sweetling, make yourself at home. Should I put on a pot of tea for her highnessness as -oogh- as well?”
Ingar came to a rough, hand carved cot, picking up the sleeping baby girl inside, unceremoniously turning to exit the rancid house, not being able to bear the smell of vomit and stale urine.
“I’d actually recommend you sober up, we will be walking for a while.” She replied, half out the door.
“Walking…? What are you on about woman?”
Ingar turned on heel, her dark hair swinging out behind her.
“Have you been drunk all week, Marok? There is an army of orcs heading our way, we are walking to the watch tower to take refuge. I will take her, seeing as you cannot be trusted not to fall down a well. But I suggest you gather your things. And pack light. It’s a long walk.”
Ingar walked out onto the road, the baby in her arms cooing at the sunlight and fresh air.
“AND LEAVE THE ALCOHOL BEHIND!” She called out over her shoulder.
“DON’T YOU TELL ME WHAT TO DO, WIFE STEALING, BAR WENCH!” Marok screamed back, he would have been intimidating had he been able to stand up and walk in a straight line.
As it was, the only thing he could do after his outburst was to keel over and throw the meagre contents of his stomach up onto the path, groaning and whining pathetically.
Ingar’s lip curled in distaste for the man as she walked on, not making any attempt to help him.
She sighed as she walked into her own house, a humble one room wooden structure that was right next door to the drunk man’s.
Placing the baby in a prepared bucket of warm water, Ingar got to work bathing her and changing her.
As expected, the baby had not been taken care of since her last visit, and the smell of shit and piss was potent as Ingar peeled off the child’s clothing.
“Did that man forget you again, poor thing? He doesn’t deserve you, no he doesn’t. Come here sweet girl, I’ll get you all cleaned up, and then we are going on a little trip.” Ingar cooed to the baby.
The little girl didn’t have a name. Barely five months past her mothers death in the birthing bed, and her father still saw fit to treat her as a parasite that he hoped would go away if he ignored her long enough.
Ingar would name the baby herself, if Marok didn’t have an all out violent fit at anyone trying to personify his daughter.
‘Don’t you go naming her, ya hear. I’ll not have her attatched to anyone. Better she die as no one than somebody. And no one what killed their own mother deserves a name, by my reckoning.
But maybe it weren’t all the whelps fault. She was a queer one, my old wife. Strange as the seas. Never sat right how attached she was to our neighbour. Probably punishment for some sort of, HIC, infidelity. And with another woman, at that.’ He had once ranted at the bar.
It had been a week after the child’s mother, Themah, had passed.
Ingar had gone to bring him home when she’d heard him slur it out, his face half buried in his arm.
When she dragged him out by his thinning, greasy brown hair, none of the patrons nor the barkeep had tried to help the man. Nor did they intercept even when Ingar forced his head into a bucket of icy water to wake him up a bit, and definitely not when she screeched at him for blaming his daughter for her mothers death. For blaming her and Themah’s affection for eachother.
They had been friends since childhood. Their mothers practically raising them in the same cot.
How dare he try to blame them.
Ingar had been caring for her late friends baby ever since.
Marok was as useless as they came when it was about his daughter. He wanted nothing to do with her and Ingar found this out pretty quickly.
So she took it upon herself to bathe and change and play with and feed the little girl, having her nurse nanny goat milk as a substitution for her mothers milk.
It wasn’t a perfect set up, but it was the best Ingar could do.
The woman, who had just pulled the little baby out of the cooling water, was thrown out of her reminiscence by a knock at the door.
Wrapping up the young one, she went to it, balancing the child in one arm while lifting the heavy latch to see three people outside.
“Ingar, how are you doing?” Bronwyn asked, walking into Ingar’s home and hugging her, followed by Theo and Arondir.
“I’m alright. Just finished bathing this one”
Arondir walked up next to Bronwyn, placing one strong hand on Ingar’s shoulder, the other on the babies head, pulling the soft blanket away from her black curls.
“We heard him yelling. Is everything alright, my lady?”
Ingar sighed. Arondir had been a good friend these past few months, offering his assistance with the baby where he could, and ensuring Ingar could safely collect her and drop her off.
“Just…the usual stuff. But hey, I meant to thank you, Arondir. Her coughs gone away! she’s back to her usual self, thanks to whatever it was you did!”
Arondir smiled a little, his handsome features softening as he saw that the baby did indeed look bright and healthy, no longer smelling of sickness.
“It was simply Athelas, my lady. No need to thank me.” He replied humbly.
“No, no no. You saved her! You did. I was at my wits end, I didn’t know what to do. Had you not come along I doubt she would have seen the next morning, and I’m truly appreciative!”
Bronwyn beamed radiantly at the elf, who cleared his throat bashfully at the praise, his cheeks heating.
“We came to see if you still needed help with anything, miss.” Theo spoke up, eyeing the bag on the table.
“Yes, is there anything we can do?” Bronwyn agreed with her son.
“Umm, I think we may be good to go, although I’m still unsure whether to just bring my goat with us, or risk milking as much as I can from her, and taking that with me.
Arondir, what do you think?”
The elf looked thoughtfully out the window for a moment, weighing up his options.
“We have no idea how long any of this will take. It may be a bit more awkward, but it’s probably best to just bring Nari along.” He answered.
“If walking her becomes too slow, I’m sure we can fit her into our cart too.” Bronwyn said soothingly.
Nari was an old goat. Slow and stubborn and well known to the people and elves of the village for her temper.
“Thank you, my friends.” Ingar told them, genuinely grateful for their presence and support.
“It’s nothing, miss. We were also wondering if you might want to walk with us, seeing as, well, HE may try to cause some trouble.” Theo added, his own cheeks warm.
Bronwyn and Arondir watched in silent, invisible amusement.
Theo had discovered quite the crush on Ingar, and he had taken to trying to impress the older woman at every turn.
Ingar had brought it up to Bronwyn once after the young lad had offered to cut all the wood for winter for her. They both agreed that as long as it stayed innocent, there was no need for any worry.
“That would be perfect, thank you Theo”
The young man muttered and mumbled his reassurances, face burning and looking straight down when Arondir once again placed a hand on Ingar’s shoulder.
“They will be waiting outside the Tavern for you, I will stay and help get Nari ready to move, as well as ensure Marok actually finds the caravan”
Bronwyn and Theo left the house to finish packing the necessities, leaving Ingar and Arondir alone.
They faintly heard Marok crashing into something, cursing up a storm.
“Are you sure we can’t just, leave him here? Maybe buy him a few drinks, make him pass out. The orcs wouldn’t know he was even human!” Ingar suggested.
“No, Ingar”, Arondir said firmly, before cracking a small, wry smile.
“It would take more ale than what this village, or the next one has to offer to get that man to pass out.”
Ingar begrudgingly agreed, and she and the elf quickly gathered their supplies and made their way towards the caravan, dragging a still very drunk Marok out of his home.
They’d arrived at Ostirith later that night and settled in, but the peace was not to last. A few days later they were faced with an impossible choice.
—————————————————————————————————————————
The day was hot, Marok was scrambling about, looking for some ale or mead to cure his hangover.
The man moaned in pain. He hadn’t been this sober since before the whelp was born.
Speaking of, she was crying again. Still lying where he had left her, on a ratty old blanket on the ground the baby was screaming and crying.
Marok could only groan, the shrill cries aggravating both his headache and temper.
What does she have to cry about? All she has to do all day is sleep and eat and crawl around all useless.
She doesn’t know pain. Know loss, humiliation or true bitterness.
That…THING, killed his wife. And she couldn’t even have the decency to come out a boy.
A son he could forgive. A son, he could put to work. What good was a weak little girl to him?
His ire then turned to Ingar. That meddling wench. He’d be rid of the whelp if not for her interference.
Marok was happy to let nature run its course. A babe without a mother to care for them shouldn’t be allowed to live.
But no.
Fucking Ingar had to swoop in with her ‘help’ and her care, and leave Marok all alone to raise a baby he didn’t want.
Marok hadn’t particularly loved his wife, but he was proud of her, or at least proud to have married her.
Themah was beautiful, the most beautiful girl in the village with her thick black curly hair and bronzed skin. But what really drew people in were her eyes. They were a vivid emerald green, a foreign family trait from a long passed ancestor.
Everyone wanted her hand but it was Marok who had done it, who had charmed her.
God, he was good back then. Tall, strong and handsome.
What he hadn’t known though, is that Themah came with a friend.
Ingar and Themah had always been close. A little too close, if he was asked.
Every step of the way, Ingar was there.
And it suffocated him, even more so now that Themah was gone and she was still always in his home, barging in like she owned it.
Owned HIM, the presumptuous bitch.
Marok was interrupted in his poisoned thoughts by a village elder, waldreg giving a speech.
He talked about surviving the oncoming attack by joining this stranger and his army.
Marok tended to agree with wanting to last the night, and he also agreed with the old man’s more… fanatical views. They were once saurons people, why should they not be again.
He’d lift them out from under the elves boot.
Looking towards the whelp, It also occurred to Marok.
This could be his chance to get rid of her.
Ingar wouldn’t follow anyone affiliated to Sauron, she was too righteous.
And after all, the south lands are a dangerous place to be right now. Anything could happen to a baby.
Making up his mind, Marok grabbed the child, crudely wrapping her in rags and discreetly as he could, joined the crowd heading out the gates of the elves watchtower.
He smirked when he vaguely heard Ingar asking around for the baby.
—————————————————————————————————————————
The air was freezing, and thick with the smell of fire and orc and death.
In front of a crumbling tower, a tall, pale man stood, his face dancing with shadows from the firelight.
Adar towered over the human group who had come to him, unimpressed at the whimpering display put on by the old man who appeared to be their leader.
Adar curled his lip, turning away from Waldreg and his, ‘vows’.
He would have probably let the humans live, serve and die how they chose under him, had they not made the mistake of thinking he was their ‘Dark Lord’ come to save them.
After feeling the satisfying rattle of the old man’s breath, Adar saw a young boy out of the corner of his eye.
The tall, twisted Uruk gripped the scruff of the child’s neck and forced him onto his knees leaning over his head as he smirked.
“Only blood can bind” he said cruelly, as Waldreg took up the knife thrown at him, his hands shaking with adrenaline.
The old man approached, knife poised despite the boys begging.
About to strike, Waldreg drew back the dagger when a loud voice rang over the crowd, followed by a fit of coughs.
“WAIT MY LORD!”
Waldreg drew back, eyeing the Uruk for any signs of displeasure at his hesitation, but Adars stony eyes were fixed on the tall man, stumbling through the crowd.
Marok drew to a stop before the Uruk in awe. If he concentrated, the drunk could almost feel the power, the knowledge radiating off of the ancient being.
“You dare interrupt and second guess my command, human? Speak! For you will not have my ear, nor my mercy long” Adar commanded, his shoulders tight with restrained anger.
“My Lord-Father. Blood you have -HIC- demanded. And blood is your right to take, none of us here would dare insinuate -HIC- otherwise, however.
Spare the boy. Pick someone else.
He is young, strong and useful. It seems far to much of a waste to bleed him here.”
The boy in question quaked in Adar’s grip, seeing a slight ray of hope.
Adar however, was yet to be satisfied.
“And I suppose, you, being the one to make this proposal intend to die in his stead? How noble of you.” He mocked.
If Marok sensed the displeasure from Adar, he didn’t show it, choosing to continue on.
“No, Lord Father, I intend to serve. To live out the rest of my days in service by your side, by your childrens side, as it was in the glorious days of old!” Marok exclaimed charismatically.
Adars lip curled.
“My Lord, allow me to offer up another sacrifice. My own, daughter.” Marok almost choked at the end of his sentence. Admitting she was his kin left a vile taste in his mouth, worse than the stale drink and sick.
“She won’t be much use as a fighter, nor is she cut out for the life of servitude, but it would be my honour, to offer her as payment for our allegiance, as I’m sure it would be hers as well!” Marok finished his speech passionately, almost foaming at the mouth at how close he was to being rid of the girl.
Adar tilted his head thoughtfully, before releasing the boy from his armoured grip.
“Where is the child? Bring her forward!”
Adar didn’t watch as his previous choice of sacrifice scrambled away to the safety of his kin while Marok staggered back to the crowd, roughly shoving down anyone in his path.
Adar's eyes fixated on the parting of the crowd as Marok emerged again, this time with his, ‘sacrifice’.
He stepped out of the crowd, and in his arms a baby, not even one year old, wrapped roughly in filthy rags.
Marok deposited the child on the ground harshly and without care at Adar’s feet, her whimpering cries quiet against the roar of the torches and the murmurs of his children and the men.
Distaste for the human race coursed through Adar, however the only indication was the slight widening of his eyes as he knelt down to pick the babe up, stopping her best attempts to crawl away from him.
Upon closer inspection Adar could see the child was thin, her clothes were as filthy as the rags that encased her and Adar could smell that she herself had not been bathed for a while.
The babe opened her eyes. They were green, vivid as the forests and hills he seeks to destroy, and they watched him with awe and fear.
Adar watched as the child’s chin wobbled, her eyes scrunching and filling with tears at the sight of the scarred stranger holding her, as he unconsciously began bouncing her softly.
Adars eyes softened, the motion bringing up long buried, bittersweet memories.
Red hair, bright jewels, the lonely and scared cries of two young elflings, cast aside by their parents .
Adar’s mind was in another age, on different children, but the pity he felt in his heart, in whatever’s left of his soul, was the same.
Potent and driving.
The child’s whimpers grew louder, and Adar whispered soothingly to her in his mother tongue, the musical language seeming foreign to him now.
“Peace child, be at rest. Fear no danger from me.”
Almost as if by magic, the baby grew still. Her eyes fluttered shut, content to snooze in the crook of his gauntleted arm.
Adar was drawn out of his reverie, the coos of the sleeping child drowned out by Marok’s grating voice, dripping with false sorrow.
“Lord Father, as the girl's sire, I shall take it upon myself to do this, terrible, deed for you.” The man had already crouched to pick up Adar’s dagger from Waldreg, but the Uruk turned away from them, taking the baby with him.
“A father willing to sacrifice his child, in order to save another.” He mused.
“How, hmm. Generous.”
Adar did not look back at the humans, his eyes set on the baby girl in his hands.
“Seize him” He commanded softly in black speech.
Two of his orcs, Thorg and Argol, took Marok by his arms, forcing him into his knees.
Adar finally turned back towards them, transferring the baby to his other arm.
“Waldreg. Your orders still stand.”
The old man swallowed and nodded, turning towards the struggling Marok, this time there was no voice calling out, no one to speak for the sad man save himself. But Adar had no pity for his sniveling, tear filled pleas.
Waldreg slit his throat, his blood squirting out and into the mud.
“PEOPLE OF THE SOUTHLANDS! WHERE DO YOUR ALLEGIANCES LIE!?” Adar called out over the crowd.
“TO YOU, LORD FATHER!” They called back.
Adar smirked. When Thorg approached him, he handed the baby to his son, despite the orcs utter horror.
"Come now, Thorg. You can face down and slaughter an army of men. But holding a human child makes you go green?" Adar taunted. Almost good naturedly.
Thorg grimaced as the child in his arms started to whimper.
"My lord, surely you do not mean to keep the baby?
She will only burden us, slow us down. If you wish for her to live, might we not leave her in the care of her own kind?"
Adar hummed, his sons suggestion had merit to it.
"Perhaps it would be easier, however I do not want her to he damaged. The elves hold children sacred, and empathy is a powerful tool.
No. You shall guard the girl while I make ready to move. We march for the villiage as planned."
Adar said nothing else, turning on heel and walking back into a stone shack, leaving a Thorg and the sobbing child behind.
Ingar stood rigid, a crude sword against her neck.
When the sun went down and the townspeople who could fight took up positions around the villiage, Ingar was there.
She was a talented archer, quick with her shot.
Orc after orc fell to her, but they just kept flooding into the town. Ingar was about to shoot another down, when suddenly she felt heat and smelt smoke coming up from under her.
Looking down, she saw the hut she had taken refuge on had been set alight, the rough, dry wood burning quickly.
Ingar's safest way down, a ladder, had already burnt, so taking a risk, she decided to jump, hoping to land in the so far, unburned hay bale not to far away from the side of the crumbling building.
Crouching low as she could, Ingar shuffled to the edge of the roof, but her movements did not go unnoticed.
Two sets of eyes watched her jump off the roof and land.
When Ingar quickly rolled out of the hay bale to avoid the embers that were floating in her direction, she was kicked in the stomach by a large, foul smelling boot.
Looking up, Ingar saw a huge orc with a sword standing over her, poised to swing down.
But before the orcs blade made contact with her, he convulsed, a curved blade piercing his chest and spilling black blood onto Ingar's chest and face.
The creature fell dead to the ground, revealing a pale and shaking Theo behind it.
"Are you okay, miss?" He breathlessly asked.
Ingar swallowed hard, trying her best not to wretch.
"Yeah, yes. Theo, thanks to you." the woman wheezed
"C'mon, everyone barricading in the tavern, we need to go!" Theo grabbed Ingars wrist, and hauled her towards the Tavern as best he could.
Ingar got her wind back just as Theo and her crossed the doorway, and she imidiatly spied Bronwyn layong on a table with an arrow through her shoulder.
Arondir and Theo saw to her, but it was painful for Ingar just listening to her old friends screams of pain.
After what seemed like an eternity, her wound had been cauterised and she started to breath ragged breaths and Arondir, Theo and Ingar all let out a sigh of relief.
A sentiment that was short lived as the orcs started to bash against the barricaded door of the tavern, eventually breaking through and seizing the terrified occupants inside, holding crude swords to their throats.
Ingar squirmed in her captors grip, his arms tightening around her, when someone who she could only assume was their leader walked in, going straight to Arondir.
They had a hushed conversation that Ingar wouldn’t be able to make out, even if it was in the common tongue, but whatever Arondir said, it was obviously the wrong thing, as with an unseen gesture, orcs started to slaughter the people they held captive.
The elf raised his hand, and his children backed off of those who were still alive, and with a small waving gesture, a large orc came forward and handed him something.
When Ingar saw what exactly he had been handed, her blood ran cold.
Adar turned to the people who were still left alive, Marok’s baby in his arms.
Ingar cursed herself. How could she have forgotten to look for her. How could she have just assumed Marok would at least keep her in safe hands?
“Mortal men. This baby was left at my feet by one of your own as a sacrifice. I spared her, as I have no need for her to die. Just as you could be spared. You need not die, not when all I want is something so small.
Give it to me, and you too, shall be left alive and unharmed.”
Ingar struggled in the grip of her captor, growling and spitting venom at him as he not only tightened his grip to a crushing pressure, but dug his blade into her neck, the burning sensation assuring her at least a few drops of her blood had been spilt.
Adar looked at the woman, with a distant amusement, as if he was watching two young pups fight. So harmless and pointless.
But as no one spoke up, he sighed. That one, exagerated breath dripped with false remorse as he looked at Bronwyn, injured and pale on the table, but still glaring at him defiantly.
Fearlessly.
Adar tilted his head
“The woman next”
Ingar’s yells mixed in with Theo’s and Arondir’s, but their pleas fell on death ears, as Adars eyes were back on the infant in his arms.
Until he heard what he had been waiting for.
A forced, loud voicewas heard over the struggles of the woman and elf.
“WAIT! it’s here. It’s under here!” Theo begged, breathing it as the blade at his mothers neck was removed, and the orc restraining him let go.
Adar turned to him, motioning for Theo to retrieve what he wanted, ignoring Arondir’s pleas not to do it.
Theo took a fire poker, holding it up to show what he was carrying, before making his way to a loose stone in the floor, prying it up.
Adar crouched next to the boy, picking up a small, wrapped object that was kept under the stone with reverence, before a distant rumbling was heard and he hastily made his exit, taking the baby with him.
“No, NO! BRING HER BACK, PLEASE!” Ingar begged, seeing him make off with the young human baby.
Her cries fell on almost entirely death ears, as Adar only spared the screaming woman a short glance before handing his babe off to one of his daughters, Myrk.
“Do not allow her out of your sight, and do not let any harm come to her!” Was all he hastily ordered to orc, before the tidal wave of men on horseback swept into the village.
There was a brief moment where the orc saw her father talking to Waldreg, the human who had pledged himself to her father's cause.
She noticed adar swap the wrapped package in his hand, and giving the one he found in the tavern to the man, watching him scurry off.
Myrk smirked. Her fathers plan was working well.
But this child in her hand… she wasn’t sure what to make of her. So small and helpless. In a way, Myrk distantly supposed she was cute, in the way all babies seemed to be. But surely her father hadn’t kept her simply for that? He must have a use for her.
But in the meantime, she will fulfill her fathers wishes, and hide away with the child.
Myrk hid around the back of the tavern she had just raided, taking the men on horseback by surprise.
She easily wielded a large sword with one hand, while holding the baby firmly with the other.
Amazingly, the baby did not cry, staying silent right up until two of the men dragged Myrk out from her cover.
The orc hissed. She had not had time to pull up her hood, and she was currently being burnt all over. Luckily, her torment didn’t last, as she was shackled with her brothers and sisters under the cover of a makeshift tent.
Myrk’s siblings showed great interest in the baby their lord-father had commanded her to protect. They had never seen their leader take in a human like that. they gathered around her, mumbling and growling and shooting the human child distrusting and unsure looks.
Myrk then heard a familier face in the crowd.
“Myrk!”
“Thorg, brother. It is good to see you alive!”
“These runts ain’t got to me yet. How are you? Did they harm you?”
Myrk huffed.
“Do not insult me brother, even armoured and with me down an arm, they could not harm me no matter how much they wished to. I merely was burnt by the sunlight.”
Thorg clapped her shoulder. Myrk had ever been his friend, sister and teacher. He would miss her greatly should she pass.
Just then, a human soldier passed by, jabbing a spear at Thorgs unarmored shoulder.
“Silence, orc. It would be my pleasure to cut you down where you stand!”
Both Thorg and Myrk snarled at him, their rotting teeth sharpened and intimidating as the guard backed off, only to beat Myrk in the eye with the end of the spear when out of striking range.
She groaned in pain, the strike taking her by surprise.
The guard then finally noticed the child held in the orcs arms, watching the events around her with big, curious eyes.
"The child. hand her over, filth!" the mortal addressed.
Myrk huffed crudely, backing away into her brothers and sisters. the guard sighed, turning to give an order when bothe the soldiers and the orcs saw three figures make their way into camp.
Myrk watched the elf witch and the mortal man drag her bound father into a barn, leading him by a short length of rope. Everytime the man pulled on the rope, causing Adar to stumble, Myrk snarled.
How dare he treat their Lord-Father with such blatant and public disrespect!
Myrk's distraction turned out to be her undoing, as the cowardly soldier once again struck her, this time with the sharp end of his spear, piercing the more delicate area of the inside of her elbow.
Myrk immediatly tried to hold a hand to the wound, slowing the black blood running out of it while Thorg snarled at the soldier.
but it did him no good.
Two more men came, and all three roped Myrk, and dragged her out into the sunlight, forcing her coverings off and exposing her to agonizing burns.
The she-orc convulsed and screeched as her flesh bubbled and flaked. The infant still in her arms reacting to her cries with screams and whimpers of her own. Eventually the humans deemed Myrk weak enough to approach, prying the child from her before kicking the injured creature back into the shade.
The orcs growled and snapped at the humans as they made off with the child they were supposed to be guarding, pulling their hurt sister back into the safety of their numbers.
The armored men then approached the barn Where their Lord Commander was being held, knocking twice on the door before disappearing inside.
A few moments later, they returned without the child, leaving the orcs to wonder what was going on.
In the barn, Adar watched as his younger cousin walked in, his baby in the crook of her arm.
He straightened up, sighing slightly as his eyes met the child’s, watching as she lit up with recognition.
“Ah, there you are…”
The baby cooed, happy to see a familiar face at last.
Galadriel stood in front of the fallen elf, the scum who she had the absurd misfortune to call family, and her lip curled in distaste at the familiar exchange between him, and the human child.
She looked down at his pallid form, gently and gracefully swaying, however her expression was anything but warm as she fixed her cold, stony glare onto Adar, as he had chosen to call himself.
With the babe still in her arm and a dagger held in the other one, she spoke, looking at the humans bright green eyes, her own softening at the child’s curious and friendly face.
“When I was a child, I heard stories of Elves taken by Morgoth. Tortured. Twisted. Made into a new and ruined form of life. I never thought it would be you though, cousin.
You are one of them, are you not?
The Moriondor.
The Sons of the Dark.
The first Orcs”
Adar kept his eyes on the child, never once looking at his cousins face, however Galadriel could see his vague amusement at her.
“Uruk. We prefer Uruk.” He simply replied, looking up slightly with a mockingly gentle expression.
Galadriel couldn’t help but feel the same twinge of faint shame she felt when she was young, and her brother was once again lecturing her for starting another fight, or correcting her for misnaming a species of flower.
Adar had that same suffering patient tone, and Galadriel couldn’t stand it.
“Even Moriondor take orders from a master. And I seek yours.
Where is he?
Where is Sauron?”
Adar chuckled at this. His younger cousins attempt to intimidate amusing to the Uruk.
Galadriel’s brow twitched in agitation at his lack of care. The child in her arm sensing her frustration and fussing and drawing her attention.
“Look at me, cousin. Such an unusual thing, for an orc-“
“-Uruk.” Adar corrected.
“For an ORC, to show mercy on his enemy. Where did you find this human?”
Adar tilted his head, again. Not paying Galadriel any mind.
“She is no enemy. She was given to me.”
“And you kept her alive. Feeling generous, were you?”
Galadriels cousin merely shook his head, once again looking at the babe in his captors arms.
The sounds of his childrens grunts and growls reached his ears, and he tilted his head a little in their direction, noting that Galadriel did the same.
Playing with the knife she held, Galadriel looked into the light streaming through the barns crooked doors.
“Perhaps we should bring our prisoners into the sunlight.” She suggested, almost casually.
This finally seemed to grant Galadriel the seriousness she was looking for from her captive.
His mocking smirk dropping as he looked towards the origins of the shouts, his eyes far away.
As if sensing his new distress, his newest daughter started to whimper. Galadriel bounced her just a little harder, rubbing her back with her thumb. Her gaze, however was set on Adar, hard and expectant.
When Adar spoke, it was soft. Calm and measured so as to not cause his baby any more distress.
“Pass her to me.”
“Why would I do that?” Galadriel spat.
“Because she is mine, and I asked for her.”
Galadriels brow pinched, her eyes narrowed and peeled for any sign of deceit, of a trap. But when she handed the baby into Adar’s shackled hands, keeping as much distance as possible, he merely leaned back against the beam, his uninjured hand gently taking hold of the babies.
He didn’t speak for a few seconds, adjusting the baby comfortable in his arms. Galadriel noted how she seemed to quiet instantly.
“After Morgoth’s defeat, the one you call Sauron…
Devoted himself to healing Middle-earth, bringing its ruined lands together in perfect order.”
Adar seemed to hold the child in his arms tighter, more protectively. He looked in her direction, but his eyes were far away.
“He sought to craft a power not of the flesh…
But over flesh. A power of the unseen world. He bid as many as he could follow him far north.
But try, as he might. Something was missing.”
Galadriels mask of indifference broke, cracking with the memory of her forcing her own people to that very fortress.
Just like her enemy.
It seemed as if she wasn’t the only one who found it hard to bring up this knowledge, as Adar’s eyes watered at the very memory of his time north, the humans little hand held tight in his much larger one as if he was protecting her from his own memories as he continued.
“A shadow of dark knowledge that kept itself hidden, even from him. No matter how much blood he spilt in it’s pursuit.
Mmm. For my part…
I sacrificed enough of my children for his aspirations.
I split him open. I killed Sauron.”
“I do not believe you.” Galadriel stated, sharp and unconvinced.
Adar looked up at her now, staring right at her.
Galadriel almost wished he hadn’t. There was darkness in his eyes, corruption shone through them. As he sighed, that insufferably gentle and knowing expression taking over again.
As if it was she, who was the child, unknowing and naive of the worlds cruelty.
“You cannot believe an Uruk could do that which your entire army could not.”
“I cannot believe that you are this army’s only master.”
“My children have no master.”
“They are not children, they are slaves.”
“But each one has a name. A heart.”
“A heart created by morgoth”
“We are creations of the One, Master of the secret fire, the same as you. As worthy of the breath of life, and just as worthy of a home. Soon, this land will be ours. Then, you will understand.”
I cannot believe there's absolutely no way to watch free shows and movies anymore, there are too many paid streaming platforms and pirating websites have viruses and ads preventing you from watching it uninterrupted((.)) id rather follow the rules and purchase media moving forward because it is too inconvenient. Seriously, free and no ads or viruses with 1080p streaming is DEAD.
Exactly! It's freaking annoying when I want to watch movies but I would have to subscribe to like 24 different services . Just to watch the shows that I like.
i like using streaming apps but there are waaaay too many and they're all stealing my data .i wish there was a secure and organized way to have millions of shows and movies available one one app. but alas. we've truly gone full circle back to cable + now it spies on you. its a real shame. i dont want to fill my device storage with tons of boring and stupid cash grabs.
Put these on the top layer above everything, set layer to 'overlay' then adjust opacity. You can put it on whatever opacity you want but usually 30%+ is most effective.
The point is to obstruct the picture so AI can't read your image because AI counts every single pixel in your art
sometimes you just have to let yourself be a bit neurodivergent.
i hate going out, it gives me a lot of anxiety and sensory input that i dont like, and i am often forced to talk to people.
so i do this thing on more difficult days, or sometimes just for fun, where i "bring a fictional character with me". i walk and imagine Fictional Character walking next to me. they talk to me, reassure me, hype me up, whatever i need them to do.
today dean winchester came christmas shopping with me. he went over the list with me of stuff i needed to get, told me i was doing a good job every time i finished in a certain shop, reminded me to take a deep breath when i got a little overwhelmed.
and yea. its kinda silly. and i know its just me talking to myself in a different voice, but it Works! especially since all of my special interests/hyperfixations tend to be tv/movie related.
so do what you gotta do to Get Shit Done. stop holding yourself to neurotypical standards. if you need Fictional Character to tell you you're doing a good job, do it! if you need Favourite Singer to walk you to school, do it! yea it might feel silly but you're literally fighting against your own brain to get stuff done every single day. you can have a little self indulgent daydream, as a treat.
Sometimes when things get difficult at work cause I am a woman who works the midnight shifts alone on fridays and Saturdays, and that's when all the post bar drunks and druggies come in, I like to imagine crosshair just hanging around. Looming, glaring at assholes. And it puts my mind at ease.
Hey! First of all, absolutely love your writing and art, it never fails to make me smile when you post.
I don’t know how to type this without sounding awkward, but I had a random platonic yandere/reader idea inspired by your yandere clone family au that I just wanted to get out of my system and figured you might enjoy.
I started thinking about Arla Fett (Jango’s older sister) in this universe.
In case you aren’t familiar with her character here’s a quick summary: After the murder of her’s and Jango’s parents she was enslaved by the Death Watch and eventually developed an extremely damaging case Stockholm syndrome. She would act as an assassin for the death watch before being arrested. Later on a Jedi general-turned mandolorian by the name of Bardin Jussik would try to help Arla heal from her trauma but after she begged him to help her forget about it entirely, Bardin simply wiped her memory using the force. The two then fell in love and would have settled down (had order 66 not occurred).
So, then I got to thinking: what if these events happened a few years sooner so that Arla and Bardin were already settled down during the war. And how would the yandere clones react to not only having a blood related sister, but a Jedi brother-in-law, and their likely force sensitive teenager aka reader.
Let’s say the war ends and the various clone battalions are rounding up their respective Jedi but the group formerly run by Bardin Jussik wind up having trouble tracking down their long lost general who left abruptly during the war due to his issues with the Jedi council’s leadership and the republic’s approach to the war.
They get to the point that TBB get called in to help find him.
Even after some time passes, Jussik doesn’t seem to be anywhere and most assume he’s dead as there is literally no trace of him anywhere. TBB eventually refocus their efforts on to other troublesome Jedi (Such as Kanan, Ezra, Vera Sai, and Nazra) who have at least been seen alive and well in the past decade.
Their efforts to track down the Ghost crew lead them back to Lothal since it’s a planet the Ghost returns to regularly.
The rest of the batch spreads out to search for clues while Hunter brings the Marauder to a refuel station bc the busy marketplace gives him a headache and he just needs a little rest from constantly tracking.
He gets there and he’s met with reader working the station who’s about three or four years older than Omega. As Hunter asks them to just refuel the ship he can’t help but notice the teen is sort of staring him down.
Expecting some kind of anti-clone sentiment or getting called sub-human he simply asks
“What never seen a clone before?”
Reader looks at him confused and Hunter suddenly remembers that Lothal never had any part in the war and most people on the planet couldn’t care less who he or his brothers were, especially now that the war was over.
Suddenly, almost like they can read his thoughts, reader starts looking embarrassed and apologetic.
“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean but…yeah I guess I have been pretty rude just staring huh?” Reader holds up a hand in front of Hunter’s face and closes one of their eyes so that they can only see the non-tattooed side of his face. “It’s just- my buir used to show me holos of my ba’vodu and I swear you look just like him. I’m probably just imagining it.”
Hunter is taken aback by the comment and is suddenly very interested in learning more about this barely paid refueling station attendant’s family. He figures the kid’s dad and uncle are deserters like Cut Laquane. Reader’s additions of some mando’a into their sentences only seems to cement his theory.
The two have a friendly conversation and Hunter finds himself amused by reader’s wide-eyed curiosity about the world outside of Lothal as it’s very reminiscent of when he first met Omega.
Meanwhile reader is just thrilled that this starship captain is willing to answer all of their questions about his adventures across the galaxy ( Hunter leaves out the whole capturing and lovingly imprisoning all of the Jedi of course).
Reader grew up on a farm with barely any contact with anybody aside from their parents (the other kids on Lothal find reader creepy for some reason) so speaking with Hunter is a breath of fresh air.
Reader rambles on about how boring life on the farm is and how they were lucky their parents even let them get a job in town since they’re so overprotective.
Reader winds up feeling guilty for making Hunter uncomfortable at first due to them staring at him and then info dumping on him. Eventually reader offers to pay for the Marauder’s fuel as an apology for wasting the man’s time.
Hunter and reader wind up talking for so long that the rest of the batch come looking for their leader, only to find him lightly bickering with a kid about how it’s not necessary for them to pay for his fuel for simply looking at him a little too long.
Hunter suddenly remembers he has a duty and mission to complete and goes into leader mode, discussing with the others on where they should land the ship for the night so they have a place to stay.
Reader casually offers the empty field on their family’s farm since they wouldn’t have to pay for it like the ship docking spots in town. Reader also mentions harvest season just passed and their father has a tendency to cook an excess of food.
Wrecker is sold on the idea immediately upon the offer of free food and begs his brothers to take up the offer.
Hunter, Tech, Echo, and Crosshair are made suspicious by the generosity and Crosshair is the one to ask what the catch is.
Reader simply made the offer in hopes of learning more about these strange off-worlders and decides to (naively) strike a deal.
“No catches, no fees. All is ask is each of you give me your best stories from your travels across the galaxy. Deal?”
The batch takes them up on their offer and soon find themselves following the kid home. As they travel, the batch all start noticing things. All of them had been around force sensitive children for some time now and had learned about the small habits that most force sensitives had. Maybe reader answers any questions they have before the batch can even ask them. Almost like they read the batch’s minds. The batch quickly notice that reader’s reflexes are just a little too fast for a normal person. None of them really need the confirmation but Tech discretely uses a scanner to check reader’s medicloroan count and it’s a higher amount than most.
By the time the Marauder is nearing reader’s farm the entire batch knows they’re taking this kindhearted and naive little force sensitive back with them to Kamino. Now they just need to decide if they need to “take care of” reader’s family before they go.
They land and reader runs up to the house where their very confused mother is waiting in the front yard. Every member of the batch is stunned when they get a good look at reader’s mother. The woman quite literally looks exactly like an adult version of Omega. It’s almost frightening.
Reader’s mother doesn’t entirely know how to feel about the strangers (given she got her memories about the clone war wiped it’s likely she doesn’t realize they’re clones. Let alone clones of her brother)
Reader’s mother introduces herself as Arla Jussik-Fett. At the same time, Bardin steps out of the house and upon seeing the clones, freezes.
Now, Lothal is an isolated planet, far from the republic. (Exactly the reason he chose to live there)
So Bardin had only heard whispers and warped rumors about what the clones had been doing. As far as he knew, Jedi and force sensitives found by clones were never seen again. Of course Bardin is going to assume they came to kill him and his family.
He never stopped carrying his lightsaber out of cautiousness and already has his hand on it out of instinct.
Reader notices their dad standing close-by and waved him over.
“Buir! You’ll agree with me! Mom doesn’t agree but don’t you think these guys look like ba’vodu Jango?”
All hell breaks loose after that.
Clone force 99 is #shook and Bardin runs to stand between his family and the clones.
“Cyar’ika, ad’ika, go inside and lock the door.” He order, activating his lightsaber.
Reader is VERY scared by the sudden tenseness that’s taken over. Bardin and Arla share a look and Arla quickly takes reader inside.
Bardin and the Bad Batch take a long few minutes to size one another up. After some time Bardin finally speaks.
“We will give you all one chance to turn around and walk away.”
Crosshair pops a toothpick in his mouth and takes a moment to scan the area.
“We?”
“We.” Bardin nods.
Just then the shot of a sniper rifle rings out. The end of the toothpick in Crosshair’s mouth splinters and is left charred as a blaster bolt just grazes the tip of it. The bolt doesn’t hurt a hair on the clone’s head, but is definitely WAY too close for comfort.
The batch quickly trace the origin of the shot to the front-facing window in the second story of the house where Arla is standing with a rifle pointed down at them.
Arla, despite having lived a fairly quiet and domestic life the past few years, is still a dead on shot. She was a very successful assassin for the Death Watch after all.
Hitting the toothpick was a warning shot. Crosshair would have dropped had it not been.
“My riduur is right.” Arla shouts down from the open window. “He’s not really the one you need to be worried about.”
Both Bardin and Arla lived difficult lives and as a result were very particular about security and protecting their home. They wanted to make it so their ad’ika could maintain their innocence. Unfortunately this resulted in reader being extremely sheltered and completely banned from learning how to use their force powers.
After a lot of struggle, Bardin and Arla manage to escape with reader by the skin of their teeth.
So, TBB return to Kamino to share their strange news.
They bring the name Arla Fett up to the Alpha clones and they’re vaguely aware of the name as Jango had mentioned her fondly once or twice.
The news quietly spreads around Kamino as a rumor. Some clones are absolutely enthralled by the concept of a new addition to the family. Others are cautious upon finding out Arla was once part of the Death Watch and are against the idea of bringing someone like her near their Jedi.
Some shinnies make the joke that the Fett genetics must give them a type since Arla herself married a Jedi just like so many of her brother’s clones.
A few of the clones wonder if Arla shares their yandere tendencies. Some clones are already referring to her as Ori’vod Arla and joking about how they wonder if Bardin Jussik is good enough for their big sis. And then some clones just don’t care.
Meanwhile the squad once run by Bardin Jussik is ecstatic to find out their precious general was alive after all. WITH A WIFE NO LESS! Suffice to say they are stoked.
The news about Bardin and Arla’s force sensitive kid is far less widespread or just gets overshadowed.
Since Bardin is off the grid the clones have no idea where he would go. They ask around the Jedi on Kamino but Bardin was never very friendly with any of them. So they instead decide to see what they can find about Arla. Thanks to Emperor Vader the clones are given access to Arla’s arrest records and the subsequent psychiatric treatments she received while in prison.
When it’s revealed that Arla was essentially enslavement by the Death Watch and used as a soldier it’s like a switch is flipped. Every last clone on Kamino suddenly realizes that the Death Watch did to Arla exactly what the Republic did to them. She really is their sister. A kindred spirit.
Cue the most quietly chaotic custody battle in history with various clone groups and individuals trying to figure out who gets to bring their dear sister and her Jedi husband home to Kamino.
It doesn’t really matter who does it bc the second she’s there she won’t be leaving. With the combined power of the entirety of Kamino it doesn’t take long to find the Jussik-Fett family.
And when they find out about reader? Their ori’vod’s precious ad’ika who’s force sensitive?!
Every single clone is obsessed and wants to be the best uncle.
Every. Single. Clone.
(I have no idea how that would work out but I feel like the clones would find a way to organize it without completely overwhelming their ori’vod’s dear ad’ika)
Reader’s little family of three suddenly gets much MUCH bigger.
I can see Bardin Jussik being absolutely miserable after being wrangled onto Kamino. (He is absolutely not going without one hell of a fight. He is dragged in kicking and screaming)
The guy left the Jedi order in favor of a mandalorian lifestyle bc he hated the rigidity and hypocrisy of the Jedi. He hated how he couldn’t use his abilities to help more people just because the republic said he wasn’t allowed. Being constantly surrounded by the various Jedi artifacts spread around Kamino would most likely make him feel even more trapped than the bars of the cell that he was kept in before he finally calmed down and stopped biting any clone who would come near.
But he wouldn’t exactly have a chance to escape, especially not with his wife and child! The man would rather die than leave his family alone with the obsessed clones.
I can see him assisting in escapes, but not going with whoever gets loose. He always makes sure he won’t be tied back to the jailbreak so he and his family don’t get in trouble or separated as a punishment.
(The clones quickly figure out the best way to keep him from trying anything is threatening to take his wife and reader away)
Arla would probably be conflicted about the situation. While she knows being imprisoned on Kamino is supposed to be terrible, she’s happy to be given a second chance at being a sister to Jango. Even if she knows the clones aren’t exactly him (mentally and emotionally that is). She has been in an abusive hostage situation before (Death Watch) but for some reason to her, this time it’s different…? The clones don’t burn a brand into her back like the Death Watch did. They don’t give her scars, don’t chain her up. They never hurt her. They are soft and loving, looking UP to her for guidance and making sure SHE is comfortable being called ori’vod and acting as an older sister to all of them. Many clones go to her for parenting advice and sometimes just to excitedly talk about their day or ask about hers.
Arla’s mental health has been cracked from a young age. The clones somewhat use this to their advantage. Arla knows that what the clones are doing to the Jedi is wrong, but she also doesn’t entirely see the harm in it?
So many of the families living on Kamino are happy and healthy and everyone cares about one another. And Arla knows that as long as she stays, she’ll be surrounded by family and friends and love. She wouldn’t have to worry about armored soldiers bursting through the door and gunning down her family in front of her. Not again.
She knows Bardin is dissatisfied, and restless and she feels terrible for wanting to stay, but as long as she stays on Kamino, she knows her family is safe.
Reader starts off ecstatic. FINALLY having friends and family who understand them, and mentors willing to help them use the force properly. But before long they start feeling trapped again. Reader realizes they may have traded one prison for another. Lothal for Kamino. They still find themselves wanting to explore the stars. Reader eventually approaches ba’vodu Hunter and asks him if they can come along on the batch’s next expedition.
Hunter flat out says no. The Alphas are strictly against it. Reader asks around and literally every clone on Kamino says no to letting reader come along off world. It’s too dangerous out there for a naive little one like reader! They’re too sweet! Too innocent! (They are also literally getting close to being 18 and very much not a child anymore)
And reader finally realizes the mess they accidentally brought upon themself.
one day they defeatedly walk up to Hunter, take a seat next to him, tiredly leaning their head on his shoulder.
“Remember that deal we made when we first met? And you promised to give me your best story about one of your adventures? I’m ready to hear it now…”
I’d love to know your thoughts on this! I’d love to know what you think would go differently. This wound up being a lot longer than I thought it would but I figured you might find it interesting!
Your work is amazing, I think it’s SUPER creative. Please don’t forget to take care of yourself and have an amazing day!
I actually love this.
I dont have a whole lot.more to add except jango fett is still alive in my au. So that would make things extra interesting for aarla.
Also, Bardin and Vera would vibe. She orchestrates a majority of the successful escapes from kamino, and is glad to have his help.
Hello, I'm starting a new tag game in order to spread some love for OCs!
If you get this message take it as a chance to rant about your OCs, tell us why you love them, why you created them, their tragic past, anything and everything you'd like to share! Go nuts! Then, to continue the love, send this to other people who need a chance to talk about their characters.
Ok, vera sai.
My main girl.
Trigger warning, this has alot of dark themes
Vera sai was born in France in the early 1400s. Her mother, esthianna durand, was a child prostitute forced into servitude after her lord father was beheaded by his people. Esthianna, being a bastard child, was able to slip by without attracting their notice.
Vera's father was a handsome but despicable man with a taste for the very young.
Esthianna was 14 and pretty and a prime target.
Vera's father kept her mother untill she got pregnant at 19, deeming her to look too old to please him.
He cast her out and she was forced to live like a hermit in the woods outside of town, eventually giving birth to her daughter, catherine durand, or as she would later come to be known as, vera sai.
Vera was born with strange birthmarks all over her body. Swirling patterns that gracefully covered her from head to toe. Beautiful, but concerning.
Whispers of the word witch and devils whore had already been caught around the town. She feared what may happen to her baby.
Wsthianas fate was sealed when a strange craft descended from the sky, come to see her from another world.
Come for her catherine.
Qui Gon had sensed the immense, but patchy force cry of young vera sai, and followed it. Followed it through a wormhole.
There was a language barrier. Esthianna had never heard basic before and Qui Gon had never heard of french.
He could only impress, through the force, that he meant no harm to the young mother or her baby.
But things turned sour.
Esthianna had agreed to Qui Gon to take both her and her baby away to wherever he had come from. To somewhere he assured her was safe.
She only asked he give her one night to prepare.
It was one night too many.
The Vera's father had caught wind that his old whore had been visited by someone from the sky and claimed witch craft.
He demanded that esthianna and her demon spawn be brought to the town square, to burn at the stake for their sins.
Well. Esthianna, seeing the mob, ran.
She ran for her horse, getting shot in the leg with an arrow. And when her horse got shot only a couple of meters from the concealed ship, she limped to it.
But she did not know how to get in and no one was coming out.
So seeing no other choice, she bundled her baby up and left her at the foot of the ship, limping away to draw off the mob.
They caught her and dragged her to the town square. Ripping her dress from her body and shaving her head.
The town leader demanded to know what she did woth the child.
Esthianna refused to say anything.
He burnt her alive.
Back at the ship, qui gon had returned with obi wan and anakin from a scouting trip, the lights and screams from the town having attracted him back down from the mountains.
They found the young child crying at the hatch to the ship, and qui gon, sensing something awful had happened told obi wan to take her and anakin inside while he went to look for esthianna.
He was horrified with what he saw then.
The young mother, tied naked to a pyre, screeching and howling as flames consumed her alive.
He ran back to the ship before anyone saw him, and immediatly charted a course for home.
He needed to meditate on this tragedy.
He needed to clear his mind, and his guilt.
But obi wan approached him, holding the young child.
"Master Qui Gon....what happened?"
Obi wan asked.
"The child's mother has been killed, obi wan. She sacrificed herself to save her daughter."
Qui gon chose not to divulge the exact circumstances of the poor girls death.
"I...see." obi wan swallowed, not exactly sure how to respond to the news.
The baby cooed from where she was bundled in obi wand arms, teaching playfully for his padawan braid.
"Master. The force....it is strong with her, but odd...I've never sensed a signiture so...."
"Unstable. I agree. It is...unusual. but perhaps for the best. I can sense her powers are immense. If they did not dip as drastically as they do I dare say they would rip her apart.
Now....she needs a name."
Qui gon said gently, laying a hand on the infant's head.
"Master...I heard the woman talk about something...she said...Versailles? She spoke of it so often...and with so much fondness.
Perhaps her name should be Vera Sai?"
Obi wan suggested, his finger held in a grip but the young girls small, chubby hand.
Qui gon hummed.
"True one who is divine....a... powerfull name to pick. But I think it suits her, my young padawan.
Welcome, vera sai....you will be a great jedi one day"
-------------------------------------------------
That was vera sais origin, where she came from.
I originally made her because I wanted a jedi oc shenwas powerfull. But sort of strayed from the image of a powerfull jedi created by anakin and ashoka.
Shes powerfull, but unstable. Because of this she had great difficulty in learning how to controll her force powers. Instead, she leant heavily into theory, history. And most of all, the physical aspects of the force. She was a prodigy of martial arts. Going through the jedis training programs quickly.
Later on, when it was time to make lightsabers, it was revealed that she could not weild one.
Khyber Crystal's are extremely unstable. The stable energy of the jedinweilder flowing through them is what makes the lightsaber usable.
Vera said force energy was extremely unstable.
A small pulse from her just activating the blade, cause it to explode.
Because of this, she could not complete her padawan trials. She was forced to stay back and watch 5 year as do what she couldnt.
It made her bitter. Angry.
Shed go out at night, into the deeper levels. Drawn to the crime ridden underbelly of coruscant. If she couldnt protect like a jedi, shed protect like a mercenary.
This phase lasted about a year, when the council gathered to discuss her future.
Should she be allowed, at the age of 16, to become a padawan?
Or should she be moved to the corps?
In the end. Two jedi master fought to take her on as an apprentice.
First was master krell, who saw her potential for violence and power and wished to harness her as an asset.
The second master, was shaak tii.
She wished to help vera and beleive the structured, disciplined environment of kamino would be beneficial to the girls journey.
Master yoda debated and meditated over his options and decided that vera should go with master shaak tii.
That is how she came to be on kamino, and training under alpha 17 and fordo. She later met the batch.
After another soul draining lesson in the force woth shaak tii she was going for a walk and happened upon a group of cadets playing on a landing dock in the middle of a storm.
The bad batchers had snuck out to explore kamino.
Vera was about to tell them to get back inside when a particularily strong gust of wind threw an empty crate at one.
The tall, lanky, grey haired boy was hit in the head and knocked into the sea.
Vera immediatly started to run, dropping her robes and demanding the others get away from the edge, before diving in after the boy.
She didnt thinknabout her own saftey, or the massive power of the water crashing over her.
She saw only the drowning, young clone, in startling clarity.
For the first time, it clicked for her. The force lined up and she was able to weild it to get this boy, and carry him to saftey.
Before she knew it, the was in her arms and she was gluing up back onto the platform.
She ran him to the closest med wing. Feeling him shiver and curl against her.
She jumped levels useing the force, leaving the other boys to follow.
It was the first time she was able to weild the force properly, and the first time meeting the bad batch.
The second time she met them was during the invasion of kamino, where vera came across them fighting off the droids.
She led them to where fives, echo, rex and cody were barricaded with the cadets, and started to instruct them.
She was the one who first handed the grey haired boy a long range weapon, and told him to stay by echo and fives up in position.
He took shot after shot after shot.
Perfectly lined up.
Vera couldnt help but remark that he wasnt letting any droid escape his crosshairs.
He called himself crosshair from that day forward.
Vera would later on become a spy for the republic, taking on missions in the deepest of enemy territory.
Her biggest mission?
Spy on count dooku himself from within his own home. She did that for 3 years.
Her lightsaber Crystal's came from inside his vault. She stole them before abandoning her mission.
Her Crystal's were special. They absorbed light and energy, of which she had plenty.
During this time she also took on a padawan.
Bode akuna had list his master to the war and needed someone to complete his training. Vera volunteered. Completing his force training, as well as showing her some of her own tricks. Espionage, intelligence, infiltration, and force abilities that she had mastered over the years.
Bode was a quick learner and within an year and a half, had graduated to knighthood.
Because of this, vera was given the rank of master.
It also tore a divide between her and anakin. Anakin wanted to be a master but couldnt due to his padawan never having graduated to knighthood. Yet vera could come in last minute and take the title?
It was a fact he was bitter about.
And then to rub salt in the wound she was given a spot on the council, which she refused.
Around this time she had been growing close to another jedi, Nazra Ra'shii.
They had known eachother a long time, and decided once the war was over, they would leave the temple together.
That's why vera turned down a spot on the council. She didnt intend to stay.
And that's when the war ended early. When the clone family AU starts.
MORE DISCORD SHENANIGANS!!! My friends and I had a lil bit of a freakout about the idea of Crosshair and an OC in a modern au getting brought together by Crosshair’s three dogs: Wrecker, Tech and Hunter! It was such a cute idea that I had to make some art.
(We decided that Hunter was a German Shepherd, but I love dobies and I couldn’t help myself. Maybe I’ll make a shepherd Hunter later)
Did you guys ever end up writing anything? Or just talking about it? Did you come up with any specific scenarios for the Service Batch?? How does Omega fit into it all??
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